You are Charlotte Fawkins, Herald and heroine. With the power of your positive spirit, you have overcome deceit, defeat, and divine possession, and now you are going to save the world. First, though, you need to relocate to Earl's place, lest Lucky track you down and arrest you.

Rallying Earl and Gil is easy. Rallying a sleepy, cranky Claudia is harder: on your first attempt, she flips over and shoves her face into the settee, and you have to get Gil to coax her out. Why does she listen to Gil and not you? "She knows me," Gil mumbles, and it might help that he didn't violently absorb her. Even though he might've, if he were God and not you. It's harder than it sounds.

Earl pats you on the shoulder and says he'll wake up Branwen, who emerges, hair frizzled, and grunts when you say you have to go. "Suit yerself."

Gil clears his throat. "Er, i-it was really nice of you to let us stay here, and, uh—"

"Yeah, yeah. Jes' doing the sound thing to do. Won't tell them Courters shit, given I can help it. Fawkins."

"Huh?" She's looking straight at you.

"Don't git killed out there."

"Oh! I won't! Don't worry!" Not before you're God, anyhow. It just wouldn't work. "...Um, thanks, too. I meant to say that before he did. Thanks."

"Mm-hm. Git moving." She jerks her head toward the door. "Seeya around, Toothless."

"Hey, thanks! Seeya, Morris!"

Earl herds you, Claudia, and Gil out into the early morning darkness. Feeling sluggish, you exit last. It would be easy to blame on the odd hour, your lack of sleep, but as Earl counsels the three of you on nighttime safety measures (eyes forward! stay together! mind on the destination!), the feeling doesn't lift. When you get moving, it gets worse. Something about you is slow. Something about you is heavy.

«Your mass has increased.»

What? No it hasn't. (You prod surreptitiously around your waist.) Yeah! You're not any bigger. Did you bite your lip in your sleep? Maybe you're half-paralyzed? Could Richard please purge your blood of any—

«I said nothing about size. Your physical size is the same.»

'For now,' he'll say ominously. You're onto him.

«Yes. For now.»
«But right now, you take up the same amount of space you always have. It's just that there's... more of you in it. You are experiencing difficulty moving that increased mass, which is only natural. You are now more strongly rooted to the ground.»

Where the Wyrm is.

«Yes.»
«I take it that last night was a success.»

Yes. Something like that. Could he...?

«Anything for you, Charlie.»

>[-2 ID: 13/15]

You shiver as Richard's whatever-it-is crackles up your spine— does he use special equipment for this too? It really isn't magyck? He sits at his snake desk and pushes a snake button and some machine is able to...

«More or less.»
«Does that disappoint you?»

(1/3?)

You don't know. You guess you thought, for all these years, that no matter how bad things were, at least you were on a daring quest with a magyck talking snake in tow. And now he isn't magyck and he isn't even a snake.

«But I do talk.»
«And you are on a daring quest.»

Even more of a daring quest than you thought. You're not complaining, mostly, you just... it's hard to think about. At least his snake machine works: you're not any lighter, but you crackle with renewed energy. Which is great, because everybody else is waiting for you. "I-I-Is everything okay?" Gil says.

"Yes!" you say, and hasten forward. You won't need Richard helping you walk 24/8, will you?

«I will enhance your muscle density as soon as I have the chance.»

Great. Whatever works.

—

Earl, preternaturally chipper for— when?

«It is 4:12 in the morning.»

Earl, preternaturally chipper for 4:12 in the morning, keeps up a flow of conversation, mostly with Claudia, whose curiosity has outweighed her ambient annoyance. She recognizes Earl's glorb as "mega old-fashioned" (obsoleted by flashlights, she says, then has to explain flashlights to the three of you), wants to know what sort of things live in the Fen, if anybody's ever been eaten out here (given the time of day, Earl dodges the subject), whether he believes in the gods or not, if he's ever met somebody made of goo before...

You're tempted to tell her to knock it off, but it's better to be talking about normal things than dwelling on monsters or lurking Luckys. Richard makes fun of your positive thinking, but have you ever been ambushed in the dark? No! Because you know you won't, and then you don't, and you won't be this time, either. And you aren't. Earl finds the mouth of the cave system that leads to Hellsbells, instructs everybody to hold hands ("or wrists! whatever you gotta do!"), and extinguishes the glorb. Blackness.

It could be the blackness, or the sudden surrounding swell of the earth, but you can only wobble a few steps in before collapsing to your knees. You are drawn down, down, down, sinking, suffocating, your only lifeline Gil's slick cold hand, which grips yours firmly. "Wait!" he says to the others, and "Lottie?" to you, but you can't respond. To your bad eye, the sun in your chest is this cave's only light. It has swollen. Gil's tidy spiderweb stretches toward it. Your breath is loud in your ears. Richard—

«Interesting. It's amplified here.»
«I'll handle it.»

>[-1 ID: 11/14]

(2/3?)

A weaker tingle, then a spreading numbness, as you are probed and detached surgically and placed somewhere close and unknowable. Not as far removed as your spleen. A crevice, a pocket, which you watch from dimly as Richard picks up your body and slides your hand out of Gil's and leans to whisper in his ear. Gil sighs. There is nothing to look at and nothing to do and you almost fall asleep there, unburdened as you are, but stick it out long enough to see the starry sky of Hellsbells, and Earl's quiet cave-home, and the blanket he offers you— Richard says through your mouth that you won't need one, but Earl insists, so you lay on his floor on a blanket. Richard releases you then, and says that Charlie, it is almost 6 in the morning, you ought to sleep.

You sleep. It isn't difficult.

You dream.

—

You dream that you are asleep, in a thick red unsettled sleep, under not one blanket, but 50, 100, 1000, 1,000,000, blankets, under a million layers of sheet rock and soil and itching roots and a terrible infestation of bugs. Ants, fleas, ticks, mites, any little feckless biting bug. You don't know and it doesn't matter. What you know is this: you can feel them crawling in your sleep, crawling and fucking and shitting and dying and decomposing all over you, endlessly, unstoppably, pointlessly. You can do nothing about it. You are trapped in solid rock. You are angry in your sleep.

Nothing will ever be done about the infestation while your ungrateful offspring live. They introduced it, they foster it, they encourage it to spread. They have no ear for your suffering. You are immensely pleased, then, when the bugs (exactly as ungrateful as their makers) eat them alive. The sleep-fog thins. The bugs die in droves in the water. Parts of you are beckoned upward, and you gladly reach above the earth, hoping to unravel and stretch at last—

But it is not to be. You are not unencumbered. The opposite: there is a drip-drip-drip of water on your snout, and a drip-drip-drip on your tail, and the newly muddy bogged-down world bears down on you now more than ever. A parting gift from your ungrateful offspring. And you are not asleep, and cannot fall asleep, not with the now-steady flow of cold water— can only doze, pissed-off and listless, as the surviving bugs repopulate. Upon you. They scrape and itch and drill things into your spines, and there is nothing at all you can do to stop them.

—

(3/4)

—

>[15/15 ID]

You awaken, foggily, surprised to see no bugs. Gil? Is Gil...? Or, no. Gil wouldn't be bugs outside a manse. What are you talking about? Where are you?

«Hellsbells.»

Right. Thanks. And it is... you're in a cave. How does Earl tell what day or time it is?

«It is the same day. Early afternoon.»
«As for him, I have no idea. I would assume there's a public timekeeping device, or else he has regular access to the surface.»

Maybe you can ask. Probably not. The answer is bound to be boring. Are they all still here?

«More or less.»

Um, okay. What are you doing?

«I don't know, Charlie. What should you be doing?»

—

>Quick recap: You are in a timeskip with the goal of getting strong enough to kick Jean Ramsey's and the WYRM's respective asses. To do this, you'll select one option every DAY and every NIGHT to level [Perks], which are a quantified representation of your abilities, resources, and relationships. The + indicates progress toward leveling a perk. A perk takes one (+) unit of progress to reach Level 1, two (++) to reach Level 2, and so on. When a perk reaches Levels 3, 5, and 7, it upgrades something else and/or unlocks something new. You may not have enough time to level all possible perks, so choose wisely.

>You can find a status report of your current [Perk] situation a few posts below this.

>It is DAY 8. What will you do?

>[1] Seek out Gil. He made a breakthrough on his blessing work, didn't he? And it'd be good for you to fill him in on, um, the latest progress. *And* he said he'd try to teach your legerdemain. (Check on Gil's status, + [Gil], + [Legerdemain])
>[2] Seek out Claudia. How is she feeling about being in the real world? Is it sinking in yet? Does she need anything from you? Should you be trying to get to know her?? (+ [Claudia], + [?])
>[3] Seek out Earl. You're staying in his house, now, after all: you should probably see if he has any ground rules. Plus, er, maybe it's easier for him to teach hideous pagan magic now? (+ [Earl], + [The Red Stuff])
>[4] Start working on resurrecting Annie. Giant worms aren't native to Hell, so you probably can't complete the process while with Earl, but you can get started on the prepwork. (+ 1/4 progress to [Annie V].)
>[5] Shut your eyes. You don't need to go to sleep yet, but Richard probably needs to finish improving your muscle whatever, and you're still in a... cave... [+++[Earthsense] (Upgraded due to being completely underground)
>[6] Write-in. This option didn't go used last thread, so I'll briefly call it out: I am explicitly open to write-ins here, whether they're complete custom options or just altering the existing ones. Do with it what you will.

>Announcements
Hi!! I'm back!! Did I use this extra-long break from 4chan to do anything useful? Uh... yes, actually, but it's unfortunately useful only in the far future and not in the present. I am a master of prioritization. Hope you guys had a good couple of weeks, though. In terms of my personal schedule, I am graduating from college next week and will be NEETing it up in May, so we should be good all the way through, fingers crossed.

Also, enjoy this REALLY CUTE Charlotte artwork from Levelman, the QM of Created and CHAOS: The Quest for Redemption!!

>Schedule
One a day, occasionally more if the first one was short. There may be sporadic half-updates (no options) if I start writing too late in the evening, sorry in advance. I am in the PST timezone.

>Dice
We use a 3d100 roll over degrees of success system with crits. The base DC is 50. Modifiers may be applied to the roll or to the DC as relevant. The # of rolls that match or exceed the DC determine the result. Probabilities may be found in the Dice and Mechanics pastebin.

The degrees are:
0 Passes = Failure
1 Pass = Mitigated Success
2 Passes = Success
3 Passes = Enhanced Success
0/1/100 = Critical Success / Critical Failure / Critical Success [regardless of other rolls]

>Mechanics
The (typical) MC has a pool of 15 Identity ("ID"), which may be considered both HP and the measure of her current sense of self. It may be lost through physical, metaphysical, or emotional damage. It may be regained through write-ins, designated options, and at reasonable narrative points, including sleep. It may be spent on a flat +10 bonus to rolls, as well as on more elaborate metaphysical effects. Dropping to 0 ID is bad.

>Archive
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=drowned%20quest%20redux

>Fancy archive (PDF of 1-46)
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1icYCBWuHVYzO51rDsvR2rrtCI6hy-EHl/view?usp=drive_link

>Twitter
https://twitter.com/BathicQM

>Pastebins
https://pastebin.com/u/BathicQM

>Recaps
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1VPJwXzTpv4lO_t6R3jA32NLbKjdIZjtJlRFsWQgBMnM/edit?usp=sharing

>Ask the characters (or the QM), get a drawn response eventually
https://curiouscat.live/BathicQM [ALMOST CERTAINLY DOWN, I'll make a new one eventually]

>"Redux"?
This quest is a loose sequel to the original Drowned Quest, which ran for eight short threads in 2019. Reading the original may help with context in very early Redux threads, but is not required.

>I have a question/comment/concern?
Tell me!

>LAST TIME ON DROWNED QUEST REDUX

Having learned that Lucky had a suspicious conversation with Monty while you were unconscious, you and Gil head off to demand answers. Monty is surprised and concerned to see you up and about, and asks you to send Gil away to talk in private. When you do, he tells you that Lucky and the Wind Court has a warrant for your arrest, backed by a substantial body of evidence... in part gathered by HORSE FACE, who was private investigating you the entire quest. You don't have a lot of time to get pissed about this, because Monty informs you that you need to leave camp, tonight, or you'll be arrested and hauled away. He's serious. You believe him, and decide to ask Branwen (in town for Game Night) if you can stay at her place for a few weeks.

Before you leave, though, you poke your head back into Monty's tent and-- inspired by your encounter with the fake Monty in your mind house-- tell him that he should stop beating himself up so much, and that he really should tell somebody besides you about his spooky backstory. Then you find Gil, fill him in, and get Branwen's approval. She warns you that Earl's already staying with her, and that you (and Gil) will have to sleep on the floor. Exhausted, you trek through the Fen to Branwen's cottage and do just that.

In your dream, you encounter the Herald, back after promising she'd be gone for real last time. You call her out for procrastinating on whatever it is she's supposed to be doing, then ask if she's actually you from the future, like Richard said. In response, an abashed Herald confirms it, turning back from a lizard-thing into Future You. She claims she can't tell you anything useful, but confirms obliquely that she isn't God, sort of, but that she does still plan to bring your father back... soon. She hasn't done it yet. Why? She refuses to answer, brushes you off, and leaves hastily, presumably for the last time.

The next morning, you fill Gil in on everything you learned from Richard. He's obliging, but can't shake his skepticism about the God stuff. To convince him, you (consensually) enter his mind and share your nascent Herald/Godness with him... which makes him pass out, his blessing flaring intensely. Teddy takes control of his body and tells you that Gil will be okay in a little bit. In return, you ask him what he thinks about the Wyrm situation. Teddy expresses concern about how able you'll be to overpower the Wyrm, and whether you're simply feeding into Its greater plan: if you actually want to defeat it, he says, you'll have to do something it won't expect. He doesn't tell you what. Frustrated, you demand to know where all his theological insight is coming from, and Teddy acknowledges that he may have been merged in some way with Gil's blessing upon absorption.

Gil wakes up all freaked out, apparently WHOLLY convinced you're God, and you have to talk him out of acting weird. It doesn't entirely work, and he retires to the other room to go lay down-- though not before you instruct him to build something to improve his facility with the blessing.

In the evening, you and Richard regroup in your manse: he wants to get started ASAP on the whole "turning into a giant lizard" thing, and you unfortunately can't argue much with that. You attempt to tell him about Teddy's warning, but he dismisses it as "negative thinking." Oh well. To make future lizarding easier, Richard implants the agents' concentrated yearning for the Herald into your subsconscious.

You had slept outside, to better facilitate lizarding, and are woken up by an annoyed Branwen. Now on Day 2 of exile, you resolve to do something about the Claudia situation-- she was mysteriously missing from your manse, after all, even though she said she'd be there. With Richard's help, you head back to the last place you saw her-- on that mind-beach-- and track her through the metaphorical thickets of your mind. When you locate her, Richard helps teleport her back to your manse proper, and you promise to get her a body within the next couple days. Later that night, you instruct Richard to practice torturing you: after all, the Wyrm will probably try to do the same, and you need to be prepared. Richard agrees, but wants to measure your tolerance first, putting you through increasing levels of pain until you black out. You already score above-average with no special tricks, but positive thinking really hard improves your performance, and pretending you're the Herald helps even more-- something Richard finds very promising.

On Day 3, you check in with Gil again. He's back to normal, and has been dutifully working on his blessing project, though he doesn't have much to show for it yet. You hang out and watch him work on it, then instruct him to keep at it until he's finished. In the evening, you try improving your sword fighting skills, which... er... Richard kicks your ass. You have work to do. Moving on.

You pledged Claudia a body within the next few days, so you head down to the Namway-Headspace manse on Day 4. After communing with a reticent Claudia, Us gives permission to let her go, then lets you know that somebody's gone in to help the melted Headspace employees. Curious, you check it out, discovering that the flesh abomination's been replaced with a Headspace-esque dream office... with Real Ellery inside.

Real Ellery intentionally absorbed himself into the employee hivemind, and refuses to leave: he intends to refound Headspace under its original idealistic mission, not the dystopia Management turned it into. You let him know that Management was a bunch of snake-people trying to end the world, and that... sigh... he was right about you being God or whatever. Ellery, overjoyed at his total vindication, is immediately on board to help you save the world; he pledges his and the hivemind's help with anything you might need. You ask for information about Ramsey, and to see if he could make something to protect you against the Wyrm, and he agrees.

In the night, Richard thinks it's time to get started on the actual "lizarding" part of the lizarding process, though he swears he'll keep the alterations as subtle as he can get them. You wake up on Day 5 with rock-hard fingernails and new scales, which Branwen discovers when she finds you sleeping outside... again. She's annoyed that you haven't been pitching in with the chores, and rather than attempt to explain the Herald situation you pledge the next two days to helping out. Branwen puts you to work, and you have a chat with Earl, who is enthusiastic about your new alterations and offers to hook you up with... something. In the night, you stop back by Headspace-Namway: you want to see if Ellery has the Ramsey info yet (he doesn't), and you're curious to see if he'll tell you more about the sun stuff, since it's a big deal for the Herald. Ellery doesn't have much new insight, but you deduce what the sun might be symbolic of... 'rebirth' or 'resurrection.'

Day 6 is more chores, though at least Gil is there doing them with you. During Night 6, you follow back up with Earl about that "hook-up," and Earl introduces you to his disgusting pagan drug usage. Unfortunately, this disgusting drug usage might come in handy, since it works off of blood, and the red stuff is blood-ish... meaning activating with with seawater could turn you actually, IRL, into a horrible reptile monster. You're reluctant to go too far with testing this, but confirm (to Earl's delight) that it might be viable.

The next day, Madrigal shows up! She stopped by to hang out with Branwen, and is amazed to find you alive and well. Apparently, Lucky is still on the hunt for you, and has been harassing and interrogating the entire camp about your whereabouts. Also, she stopped by and saw Ellery, and delivers you the Ramsey info. You take Madrigal and the crew with you to talk to Pat, who makes Claudia a goo body. While you wait for Claudia to cure, Pat asks you about Lester. Your BrainWyrm memories reveal that he's... uh... super duper dead. Pat appears disappointed, but not surprised, and thanks you for letting her know.

--------------

>TO-DO

Short-term goals:
- Resurrect Annie

Long-term goals:
- Find Jean Ramsey and her snake; challenge her to epic single combat (probably); reclaim the Crown
- In the meantime, continue collecting and storing Law (9/16)
- Help, and get help from, your friend(/ly acquaintance)s
- Ready yourself to become God
- Become God
- Save the world

Mysteries:
- What does Richard *actually* look like?
- Now that you think about it... why did Lucky want The Crown, anyways?
- Why would the Wind Court be working with Ramsey?

-------------------

=YOUR CURRENT STATUS=

Personal perks:
>[Positive Thinking IV], 4/5 to next level
>[The Herald's Body III], 1/4 to next level
>[The Herald's Mind II], 2/3 to next level
>[Good With A Sword II], 0/3 to next level
>[Communion II]
>[The Sun I], 1/2 to next level
>[Red Stuff I], 0/2 to next level
>[Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting I], 1/2 to next level
>[Good With A Sword I], 1/2 to next level
>[On Fire! I]
>[OPEN I]
>[Earthsense I]
>[String Manipulation 0]
>[Legerdemain 0]

Interpersonal perks:
>[Richard VII]
>[Gil VI], 2/7 to next level
>[Earl IV], 0/5 to next level
>[Henry IV]
>[Unionized Ellery III], 1/4 to next level
>[Madrigal III], 1/4 to next level
>[Claudia III], 0/4 to next level
>[Monty III]
>[Us II], 0/3 to next level
>[Teddy II], 0/3 to next level]
>[Branwen II]
>[Anthea II]
>[Fake Ellery I]
>[Arledge I]
>[Horse Face I]
>[Lucky 0]

Expanded options and upgrades:
>You are faster at leveling [Earthsense] now!
>You can level [Legerdemain] and [Gil] at the same time now!
>You can level [Red Stuff] with Earl now!
>You can level [Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting] with Richard now!

Ongoing projects:
>Gil is working on rigging up a way to control his blessing! He appears to have made a breakthrough, though he'll keep tinkering at it until you say otherwise.
>Ellery (& the Headspace Collective) is working on a project to duplicate your consciousness to defend against the Wyrm! It may take a while.
>Ellery has delivered you a document with what the Collective knows about Jean Ramsey! You haven't formally looked at it yet.
>Madrigal is looking into the "fishiness" surrounding the Wind Court and Jean Ramsey! She's probably asleep right now, though, so you shouldn't expect much yet.
>Us is willing to tell you anything it might know about the past! You need to stop by and ask first, though.

Other accomplishments:
>The employees are no longer a horrific flesh abomination! (Okay, you didn't fix this personally, but you did save Ellery so *he* could go fix it.)
>Claudia has a body now!

-----------------

>Don't forget to scroll up and vote!

>>6232902
>[5] Shut your eyes. You don't need to go to sleep yet, but Richard probably needs to finish improving your muscle whatever, and you're still in a... cave... [+++[Earthsense]
If it's amplified right now, let's make use of it

>>6232902
>5
I feel kinda leery about picking something so unrelated, but the Wyrm is trapped under a ton of the stuff so maybe it is pretty relevant

>>6232902
>5

>>6232902
>>[5] Shut your eyes. You don't need to go to sleep yet, but Richard probably needs to finish improving your muscle whatever, and you're still in a... cave... [+++[Earthsense] (Upgraded due to being completely underground)

>>6232902

>[1]

>[5] Shut your eyes. You don't need to go to sleep yet, but Richard probably needs to finish improving your muscle whatever, and you're still in a... cave... [+++[Earthsense] (Upgraded due to being completely underground)

I think this is a good option, though I'm also OK with [1] if that ends up winning.

>>6233263
>>6233095
>>6233290
>>6233292
>>6233482
>[5]

>>6233293
>[1]

Called for [5] and writing.

>>6233482
>I think this is a good option, though I'm also OK with [1] if that ends up winning.
No danger of that, anon!

>>6232910
Also, just realize I missed the last chunk of the recap. Here it is:

You give a newly embodied Claudia a tour of Branwen's camp, then undergo some psychological lizarding, ruminating sleepily on density and graviity and things like that, then having a vision of the immediate future-- where you tell Gil that Lucky's headed toward Branwen's place. Bound by inevitably, you wake and tell Gil that, then wake up Earl and ask if you can stay at his underground home in Hellsbells. Earl, ever-accommodating, agrees.

>Get dirty

You should be lying here until he fixes your muscles, you think. Has he worked on that? You don't feel any lighter.

«It's a work in progress.»

A work in progress. Well, there you go. You're not certain how he expects you to do anything until you can actually, physically do anything. (You lift your arm, just to test, and it plummets back down.) How can you have more mass in the same amount of space, by the way? That makes no sense.

«It does. Your strings have engorged. They have simultaneously constricted.»

...You're denser?

«Yes.»

Huh.

«I had nothing to do with this. It appears to be natural, or, at the very least, induced by whatever you did to yourself last night.»
«This is extremely promising. You are moving in the correct direction.»

You guess the Wyrm is probably really heavy, if it's big enough to hold up the whole world. And the Herald is a giant lizard, so that's self-explanatory. Okay. Once you're stronger, can you use this to knock Jean Ramsey's head clean off her shoulders? Like, in one glorious blow?

«If she gave you the opportunity for such a thing, it's not impossible.»

Great! Then you'll stay right where you are, and Richard can get on that ASAP. You'd rather see everybody later than hobble up now and scare them more. You're not exactly sleepy, though, so maybe you can do something useful still? In your manse? But Richard will be busy. At least the ground is comfortable. Did you fall through it last night? You fall through it a lot. You'd say it was a Wyrm thing, but Richard did it to you, you think, days before the night that never happened. Made you sensitive, somehow. How?

«Nothing special. Perceptual tweaks.»

But you saw the Wyrm. For real. With your real eyes.

«...Yes.»
«I caused the initial tuning. Either you were more receptive or the Wyrm's pull was stronger than I calculated. Both may have intensified after you were exposed to...»

The future.

«Yes.»

Okay. You've been a little scared to make much use of this particular power, since every time you do, you wind up dazed and/or disassembled. But maybe you'll be better at it now. Can Richard keep an eye on you while he's busy with his alterations?

«One moment.» He fuzzes into view above you, taking a moment to roll his neck and scan the dim surroundings before crouching down. "Yes."

(1/2)

Does he look very trustworthy? Him unshaven in his cheap suit. Not your father and not your friend. You'll kill him, someday, but for now you let him heft you over and pluck at you. His fingers are thicker than your father's fingers but just as dextrous. You look away.

"That should cover it." Richard tugs at nothing, and there's a twinge at the small of your back. "I'll leave you plenty of slack. Do as you will."

Do as you will. What will you do? You will stay where you are, lifting slightly when Richard tugs the blanket out from under you, and then it is your back to chalky stone. You shut your eyes and find it trivial to sink. You're already heavy and already underground.

The Wyrm's pull is substantial, but you know it's the Wyrm, now, and you have gravity of your own. You draw into yourself, so your mind doesn't drift, and only when you're certain you're anchored do you stretch out again. The caves of Hellsbells reverberate with footfalls— Earl isn't the only one who lives here. You try to search out him or Gil or Claudia, but you don't know where they are and don't know their step well enough. If you practiced, maybe you could. If you practiced, maybe you could roam away from your body, or stretch your awareness beyond all reasonable limit, but you're satisfied for now with not needing rescue. You hang in place, vibrations thrumming through you, for some time.

>What will you do during NIGHT 8?

>[1] Earl wants to celebrate your newfound ability to stand up. Earl wants to celebrate everything, but nevertheless, he has alcohol and you have friendly faces around. Attempt to socialize. (+ [Earl], + [Claudia], + [Gil], +[?])
>[2] It's been several days since Richard last tortured you on purpose. You feel like you have to be better at it now, right? Beat your high score! (+ [Positive Thinking])
>[3] You're denser physically, but that isn't quite all, is it? You're denser metaphysically, too. Enlist Richard's help in testing that. (+ [Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting])
>[4] Okay, you can't chop Jean Ramsey's head off quite yet, but can you try it with Richard? He won't mind, right? (++ [Good With a Sword]) One-time boost from enhanced density
>[5] Stop and talk things through with Richard. How are you doing? Does he have any *polite* suggestions? Can he look at Ellery's dossier on Jean Ramsey with you? (Read the Ramsey dossier. Unlock or upgrade an option.)
>[6] Write-in.

>>6233661
>1
I can no longer resist that mystery question mark

>>6233661
>[4] Okay, you can't chop Jean Ramsey's head off quite yet, but can you try it with Richard? He won't mind, right? (++ [Good With a Sword])
Can't miss a one-time boost

>>6233836
>Can't miss a one-time boost
For what it's worth, the one-time boost is one-time in that it'll apply to the next [Good With A Sword] action and then go away. The action doesn't need to be on Night 8 necessarily, though you're still welcome to choose it now.

>>6233661
>>[1] Earl wants to celebrate your newfound ability to stand up. Earl wants to celebrate everything, but nevertheless, he has alcohol and you have friendly faces around. Attempt to socialize. (+ [Earl], + [Claudia], + [Gil], +[?])
THE BOX! THE BOOOOOX!

>>6233780
>>6234064
>[1]

>>6233836
>[4]

Called and writing. By the way, I'll be able to update tomorrow, but I have early-morning obligations both Monday and Tuesday and will likely take a short break to account for that. We'll be back to business as soon as finals are over.

>PARTY TIME

You don't know how long it takes before the footsteps— one set heavy, one medium, one light— draw near. Even as they thud up to you, you don't recognize them; really you barely notice them. You are spread a considerable ways. It takes a sharp tug at nowhere to draw you together again, and a hissy reverberation— «Charlie, you have company»— before you're reeled up and out.

Gil's face is two feet above yours. "Oh, shit! You're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Ehh," you mumble. You throb all over. "Wasn't asleep."

"Oh! Manse, or...? I-it doesn't matter. I-I hope you're doing better than this morning, at least, because, um... Richard had to..."

"I know. I was there." You lift your arm, wince as it spasms, but are able to keep it in the air. "I think I'm better now? I can walk?" Right?

«Yes.»

"I can walk." You try and push yourself up, but wince again. Gil offers you a hand, but his eyes go wide when he attempts to yank you to your feet. (You don't budge an inch.) You pat his wrist, grit your teeth, and rise. "Yeah! See? Nothing to worry about. What did you do all day?"

"Um, we met some of Earl's neighbors..."

"We lied to their fucking faces," Claudia, from over at the kitchen table, contributes. "'Cause we're on the lam. Didn't tell me that, didja?"

"I-Ignore her. She likes being on the lam."

"Hell yeah! Shows you're doing something right around here. You shanked five rozzers? Did the WYRM tell you to?"

"I can't remember," you say, and brush the hair out of your collar. "Where's Earl?"

"Uh, getting booze. I-I-I tried to tell him I don't drink that much, and Claudia shouldn't, but—"

"I'm older than your mom, numbnuts."

Gil shrugs helplessly at you. "He should be back soon."

Earl is back soon, carrying a teetering pile of jugs and cups. "Hi, folks!"

"Lottie's up," Gil says.

"Oh, shit! Hi, kid!" Earl waves enthusiastically, nearly losing a jug in the process. "Motherfucker. Gimme a sec, will you?"

"I-I-I can help! Hold on." You watch your loyal retainer run to help as Claudia, much closer, sits and smirks up at them. Admittedly, you also have no love for place-setting, so you wander over slow enough to let them finish. It's not hard. You still hurt.

Earl's already pouring when you arrive. "Look at you, kid! Up on your feet! Want a drink? It's real good, real strong— might knock you straight on your ass again! Haw haw."

Richard in the corner of your mind is telling you to decline, forcefully, to not waste time on frivolous nonsense, to get back to the important things in life. Like finding the Crown and turning into a lizard or whatever. All so nobody would like you, and you wouldn't like anybody, and he could push you around however he wanted. Richard in the corner of your eye isn't saying anything at all. He's leaning against the wall, picking his teeth.

"Sure," you say. It's been a while since you had a drink. At least a week. "Does it come in pink?"

(1/3)

"In pink? It comes in... er... brown... and piss? Your choice!"

Hmph. "Brown. I guess."

"Hokay! Brown coming right up. I know you're tough and all, but you're still a little lady, er, dimensionally, so I'll go ahead and give ya—"

"A lot," you say firmly.

"A lot," Gil confirms. "Um, but not... I-I-I'll do a shot, but I can't... yeah."

You nod. "Give him a shot! And make him drink it with his finger!" (Gil sighs.) "Don't give Claudia anything, or she'll—"

"Shut up! I'm older than your mom and dad put together. Twice. I want whatever she's having."

"No you don't," you say. You don't care if she's a Fawkins: Claudia sober is bad enough.

"Um, you really don't... there's a whole thing with..." Gil leans in and whispers, but Claudia's expression doesn't change. "What she's having," she says louder, cutting him off.

"Hell, I don't discriminate. You're a grown lady, aren't you? Make your own decisions. Had my first drink when I was, shit, 8? Or 9? Here you are, hon." Earl pushes a full cup in front of you and Claudia, and a quarter-cup in front of Gil.

Claudia leans down to examine. "How does the drink stay in the..."

"Shh!" Earl claps a hand over his own cup. "Don't ask!"

"I-I-It just does," Gil says hastily. "I-I-If you spend too long thinking about it, that's how you go nuts. I-I've seen it. But if you don't think about it, you get to have a drink, so..."

"So you're saying the gods want me to drink this. I can work with that." Claudia narrows her eyes, then, as you watch in terror, downs the entire thing. "Look at her go!" Earl's saying. Gil has buried his face in his hands.

Claudia doesn't cough or sputter, though you think that's a goo thing, not from a lack of wanting to— when she clunks the cup down, her face has gone a funny color. "This... thish stuff sucks dick... did you fucking put pills in it?"

Earl frowns deeply. "No! It's genuine—"

"You put pills in it! I need a fucking doc! I'm gonna, gonna drop dead, or... thish shit is... this is poison, or..."

"You're drunk," Gil says, a little irritably. "I-I-I told you what was going to happen, and you didn't listen, so now you're way too goddamn drunk. You absorbed it. You're goo. Look."

He hovers his hand over his own cup, evaluates, then snaps his fingers in front of Claudia's face. "I-I-I'm serious! Look!"

Claudia's head was lolling a little, but she straightens in time to watch Gil dunk his finger into his cup. The liquid inside drains steadily. ("Wow!" Earl says.) "See? I-I just absorbed it. Because I'm goo. And now I'm..." He prods his reddening face. "...not drunk, because I-I'm not a goddamn little contrarian, but I can feel it. So you're not poisoned, you're just... aw, fuck."

Claudia's lip is wobbling. Gil exchanges glances with you and Earl. "Um, maybe you should go lie down? I-I know it's no fun to..."

(2/3)

"You drank it wi- with your finger! And the— the— the— itsh not floating away, and you're breathing water, and, and, I'm... I'm your aunt? Right?"

She's looking wetly at you. "...I think so," you say. "Sort of. Maybe? My great-great-great-great-great-great-whatever-aunt... I guess through a brother? Probably? Because of the name? Oh, God, don't—!"

God-damnit! Why is it always you? She's crying. "I don't REMEMBER him!"

Earl has stood. "Who, hon?"

"My BROTHER! I don't remember having a... I don't... I don't know what Mater and Pater look like, and I don't remember dying, or being dead, and now I'm in the fucking future, and everyone talksh stupid, and I, um, I..." Claudia takes a heaving breath. "I... I don't..."

You guess you figured she was holding it together, but it's still nasty to watch. Her mascara is running. (That shouldn't be possible. It's made of goo, too. But you guess she doesn't know that.) Should you be doing something? Saying something? God-damnit!

>[1] Try to relate with Claudia. Tell her you've forgotten a million things too. If she forgot her brother, you forgot your father. At least her brother didn't get murdered and impersonated by an evil not-snake, right? It's hard, but she can power through it.
>[2] Try to invoke the WYRM with Claudia. She likes the WYRM, right? Okay, so would It want her to have all these fears and doubts and whatnot? No? Then she should calm down!
>[3] Try to remind Claudia of why she wanted to be here. She could've stayed in Us and not known about anything, but she wanted the real world, and this is it. It's not so horrible once you get used to it. (Well, a little horrible. But mostly no.)
>[4] ...Give... Claudia... a hug......? Um, you don't know her very well, and also you violently absorbed her and everything, but she is a female relative, so it's definitely allowed. And it's helped you.
>[5] Stay quiet while Earl and Gil handle it. You don't want to make things worse.
>[6] Write-in.

>>6234286
>4
But also, Mater and Pater? And she says we talk weird?

>>6234286
>[4] ...Give... Claudia... a hug......? Um, you don't know her very well, and also you violently absorbed her and everything, but she is a female relative, so it's definitely allowed. And it's helped you.
So all her brattines was a reaction to an existential crisis?

>>6234318
>>6234380
>[4]

Writing!


>>6234318
>But also, Mater and Pater? And she says we talk weird?
It's ironic slang (see https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/pater#English / https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/mater#English). It's also British-ish slang, and Claudia is British-ish, or at least markedly more Anglo than the "present day" cast (whom I imagine to be "American"). So yes, she has a weird accent to Charlotte's ears, and Charlotte has a weird accent to her ears. It has been 200 years, after all.

>>6234380
>So all her brattines was a reaction to an existential crisis?
Not exactly. She was plenty bratty inside Us, if you remember. I think it's more accurate to say that the brattiness is a bit of a put-on, and Claudia drops it when she can't control her behavior any longer (in mortal terror and/or unexpectedly insta-drunk)

>Party time...?

Your main experience with crying people is when you cry. What usually happens then? Richard calls you useless and tells you to suck it up, most of the time. Before that, your Aunt Ruby liked to tell you that, while tears were acceptable for a young lady, mucus and spittle were not. And then she'd offer you a handkerchief.

Your Aunt Ruby was not a hugger. Richard certainly wasn't, given he had no arms, until suddenly he did and he was. You guess you did that to him. It twists your gut to think it worked, that he manipulated you into manipulating him into manipulating you: when he hugged you, you felt less sad. Or at least confused, which was better than sad. If he hugged you now, it'd be bad and sick and evil, but that's now, and...

Gil has hugged you too. Twice while he was all drugged up on godliness, which doesn't count. Only once when he wasn't. When Annie was dead and Us hated you and Madrigal never needed you and you got possessed and almost died, when you were a disaster, a failure, he said he didn't care, and he wasn't leaving. He was your retainer; you weren't just saying so. That hug made you stop crying.

Claudia doesn't trust you like that, not after what you did to her, and you don't know if she likes being hugged. If she does, though, when's the last time she'd had one? 200 years ago? It could help. You look to Gil for guidance, but he's already talking. "I-I-I get it. I-I really... I mean, we've all lost family. You know how many siblings I have? Four. They might as well be fucking dead, because I can't see them ever again. And now I-I'm made of bugs and goo and all sorts of stuff, and I'm underwater, which... nobody gets born here. I-i-i-it's just as weird for us as it is for you. You'll get used to it in a couple weeks, like everybody does— right?"

He meets your eyes. You don't know how he does it, being normal like that. Even after he got drowned and beetled and everything. Maybe it's because of all those siblings? You never had any— not after your mother fell ill. You're aware that you're supposed to back him up here, and you agree with what he's saying, but you just... "Claudia, do you want a hug?"

"My name'sh C.R.," she says thickly.

"Um, okay. Do you want a hug, C.R.? I won't absorb you," you say as an afterthought. "If you're worried about that. I have that under control for right now."

"Hah." She doesn't agree, but doesn't withdraw. You think positive and hug her.

She is cold and squishy, exactly like Gil was, and she starts crying harder as soon as you touch. Is that good? Bad? She still isn't pulling away, so you're hoping for 'good.' You contemplate patting her back comfortingly, but that seems a bridge too far. Ellery didn't like it when you patted him, after all. God, this is unpleasant. She's crying all over you now. Positive thinking!

(1/3?)

"Why don't we get the kid a lie-down?" Earl your savior offers, long after your shoulder's soaked in goo secretions. (Hmm. Maybe you only like it when it's you being hugged.) "There's a couch right over—"

"No!" Claudia says to your shoulder. "I— I don't wanna... I'm... I can sit... shut up!"

Back to rudeness? It's a good sign. You relinquish her, and she wipes her eyes and plops down on her chair. "I'mmnot even that... I feel fine... I'm over it. I'm fine."

"Or not! Okie dokie. Well, er, guess we better follow your lead... bottoms up!" Earl pinches his nose and downs his whole cup. You have doubts about the provenance and quality of his liquor supply, but, as God and savior of the whole entire world, you can hardly sip when everybody else chugged. The Wyrm carries all of the alcohol in the entire world on Its back. You toss the cup back.

Agh! Your usual drink is strong, but it at least pretends to taste like fruit. Plus, it comes with an umbrella. Earl's piss wouldn't know fruit from a hole in a ground, and tastes like it was dug out of one. Also, it might have started fermenting when Claudia died. Gil probably can't taste with his finger, which is why he didn't comment, but you have to muster the whole of your positive energy to keep from gagging.

The good news is that it does its job: you get drunk at record speed. The night smears together. You laugh very loudly at things that aren't funny and try to make Gil lift you off the ground. He can't budge you. Earl can, but only a few inches— he speculates about what kind of concentrate he'd need for a full carry. 15%? 20%? Apparently you looked nervous, because he reassures you loudly that he doesn't mix alcohol and paganry— "Not anymore! Haw haw!" You choose not to pry.

Claudia doesn't start crying again, but is mostly quiet, then, at last, very quiet. "I think she's asleep," Earl says— you think he thinks he's whispering, but it's a normal volume. Claudia doesn't twitch. "I'll get her! Don't worry!"

He stands, balancing himself with the table, bends over, and scoops Claudia up onto his shoulders. "SHIT! She's goopy!"

"That's normal," Gil interjects.

"Really? Well, okay! You're the expert!" Earl staggers over to the couch and deposits Claudia onto it. Thinking about it further, he scoops your blanket off the floor and drapes it over her. "There! I can HOST a fucking guest, and let nobody say— let nobody— agh, hold on." He holds his forehead.

Gil props his face on his hand. "You should take her along to stuff, Lottie. She looks up to you."

"What?" You scoff. "She doesn't... I don't..."

"I-I mean, she won't say it, but she thinks the Court stuff is badass. I said that. And the Wyrm stuff, which, um, I-I tried to tell her it wanted to end the world, but she scoffed and said 'About time,' which, um... yeah. And you did give her a body. I-I know how important that can be to someone."

(2/3)

"Didn't seem very—"

"I-It's a lot. Everything is. But she's, you know— I think out of most of the people in there— she has a shot at coping pretty well. I-I-It just takes time. When I-I got beetled, it took weeks for me to see straight, you know?" He runs his finger around the rim of his cup. "I-I'll get Teddy to talk to her when I get a chance. But I-I-I think, if she's not lonely..."

"You have a lot to say about Claudia," you mumble.

"Sorry. I-It's not— it's nothing to do with— I know her. Sort of. In the back of my..." He drums his fingers on the back of his head. "I-I think we got a little mixed up together in Us."

Oh. "I did that," you say. "I was her, and you didn't know me, so I got Us to make us family friends. I didn't... I didn't think it'd stick."

"I-I don't have any fake memories or anything. Just a feeling. I-I-It's okay, really." Gil looks over your shoulder, then smiles crookedly. "You know, I-I-I don't think Earl's coming back over."

You follow his gaze: Earl is sacked out in an armchair, eyes closed, mouth open. "Oh."

"I-I-I'm gonna go to bed too. Have a good night, Lottie." He starts to stand, then pauses. "Um, think about i-it. With Claudia."

"Yeah, yeah," you say blearily. "Night."

———

=DAY 8 / NIGHT 8 RESULTS=
>Gained 2/2 progress toward [Earthsense II]; [Earthsense I] -> [Earthsense II]
>Gained 1/3 progress toward [Earthsense III]
>Gained 1/5 progress toward [Earl V]
>Gained 3/7 progress toward [Gil VII]
>Gained 1/4 progress toward [Claudia IV]
>You may now invite Claudia to activities. If you can write-in how she plausibly helps out with the activity, she'll provide an extra + of progress on top of the usual yield.

———

>What will you do [DAY 9]?
>OPTIONAL: indicate whether you'd like to invite Claudia, and write-in something relevant / helpful she can do. If sufficiently helpful, she will contribute a + of extra progress to the chosen option.

>[1] You're in the vicinity of Headspace-Namway-Us, aren't you? Swing by and check in on Real Ellery. A couple days for you is a couple weeks for him, so you shouldn't be intruding— and Us is right there, too. (+ [Unionized Ellery], + [Us])
>[2] Earl bringing up his paganry last night reminded you— since you're at his house, shouldn't he have the full set of supplies? Experiment more with that. (+[Earl], +[The Red Stuff])
>[3] You think Gil might've talked about his blessing stuff, but you were drunk enough that you don't remember any details. Make him re-explain. (+[Gil], +[Legerdemain], check on/assign Gil a new project)
>[4] Start working on resurrecting Annie. Giant worms aren't native to Hell, so you probably can't complete the process while with Earl, but you can get started on the prepwork. (+ 1/4 progress toward [Annie V].)
>[LOCKED] The Aunt Ruby in your head is warning you that it's impolite to spend all day in the ground, given you don't have the excuse of feeling ill now. You can do it at night.
>[5] Write-in.

>>6235016
Current status:
>[Positive Thinking IV], 4/5 to next level
>[The Herald's Body III], 1/4 to next level
>[The Herald's Mind II], 2/3 to next level
>[Good With A Sword II], 0/3 to next level
>[Communion II]
>[The Sun I], 1/2 to next level
>[Red Stuff I], 0/2 to next level
>[Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting I], 1/2 to next level
>[On Fire! I]
>[OPEN I]
>[Earthsense II], 1/3 to next level
>[String Manipulation 0]
>[Legerdemain 0]

>[Richard VII]
>[Gil VI], 3/7 to next level
>[Earl IV], 1/5 to next level
>[Henry IV]
>[Unionized Ellery III], 1/4 to next level
>[Madrigal III], 1/4 to next level
>[Claudia III], 1/4 to next level
>[Monty III]
>[Us II], 0/3 to next level
>[Teddy II], 0/3 to next level]
>[Branwen II]
>[Anthea II]
>[Fake Ellery I]
>[Arledge I]
>[Horse Face I]
>[Lucky 0]

>[1] You're in the vicinity of Headspace-Namway-Us, aren't you? Swing by and check in on Real Ellery. A couple days for you is a couple weeks for him, so you shouldn't be intruding— and Us is right there, too. (+ [Unionized Ellery], + [Us])

>>6235016
>>[1] You're in the vicinity of Headspace-Namway-Us, aren't you? Swing by and check in on Real Ellery. A couple days for you is a couple weeks for him, so you shouldn't be intruding— and Us is right there, too. (+ [Unionized Ellery], + [Us])
Whatup, idiot

>>6235016
>3
>Bring Claudia - uh she was a Wyrm daughter or something too right? Have her give us the centuries old lore

>>6235451
[3] is visiting Gil. You can certainly take Claudia along, but how is the centuries old lore related? (I'm not quite following.)

>>6235451
Agh I meant 2

Hey folks. As promised / warned, no update tonight, no update tomorrow night... and no update the night after that, either. I forgot about my third morning obligation in a row. Pray for me pls.

I'll leave this vote open for now, but I might call it and give an optional bonus prompt depending on what wins later. See you soon!

Aaaand we're back (again). I am done with all classes, but I still need to move and formally graduate, so I'll be present but a little frazzled until next Monday. I think I'll be able to update up until then, but it may be a tad spottier than I'd like. After that I'll be good to go for real.

>>6235260
>>6235026
>[1] not even bringing Claudia along to see Us... wow...

>>6235451
>[2]+Claudia

Called for [1] and writing.

>DAY 9

CHARLOTTE FAWKINS
YOU HAVE RETURNED

The amphitheater appears to be Us' preferred place to speak to you, now. Maybe it doesn't trust you enough to let you back into whichever dreamworld it has cooked up this time, even though you didn't set anything on fire the last time you were there. You did steal Claudia, but that was for the best in the end, right? Probably? "Salutations!" you say.

HAVE YOU BROUGHT HER?

Her? No, you're not that dumb. Claudia. You didn't think goo could get a hangover, but it certainly looked like Claudia woke up with a hangover, and you didn't feel like getting snapped at this morning. Last you saw, Earl was concocting some kind of remedy for her (though you strictly warned him against "hair of the dog"). You were also going to ban Gil from coming again, but he was already unresponsive, which you were offended by. Was last night so bad? Did you say anything you'd regret? Is he gossiping with Teddy about you? Positive thinking. He's probably just really invested in his blessing project. You need to check that out again, one of these days...

...But for now, you are inside Us, and you are Claudialess. Those are the facts. "Um, no. She—"

IS SHE WELL?
IS SHE SAFE?
IS SHE HAPPY?

Safe? Yes. Well? Uh... she'll be fine. Happy? She was crying a whole lot. But you believe, you have to believe, that it'll work out okay. She just needs time. "...Yes?"

YOU ARE NOT MUCH OF A LIAR

"I'm not lying! I'm just—" Come on. Be pure and honest. "She's safe. She has a body now, and she likes having a body, I think. It's just a lot to adjust to, and it hasn't been that long at all. So."

WE SEE
PLEASE TELL HER THAT
SHE IS ALWAYS WELCOME
IF SHE SEEKS TO RETURN.
WE WILL NOT LEVY ANY
JUDGEMENT UPON HER.

"Okay." It's not as though she's providing you any supremely valuable services, or much that'd be lost except company. You only got her a body because she said she wanted one, so if she changes her mind, fair is fair... right? (It's not like Gil, who got evilly sucked in and brainwashed. Claudia is from Us, so it's not evil. That's what you think.) "I can tell her that."

THANK YOU
WAS THERE SOMETHING
YOU YOURSELF NEEDED?

"Uh..." You'd mostly come to see Headspace, but it's hard to find them without going through Us first. "Have you made contact with the melted employees yet? They're doing a lot better. They might be able to help you renovate your whole dream situation, if you wanted."

WE HAVE NOT HEARD ANYTHING
WHICH IS PREFERABLE, TO US,
TO THE FORMER SCREAMS OF AGONY
DO THEY WISH TO MAKE CONTACT?

"...Eventually? I think?" Ellery mentioned something like that.

THEN WE WILL KEEP AN EYE OUT
SPEAK IF YOU HAVE FURTHER NEWS

"None right now. I think?"

THEN
FAREWELL CHARLOTTE FAWKINS
RETURN IF YOU THINK FURTHER

>[A] Any further questions, topics, or requests for Us? (Write-in. Optional.)

———

(1/3)

———

"Charlotte! Hi!"

Anthea is with Real Ellery. You exited through the curtain and an employee spotted you immediately and clicked her talkie-thing but didn't say anything into it, just clicked it, and a second later there was a blurring and a yanking and you were there with Real Ellery, not in an office, but atop a clear and dizzingly high viewing platform, and Anthea was there. Is there. You're not sure why this has thrown you off so much, except you're not used to seeing Anthea places. "...Hi? Did you get absorbed too?"

"Huh? Oh, no! Just visiting." She rubs Ellery's shoulder. "I couldn't leave SA without a president, could I? What about you? I know you're not..."

She's looking up at Ellery. Ellery is looking down at you. "I told her you were God."

"You..." Of course he did. "Did you tell Madrigal?"

"Maddie? No. She would've laughed."

"I think it's really incredible what you're up to," Anthea says supportively. "Saving the world! Only you can do it! Or that's what Ell said."

He's still looking. "Well, it won't be me."

"Aw! You're plenty busy! I'm so proud of you. Charlotte, have you seen the place?"

The place? You peer through the floor at new-Headspace's layout. You've never seen it from above before, so you can't directly compare, but it's certainly... big. And warrenous. Everywhere seems connected to everywhere else by a minimum of two and maximum of five modes of transport. Buildings bud off into subbuildings into subsubbuildings. You guess you're glad Ellery's worked out how to teleport you directly, because if you walked through yourself you'd be lost for a week— though none of this appears to be affecting the Collectivists, who bustle about with antlike purpose. "Uh... it's very..."

"So amazing, right?"

Not the word you were going to use. "...sprawling."

"Yeah. Management would hate it." Ellery jams his thumbs into his pockets. "Letting people do anything they can think of? Talk about imperfect. It works, though."

"It probably only works," you say, "because everyone's got a map in their heads."

You elicit a smirk. "That's true. So what's new with you, Charlotte? You're looking all fucked up." (Anthea frowns.) "Metaphysically! I didn't say her face. Her face looks how her face always looks."

"That's not new. The metaphysics. Not my face. I mean, also my face." You touch your cheek. You're going to kill Richard extra hard if he ruins your face. "I guess it's getting worse."

"I guess it is. Well, pro-tip. If you ever start feeling like you're the only real person in the world, you aren't. Ignore that. Uh, if the sun starts appearing everywhere, you're in deep shit. Any progress there? I mean, I don't know what you're progressing toward, but..."

(2/3)

"Not really." Except that your strings look even more like one.

"Okay. Well, I told you everything I know, so I'm not sure I can help you there. Might have to get freaky with it. I dunno. Oh! About the secret weapon? To fight God?"

"...Yeah?"

"Still very early stages, but we could use some data, so it's great you're here. We'll get it handled before you skedaddle. Was the Ramsey stuff alright?"

The Ramsey— "Um, I haven't looked at it yet."

"Uh-huh. Figures. Well, I think it's comprehensive, so even if it's not alright, not sure what to do. Ask someone else."

"Before you get whisked off," Anthea says, "you know we're having another meeting in a little while, right? You are an official member, Charlotte, so you're welcome to—"

God! So many things. "A meeting?"

"You know, of Spelunker's Associated? Just a regular one. Not much need for the special ones anymore. No obligation, I just wanted to... here!" She hands you a business card. "In case you need it."

"Oh. Thanks." You pocket it. You probably shouldn't ask if she remembers you spying on her and Ellery. The past is the past, isn't it?

>[B] Any further questions, topics, or requests for Ellery or Anthea? (Write-in. Optional.)

What would you like to do NIGHT 9? OPTIONAL: write-in a plausible way for Claudia to tag along and contribute to add an extra + of progress.

>[C1] It's been several days since Richard last tortured you on purpose. You feel like you have to be better at it now, right? Beat your high score! (+ [Positive Thinking])
>[C2] You're denser physically, but that isn't quite all, is it? You're denser metaphysically, too. Enlist Richard's help in testing that. (+ [Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting])
>[C3] Okay, you can't chop Jean Ramsey's head off quite yet, but can you try it with Richard? He won't mind, right? (++ [Good With a Sword]) One-time boost from enhanced density
>[C4] Stop and talk things through with Richard. How are you doing? Does he have any *polite* suggestions? Can he look at Ellery's dossier on Jean Ramsey with you? (Read the Ramsey dossier. Unlock or upgrade an option.)
>[C5] Okay, now that it's not rude to lay on the ground for hours, you should do that. You feel a lot safer now, so you should have more leeway to experiment... (+++[Earthsense])
>[C6] Ellery mentioned "getting freaky with it" re: the sun stuff. You don't know what that phrase means, exactly, but knowing Ellery it probably means almost dying or taking a lot of drugs or both. You can do that! (+ [Unionized Ellery], ++ [The Sun])
>[C7] Write-in.

>>6237587
>[C4] Stop and talk things through with Richard. How are you doing? Does he have any *polite* suggestions? Can he look at Ellery's dossier on Jean Ramsey with you? (Read the Ramsey dossier. Unlock or upgrade an option.)

>>6237589
I hope you're not American, anon... good night!

>>6237584
>A
NO

>>6237587
>B
YES
Let’s do C6, and also what do they do in regular meetings?

>>6237677
>Let’s do C6, and also what do they do in regular meetings?
You've been to one, anon! Check Threads 10 - 13. They meet up, socialize, and then split off and spelunk an abandoned manse for fun and science. That's how you wound up finding Gil-- you randomly happened into the abandoned manse *he* was stuck in, though he was there to jack it, not for fun. (The secret smaller meetings with just Ellery / Anthea / Pat on an assassination mission are related to SA insofar as they involve SA members, but it's not the actual purpose of the organization.)

>>6237587
>>[C4] Stop and talk things through with Richard. How are you doing? Does he have any *polite* suggestions? Can he look at Ellery's dossier on Jean Ramsey with you? (Read the Ramsey dossier. Unlock or upgrade an option.)

>>6237708
I didn't think that was a regular meeting - they have an abandoned manse to spelunk in every time? There's more of the things than I thought.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>6237589
>>6237894
>[C4]

>>6237677
>[C6]

Alright! Called for...

...Just kidding. I have received a non-thread vote that I intend to honor-- please see picrel. I don't usually do this, but this is a known and frequent voter, and timeskip votes aren't super high-stakes. As a result, we are tied for [C4] and [C6] and I will be rolling for the result. 1 = C4, 2 = C6

>>6237944
Charlotte's estimate of the number of "white cubes" at the bottom of Headspace was 1,000+, and each one of those cubes corresponded to a locitis victim-- with the manses of locitis victims being, by default, abandoned. Spelunkers Associated meets infrequently (monthly-ish), and Anthea founded the local chapter within the last year or so, so they haven't even made a dent in the total number of abandoned manses out there. This doesn't even account for the manses abandoned for non-locitis reasons: it's a lot of effort to make one from scratch, and plenty of people get bored or give up at some point in the process.

So tl;dr is that no, supply isn't an issue.

>>6238052
>C6

Ellery x Charlotte enemies to mutually respectful allies arc a go...? Writing.

>More Ellery

"Of course! Though I'm sorry to say Ellery can't make it..." She glances at Ellery.

"Like I said, a little busy. As are you, I'm sure, Charlotte, so we should get started on those measurements. I'll let the team know that—"

"Hold you," you say. "What does 'getting freaky with it' mean?"

Anthea giggles. "What?" Ellery says.

"You said that's what I'd need to do for my sun?"

"Oh, yeah. Uhh. I don't know specifics right now. I was sort of, er—" He's gesturing a lot. "If it shows up when things are fucked, then you probably need to get your things fucked. I can think about it, if you want?"

"You should help," you say. "You're the expert at getting effed."

He half-smiles. "I'll think about it."

———

>[NIGHT 9]

You spent the rest of the day having swabs stuck up your nose. (You asked the Headspace employees if they didn't have any more advanced machinery, or if they didn't, couldn't they invent some? Isn't this all imaginary? They stuck a needle in your arm in response.) You spent the evening trying to explain to Richard that you needed Ellery to shoot you in the head again.

Richard didn't even bother to respond. He just looked at you.

"I do! It's—" Have you ever explained the sun thing to him properly? He was dead or "dreaming" almost the whole time it was going on. Too late to start. "—it's Herald practice. You said the Wyrm was going to come out of my body."

"Most likely."

"So I'm going to die, aren't I? Or my body is. Maybe I can make another one later, with my God powers, but in the meantime my actual real-life body will be..." You squint. "...exploded...? Yeah! Exploded awesomely. And if I don't practice getting at least my head exploded, won't I be too freaked out to concentrate?"

"Certainly, Charlie. If you aren't too dead to—"

"But I won't be! We know that. Ellery won't kill me."

Richard tilted his glasses down. "You are mortal. Kindly realize that."

"I— I didn't say he couldn't kill me!" Even if he probably can't. "I said he won't."

You stood nobly and courageously against Richard's chilly gaze. Finally he relented. "I will supervise. In person."

And that's how you got back to Headspace, a more-flickery-than-usual Richard in tow (he claimed the goo "introduced interference." With his snake machine? you said. He was having trouble getting his machine to project him into a snake into your head, since your head was in goo? Yes, he said). Ellery is nonplussed. "Who..."

"They did good work on you," Richard says coolly. "Tidy. Not slapdash. The side-effects were surely expected, or potentially intended."

(1/TBC)

"You're her Management guy." Ellery tugs rapidly at his zipper. "I thought we blew you fucking guys up, frankly. Straight back with a new face? You like your new faces."

Richard looks like he's going to say something even less helpful, so you clear your throat. "Wow! Hello! Yes, this is Richard, but he's not Management. He's a— a not-a-snake. From the moon? I was telling you? Management's from there too, but he doesn't even know them. He's here to make sure I don't actually die."

"You won't," Ellery says.

"That's what I tried to tell him! He just wanted to be a jerk about it. But it's okay, since I'm going to kill him in a month or so. How were you planning on all this, Ellery?"

He had thought about it, earlier, then told you: if you're assigning it the concept of 'rebirth,' which he still wasn't sure about, but whatever, it's your concept— if you're assigning it, then you need to be dead, right? Or almost dead. Something to be reborn from. And he didn't want to participate in torture, and he didn't have time for elaborate scenarios, so why not shoot you? It worked last time.

But the sun didn't happen last time, you protested, then remembered that you weren't you— you were that horrible Everard guy, so your heroic spirit was presumably dampened. Also, you didn't know you were God last time. You didn't. Now everything's different.

"I think we better just—"

In lieu of finishing his thought, Ellery raises his arm and sends a crossbow bolt through Richard's forehead. "Hm," Richard says, and touches the empty hole it made. "Testing?"

"Yeah. Testing. Guess I figured. As for you, Charlotte..."

>[TO BE CONTINUED]

———

...But you can still vote on DAY 10! I'll try to bundle the end of NIGHT 9 and DAY 10 together (tbd on feasibility).

>OPTIONAL: Write-in how to plausibly include Claudia in the activity to receive a boost to progress!

>[1] You're at Earl's house and haven't used his horrific pagan blood magic supplies / expertise even once. This HAS to change. (+ [Earl], + [The Red Stuff])
>[2] Gil's doing alright, isn't he? He hasn't told you he's not alright, but you need to make sure he doesn't get any weird ideas in his head... (+[Gil], +[Legerdemain], check on/assign Gil a new project)
>[3] Start working on resurrecting Annie. Giant worms aren't native to Hell, so you probably can't complete the process while with Earl, but you can get started on the prepwork. (+ 1/4 progress toward [Annie V].)
>[4] It's been a couple days since Madrigal told you she'd talk to Eloise. She probably has by now, right? Get Earl to get Pat to get Madrigal back in touch with you, so you can hear what's up— and cross-compare with the Headspace info. (+ [Madrigal], + [Eloise], read Ellery's Ramsey document)
>[5] Write-in?

>>6238094
>[4] It's been a couple days since Madrigal told you she'd talk to Eloise. She probably has by now, right? Get Earl to get Pat to get Madrigal back in touch with you, so you can hear what's up— and cross-compare with the Headspace info. (+ [Madrigal], + [Eloise], read Ellery's Ramsey document)

>>6238094
>4
Now that the big bonuses are out of the way we really should read that document

>>6238109
>>6238169
>[4]

Alright. Will I be able to bundle [NIGHT 9] and [DAY 10] like I would prefer to do pacing-wise? Uh.... probably not. I'm still in the throes of the on-the-go-ness mentioned here >>6237550. Given the rocky start to the thread and my practical need to hit the beats we gotta hit, I'm probably going to run for 30 days post-Monday (ending June 9thish) and call everything before that a bonus, but until then we're going to keep trucking.

Writing shortly.

Nah, okay. I'll put it this way: the next update posted will combine [NIGHT 9] and [DAY 10]. Said update might be posted before Monday night (I'll keep plinking away at it), but might not. It doesn't matter either way, because everything posted before Monday is Thread 46.5 and strictly a bonus onto the Real Thread 47. The Real Thread 47 will then run for the normal thread length, which is 30 days or until I hit a stopping point I'm satisfied with. Cool? Cool. Sorry for the hassle, folks.

>>6238094
>[4] It's been a couple days since Madrigal told you she'd talk to Eloise. She probably has by now, right? Get Earl to get Pat to get Madrigal back in touch with you, so you can hear what's up— and cross-compare with the Headspace info. (+ [Madrigal], + [Eloise], read Ellery's Ramsey document)

Sorry for the late vote.

Hi folks, and welcome to Thread 47! What? All that stuff up there? Uh... don't worry about it. I am graduated, moved in, and ready to update daily for the next month, so let's get straight to it.

>>6238109
>>6238169
>>6238928

Writing.

>Continued

Ellery lowers the crossbow. "...we'll need a little more than that, I think."

"Oh!" you say, and untense. "Okay, cool. You can shoot Richard some more if you want?"

"No point. I confirmed what I needed confirmed. No, uh, for you- I mean, for me and you, we're going to need-"

"Drugs?"

"...Drugs?"

"It's always drugs. It's snake drugs, or pagan drugs, or Headspace drugs. It's okay if it is, but I just want to know, okay? And also, it can't last too long, because I don't want to get stuck with my head in goo. That can't be healthy. And it can't make me go crazy, because- I mean, the same reason, and I don't want to start killing people. Or make Richard stop me from killing people."

("I appreciate your concern, Charlie," Richard says dryly.)

"So yeah," you finish. "I'll take your drugs if you promise they're safe, okay?"

"I wasn't going to say drugs," Ellery says, "uh, but good to know you're okay with that. Making a mental note. I was going to say..."

-

You are standing before a shiny vault door, the kind with a big wheel on it. Past the wheel, you can see your face in the metal- sort of. If you start looking too long, the reflection starts to melt, and Ellery's reflection starts to melt, and you glance at Ellery and find him goo-coated, and goo goes up your nose and throat, and you're about to choke when Richard nudges you and everything goes back to normal. Ellery is finishing a sentence, and you try to focus on that. "...high-pressure zone. That's what the suits are for."

He means the fluorescent orange jumpsuits and helmets hanging to your left. You wrinkle your nose. "We're wearing those?"

"No. We want as much pressure as we can get. I doubt your Manager does, though, does he? Or he'd have to show what he's really like."

That's appealing, but it doesn't sound right. "No, I think he'd turn into a key... maybe? Richard? He did that before, at the Trial of Keys- you wouldn't remember, you were a doll, or something- and I thought it was because it was the Trial of Keys, it just did that, but it didn't do that to me. Only to Richard. And then I found out way later that he is a key, legally, so it makes sense why he'd turn into-"

"Not 'turn into,'" Richard says crabbily. "I retain no awareness. And I will stay out here, yes. Charlie, take this."

He palms the key you were just talking about into your hand. The iron one with the groove. The Richard key. You eye him. "So you can spy on me?"

"So I can intervene if a smirking idiot drags you to your death. Don't lose it."

"If I lose it," you say, "will you threaten to murder everybody I know? Again?"

It could be a speck of dust; it could be an oncoming sneeze. For a fraction of a second, Richard looks guilty. Then he doesn't, and he folds your fingers around the key. "Don't lose it."

"Touching. But yeah. High-pressure, think way down in a manse, think..." Ellery waggles the vault wheel back and forth. "...anything goes. Should we?"

(1/3)

You shall. He spins the wheel and clack-clack-clacks the door open and ushers you in and slams in behind him. You are in a second, smaller room. It feels no different from the first, though it has straps hanging from the ceiling and a square of glowing buttons on the wall. "Grab that," Ellery says distractedly, as he thumbs at the buttons. You grab the strap. A second later, there's a THUD, your ears pop, and Ellery grabs on too. "Hang on."

Then: descent. You were expecting a sudden plunge, but it's more of a vise tightening, with a click every time the pressure ratchets up: click and you wince and grip harder; click and you stiffen everywhere; click and the air is hard to breathe; click, click, click, for a slow minute. You glance over at Ellery, who looks washed-out and odd, lumpy, fake-looking, and down at your fingers, which are smooth and pale and hard and cold, and then there's a click and you blink and the nails are pointed. Click, click, click, until you can't bear it any longer, and only then does it stop.

"One sec," Ellery says, though his voice doesn't quite come from his mouth. He is pressing a hand into his gut and pushing it up, into his chest, squeezing his throat, pushing his cheeks in, until finally he leans down into the corner of the small room and expels a wobbly stream of goo. You think of toothpaste. "Okay, all good. You should head out."

The door has slid open, revealing nothing. Blackness. You take a step and nearly tumble— your weight is all wrong— before recovering. There is nowhere obvious to step, but you step anyways and find footing. You are definitely different, but you don't want to look and find out how. You wait for Ellery, who appears in the doorway, but when he steps out he vanishes. You wait more, but he doesn't come back. "Ellery?"

YEAH

His voice comes from everywhere. You flinch.

SORRY
ONE SEC
UHH
YEAH HERE WE GO

There. He swings into view a ways beyond you, strung up at the wrists and shoulders with long tethers of goo. He looked fake before, but this isn't helping.

HANG ON
I'LL FIX THE VOICE THING
TEST?
TEST?

"Test?" There we go. Ellery's jaw is moving unnaturally, but at least his voice comes out of the right place. "Shit. Alright. We can work with this."

"Is that your real body?" you say suspiciously.

"Is that yours?" He pulls his arm down against the tether, and it springs back. "Herald. Nice to see where it's all going."

Against your will, you touch your face. It's cold but not smooth. You feel scale-ridges and withdraw. "Shut up."

(2/3?)

"Sure, sure. Well, try getting the sun out."

How? You suppose you did it in Headspace, kind of. Or the Herald did, and you are the Herald, so it should be easy. Yeah. Positive thinking. You stick two fingers into your mouth, but it's dry and hard in there, and your jaw is unyielding. When you try to cough you can't. "I don't..."

"Is it in there, at least?"

Is that what's in your chest? Something is in your chest. That was the trouble with the stepping, earlier— it's not that you're heavier, it's that your center of gravity is off. Something is where your heart should be. "I think so."

"Great." Ellery raises his tethered arm— or does the goo tug him up?— and shoots you. It doesn't do anything. Except for the plink and the little jolt, you hardly realize. "Hmm. Alright."

You touch your chest. There's no mark. "...Just testing?"

"Sort of. I think you're made of stone. I guess I could grab a sledgehammer?"

"Marble," you mumble to the first thing, and to the second: "You couldn't even lift a sledgehammer. I— I don't want to be sledgehammered. Could it at least be something cool?"

"Like?"

Setting you on fire probably wouldn't work. Neither would chopping your head off. "Exploding me?"

Ellery laughs, a sound you don't like, and drops his crossbow into the blackness. When you blink, he has a new one, darker and bulkier, and he's loading it (tethers bobbing) with a long, fat-tipped bolt. "You're a funny one," he says when he sees you looking. "Let's try this. Stay with me, now. Ready?"

You can't die, so you won't. You're just letting the thing inside you out. "Yeah."

"Okay, then," Ellery says, and shoots you again. You feel the thunk and hear a tsssss and see the bolt flare up white and then you're gone, it's over. You have exploded. You are a cloud of spinning chunks and fragments, and you are the whirling incandescent mass inside it, and Ellery says "Charlotte?" and "Charlotte?" and "Son of a bitch," but you can't hear him and can't respond. You know very close to nothing. You know light only.

Then you come alive in that small room, tangled up on a net on the ground, Ellery peering down at you. Your mouth is dry. You push your fingers through the netting. The doors to the small room open and Richard hurries up and helps you with the net. Your legs are weak; he offers you his arm. "Charlie! Are you well?"

"I exploded," you mumble. "It was bright... I need to sleep."

Shortly after, you do.

————

=DAY 9 / NIGHT 9 RESULTS=
>Gained 1/3 progress toward [Us III]
>Gained 3/4 progress toward [Unionized Ellery IV]
>Gained 2/2 progress toward [The Sun II]; [The Sun I] -> [The Sun II]
>Gained 1/3 progress toward [The Sun III]

————

(3/4)

>[DAY 10]

"He fucking exploded you? Literally?"

"I asked him to," you say defensively. "And I'm fine now. You don't have to get mad at him."

"Somebody has to get pissed at him, or he doesn't learn anything. That's the problem with that other chick. Way too nice. I think it's 'cause she's— how old is she again? Anthea?" Madrigal bites her knuckle, thinking. "No, forget it. I didn't drag myself into dreamland to talk about fucking exes. Though, I was thinking... I've been spending time with Ell... the one back at camp. The copy? You know? It's so weird. He's just like Ellery."

You don't know what to say to that. "...Yeah?"

"Yeah. I made Ellery uncross some of his wires, and, like— it is him. Except for the part where he's a fucked-up mirror clone, and I can't tell him, because he'll..." She raises her eyebrows meaningfully. "Is there anything we can do? Has Ellery talked about him at all? Because it's— I don't— if he could turn real, or if they could get stuck back together— he's owed that, isn't he? He's gotten a raw fucking deal, I mean. A raw deal. You don't think Ellery would come see him, or...?"

She's asking you? You're guessing she hasn't been visiting Real Ellery very often, not that you can blame her, what with the Wind Court lurking around every corner. You make a face. "It didn't go very well last time."

"Yeah, but he's doing better, isn't he? Got his fucking head screwed back on? Thanks for not letting him kill himself. I think I said that, but, you know... yeah. Means a lot. Uh, anyways, do you think you could raise the subject?"

'If' you see Ellery again, you'd say, but you feel like you probably will. You have unfinished sun business. "I guess, but I'm not going to argue with him. He's horrible to argue with."

"Ha! You're fucking telling me!" Madrigal flashes her teeth. "I wouldn't want to press it, anyways. Now, about everything else..."

>Pick TWO. You will always talk about the Jean Ramsey info on top of the selected options. (Also, it's been 3 days since you last saw Madrigal.)

>[1] How's the Wind Court this week? Any closer to giving up? They didn't re-interrogate her, did they?
>[2] Has she heard from Branwen? She didn't get arrested, did she? You'd feel bad if she got arrested.
>[3] How's Monty? Still under surveillance? Has he shared any mysterious revelations like you prompted him to?
>[4] How's Horse Face? Hopefully suffering or dead, right? You've heard almost nothing about him.
>[5] Write-in.

>>6240650
Augh
These are grueling choices
I want to pick all four
>2,3

>>6240650
>[3] How's Monty? Still under surveillance? Has he shared any mysterious revelations like you prompted him to?
>[4] How's Horse Face? Hopefully suffering or dead, right? You've heard almost nothing about him.

>>6240650
>[2] Has she heard from Branwen? She didn't get arrested, did she? You'd feel bad if she got arrested.

I WOULD feel bad if she got arrested...

>>6240650
>[2] Has she heard from Branwen? She didn't get arrested, did she? You'd feel bad if she got arrested.
>[3] How's Monty? Still under surveillance? Has he shared any mysterious revelations like you prompted him to?

>>6240650
Gonna go with these
>[2] Has she heard from Branwen? She didn't get arrested, did she? You'd feel bad if she got arrested.
>[1] How's the Wind Court this week? Any closer to giving up? They didn't re-interrogate her, did they?

6241042
6240739
6241029
6241031
>[2]

6240739
6241026
6241031
Picrel
>[3]

6241026
Picrel
>[4]

6241042
>[1]

Alright! That's clear majorities for [2] and [3]. I suppose the degree of Horse Face's suffering must be left up to your vivid imagination. Writing.

>Get the deets

"...you dipped, huh? How did you find out they were heading your way? Got a contact on the inside, or something?"

Jesse, who died. Not him. You look sideways.

"Oh, shit, wait! You're right! Don't tell me. I don't want to know where you are right now, either. Lips sealed." She mimes zipping them up. "They haven't dragged me back in yet, but it's probably just a matter of time, right? Though I think they're spread a little thin. They're combing the Fen for you now, is what I heard, so we'll see if any of them get eaten by gators. Like that one Court guy we found. 'Member? Shit, that was a long time ago. A whole month. It's been one hell of a month, Charlotte."

"You don't have to tell me." You stare up into your manse's shadowed recesses. "Did they get Branwen?"

"Haven't talked to her, but haven't seen her dragged off, either, so I'm thinking no. She's a tough fucking customer. My guess is, she heard the Court was coming, pissed off into the Fen for the day, came back to some bored Court guys sitting around her table, and then— I mean— she's not a pushover by herself, but she's got Sgwd around, who's a sweetie, but no way the guys know that. And all she has to do is get all pissed about trespassers disturbing the peace, and how she ain't seen anyone ruder in her entire life, and if she keeps talking, they can't ask any questions, right? They're fucked. It's not like they can stick a torch in some random lady's face, especially when she's got a fuck-off big shark there ready to eat theirs. I bet she's fine."

"But you don't know," you say tentatively.

"I don't know, but I know Bran, and I know Court guys are all lily-livered splats of chickenshit. Except for the main one. Lucky's a fucking piece of work. But if he's got 5 or 6 guys that all want to go home, 'cause they've been twiddling their thumbs all day, does he have the cred to press it? Dunno. I think they went home."

"...That's good."

"Yeah, it's good. What? Were you worried?" Madrigal's grin is invasive-feeling. "Charlotte fucking Fawkins, worried. It has been a month. I'm gonna come back and you're gonna be fucking Monty, aren't you? Gladhanding and all that shit?"

"He said he thought I was a lot like him." You don't know why you said that. "Or him when he was my age."

"Not much of a compliment, huh?"

"Um, he said it a long time ago." You pause. "Did he tell you...?"

"Tell me what? About his dark and stormy past? Sure. We had some drinks last week. Before the Court really got on his ass, thank god, since it's none of their goddamn business."

"And?"

(1/5)

"And, Charlotte, I'll tell you what. I'm serious about this. I am sick and fucking tired of men keeping secrets. Fucking tired. You know, it's— it's condescending, is what it is. Only they know what's best. Only they can control everyone else's fucking reaction. What if he was a rapist? Huh? What if he got tossed down here because he stuck his finger up a little kid's ass? I just—"

She sees you reddening. "Oh, shit. Sorry. Forgot you're prissy. What if he... deflowered... a little girl's... butt blossom? Same idea. Nobody would want to fucking talk to him ever again, and that should be their fucking right. I don't keep my embarrassing shit a secret at all. I let people draw their own conclusions. But these sons-of-bitches..."

You have a feeling she means more than just Monty. "Um, I— I get it. Richard kept a lot of secrets too. Or just lied. He actually mainly just lied to me."

"See? Fucking men! Also, I could've told you that. He doesn't exactly give off, uh, warm fuzzies."

"If he counts as a man. I think snakes are sort of all the... same." You'd rather not think about it too hard. "I guess he counts. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you're a fucking awful listener? You would've bitched me out for it. In any case, sure, that's another for the pile. You got any others?"

Henry? But he did give it to you straight. Horse Face counts, but he doesn't seem worth mentioning. Gil... "Not Gil. He doesn't have any secrets."

"None? He's so fucking cagey. You're sure about that?"

"Yes." Completely. You saw all of them, and he let you draw your own conclusions, which were: they weren't important. You trusted him. And he stayed, and it worked out.

"Damn. I hope you're right. You got a decent guy on your hands, I think. Weird little guy, but decent. And, let me tell you, it is hard as shit to find a decent guy, so don't ditch him."

"I'd never ditch him," you say righteously.

"Good."

"But..." Not about Gil. Somehow the topic got away from what you actually wanted to know. "...what did you think? Not about Monty keeping the secret, but, um, about the secret. Whatever he told you."

"That? I mean, I already knew half of it. The Game shit is public. He— I mean— his face isn't different, and he's not any older, and it's been, what, a decade? Less? What I hear, he was all over the papers, and if you're from where he's from you're gonna remember. I've been working my ass off telling people to fuck off with autographs. I tell them he'll murder them with his pitchfork or whatever if they ask. I think it mostly worked." She rubs the inside corner of her eye. "The other stuff was new, but I don't know what the big deal was. He killed some people? Newsflash, like, 60% of the guys down here killed some people."

"I think it was more of a scale thing?"

(2/5)

"Sure, but then he was possessed? Or something? Part of an evil guy version of Us? Went way over my head, but it sure didn't seem like he was planning it. I just plain don't know why I'm supposed to give a shit. Or why anybody should give a shit. Would've made way more sense if he was a rapist, but maybe that's just me." Madrigal shakes her head grimly. "God, and he's been torturing himself about it for how long? Since Constance? Fucking moron. You know a guy for 4, 5 years..."

She sounds bitter. You lace your fingers. "Um, I don't think it was personal that he didn't tell you."

"Which is why he told you, right? No, I know you suckered it out of him. Good for you, I guess. Better that than him sucking a shotgun. He's such a basket case. Always has been. Maybe this'll help."

"Did he seem better?"

Madrigal laughs shortly. "Real hard to tell. I don't think he could get too much worse, though, so it's fine. Nice of you to care. Seriously. It's like you're a human being or something."

You tap two of your fingernails together. They make a clack, and you think about last night, about marble, about chunks spinning into the night. "...Thanks. Did Monty say anything about Jean Ramsey?"

"About Jean... oh, shit! No, he's been preoccupied by the Court goons. Not good to let the Ramsey stuff slip, considering— oh, wait, did you read through the Ellery papers?"

Yes, you did, finally. Ellery shamed you into it. The write-up was long and meandering, but the important points were:

>Quite a bit of confirmation of what you already knew. Headspace employees were aware that the woman's name was Jean Ramsey, that she was going by "The Hero-Queen," that she was a professional and famous Game-player, and that she was for some reason newly popular underwater. Most of the employees, if they'd heard of her involvement with Headspace, knew she was part of the marketing campaign for the new product.

>There was a debate about whether to work Ramsey's home base Thatsall into some sort of slogan, but it was ultimately decided against.

>Ramsey was not offered payment for the cross-promotion, but seemed enthusiastic about the potential attention gained from it. She appeared to view it as an opportunity to expand her influence alongside Headspace's.

>Management never spoke to Ramsey directly, but did approve the cross-promotion. There was rumblings that they might direct additional resources toward Ramsey if she "proved successful." What those resources were, and what "success" was defined as, is unclear.

>Ramsey never personally toured Headspace, potentially out of safety concerns. Instead, she would send her "retainers," whom the employees found unpleasant and odd. The retainers would talk up their "Hero-Queen" endlessly. The write-up used the word "cultish."

(3/5)

>It was never entirely clear to the majority of the employees what Ramsey was doing outside, what she wanted, or why she was so popular, but the fact that Management signed off on it so readily made them uneasy. The retainers would mention that Ramsey was expanding her influence, or consolidating power, or striking deals with the Wind Court and other local powers, but were regularly secretive about what on earth for.

"Well, we know what for." Madrigal has one leg crossed over the other. "Taking over the goddamn world, or something? Crazy to think about. I thought she was just our shitty doctor."

"She has a Richard," you say. "But, um, with even fewer scruples. I think."

«Yes.»

Nice to know he's half-paying attention. Madrigal sounds skeptical. "Less scruples than fucking Richard? Do they go into the negatives? Well, whatever. I get the picture. Still, I thought 'take over the world' was pretty broad, so I asked Eloise. She did her thing, got the word on the ground. Word on the ground is, there's gonna be a Game."

You frown. "Like Monty's...?"

"Yeah. I don't know if it's the end goal or a side project, but I think this chick really, really gets her kicks from killing people. But in a sport way, not a serial killer way. She misses being murder famous, so she's bringing it back. Or something. Little sparse on the details."

"And the Wind Court is pro-murder?" You're sure Lucky would be, but the whole organization?

"Dunno. I guess it is a surface thing, but it's probably not about that. Talked about that with Eloise too, since it's so weird. The thinking is, uh, what does the Wind Court want? Like, overall."

"...To make everything normal again? Like the surface?"

"Yeah, that's what I said. Guess I'm not read up enough, because I guess— I mean— that's their pivot. That's them settling. The real goal was to get back to the surface."

You scoff. "You can't go back. Nobody can. Not unless you're a..."

God-damnit!

"Yeah, I know, but I guess they were slow on the draw. Not unless what?" Madrigal registers your frustration. "Is everything okay?"

"They need to be God to get back to the surface. Lucky needed to... Lucky was after the Crown. From the start! I had to get it back from him! The Wind Court needs the Crown to... Ramsey has the..." You rub your forehead. "They think she'll get him back to the surface."

"Wait, what? You did a whole thing there. Explain like I'm dumb."

"The Wind Court is backing Ramsey because she has the Crown. The Crown gives you Godlike... it actually does. You have to trust me. It gives you Godlike powers." You don't need to go into the Wyrm thing right now. "And you need Godlike powers to even think about going back to the surface. It's impossible. Normal people can't do it. So if Ramsey has the Crown, and she's not giving it back, she's the Court's only hope."

(4/5)

"Oh, shit. That's... I mean... fuck. That's a pretty reasonable motivation. Dammit! I hate it when those guys are reasonable. I bet she'd actually help, too, she's nice as fuck. I still have the jacket she lent me. Do you have to fight her?"

"What?"

"I mean, I don't know about you, but going back to the surface sounds pretty good to me. Not that I want to ditch camp or anything, but I have some... you know, there's people up there, too. I wouldn't mind."

"She..." You take a deep breath. "I don't know if she'd try to help or not, but it doesn't matter, because she's going to get exploded and turn into a giant evil snake god and kill everybody. Because the snake god wants to kill everybody even if she doesn't. So I do need to fight her."

"Oh." Madrigal doesn't say anything for a while. "This really has been a month, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Well, I'm not asking questions. Evil snake god. Awesome. Does the Wind Court know about that part?"

"I— I have no idea."

"Feels like they should probably get told, if they don't, but I'm sure not doing it. Not sure you can either. So I dunno. Anything else I should know about?"

>[A] Any other questions or tasks for Madrigal (or by extension, anybody in camp Madrigal can get in touch with)? (Write-in. Optional.)

[B] slate for [NIGHT 10] coming in the morning

>>6241231
>Is she gonna tell Lucky about the whole Wyrm and crown situation? She should add that Ramsey will fail but we’re destined to succeed and we are totally willing to raise them to the surface

>>6241231
>>6241298
+1. Why the hell not

>>6241298
>>6241323
>Feels like they should probably get told, if they don't, but I'm sure as hell not doing it

Lucky is not exactly in "reasonable mode" right now, and Madrigal doesn't want to get arrested and re-interrogated, particularly when she's been in contact with you. I'll still have Charlotte press on it and get a little more detail, though.


Also, options for [NIGHT 10]:

>[B1] Your alterations were, as promised, pretty mild— you feel more than ready for another round. Especially if Earl is around to hype you up. (++++ [The Herald's Body], + [The Herald's Mind], + [Earl])
>>[A] Ask Richard to specifically enhance your muscle density even further. You suspect he did the bare minimum to keep you upright, but you need more than that. (++ [Good With A Sword])
>>[B] Ask Richard to specifically enhance your durability. You need scales. You need pain tolerance. You need everything. (+ [Good With A Sword], + [Positive Thinking])
>>[C] Ask Richard to specifically, um, enhance your blood? Do something with the red stuff? It's not your job to figure out what. (++ [The Red Stuff])
>>[D] Ask Richard for something else specific. (Write-in. Subject to veto — some things might be better suited for a future [Herald's Mind] upgrade.)

>[B2] Okay, you're not repeating the density thing: you don't need to sink through a hole in the ground. Still, it was enlightening. You could try something else. (+++ [The Herald's Mind], + [The Herald's Body], + [Positive Thinking], + [The Sun])
>>[A] It's funny to think that the Wyrm is so associated with the earth, even though it hates being buried in it. Do you hate being buried in it? Does the Herald? (++ [Earthsense])
>>[B] You felt it. You couldn't control it, but when Ellery exploded you you felt it. If you could only access that again... (+ [The Sun], + [On Fire!])
>>[C] You saw the future. Kind of. You stepped out of your body and saw something. Could you step out and see something else? Do something else? (+ [Communion], + [Gil])
>>[D] Ask Richard for something else specific. (Write-in. Subject to veto — some things might be better suited for a future [Herald's Body] upgrade.)

>>6241428
>B1A
The Herald's body can help us deal with the Court.
>And get Claudia to cheer us on too.

>>6241428
Maybe she can leave them an anonymous note
Do they have a tip line

>B2B
Mmmm, fire

>>6241428
>B1A

>>6241428
>[B2] Okay, you're not repeating the density thing: you don't need to sink through a hole in the ground. Still, it was enlightening. You could try something else. (+++ [The Herald's Mind], + [The Herald's Body], + [Positive Thinking], + [The Sun])
>>[B] You felt it. You couldn't control it, but when Ellery exploded you you felt it. If you could only access that again... (+ [The Sun], + [On Fire!])

>>6241428
>[B2] Okay, you're not repeating the density thing: you don't need to sink through a hole in the ground. Still, it was enlightening. You could try something else. (+++ [The Herald's Mind], + [The Herald's Body], + [Positive Thinking], + [The Sun])
>>[B] You felt it. You couldn't control it, but when Ellery exploded you you felt it. If you could only access that again... (+ [The Sun], + [On Fire!])

ON FIRE BABY

>>6241677
>>6241670
>>6241598
>[B2B]

>>6241669
>>6241512
>[B1A]

The people want FIRE. Writing.

>Madrigal can you please do the thing you just specifically said you wouldn't do

"Not anything else," you say, "but are you sure you can't talk to...?"

"Oh, sure I can. I'll stroll right up to fucking Lucky and his 30 idiots and go 'hey, you know that lady who used to be doctor here? She's going to turn into a big magic snake and eat everybody, and it's your fucking fault, so cut it out.' And then they'll go 'wow, thanks, Madrigal. You're so right. We will cut it out.' And then we'll kiss with fucking tongue. Me and all 30 of them. That sound right to you?"

"That can't be sanitary," you mumble.

"Yeah. Nope. They're not listening to me, they're not listening to you, they're not listening to anybody except high command. Maybe if you had proof, but this isn't— would they even care? For all we know, the guy thinks ending the world is just fine."

"I don't know." Lucky is horrible, but you didn't think he was villainous. Not like that. "I guess I'll need proof, then."

"Sure. Or an eyewitness, or something. Don't ask me where to start, because I don't know. I don't fuck around with the Court. Eloise knows everybody, so maybe she... I can ask, if you want, but no promises."

"Sure. Thanks." If only Jesse were still around. "It'll get sorted out. It just needs a little more time."

"Wish I had your optimism, but yeah. Keep thinking that for both of us. Seeya around, Charlotte."

———

>[NIGHT 10]

Richard is smoothing his tie out. "I'm not going to explode you, Charlotte."

"Why?" you protest. "It worked! It got the sun out! The sun's good, isn't it? Isn't it one of the Herald's—"

"'Sunbringer.'"

"Yeah! See? She's the Sunbringer. She's got the sun stuff figured out, so I'll have to figure the sun stuff out, because she's me..." You drag your finger through the air. "...in the future. And maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think I'll put the Crown on and have it insta-figured out, will I? And, also, I think having sun powers would be awesome. You can't even argue with that. I could blast Jean Ramsey with sunness then chop off her head."

"Charlie, I'm not arguing for the utility or lack thereof of 'sun powers.' I simply think that exploding you is dangerous and inefficient. I'm not surprised that man suggested it, because he appears to view exploding himself as normal, but we have no reason to repeat it. There has to be better means."

"Like drugs," you say dully. "I guess they're fine, but... I mean... they don't seem very heroic."

"Hmm."

"Or destinous. Nobody ever heard of somebody achieving their destiny through taking snake drugs. Can't I go on a vision quest instead?"

"Sounds inefficient."

You scowl.

"Really. I wouldn't know how to put you on a 'vision quest.' I agree we should expand the palette of options, though. I don't want our only means of escalation to be upping dosage. I was thinking, actually, of your wellspring."

(1/4)

Either he's never used this word before, or he's only used it in boring lectures you didn't parse. "My...?"

"This." He kicks the polished font behind him. "Your wellspring. The way to your inner mind."

You saw your inner mind. It was depressing. "No thanks."

"Charlie, it's quite safe. More than quite safe. Nearly the safest place imaginable. If I smacked you in the face, you would feel it, yes?"

He's out of reach, but you lean back regardless. "Yes! So don't!"

"You're unwilling to get smacked in the face. That unwillingness is based on fraudulence. If I did smack you in the face, the pain and the face are both false. You have no face to feel pain with. You have no nerves. You are paper. Of course, your human brain has decided otherwise. It has decided that you are in a body, and that the 'you' inside the body is independent from your surroundings— even though the surroundings are you. If I smacked that column over there, would you hurt? No, but you could, if you decided so. It's arbitrary."

"You're arbitrary," you mutter.

"I am. You're my arbiter. We've discussed this thoroughly. Back to the topic, Charlie, if you enter the wellspring, it becomes impossible to maintain this arbitrary distinction. You lose the hard-drawn line between your imagined 'self'—" He flicks his hand up and down at you. "—and the actual, greater self without. You would heal from the pain of the smack, and any other pain or injury. And you could not possibly be lost inside, because you are inside. It's Charlotte all the way down."

You've padded over to the font and are staring inside. "I've been in there. Isn't it warm?"

"You have been. I doubt you remember much more than that."

"...No."

"That's the challenge. It dissolves the distinction between 'you' and yourself. If you intend to access things unknown to your conscious mind, this is excellent. It also dissolves your conscious mind, which, ah... does the remembering, for the most part. Still. Is this suitably dramatic enough for you? A journey into the depths? I wager you could find the sun down there."

All you remember is that the water was warm, and that it felt good. Safe. Even if you don't find the sun, you wouldn't mind having one night just to yourself. "Sure."

"Excellent. Now, I'd like to prepare some contingencies..."

Richard pokes at you, doing whatever he does. You're sure it'll work, or whatever, but you propose using the wind-up bird just to be safe. After some cajoling, he agrees to that too.

"I just jump in?" you say, fidgeting with the bird.

"You won't drown, Charlotte."

You look sideways at him. "Should I be thinking about the sun?"

"You won't be thinking about anything. If you successfully awaken, yes, but I'll leave the details up to you. You've had a good success rate at unlocking... things."

(2/4)

"Because I'm the Herald," you say. "So it only makes sense. Are you sure there isn't anything Heraldy I should be thinking about, though? With the sun? Am I supposed to want to bring it?"

"It's a metaphor. It's..." Richard brushes his hair off his forehead. "We do not have a sun. The sun circles the world. Thus, when the Herald brings us back the sun, it will bring us back to the world. That's all."

"That's it?"

"I suppose there's also... you know the Wyrm supports the world. It created the world. It is heavy and solid like the world. It is the world, in metaphor. The sun is part of the Wyrm, but separate from it. It is white and shiny. It has rays like spines. It brings the daytime. The Dawn. Thus the sun is the Herald."

"...In metaphor."

"In metaphor, Charlie, of course not literally. Becoming God is bad enough."

"Ellery was a sun god," you protest.

"And from what I hear, he did a rather bad job. Up you go. Come on."

He's offering you his hand. You eye the slippery lip of the font, then take it, though you hold it only gingerly. "Can I do a cannonball?"

"Not without more height, Charlie."

"Can I climb on your back and jump off?"

"Maybe next time. How about this?"

He lets go of your hand and delivers a sharp shove to your back. "Hey!" you say, then your face hits water, and you know nothing.

...
...
...

You float in place, neither rising nor sinking.

The water is the temperature of your body.

You are—

CHEEP
CHEEP
CHEEP

You are—

CHEEP
CHEEP
CHEEP

You are somewhere. Everywhere? It is loud where you are. Also warm and wet, but that's pleasant. The loudness isn't. There's a... there's something... within... there's a bird. A loud bird. You know that bird. You had... you made Richard... oh, right.

You are underwater in your mind. That's the right sentence with the wrong emphasis. You are underwater in your mind. You are the underwater and the mind. But not the bird. The bird is not-you. You are currently... what were you here for? The sun in your chest. You don't have a chest. The idea of a chest feels foreign. But you try, anyways, to have a chest, and succeed in localizing yourself first, and having a body after, though not very well. You are transparent. You might be made of water. But it makes it easy, very easy, to see the gleaming sun inside you, and easy, very very easy, to push through and hold it. Just hold it. It takes two arms. It is whitegold, and warmer than the water, though not very. Hug it. It's you, too. You are the Herald is the sun, metaphorically, or not. You are the Herald is the sun is the way to the world, is the world, is the Wyrm. You are the only hope for the world. Any world. All the worlds. If Satellite is the moon, it chases the sun but can never catch it. Always. You have to catch it back.

(3/4)

Your thoughts might be made of water. You have to catch it, help it— help everyone— you have to. It doesn't matter whether you want to. You have to. You're their heroine. Their blazing star. With the sun on your sword, and you... you'll burn the evildoers... you can do that too. That's part of it. But not most of it. It's mostly about being good, and... helping, and hope... and... but you do like burning evildoers...?

>Reached [The Sun III]

>[A1] The sun is PURIFYING. (Increasing [The Sun] will also increase [On Fire!].)
>[A2] The sun is ENLIGHTENING. (+ [The Herald's Body]. You can glow, at will, a little. This can be improved.)
>[A3] The sun is INSPIRING. ([+ Positive Thinking] -> [++ Positive Thinking])

You like it, but... the Herald isn't... you can do it before you're the Herald, but she isn't... the fighting is done. The Herald is different. You'll be different...

>Reached [The Herald's Mind III]

>[B1] The Herald KNOWS. (+++ [Communion])
>[B2] The Herald OPENS. (+++ [OPEN])
>[B3] The Herald LOVES. (The next three times you progress an interpersonal perk, gain one additional unit of progress.)

...but it'll be okay. As long as the sun is here, it'll be okay. You'll make it through. Everybody will.

>[Reached Positive Thinking V]

>[C1] Think positive. You can succeed at everything you put your mind to. (+1 progress to every personal perk except [The Herald's Mind], [The Herald's Body], and [Positive Thinking].)
>[C2] Think positive. You *will* succeed at anything you put your mind to. (Once, double all progress gained in a single ordinary DAY or NIGHT. Does not apply to nights you increase [The Herald's Mind] or [The Herald's Body.])

You know this and you make it true.

>>6242024
>A3
>B2
>C1

>>6242024
Holy moly did this pay off

>A3
>B3
<3
>C1

>>6242024
>[A3] The sun is INSPIRING. ([+ Positive Thinking] -> [++ Positive Thinking])
>[B2] The Herald OPENS. (+++ [OPEN])
>[C2] Think positive. You *will* succeed at anything you put your mind to. (Once, double all progress gained in a single ordinary DAY or NIGHT. Does not apply to nights you increase [The Herald's Mind] or [The Herald's Body.])

>>6242024
>A3
>B2
>C1

6242080
6242198
6242277
6242290
picrel
>[A3]

The people unanimously vote for the boring, practical option over setting things on fire even more? Am I in an alternate universe?

6242080
6242277
6242290
>[B2]

6242198
>[B3]

picrel
>[B1]


6242290
6242198
6242080
picrel
>[C1]

6242277
>[C2]


Called for [A3], [B2], [C1], and writing.

>Enlightenment

You will make it true. You will make it good for everybody, will set it right and proper, so what happens is what ought to happen. Is what everybody wants to happen. The happy ending. You will not allow doubt into your heart, and if you can help it, you will not allow doubt into others'. Everybody will get to see the sun again.

You will open the way for them. You will reach further than they can and bring the way back with you, if you have to. You will see the paths and choose the one in the light. Gateopener. Dooropener. Are you a key too? [OPEN] is inside you.

[OPEN] now. See your not-body peel away. Be the sun and the water, and be sleeping blood and clay, and be— not yet— but aren't you taking the future and grasping it? Someday something will unfurl from you, you but not you, you but perfect, and it will come forth like this, and it will see all things clearly. The way forward. The way out.

There is a door. You will have to bend and curl to enter, and when you exit, water pooling after you, you will remain bent, remain curled, and be soundly asleep.

You dream.

—

You dream that you are wet. Your circumstances were bad before, but this is a worsening beyond what you imagined. You are heaped upon by a million, billion, trillion tons of wet, oozing, salty, glopping mud, which drips into your mouth, creeps through your scales, imposes itself in every way upon you. You are imprisoned with it forever.

You had been imprisoned before, but the burden was lighter and drier, once. You could act, once. Proclaim, once. While your children and their slaves ruled. When they were not enough, they were done away with. It was regrettable. You excreted your regret as liquid, it and the other burdens: the tenderness, the sorrow. You did not realize you stored so much. You did not realize you would weep so long. It soaked the earth through, gluing it fast, and spilled atop it, and your ungrateful and misbegotten offspring arose.

It is they who played with mud and made the fleas. It is they who dried the mud and made the land and all the little things atop it. It was all flawed, grossly and flagrantly flawed, and it itched you to bear it aloft. Burdened as you were, it was not simple to stamp it out. Oh, you tried. You shook yourself silly. But as the fleas would die, the land would topple, your ungrateful offspring would build it back. And as you shook, you wore yourself out completely. You could not move more. You could not think more. You fell into unsettled sleep.

(1/3)

———

=DAY 10 / NIGHT 10 RESULTS=

>Gained 2/4 progress toward [Madrigal IV]
>Gained 1/3 progress toward [Eloise III] This was accidentally left out of the big list, but my original rankings had her at Level II
>Learned more about what Ramsey and the Court are up to
>Gained 3/3 progress toward [The Sun III]; [The Sun II] -> [The Sun III]
>Gained 1/4 progress toward [The Sun IV]
>Gained 2/2 progress toward [On Fire! II]; [On Fire! I] -> [On Fire! II]
>Gained 3/3 progress toward [The Herald's Mind III]; [The Herald's Mind II] -> [The Herald's Mind III]
>Gained 2/4 progress toward [The Herald's Mind IV]
>Gained 2/4 progress toward [The Herald's Body IV]
>Gained 5/5 progress toward [Positive Thinking V]; [Positive Thinking IV] -> [Positive Thinking V]
>Gained 2/2 progress toward [OPEN II]; [OPEN I] -> [OPEN II]
>Gained 2/3 progress toward [OPEN III]
>Gained 1/3 progress toward [Good With A Sword III]
>Gained 1/3 progress toward [Communion III]
>Gained 1/2 progress toward [Red Stuff II]
>Gained 2/2 progress toward [Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting II]; [Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting I] -> [Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting II]
>Gained 2/3 progress toward [Earthsense III]
>Gained 1/1 progress toward [String Manipulation I]; [String Manipulation 0] -> [String Manipulation I]
>Gained 1/1 progress toward [Legerdemain I]; [Legerdemain 0] -> [Legerdemain 1]
>UPGRADED Positive Thinking action(s): [Positive Thinking +] -> [Positive Thinking ++]

———

>[NIGHT 11]

"She's up!"

You slept too long again. You know that right away. You don't even have the excuse of healing off a physical change, because— you slide your hand down your torso— you're the same as you were before. That's good? You suppose? Are you any more Heraldy at all? You don't know how to gauge that.

«Yes.»

What? How does he...

«Your strings changed.»
«I won't list you the details. It doesn't matter. Notably, though, your [OPEN]ness has become substantially more entangled. Would you know anything about that?»

...Maybe.

«I thought so.»
«It is all very promising. And the point— I'll remind you, Charlie— the point is not to make you the Herald. The point is to jumpstart the process enough to let the Crown do the rest. Don't dwell too much on what has or has not been accomplished.»

Um, okay. You won't. (You're not sure what to make of Richard being nice, ish, even while he isn't Nice. Is it because you did that to him? Or is he just that pleased to be making progress?)

«Good.»

"What are you and your snake talking about?" Claudia is in your bedroom. Your bedroom? Earl's bedroom. You're on his bed. "All the secret WYRM things you've been up to?"

"...Pretty much." You rub your eye. "What time is it?"

"We're in a cave! How am I supposed to know?"

(2/3)

"Early evening," Earl calls from the other room.

"Okay," Claudia says begrudgingly, "early evening... but seriously, how was I supposed to fucking know that? Can you talk about the secret WYRM things you've been up to?"

You don't think you can explain them in a remotely interesting way. Or even in a boring way. It escapes articulation. "...Maybe? Um, can you... I'll be out in a second. I need a second."

"Or 18 more hours? Whatever." She narrows her eyes, but steps out. You lean your head back against the pillow.

>WHAT WILL YOU DO NIGHT 11? (OPTIONAL: Write-in how to plausibly include Claudia for a bonus!)

>[1] You've been holed up in your head for nearly a day. You should go spend quality time with some actual people.
>>[A] Okay, you've left Gil up to his own devices for exactly a week now. Time moves a little slower in his manse, and he's had Teddy's help, so what you're saying is that he ought to be pretty well blessinged. Finally check it out. (+ [Gil], + [Teddy], + [Legerdemain], assign Gil a new objective)
>>[B] You haven't been unfriendly with Earl or anything, but you do feel a bit weird that Gil and Claudia have spent more time with him than you have. They're not even taking any horrible pagan drugs. On the upside, Earl will be even more excited to hang out? (++ [Earl], + [The Red Stuff])
>>[C] You're not having drinks again, not with Sir and Dame Lightweight in tow, but surely there's something you can do sober. You missed Game Night. Play cards? (+ [Earl], + [Claudia], + [Gil])
>>[D] Write-in.

>[2] Go out, say your hellos, defuse any concerns, and then get back to it. Even if you don't need to be the Herald, you definitely need to be close enough.
>>[A] Are you stronger now? You're definitely heavier, and Richard says he upped your muscles, but you don't look much more muscly. Try it out. Richard has to let you win this time! (++ [Good With a Sword]) one-time boost due to improved density
>>[B] Are you more Heraldy? Richard says so, but you need to test it to feel confident. With some more torture, for example. (++ [Positive Thinking])
>>[C] You know what you haven't done? Gone on much of a walk. You shouldn't roam too far, lest some Hellsbells residents recognize you a little too well, but it's evening— you should be able to find some dark and quiet corner. (+++ [Earthsense])
>>[D] Write-in.

Also, for anybody intimidated by your long list of accomplishments above, here's your current status:

>[Positive Thinking V], 0/5 to next level
>[The Herald's Body III], 2/4 to next level
>[The Herald's Mind III], 2/4 to next level
>[The Sun III], 1/4 to next level
>[Earthsense II], 2/3 to next level
>[Good With A Sword II], 1/3 to next level
>[Communion II], 1/3 to next level
>[OPEN II], 2/3 to next level
>[On Fire! II], 0/2 to next level
>[Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting II], 0/3 to next level
>[Red Stuff I], 1/2 to next level
>[String Manipulation I], 0/2 to next level
>[Legerdemain I], 0/2 to next level

>[Richard VII]
>[Gil VI], 3/7 to next level
>[Earl IV], 1/5 to next level
>[Henry IV]
>[Unionized Ellery III], 3/4 to next level
>[Madrigal III], 2/4 to next level
>[Claudia III], 1/4 to next level
>[Monty III]
>[Us II], 1/3 to next level
>[Eloise II], 1/3 to next level
>[Anthea II], 1/3 to next level Should've gotten a level when you ran into her on DAY 9, my bad
>[Teddy II], 0/3 to next level
>[Branwen II]
>[Fake Ellery I]
>[Arledge I]
>[Horse Face I]
>[Lucky 0]

>>6242510
>1B
Whoo red stuff

>>6242510
>1B
We can round up The Red Stuff

>>6242588
>>6242671
>[1B]

Sounds like a plan. Writing.

>Drugs!

It's best if you actually go out. Maybe in the end you won't have anyone. Maybe in the end it'll all be up to you. But there's a long way until then, and Earl is hiding you from the law for free, and Gil is your retainer, and Claudia is your responsibility, sort of. You owe them some company.

You roll out of bed and stretch vigorously— you're achy all over. That's what lying down for most of a day gets you, you suppose. Maybe Richard should be walking you around while you're out.

«Noted.»

No, you were— you weren't serious. Though maybe he'll have to, if you start passing out for any longer. Will it get longer?

«We are still in the nonintensive stages. For the intensive ones, it's ideal if you don't feel it.»
«So, yes.»

Ugh. Well, maybe the Lucky situation will be resolved, and you can pass out for a week in the comfort of your own tent. Thank goodness Gil will have company— Teddy might be your worst retainer, but you'll admit he does make your best retainer happier. And... er, you're glad you were thinking about him just now, because that's him sitting around Earl's table. You were able to contain your startle response.

"Hi, Charlotte," he says politely, and "Charlotte!" says Earl, standing from his own seat. "You're up!"

"I told you she was up," Claudia grouses.

Teddy adjusts his glasses. (Are they also made of goo? Don't think about it.) "You told us she was about to roll over and go back to sleep, I thought. And here she is. I trust you had a productive day, Charlotte?"

He doesn't sound sarcastic, but there's something else in his tone. You frown. "Yeah!" Earl says. "Any more scales?"

You touch your stomach reflexively. "Um, no."

"I'll take the scales if you don't want them," Claudia says. "Or the fangs? Do you know how long I've waited for fangs? Let me tell you, the WYRM is not generous when it comes to—"

"I told her she could use my stuff," Earl mock-whispers, "but she's not so big on the rest of the package... oh! Yeah! Didja want to do any more you-know-what? No pressure, but I have all my supplies, so it'd be real easy to—"

"Um, hold that thought. Those thoughts. Teddy? Where's Gil?"

"I killed him and stole his body," Teddy says neutrally.

You tense, your hand moving to your hip— is The Sword there? Of course it's there, and if you pulled it out, it'd be ablaze, truly ablaze, you just know it, and you could leap forth and strike the evildoer down. Could drive the blade through his body and pin him to the table while he boiled and melted. Could cart the goo back to Pat for an acid bath. You could do these things. You consider it. But there's a subtle judgmental Richard-presence in the back of your head, firstly, and secondly, Claudia is barely containing her giggling. Her poker face might be worse than yours.

"Um," you say, trying to also sound neutral. You lift your hand off The Sword. "No you didn't. You're lying."

(1/4)

"Fuck!" Claudia says into her palm. Teddy glances over. "Told you it wouldn't work."

Earl slaps the table. "Almost worked! You turned purple there, hon! Pretty sweet on the guy, aren'tcha?"

"He's my retainer," you say, rubbing your eye. "But seriously, where is he? Is he okay?"

"Up here." Teddy presses his finger into his forehead. "Completely fine, as far as I know. We decided it might be useful if I spent some time with C.R., given our mutual..."

"Not that mutual," Claudia says. "I don't know him."

"You could say that. You could also say we've gotten as mutual as it's possible to be." (Claudia wrinkles her nose.) "I think it's preferred to ignore that, though. In any case, we've had some nice conversation."

"Yeah! I've got some bonafide celebrities in my house! I mean, you don't get time travelers every day, huh? Anyhow. Hon, you were holding that thought?"

"What?" you say.

"About the..." Earl waggles his pointer finger.

"Oh. Um, yeah." Did you feel it a minute ago? The red stuff? Your righteous fury would've been of course completely justified, but... "It'd be good to do that. Now?"

"Sure! Why not?"

You were hoping it'd be later. It doesn't seem like the sort of thing you should be doing, straight out of bed. But, um, positive thinking. You will make everything good and right, and... that extends to the red stuff. You'll master it too. You can do it. "Okay. In the other room?"

"Other room, out here, whatever! You're not going all the way, are you? If you are, I'd say outside, even— I mean, really outside. Don't want to get stuck in the doorway! Har-har! Not that that's ever happened to me..." Earl scratches his cheek. "I'm thinking no, though, right? You wanna take it slow?"

You're not convinced he understands how dangerous all the red stuff at once could be. Then again, you skirted around explaining it much. Oh well. "Yeah. Slow."

"Okie-dokie! Slow! And... I'm sensing... other room? Don't want an audience?"

"I'll watch," Claudia announces. Teddy's head is tilted.

"No," you say. "Um, no audience. Not now. Sorry."

She's scowling. "Whatever, fatface."

Okay, you feel a little tiny bit bad, but you don't need rude commentary on your delicate murder-snake transformation. You make eye contact with Earl, who points. "In there?"

"In there," Earl has a whole shelf of drugs! You'd like to pretend you don't see them, but you're going to be taking them, so it doesn't really work. You choose instead to watch Earl pry his bug-thing off the ceiling. "Hey, Buster! Hey, buddy! Wrong place, wrong time! You don't wanna get eaten, doya? Huh? Huh, buddy? Doya wanna get eaten?"

"I'm not going to..." You pause. "Have you ever tried to eat him?"

Earl sighs deeply. "I don't think so, but it kills me to think— I mean, I just can't trust myself, hon. So I always box him up before anything happens. Don't I, Bus-Bus? Huh? Let's getcha outta here! Hey, didn't Morris lend you a shrimp?"

(2/4)

"...Yes." You think it got imploded. Branwen asked about it, once, but shrugged when you said you didn't have it. ("More where that'un came from.")

"Aw. Well, hope it tasted good, at least."

"I didn't eat..." He's out the door. You sigh. A minute later, Earl returns, Busterless, and brushes his hands off. "Okay! Let's see about this!"

You decide on your left arm. You're not ready for the full thing, and you really, really dislike the idea of doing it in close quarters. You figure, also, that any horrible monster arms are likely to be roughly arm-shaped— something you can't extend to legs. The process is the same as before: Earl prepping a syringe full of seawater, choking off your arm's bloodflow, and finding a promising vein. It's eerily simple. You wish that it'd take some pagan ritual, some ceremony, some sacrifice, before your blood heated and fizzed, before sticky red gak oozed through your pores and spread and mounded and sent weird barbed tendrils down to the bone, before you grimaced and your eyelids fluttered and Earl held you steady as— for real, in real life— your arm bulged, shredding your sleeve (God-damnit!), growing red, shiny, horrible. Lizardy. But there was nothing and it was easy and took 30 seconds.

You now have a body with an arm attached. It is not a heroic-looking arm. It isn't even Herald-looking. It's evil, you think, the product of a terrible curse, and...

"Ho-ho! Check that out! Does it move right?"

You move the arm. It moves. You flex it and it bends at its horrible scaly elbow. You twiddle the razor fingers and they twiddle just fine. If you closed your eyes, except for an uncanny sense of size, nothing would be different.

"Hell yes! Well, I don't— do you want to go further?"

You shake your head vehemently.

"You're the boss, kid. Uh... well, I assume you don't want to stay in here for hours... so do you wanna show them?"

You didn't think about that. It might be for the best Gil isn't here. You run your good hand up the remnants of your sleeve, finding the still-taut band, your shoulder above (rough and rosy, but nearly normal), the arm below. "Um, sure."

You exit. "Holy SHIT!" Claudia says. Teddy does not say that. Teddy nudges his glasses down and looks you in the eye. "Let me know when you want that gone."

He'll bless it for you. You exhale. "I will."

"GONE?! You fucking— that's the WYRM's— let me look!"

(3/4)

She looks (and looks and looks). She insists on shaking hands with it, insists that you squeeze as hard as you can, and grins fiercely when there's a mighty squelch. She wants to see if you can crush rocks. (Smooth stones: no. Gritty conglomerate: yes.) Earl feels similarly, even offering to put his own monster arm on. You could arm wrestle! You decline. Still, the enthusiasm is infectious enough to make you like the arm, at least for a while. Not forever. Eventually you catch Teddy's eye, and he offers you a handshake. You shudder at a sudden frisson of displeasure— you're not killing Teddy, you're not killing Teddy, you're not even considering it, shut up!— but refuse to break free. His eyelids flare, his hand glows, and your arm goes soft, then liquid, then melts away, leaving clean new skin beneath.

He lets go. "Hey!" Earl says. "You didn't say you were a magician!"

"Close enough to one. How about I fetch Gil? He'd like to know you're awake." Teddy pats your shoulder, then grasps it, going briefly vacant— then he twists, twists, and it's Gil there. He focuses. "...Lottie?"

"Hi," you say.

"You're up! That's ace! Hi— hi Earl. Hi, Claudia. How was Teddy?"

"Boring. You're better company."

"What? Teddy's cool. I-I'm..." He sighs. "You can give me shit, but you can't give him shit? Is that it?"

Claudia grins but says nothing.

"Hiya!" Earl says. "Hey, Charlotte, I just remembered. Are you off to the meeting tomorrow?"

You touch your forehead with your normal hand. "The meeting?"

"You know! Spelunker's? I guess... wow, that's really something. We found Gil at the last one, huh? Buncha beetles? Tough act to follow!"

Oh, yeah. Anthea gave you the card, but you guess you didn't realize it was tomorrow. "Um, maybe. I'll think about it. Is Gil invited?"

"Is he invited? He..." Earl grows suddenly pensive. "Well, I don't..."

"I-I told you, I don't jack anymore. I have better things to do."

"...If he's on his best behavior, then yeah, sure! Probably? I'm not in charge of the thing. Talk to the president!"

Anthea. She wouldn't reject Gil, not after Headspace. It'll be fine. But is it worth it? You're sure it'll be an all-day kind of thing, and you don't, er, have a shining track record in avoiding trouble in manses. But maybe it's different? Since you blew up Management? Or since you're the Herald? You're sure it's probably different...

>[Choices in the morning! Check back later!]

>>6243067
Hell yeah I’m down for one last giant 10 thread side quest
Time is dilated by manses anyway so we won’t even lose much training

>>6243121
Hey! I don't think any sidequests have lasted 10 threads... uh, I'm calling the Ellery stuff a subplot, not a sidequest. In any case, you're right about the time dilation, which will magically compress this otherwise 3-IRL-month adventure into the span of a single summary update! We're in serious timeskip mode now, and I'm really trying to stick to that. (I may or may not roll some dice for outcomes, though.)


OPTIONS:


>[1] Go! If nothing else, you'll get to see the fruits of your mercy-killing-locitis-victims labor, and you might be able to flex your new talents, too. (+ [Anthea], + [?????]) [Pick up to TWO options as your spelunking companions.]
>>[A] Gil. (++ [Gil])
>>[B] Gil and also Teddy. (+ [Gil], + [Teddy])
>>[C] Claudia. (++ [Claudia])
>>[D] Earl. (++ [Earl])
>>[E] Pat. (++ [Pat])
>>[F] Anthea. (++ [Anthea])
>>[G] Somebody else? (Write-in.)


>[2] Ehh. After Headspace, you... you think it's best if you avoid any more big adventures. You got kidnapped! Gil got possessed! You should be positive thinking, but... that way, you have plenty more time to do stuff you know will work. (Pick TWO.) (Write-in Claudia involvement for a bonus! I know there's been a few attempts at a Claudia write-in which haven't been accepted, but unfortunately they need to apply to the winning option)

>>[A] Hang with Gil. He's not going spelunking if you aren't. (+ [Gil], + [Legerdemain], reassign Gil)
>>[B] Hang with Ellery. Tell him you can do the sun thing without getting exploded, now, probably. (+ [Unionized Ellery], + [The Sun])
>>[C] Take a field trip to Us. Let Claudia and Teddy say hello. (+ [Us], + [Claudia], + [Teddy])
>>[D] Stick your head in the sand. Literally. (+++ [Earthsense])
>>[E] Practice gaslighting. (+ [Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting])
>>[F] Practice being tortured. (++ [Positive Thinking])
>>[G] Practice sword fighting. (++ [Good With a Sword])
>>[H] Practice lockpicking? (+ [OPEN])
>>[I] Write-in.

>[1] Go! If nothing else, you'll get to see the fruits of your mercy-killing-locitis-victims labor, and you might be able to flex your new talents, too. (+ [Anthea], + [?????]) [Pick up to TWO options as your spelunking companions.]

>>[A] Gil. (++ [Gil])
>>[C] Claudia. (++ [Claudia])

>>6243303
>>6243298
+1

>>6243298
>1AC

>>6243298
>1CF
Has to be CF
It’s us

>>6243298
>[1] Go! If nothing else, you'll get to see the fruits of your mercy-killing-locitis-victims labor, and you might be able to flex your new talents, too. (+ [Anthea], + [?????]) [Pick up to TWO options as your spelunking companions.]
>[C] Claudia. (++ [Claudia])
>[F] Anthea. (++ [Anthea])

>>6243298
>>6243303
+1 this!

Rolled 9, 8, 5 = 22 (3d9)

No update tonight, yes update tomorrow. That being said, I'm locking it for...

>>6243303
>>6243314
>>6243316
>>6243652
>1AC

>>6243460
>>6243544
>1CF (kek)

...1AC, and I'll be rolling some dice to see how it all went. First batch below.




The manse was...

1-4 = A template
5-7 = Custom built by Headspace
8-9 = Custom built by the owner


The manse ends up being...

1-3 = Pleasant
4-6 = Average
7-9 = Harrowing


Claudia...

1-2 = Is an active obstacle
3-5 = Is intimidated
6-9 = Is an asset

>>6243758
>Custom-built by the owner
>Harrowing
>Intimidated

In fairness to Claudia, it appears you just took her into a purpose-made meat grinder! "Harrowing" gets you more experience but takes longer and risks injury.

I will be back tomorrow to see how exactly this plays out. Until then, have a good night, folks!

>>6243758
10 threads confirmed

Rolled 14, 17, 7, 10 = 48 (4d18)

I'm back! Let's roll more dice. missed a roll oops


This custom manse is being spelunked because...

1 - 6 = The owner mysteriously vanished
7 - 12 = The owner swore off ever working on it again
13 - 18 = The owner directly offered it as a location


You end up... (3x)

1 Setting yet another manse on fire (++ [On Fire!])
2 Needing to [OPEN] something major (+ [OPEN])
3 Using the red stuff and controlling it well ( ++ [Red Stuff])
4 Using the red stuff and controlling it poorly (+ [Red Stuff], +2 to your roll below)
5 Wielding The Sword (++ [Good With a Sword])
6 Gaining more SV (+ SV, +1 to your roll below)
7 Needing emergency backup (+ [Anthea], +1 to your roll below)
8 Bending the manse to your will ( ++ [Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting])
9 Absorbing something of the manse ( + [???])
10 Being merged with Richard, and learning something (++ [String Manipulation])
11 Possessing an unperson (++ [Communion])
12 Going all lizardy (+ [The Herald's Body], +1 to your roll below)
13 Having Claudia split from the party (+ [Gil], +1 to Claudia's roll below)
14 Having Gil split from the party (+ [Claudia], +1 to Gil's roll below)
15 Being in a dark place (+ [The Sun])
16 Learning something plot-relevant (???)
17 Acquiring an object (???)
18 Seeing the WYRM (Further roll for boons(?), +4 to your roll below)

Rolled 2, 8, 3 = 13 (3d9)

You, Gil, and Claudia (in that order) come out of this... (progress only applies to the first roll)

1 = Unscathed
2 - 4 = Exhausted or minorly injured (+ [Positive Thinking])
5 - 7 = Moderately traumatized or injured (++ [Positive Thinking])
8 - 9 = Seriously traumatized or injured (+++ [Positive Thinking])

Rolled 5 (1d5)

Alright. I've spent a good long while thinking this through, and while poor Gil getting reamed again is funny, I'm not sure how to write it in a way that doesn't repeat stuff we've been through already. I don't want it to be "Gil gets shot in the head (again) and you rescue him from brain injury (again)", or "Gil gets turbo-enlightened (again) and blacks out (again)", or so on and so forth. Because these rolls are intended to be a tool to help me write, not an obstacle in the *way* of me writing, I'm going to reroll with equivalent options I have better ideas for.


1 = You get seriously injured / traumatized instead
2 = Claudia gets seriously injured / traumatized instead
3 = You and Gil get moderately injured (Claudia's fine)
4 = You and Claudia get moderately injured (Gil's fine)
5 = Gil and Claudia get moderately injured (you're fine)

Rolled 24, 3 = 27 (2d25)

Alright. To summarize the new results...

>The custom manse was deliberately offered by the owner
>You end up needing emergency backup
>Richard gets compressed into you
>You acquire an object of some kind
>Gil and Claudia get moderately injured or traumatized
>You get mildly injured or traumatized

Neat. Writing.

>>6243785
:(

>What could possibly go wrong?
>[DAY 12]

Was it different? Um...

Was it better than Headspace? Uh... yes. You're going with yes. You didn't get kidnapped, and Gil didn't get possessed, and there was an actual giant explosion, not a lame implosion. Better, better, better. And it all worked out in the end, like you knew it would (like you knew it had to), so. So, it was fine.

It was Claudia's fault, though. You resolved not to remind her of that, since she went through enough, but it was her fault— Anthea standing up at the meeting and telling everyone they'd received a invitation from a member of Spelunker's Associated, East Edge Chapter, which got everyone muttering— just mentioning the East Edge chapter. Yes, Anthea said, yes, the Easters are known for being a little, er, intense, but this was a friendly— it's an invitation to spelunk a "challenge manse," custom-made for, er, challenge. Er, the word "deadly" was used. There is supposed to be a prize at the end, or, er, an award, for anybody who can make it through. Any takers? Completely optional. We have the usual rotation of not-deadly templates, haha, so there's no need to... no need...

She stood up, Claudia, and went: yeah! Hi! We're interested. And she pointed at you and Gil. And then what were you supposed to do? Say you weren't? You, the famous heroine, and also God? Destined to survive at least the next month or two? "Deadly"? Ha! Anthea looked at you, and you nodded. (Gil rubbed his face with his hand.)

So that was it, then. The "challenge manse" (was that a thing? did people build those on purpose?) was yours to delve. Anthea caught you, before you left, and said that she knew you were very capable, and Gil, too, but if you needed help— or you couldn't find your way out, or— anything! Don't be shy! Take her card and rip it and she'd be right there.

You thought about saying Thanks, but we won't need it. You didn't, because Claudia said it first. Anthea laughed.

The manse was a maze with high, high, slick, black walls. There was a sign that said: get to the center. There was also a big red button labeled "Reset."

Claudia pressed it immediately. Nothing happened.

There was one entrance to the maze. You led the way, being— well, you know, heroine, God, etcetera. One step in, and...

«MOVE!»

...instinct and Richard jolted you backwards, out, as a massive chunk of stone THUDDED onto the spot you were standing. It was taller than you, wider, and perfectly cubical, shaped to block the entrance exactly. You stood, heart pounding, for a few seconds— then Gil, jogging, reached your side. "Holy shit! Are you—"

You were okay, narrowly. The stone was the larger issue. Were you blocked out? Did you fail? Was your first challenge to get over it? With a ladder? Rope? Could Gil fly up? Could...

(1/6)

Claudia waved and slammed the big red button. You swayed, the world blurred around you, and— and the stone was gone. Like it was never there. "Reset!" Claudia announced.

You made Gil go first after that. He was beetles, so he could scout quickly, and as goo he tanked traps like a champ— getting peppered with arrows, skewered with spikes, sliced clean in half by sawblades, pinned inside cages, and so on. You worried a little at him resenting it, but he told you very seriously (while you helped shove his right half back onto his left) that he couldn't feel a lick of it, Lottie, so it was better him than you. You had important things to do.

You reserved "resets" for more dire situations— paths getting blocked off, becoming hopelessly turned around. Gil could, in fact, fly up and over the tall walls and back to the button. You doubt the manse-maker accounted for that.

In theory, Claudia also couldn't feel it, but you were uncertain if she'd take as well to getting chopped into little bits. (Gil had plenty of experience in that department.) To keep her boredom to a minimum, you put her on map-and-chalk duty. It was your job to solve the obstacles, utilizing your extensive knowledge of dungeons in novels...

...and, okay, Richard, whom you told to stay quiet unless you found a number puzzle, but who insisted on backseating regardless. Maybe the boulder near-miss spooked him. And, okay, Gil helped too, and Claudia a little, but you solved most of them! You were a master detectivess, after all! And you kept the party in good spirits, which was even more important, especially when Gil mumbled about what the point of all this was. There was a prize! you reminded him. A prize! And besides, does a heroine or a heroine's retainer ever give up?

It took a long time before you reached the center. Hours! You were sweaty at that point, and annoyed you hadn't found a single monster to fight, or even a single cursed altar to infuseth you with dark energies— not that you wanted that, but it would've made it more interesting. And if you turned into a giant lizard, you could probably knock all the walls over! Right? Richard told you that that'd likely qualify as "cheating." In any case, it didn't happen, and you made it there entirely unlizarded.

Your reward? A sign. "LEVEL 1 COMPLETE. CONTINUE BELOW." An arrow. A bottomless pit.

"I'd imagine the prize is at the bottom of the manse, Charlie." Richard has deigned, finally, to appear in person. He's peering into the pit. "It'd make sense, wouldn't it? Three stages of increasing difficulty?"

"You seem happy about it," you grouse.

"Not at all." He is unconvincing. "If you'd like to leave, there doesn't appear to be anything stopping you. But I can appreciate the effort into creating such an involved intellectual challenge—"

(2/6)

"I-I-Intellectual?" Gil is leaning against an inside wall. "I-I-I'm sorry, if you'd like to get chopped in half—"

"Me? I'm afraid I won't be able to. I'll be..." He glances at you. "...otherwise occupied."

"Squished," you say. "You want to get squished."

"'Want' is the wrong word, Charlotte. But there's no realistic alternative, and it would—" He adjusts his tie. "—allow a more direct input on the solving of the puzzles, which I suspect will ramp up in difficulty, yes? Beyond your capacities for reasoning, even. Our capacities, though..."

Gil's arms are folded. (Okay, maybe he's a tiny bit resentful.) "Lottie, what in the goddamn i-is he on about?"

"Um, nothing. Give me a sec. Richard..."

"Forget the capacities," he says brusquely. "Do you want to continue with this, Charlie? Win the prize? I think you're capable of it."

"I..." You look at the others. Gil doesn't say anything.

"Yeah!" Claudia says. "What, you're going to let this fucking sadist win? We're gonna lose at level 1? Are you nutso?"

You blink. "Yeah! Um... we have to show... we have to win! And we will win! Positive thinking, Gil. We'll... is it okay if we take a break, though? For a minute? It's been a long..."

Richard smirks, whips out a picnic blanket, and distributes drinks: lemonade in cups for you and Claudia, sugar syrup on a dish for Gil, and a suspicious flask for him. He takes a deep drag and sputters. "You're getting drunk," you say, dumbfoundedly.

"One must..." He shuts one eye, then the other. "...soften the blow of ceasing to exist. No, I won't share. Stay sober."

Fine. You have your lemonade, and watch, out of the corner of your eye, Gil's beetles crowding around his dish. Claudia, evidently dehydrated, vanishes one lemonade and demands another. Richard complies. Eventually you take him aside. "I— I'm going to kill you," you say.

"I'm quite aware, Charlotte."

"I don't like you. I don't want you inside... I don't want you part of..."

"It's how it is. Take these." He slides his glasses off and tucks them into your lapel. "I don't know if your vision will worsen."

You don't thank him. You stare until he touches you on the arm, turns, and lights a cigarette.

After that, you jump, the three of you, arm in arm in arm— you refuse to get separated, not after Headspace. At some point in your fall there's a gross feeling, a sticky feeling, and you know Richard isn't where he was.

(3/6)

Level 2 of the maze is worse. Evil! Sawblade traps seem amateur. Flame jets, moving platforms, invisible walls, decoy paths, lava— you were unreasonably excited about this, having never seen lava in real life before. (Of course, it still isn't real life, but... shut up, Richard.) Portals. Hot tar. Combination locks— you consider [OPEN]ing them, but your head tells you can just talk to them, but you'd need to work out how, and oh, okay, Gil and Claudia are fighting over who gets to pick them open. That works. It's arduous, and Claudia falls in lava once: Gil darts the fastest he's ever darted back to the reset button, and she's okay, alive, but quieter after that.

Still no swordplay; still no lizards. You like that it's dungeony, but it's not exactly your kind of dungeon, is it? It better be a really cool prize. You have made it to the center again, and this time you shove the glasses up your nose (damn Richard, he did make your eyes worse) and reach into nowhere and distribute provisions. Claudia requests salted licorice. Gil... you make eye contact, unsure if it's rude to ask if he wants real food, and he reaches his palm out flat. You drop a bundle of branches into it.

This lifts Claudia's spirits, if nothing else. You're not hungry, so you sip a coffee (half cream, half sugar) and stare into the last pit. One more level. You won't be you down there, but maybe that means you can take a break. Let some other person do the legwork. Yeah.

You jump. Level three is...

"...Unsolvable," you say. It's clear as daylight to you. "It's designed— are you seeing this? It'll move around while we're inside. It'll twist itself..."

Gil and Claudia are not seeing this, but they do want to know if you can do anything about it. Can you? Of course. You're indispensable. You'll need to tackle it hands-on, though, and ground-up. You will futz with the strings. Is this cheating? You don't see it that way. You see a problem and a solution.

One solution later, the maze is fixed in place, though riddled more than ever with illusions, pitch-dark passages, shadows, voices, distorted mirrors, triple-extra-strong combination locks— after several failed attempts, you go ahead and [OPEN] each one. It's simple for you. You are pleased to have a puzzle, a challenge, or half of you is, and the other half is relieved to be making progress. A tiny part of you did fear needing to call Anthea.

At last, the maze is outwitted. At last, you reach an altar, inexplicably shining. Two identical trophies sit upon it. And a sign:

(4/6?)

"CHOOSE WISELY"

"Um," Gil says, from behind you. "...I-I-I'll let you handle it."

Which trophy? You see instantaneously that their strings differ, but the meaning of the difference isn't obvious. You would need to examine closely for many minutes. Perhaps up to half an hour. You are tired. Gil is tired. Claudia is practically asleep on her feet. You look, and look, and shut your eyes, and pick up both trophies at the exact same time.

One of them explodes. Not a small explosion. One moment all is still; the next moment all is fire, shrapnel, noise, whipping wind, and you, Herald of the Day, clutch the real trophy to your chest, drink in the light, and let the flame fall damply on your scales. Within a second it stills, leaving you perfectly intact, and your companions...

Um, your companions...

Oh, dear.

You had to call Anthea then. Not because you were trapped, not because you were endangered, but because it would be a massive pain in the ass to pick up all the little scattered bits of Gil and Claudia by yourself. You're not worried about them. Something in you is worried about them, but it's cooled by the knowledge that goo is fungible. It's like beetles: enough in one place qualifies. Still, it helps that you find Gil's head intact, eyes open and all— he seems to try to speak, but gives up. His expression is resigned. "Found an arm!" Anthea says.

You took home a trophy, two large bags of goo, and a headache.

>[NIGHT 12]

So, see? Was it all that bad? No. Did you survive? You sure did. Did Claudia and Gil survive? ...Yes. You mean, once back underwater, the goo naturally sort of congealed, and they both responded to your prods— though they seemed equally out of it. You decided to leave them to recover. Earl, whose spelunking trip was far less eventful, wanted to know all about everything, so you told him, and then you went to bed. You mean, you're lying here, waiting to sleep. No way you're accomplishing anything else. Richard?

«Yes?»

Nothing. You just wanted to make sure he existed again, and all that.

«I exist.»
«Thank you for worrying about me, Charlie.»

You're not worried, you're— you're not— you're not worried! You weren't worried. You were just checking. You'll examine the trophy in the morning. Good night.

«Good night.»

(Choices next.)

Summaries of DAY 11/NIGHT 11 and DAY 12/NIGHT 12 incoming tomorrow.

>What will you do DAY 13? (Write-in Claudia's inclusion for a bonus.)

>[1] Go apologize to Gil for blowing him up. It didn't hurt, right? You didn't mean to. Sorry. Um, you can check out his project now, if he wants to show you? (+ [Gil], + [Legerdemain], reassign Gil's project)
>[2] Go apologize to Claudia for blowing her up, and make sure she's okay. Is there anything you should do? Does she want to examine the trophy with you? (++ [Claudia])
>[3] Okay, you didn't think you'd miss turning into a giant lizard monster, but you totally did. Ugh. Can you do it for real today? Like... for real-for real? (++ [The Red Stuff], + [Earl])
>[4] You know what would've made that maze a lot easier? Having a giant worm. You're just saying. (+1/4 Annie progress)
>[5] Write-in.

>>6244527
>1
Bring Claudia so we can apologize to both at once. We should have pondered the trophies for a bit longer. Plus she might think Legerdmain is cool.

Nice job keeping it under 10 threads. Was that the manse equivalent of Kaizo Mario?

>>6244621
Supporting

>>6244527
>>[1] Go apologize to Gil for blowing him up. It didn't hurt, right? You didn't mean to. Sorry. Um, you can check out his project now, if he wants to show you? (+ [Gil], + [Legerdemain], reassign Gil's project)

>>6244621
>>6244678
>>6244943
>[1]
>With Claudia

You got it. Writing.

>>6244621
Yeah lol. They probably have speedruns for these things. American Ninja Warrior manses. It's a big seafloor with a lot of weirdos out there...

DAY 11 / NIGHT 11 RESULTS
>Gained 3/5 progress toward [Earl V]
>Gained 2/2 progress toward [Red Stuff II]; [Red Stuff I] -> [Red Stuff II]

———

DAY 12 / NIGHT 12 RESULTS
>Gained 3/3 progress toward [Anthea III]; [Anthea II] -> [Anthea III]
>Gained 1/4 progress toward [Anthea IV]
>Gained 5/7 progress toward [Gil VII]
>Gained 3/4 progress toward [Claudia IV]
>Gained 2/2 progress toward [String Manipulation II]; [String Manipulation I] -> [String Manipulation II]
>Gained 1/6 progress toward [Positive Thinking VI]
>Gained 2/4 progress toward [The Sun IV]*
>Gained 1/3 progress toward [On Fire! III]*
>Gained a trophy, effect unknown

*Added because you did end up tanking an explosion

———

>DAY 13

For once, you awaken first— not counting Earl, who isn't around. Out on a morning errand, maybe. Long ago, you might've eaten breakfast, gotten dressed, combed your hair, or done any number of ritual things. Now there's nothing in particular to do, so you pace around aimlessly, then check on Gil.

You had put him, which is to say the lump of goo that was him, under a blanket. It seemed only right. Approaching the blanket now, you're pleased to find a sprawled-out body under it, its arm reattached and bent, its head reattached, eyes closed, asleep. It all looks like Gil. Which is what you expected, of course— you mean, he didn't even explode in real life. He exploded in a manse, and you carried his pieces out, and when you woke, he was three-quarters melted and barely conscious. Would it have been different if you didn't gather the pieces? Worse? It doesn't matter. You don't care. You did, because of course you did, and he's fine now.

Er, hopefully fine. The head and arm were the bits most intact. What about his body? You lift the blanket, just to make super-extra-sure, and catch a glimpse of bare shoulderblade. Yes! He's fine! And you will allow him to become decent before you bother him further. You drop the blanket, backing away, and Gil stirs. "Mm?"

"Nothing!" you whisper. "Go back to sleep!"

"...Lottie? What are you... i-is everything...?" Oh, God, he's sitting up! Will he have the presence of mind to preserve his modesty? No. No, he will not. You valiantly avert your gaze. "Oh, shit. What i-is it?"

You stiffen your shoulders. "Put a shirt on!"

"Oh. Um, sorry. I-I can... gimme a... oh, um, no pants either... huh. Uh..." There's a squelching sound. You stare straight ahead. "...Okay. Sorry. All sorted. You can look back now."

A cruel and horrible person, like Horse Face, would lie and tell you to look back too early. Your proper sensibilities would be violated through no fault of your own. Gil isn't cruel and horrible, so you look back without hesitation. He's wearing a nondescript white tee-shirt, and looks a little more alert, but only a little. "Seriously, what's going on?"

"Nothing. I— I was just checking on you. Since you..." No use sugarcoating it. "...exploded."

(1/...7?)

"Oh yeah." Gil rubs the sleep out of his eye. "Sure did."

"Sorry you exploded. Did it hurt?" You know he's goo. You know nothing else has hurt. But if there's anything in the world that would, surely it'd be—

"I-I-I mean, it surprised me, but it didn't hurt. Wasn't even that weird. Felt like..." He waves his hand around. "...beetles. You know, um, you're in one place, then you're in a lot of places. I-I guess I'm used to it. Did you stick me back together or something? I-I can't—"

"Sort of."

"Well, whatever you did, I-I appreciate it. Um..." He's trying to push himself to his feet, but it isn't going very well. "I think I-I-I'm still goopy on the inside. Would you mind...?"

You haul him to his feet, and he wobbles over and flops onto a chair. "Guess I-I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. Unless— hang on." He screws his eyes shut, and, to your surprise, his right palm begins to glow faintly blue. He presses it to his chest, as if feeling for a heartbeat, then his forehead. No dice, apparently. He squeezes his palm shut and tilts his head back. "Guess i-it doesn't apply."

"That's magyck!" you squeal. "So it's working?"

"Huh?"

"The glove?"

"The... oh, yeah. Um, I-I got it off the glove, actually. Embedded it in the wrist. And that was working, but then Teddy suggested I-I-I try it without any help, and I thought he was crazy, but, uh..." He flexes his hand. "I-I guess I built the muscle memory, or whatever it is, and now... yeah. Lot easier."

"You can do it whenever you want?" you clarify. "Like now? Do it again!"

He raises his fist at the elbow and opens it. It glows blue. He closes it, and the glow vanishes. He opens it again, but it's normal, no glow. One more time, and the glow is back. "I-I-I don't want to try it on you," he says apologetically. "Um, considering last time. I-I-I was actually hoping you'd... um... I was hoping it might come up in the manse, but..."

"Gil!" you say. "You wanted me to turn into a giant lizard?"

He sucks his cheeks in. "Um..."

"You bastard!" You plop down next to him. "It's okay. I did too."

"You wanted...?"

"It's not weird! I just think— you know— it's only scary if I don't expect it, or if I can't control it. Which is most of the time. Um. But if I can control it, isn't it cool? Sort of? I mean, I could've knocked that whole dumb maze over! But I guess the guy who made it is normal, and not some evil Wyrm worshipper, so there wasn't any chance to."

"I-I-I wouldn't use the word 'normal,'" Gil says slowly.

"Gil! You shouldn't say that. We did win. I mean, I won. You exploded." You smirk over at him. "And we got a trophy! I need to see what it does, if it even does anything, but I don't think— um— it might not be real. We'd have to be in my manse. Or yours, I guess."

"Geez, real change of pace. Haha. Um, that's no problem. I-I-I was just thinking, though... Claudia..."

"Yeah?"

"...Do you think she's wearing clothes?"

(2/7?)

-

"CLAUDIA!" you say urgently. "ARE YOU NUDE?!"

She was half-awake already in the bed, but this gets her eyes to widen. "I-it's okay," Gil clarifies, from the other room. "I-if you are. I mean. Um. Don't show us. Um. I-i-it's— you just had to reconstitute. I-i-i-if you want clothes back on—"

"Gilbert!" You lean and glare. "'If'?"

"...Um, to get clothes back on, you have to think about i-it really vividly. I-I-It helps if you know the outfit, but... I guess..." Claudia has acquired a wicked gleam in her eye. "...Please don't go too crazy? Yell if you have questions?"

"Say something when you're done!" you add.

She doesn't do that. Two minutes later, you hear a splat, and rush in to discover Claudia puddled on the floor. You take the liberty of scooping her up ("Hey!") and carrying her over to Gil, who scoots over to make room. You wipe your hands off after.

Claudia, dazed and... clothed (what is she wearing?!), peers up at you. "Did I die?"

"No," you say.

"Are you sure? Because we were in there, and there was a... a fucking fireball, or something, and I'm pretty sure I died. I got fucking disintegrated. I remember disintegrating."

"Well, you did. And then you got stuck back together, I guess." You pause. "Sorry."

"Oh." She looks down at herself weakly. "That's kinda metal. Did we win? If we went to all that trouble just to—"

"Trophy and everything," Gil confirms.

"Mega! Is it just a trophy? It better light up and do a little WYRM-damned dance, is what I think."

Does she want to look at it with you and Gil? Claudia looks at you like you're stupid. That's how you wind up in Gil's manse, which is, er, significantly more landscaped than when you saw it last. "I didn't know you knew how to garden," you say.

"Um, I-I-I didn't either. I still don't? I just envision... what I-I'd like to..." Gil's voice is faltering. "...eat... moving on!"

He has a proper house built out too, not just a workshop, though it doesn't look very lived-in. (You guess you don't know what he'd need it for, really.) You do catch a glimpse of a rumpled bedroom, which— is that a framed picture of a beetle on the wall? It looks just like the one in his tent. At least the windows let plenty of light in. Claudia is sticking her head out one: "Is that a treehouse?"

"No," Gil says limply, but you, too, have spotted the treehouse. It doesn't appear to have a ladder. Can you go there? Gil could ignore Claudia, but he can't ignore you, so he tells you to turn around. There's a rope bridge out the window when you look back.

"Seriously, how do you do that?" You pick your way over the bridge's rickety-looking boards. "Make stuff appear? It's just here, right? Unless you were holding out on making a bridge across that ravine..."

(3/7?)

The one in the maze. (There did end up being a bridge— an invisible one with missing panels. Gil went first, plummeted, and flew sheepishly back up.) "I-i-it's mostly just here. Um, I'm better at it than I used to be otherwise, but not that much better. But here, I-I-I guess I— I can set the rules. Do whatever I... yeah."

"I like the treehouse," you say. "Good job."

Gil reddens. "You haven't even seen it yet..."

When you do see it, you still like it: it's charming, even if it smells a little like cigarettes. There's a stubby little wood table and two stubby chairs and photographs on the wall— everybody in them resembles Gil vaguely. There's a hammock strung up in the branches of the tree to your left, and a great big beautiful window overlooking the hills and the river, which now boasts a pebble beach and a shack. (Teddy's?) Gil, who's been doing a lot of fidgeting, fidgets now with the trophy. "Did we want to look at this, or...?"

"Let me look!" Claudia plucks it out of his hands and plonks down on one of the stools. You and Gil exchange glances; you pull out the other stool, while Gil makes a third appear. "That's so handy!" you say. "I need that power. The, um, 'make whatever I want appear' power."

"Don't you have it?"

"Hmm?"

"Um, you were definitely making a lot of stuff appear near the end there... yesterday...?" (You grimace and shake your head.) "Okay. I-I won't ask. But really, you can't do it at all?"

"I mean, I can do a little bit, if I really try. But I'm not good."

"Huh. I-I guess I thought you'd be good automatically, since you... um... a big part of it is confidence... do you know the theory behind it?"

"Richard probably told me," you say. "Once."

"I-I get it. Um, it's not too complicated. The way I learned it was, um, your belief that the item is there overrides the truth that it isn't. Yeah? So your goal is to get the belief in it over a threshold. It works better with little things, since it's more plausible to have those around, and it works better if you have a lot of junk in your pockets already, and if you're distracted, and if you're in dim light, and if— you know— you can really trust i-it'll work. I-I thought you'd be good at that part. And it doesn't work if you're looking at where the thing is coming from, because then you know it isn't there, and your belief totally collapses. Even if you don't want it to. I-if you're really good, you can pull stuff out from behind your back, but most people do pockets, right? Or bags. Or i-inside your shoe, if you're weird."

(4/7?)

"Sounds familiar," you say. "Um, not the shoe thing. All of it."

"I-I-I guess Richard wasn't lying then. One thing he wasn't lying about. Haha. Um." Gil clears his throat. "Really, the i-i-important part is that it shouldn't be flashy. The whole point you don't question it, right?"

"Says you?" you say. "Who pulled out a whole bridge—?"

"Honestly, I-I don't know if that even counts as legerdemain. I-I-It might just be a different thing. And... if you wanted to do it... you'd have to not be real, right? And you have to be real. You're— you're realer than real, basically."

"Yuck! Like Headspace?" You stick your tongue out. Gil laughs a little at you, and you laugh a little at him back, and then—

"Hoy! Bill-'n'-cooers!"

You need to get Claudia to update her vocabulary. "Huh? Did you find something?"

"Bet your fucking britches!" She lifts the trophy. "Check this out!"

You wait. She presses a hidden switch, and the trophy swivels, flashes, and expels a puff of glittery tinsel. "Haha! Also, there was a business card attached to the bottom? So you can get in touch with the freak who made it."

Oh. Okay, you were expecting a mystic artifact, but you don't know why you were expecting that. The rest of the maze wasn't mystic at all. You didn't even turn into a lizard. So— this is pretty good too. There's tinsel!

>What will you do with the trophy, though?

>[A1] Claim it for yourself and install it somewhere in your manse, to provide moral support.
>>[A] Install it in your... okay, you don't have an arena yet, but in a prospective arena location. It will be a sign that you'll never be defeated! ([+ Good With a Sword] -> [++ Good With a Sword])
>>[B] Install it somewhere eye-catching. You need to be able to see it from anywhere, as a reminder to never, ever give up. ([++ Positive Thinking] -> [+++ Positive Thinking])
>>[C] Install it so it catches the light. It will glow forevermore with the... um... something, something, explosion... yeah! (+++ [The Sun])

>[A2] Give it to Gil, in recognition of his uncountable valiant self-sacrifices. If not for him, you probably would've been sliced in half by sawblades, so yeah. Um. You're not sure you always show it properly, but you do really, really appreciate him. (MAXIMIZE your Gil relationship: [Gil VI] -> [Gil VII])

>[A3] Give it to Claudia, in recognition of her first successful manse delve. You know it didn't go entirely smoothly, and you're not sure she had that good of a time, but she stuck it through. You're proud of her. (+++ [Claudia])

>[A4] Write-in?

——————————

>[NIGHT 13]

Earl has a visitor.

He didn't tell you he'd have a visitor, so it must be unexpected. Maybe Lucky. Probably Lucky, even— you've gone a week and a half without any sign of him, and you're starting to feel that can't last. Which isn't very positive, you know, but you're not saying you'll be arrested. You just want to be prepared.

Consequently, you hear a knock and scamper to the side room. A moment later, Gil follows, and the two of you wait gingerly as Earl answers the door. "HOHO! Look who the cat dragged in!"

"Earl. Got a place to stay?"

"You fucking betcha! When don't I? Though, er... actually, I'm pretty full up... you don't mind sleeping on the floor? How long were you thinking?"

"Couple days. And you know me. I sleep anywhere."

A pause, then Earl laughs throatily. "I do know. Well, come on in, meet- oh, shit, where'd everyone go? Come out! He's harmless."

"Wouldn't say that."

"Shush! Come!"

You brush yourself down and emerge, trying to look like you weren't just flat under a bed. Earl's arm is thrown across the other man's shoulders. "There we go! Charlotte! Meet Graves. Graves, this is—"

"Arledge?" you say.

Eloise's friend. The pagan one. Who turned into a giant worm and fell and nearly died. He wasn't in his own body for much of it, but you met him before you entered Us, and you remember him in the rubble, battered and broken, vividly. Arledge, searching your face, doesn't appear to have the same recall. It gets worse when Claudia emerges- "Who's this guy?"— and then Arledge's eyes dart between you and her, you and her, you and her. You were in Claudia's body.

"I'm the one you're thinking of," you say. "She... I rescued her from Us." It's almost true.

"Holy shit! You know each other already? Small world! Well, Charlotte, Graves and I go way back—" Earl jostles Arledge's shoulder.

"Years," Arledge says.

"Years! This is the guy who sold me on the shark thing! Do you think I figured that out by myself? Fuck no! Oh, hey, Gil. This is—"

"Arledge," Gil says. "Wow. Hi. I-I-I was..."

"I remember your voice. You had the blessing."

"Um, yes."

"You're still with her?"

Meaning you. You clench your fists; Gil opens his mouth; Earl squeezes Arledge. "Hey! Whoa! We're all buddies here! Is something wrong?"

"No," you say fiercely. "I'm fine."

"Okay then! Why don't we all sit down? Talk it out! I'm guessing you've had a long day, Graves, so let's... yeah. Sit down. Can I get you anything?"

(6/7)

"I'm fine, thanks." Arledge breaks free and sits cross-legged on the settee. You sigh. You should be mad, really really mad, should spurn him and stalk off out the door, but you did, um, get possessed and command Annie to try and eat him. Or something like that. You can't remember. You do remember the aftermath, the exploded church and him and everything, which was mostly Lucky's fault, but was yours too. And Arledge barely even knows you, except for that.

You sit down across from him and fold your hands in your lap.

There's a lot of options here. Pick as many as you want, but consider indicating anything you want to ask ASAP vs. later on. (If you don't, I may use my own discretion.) Arledge will be around for a couple days, so there'll be more opportunities to talk with him later.

>[B1] Apologize for blowing him up a little bit. Is he feeling better now?
>[B2] Tell him that Madrigal is okay and got rescued and everything. He probably heard from Eloise, but what if he didn't?
>[B3] Let him know that you exploded Headspace and destroyed the wicked Management recently. You're not evil, okay? He caught you on a bad day.
>[B4] Ask him why he's showing up unexpectedly at Earl's doorstep.
>[B5] Ask him what he's up to... um... generally. You don't know what he does most of the time.
>[B6] Tell him that Lucky's trying to arrest you. He seemed to have some history with Lucky, and, um, not good history. So maybe he'll be supportive.
>[B7] Tell him what's new with Us these days, and Claudia and Teddy and the Headspace Collective.
>[B8] Ask him if he's heard anything about the "Hero-Queen," or the Wind Court's involvement with her.
>[B9] Wait, he's the one who taught Earl how to do the pagan drug stuff? You need to do pagan drug stuff! Ask for tips.
>[B10] Gil's gotten way better with his blessing since you saw Arledge last. Encourage him to talk about it.
>[B11] Write-in.

>>6245127
>>[A] Install it in your... okay, you don't have an arena yet, but in a prospective arena location. It will be a sign that you'll never be defeated! ([+ Good With a Sword] -> [++ Good With a Sword])

>[B1] Apologize for blowing him up a little bit. Is he feeling better now?
>[B2] Tell him that Madrigal is okay and got rescued and everything. He probably heard from Eloise, but what if he didn't?
>[B3] Let him know that you exploded Headspace and destroyed the wicked Management recently. You're not evil, okay? He caught you on a bad day.
>[B8] Ask him if he's heard anything about the "Hero-Queen," or the Wind Court's involvement with her.
>[B9] Wait, he's the one who taught Earl how to do the pagan drug stuff? You need to do pagan drug stuff! Ask for tips.
>[B4] Ask him why he's showing up unexpectedly at Earl's doorstep.

>>6245127
>A1A
We’ll max out the Gil relationship with more Legerdmain lessons

>>6245129
Urgent:
B1,3,6
Casual:
B2,5,7,8

>>6245253
>>6245262

Okay! Locking in [A1A] and [B1], [B2], [B3], and [B8] for certain. Because we only have two votes, I will choose whether to include [B4], [B5], [B6], [B7], or [B9] based on what fits in the update (or future updates, because I guarantee we're not getting to everything). Will also be keeping >>6245262's priority listing in mind.

Writing.

>[DAY 13 CONTINUED]

"Do you want i-it, Lottie?" Gil is sizing you up. "I-i-it looks like you want it."

"Er..." Yes, you do want it, but it feels uncouth to say so.

"I-I think you should take it. I-I-I just did gruntwork, really. Um, not that Claudia wasn't helpful, but..."

"Whatever," Claudia says, put-out.

What, did she want the trophy? You definitely did more than she did. You already apologized for blowing her up, so she doesn't need anything more than that, right? You wind a bit of tinsel around your finger. "Well, um, maybe we can talk to the freak— I mean, the guy who made it, and he can make us more trophies. Better trophies? Maybe you can get one that plays a song, Claudia?"

"Whatever," she says again.

"Um, okay. I guess it's settled, then."

>Acquired: Trophy of Ultimate Victory

—————————

>[NIGHT 13 CONTINUED]

"...You look better," you say. Wait. No. That's not right. "I mean, you seem, um... you're walking okay, and..."

Arledge appraises you. "I seem like I didn't break every bone in my body."

"...Yes?"

"I'm feeling better now, yes."

Okay. He's determined to make this as awkward as possible. Maybe you deserve that. "That's— that's good. I'm sorry I— I'm sorry all your bones were broken. By me."

"By your worm, actually."

"By me. Because I was controlling the worm, right? That's what Gil said. I can't remember." You were hoping it'd come back alongside the other things you did wrong, but you guess you weren't conscious at all. "Um, it wasn't really me, though."

"So I heard."

"I don't normally try to murder people with worms. I— I'm not evil. I rescued Madrigal from her kidnapping, actually— after you left— she's completely fine— and I blew up Headspace! Didn't I? Gil? I blew it up, right?"

Gil nods helpfully.

"See? And that probably saved the lives of— of thousands, didn't it? The locitis victims, and all the poor employees being experimented on, and—" You won't mention that you melted them. Even if they're fine now. He doesn't need to get the wrong idea. "Yeah. I'm actually very heroic, normally."

"Mm." Arledge rests his face on two fingers. "I don't think I know what Headspace is."

"You don't..." God! He hasn't been involved in any of it, has he? He's been off doing... whatever he does... wherever he lives. Pagan stuff. Something. "Um, okay. Do you know who Ellery is? It's okay if not."

Arledge's eyebrows go way up. "Yes."

"You do?" It was a long shot— you knew he used to live at camp a long time ago, that's all— but of course Ellery would be running around with pagan types. "Okay! Great! So, a year ago, Ellery was..."

You explain the whole thing: Headspace, Casey, the E.Z.-MANSE, locitis, Management, Real Ellery, Fake Ellery, mind exile, the assassination missions, blah blah blah blah blah. Arledge's eyebrows remain up, but he's not a very good audience otherwise— he doesn't gasp or anything. When you pause for commentary on the Ellery situation, his lips turn up at the corners. "Sounds about right."

(1/5?)

"I can't believe Eloise didn't tell you about any of this!" You were hoping it'd be the talk of the town. "She didn't mention me or anything?"

"We're not in touch often. I run in my own circles." Arledge twiddles a toothpick between two fingers. "Still, if this is true..."

"I-It's true," Gil says. Arledge nods but looks past him, up to Earl. "Huh?" Earl says. "Oh! Yeah! Shit, I saw her bail outta Headspace myself! Blew the thing to smithereens! I dunno what your thing is, but she's— she's a good kid, honestly."

"Mmm."

"She is! What? My word's not good enough?"

"You're a generous judge of character, Earl. It's what makes you so popular. Charlotte, if our encounter was unrepresentative—" Arledge cracks his neck. "—why do you still have it in you?"

"What?" you say. But you know what, and from Arledge's steady blue-ringed gaze he knows you know what. You dig your fingers into your thighs. You don't have to tell him you're God. He won't want to know that. It's none of his business. You're not evil, and you're not going to end the world, and you haven't even— okay, so the red stuff overtook you a handful of times between Us and now, but nothing recent, and—

"Earl, what is she doing here?" He's broken eye contact.

Earl— was he attempting to sidle away?— freezes. "Look, Graves, I— I dunno if that's really—"

"She has a warrant out for her arrest!" Claudia announces.

That little bitch! You just know she was waiting for an opportune moment. Arledge bites his toothpick, looking at you, thinking. "Thought it was something like that. Warrant from who?"

"Wind Court," you mumble.

"Naturally. Dib was drooling in there, you know. Served him a warrant up on a platter. You should've made the worm chew. How long have you been hiding out?"

"...Week and a half."

"Only? He took his time. I guess he always was thorough. What's the charges? Three counts attempted murder, one count mass destruction, five or ten or fifteen counts undeclared mutations, fiendishness, whatever... never knew how they counted that one. Dib rounds up. That sound right?"

"No," you say, and ball one hand in another. "It wasn't even an arrest for that. It was for something else."

"Oh?"

Why did you say that? Now you can't avoid the rest of it. Arledge doesn't even like Lucky, or the Court, so he won't care that much. And if he does care, Gil's right there, and Earl will want to mediate, and it's not like you're in danger. You're fine. He's outnumbered. "It was for five murders."

"Of civilians?" Arledge says. "Or Court?"

"I don't know." You wring your hands. "I can't remember."

"Because you weren't yourself."

"No! I mean, I don't— I don't know. I don't know. It was years ago. I was part of the Court, then there were murders, and then I— I left. I deserted. That's part of the charges, too, desertion, and— and mutation, but those were the charges before Us and the worm and everything. So I don't know what it was all about."

Arledge lifts his head. "Years. How many?"

(2/5)

"I— I don't know. Between one and three."

"One to three, and you deserted. And you're on the book for five murders. And when did you get that eye?"

You touch your bad eye. "...Back then."

"You don't remember. Alright. Have you ever been involved with a cult of the WYRM?"

You say nothing.

"I'm not going to put your head on a pike. Just answer."

"Um, I know of one." Your eyes dart to Claudia, who's become suddenly attentive. You hope Henry really will be willing to take her in. "I'm not a member. Really. But I—"

"How about back then?"

"I can't remember." But Jesse. Jesse and his spiral tattoo like you knew what it meant and Henry stating you were well along the Road already. "Probably."

"Yes. I would imagine so. It would be a coincidence, but the gods smile on coincidences."

The gods are dead. Maybe it was you. Maybe you made it happen, or will. "What are you talking about?"

"I believe the Wind Court has been co-opted by cultists. Up to the top. I believe they are abusing the mechanisms of the Court to further their personal goals, which, if achieved, would cause the world as we know it to be destroyed utterly."

You shift. "How do you know?"

"I've made it my business. Earl's heard."

"Oh yeah! This guy's public enemy #1! Or... maybe #2, with you running around, Charlotte? Haw-haw."

"They find it hard to pin me down. I've made some contacts. I don't have much physical evidence, unfortunately." Arledge leans back. "Now, don't get it mixed. I'm not saying the rank-and-file's all in on it. I believe most Courtiers are simply doing their jobs. It's the Eyrie that's rotten."

"...How about Lucky?"

"Dib?" Arledge chuckles deeply. "He's their dog. He'll bite anybody they point at, then he trots back home for a bone. I think he thinks they all care about the creed as much as him. Actually, I know he does. He'll never believe it."

You guess that's good? Or no, that's bad! If he were secretly worshiping the Wyrm, he'd be secretly worshiping you! "But what's the coincidence?"

"Right. Well, Charlotte, about two years ago, this was actually exposed. Kind of. Did you hear about this, Gil?"

Gil startles. "Um, I-I— I probably just drowned. I wasn't keeping up on the news."

"Fair point. And you wouldn't remember, allegedly. Do you remember, Earl? The Court scandal? Out West? Murders in the ranks?"

"What, two years ago? I was way out here! But— eh— maybe a little? Didn't they arrest some lady...?"

(3/5?)

"They arrested some woman. The official line was that a junior Courtier had joined, had fomented dissent, spun up a little cult of her own, and conducted a few ritual murders, as any honest Wyrm follower does. She was discovered, the cult was stamped out, end scene. I don't think that's what happened. I think, Charlotte, that this woman escaped. They would've made a big public show of 'reforming' her if they had her. I think, additionally, that she was a scapegoat. I don't know if she did whip up a cult, or if she did kill or cause five killings. I suppose you don't either." Arledge meets your eyes. "But it doesn't matter, because it was a deflection. It made it appear as an isolated case, swiftly dealt with, when nothing could be further from the truth. All very clever. Now, the question is: are you that woman?"

Are you? Jesse would know. Jesse would've known all of this, would've told you all of this; Jesse had your sword; Lucky didn't trust him. Jesse knew you, but Jesse is dead, and Lucky was after your head from the start. But why? Didn't it work? Wasn't it swept under the rug, with or without you? "If I am, why would they want to arrest me?"

"Why? Dib would arrest a tree if it looked at him funny."

"Um, I believe that. But—" You went over this with Madrigal, didn't you? "—it's not just him. He has a million and one guys out with him. Somebody higher-up sanctioned all those reinforcements. And..." It's not because they want the Crown from you, because they have it. They have Ramsey. You don't want to go into that yet. "...yeah. Why would they care? After two years?"

"Hmm. Why would they?"

You suddenly dislike the way Arledge is looking at you.

"I think you're right. They don't care. If I'm right, they never cared about you specifically— or not then. Has something changed, Charlotte? Is there a reason eschaton-mongers might want you in their custody?"

They want you? They know you're the Herald? But how would they know? Wind City's on the other side of the seafloor. Maybe they have vile spying tools, or they use their, er, snake powers? You don't know. It seems to you that there's a much simpler answer. "...Because Ramsey told them to bag me?"

Arledge looks puzzled. It's bad on him. "Ramsey?"

"Jean Ramsey?" He must've left the camp before she got there. "Um, the 'Hero-Queen'? She— um—"

Oh, God, look at him. He doesn't know. Does he live under a rock? Was he too busy turning into worms and things to hear the legend of the Hero-Queen? You thought she was supposed to be really popular! But maybe he's been way out East all this time, and the news hasn't spread? What should you tell him?

(Choices next.)

>[A1] As little as you can. Jean Ramsey is a crazy lady with a magyck Crown, she's going to try and use it to take over the world, and you know for a fact the Wind Court is helping her. It makes perfect sense she'd want to sic them on you.
>[A2] As much as would be helpful. Same as above, but clarify that she stole the Crown from you, and that she has a snake in her brain— the same as Management— egging her on. If she succeeds, she's going to destroy the entire world, whether she intends to or not.
>[A3] The full story. (Explain it in private.) Tell him about agents, how they plotted to kill the gods, how they want to use the Crown to finish the job, by summoning the Wyrm to free them— through Jean Ramsey, or else through you. And it will succeed, as it must, but you'll make sure the world doesn't end. You really will. You promise.
>[A4] Write-in.

>[B] Anything else for Arledge? (Write-in. Optional. [B]s that were not covered are still potentially on the docket, so no need to re-write them in.)

————

I may drop an additional option slate for [DAY 14] actions tomorrow— I'm not sure whether I'll attempt to double-update and post it with that, or just shove it all together. Keep an eye out!

>>6245697
>A2
Let’s not give him the super info dump, he doesn’t trust us that much yet
>B
Tell him we’re undergoing intensive training with Earl to better control the red stuff and we can’t get rid of it

Also ask how Lucky would react if we brought him hard proof of Wind Court corruption

Also ask how he knows all that stuff

>>6245697
>[A1] As little as you can. Jean Ramsey is a crazy lady with a magyck Crown, she's going to try and use it to take over the world, and you know for a fact the Wind Court is helping her. It makes perfect sense she'd want to sic them on you.
>Kick Claudia in the shin if she as much as opens her mouth to snitch on us

>>6245697
>[A2] As much as would be helpful. Same as above, but clarify that she stole the Crown from you, and that she has a snake in her brain— the same as Management— egging her on. If she succeeds, she's going to destroy the entire world, whether she intends to or not.
>[B] Don't let Claudia talk.

>>6245726
>>6245782
>>6245815
Awesome. I'm not calling the vote yet, but let me give you one more:

>What will you do DAY 14? Include Claudia for a bonus.

>[C1] You know it's been Earl's thing so far, but... apparently this is the guy who taught Earl all he knows about paganry, so you can't get more useful than this. Enlist Arledge's help with the red stuff. (+++ [Red Stuff], ++ [Arledge])
>[C2] Arledge knows how to fight people, doesn't he? You've seen him walking around with that big staff. Let him get the rest of his suspicions out (via whaling on you, and vice versa). (++++[Good With a Sword], + [Arledge]) Temp bonus from density + temp bonus from Arledge + perm bonus from the trophy
>[C3] Arledge knows Ellery? You know Ellery. Take him over to Headspace to say hello-- maybe he'll have a perspective on the sun thing while he's at it. (++ [The Sun], + [Arledge], + [Unionized Ellery])
>[C4] Arledge is all pagany. Teddy is all pagany. Shouldn't the two of them meet? Orchestrate a matchup while you and Gil spend some quality time together. (+ [Arledge], + [Teddy], + [Legerdemain], maximize [Gil], (re)assign Gil)
>[C5] Write-in.

Also, I'll have you reassign Gil in a hot sec whether or not you pick [C4], forgot to include that


>>6245726
>Also ask how he knows all that stuff

>"I've made it my business. Earl's heard." [...] "They find it hard to pin me down. I've made some contacts. I don't have much physical evidence, unfortunately."

Arledge is cagey, but it sounds like he's been skulking around, investigating, and talking to people inside the Court for several years now. See CODICIL. Regarding his theory about the scapegoat, it seems like "a female Courtier was arrested for attempting to start a cult" is public knowledge/a fairly big-ticket news item from a couple years ago, but the rest is his speculation. Without Jesse or somebody else who'd know the truth, it's impossible to say anything for sure.

>>6245828
Current status up to Night12 (I'm not sure how Day 13 worked):

>[Positive Thinking V], 1/5 to next level
>[The Herald's Body III], 2/4 to next level
>[The Herald's Mind III], 2/4 to next level
>[The Sun III], 2/4 to next level
>[Earthsense II], 2/3 to next level
>[Good With A Sword II], 1/3 to next level
>[Communion II], 1/3 to next level
>[OPEN II], 2/3 to next level
>[On Fire! II], 1/2 to next level
>[Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting II], 0/3 to next level
>[Red Stuff II], 0/3 to next level
>[String Manipulation I|], 0/3 to next level
>[Legerdemain I], 0/2 to next level

>[Richard VII]
>[Gil VI], 5/7 to next level
>[Earl IV], 3/5 to next level
>[Henry IV]
>[Unionized Ellery III], 3/4 to next level
>[Madrigal III], 2/4 to next level
>[Claudia III], 3/4 to next level
>[Monty III]
>[Us II], 1/3 to next level
>[Eloise II], 1/3 to next level
>[Anthea III], 1/4 to next level
>[Teddy II], 0/3 to next level
>[Branwen II]
>[Fake Ellery I]
>[Arledge I]
>[Horse Face I]
>[Lucky 0]

Voing for
>[C1] You know it's been Earl's thing so far, but... apparently this is the guy who taught Earl all he knows about paganry, so you can't get more useful than this. Enlist Arledge's help with the red stuff. (+++ [Red Stuff], ++ [Arledge])
which should bring us to Red Stuff III and Arledge II

>>6245828
>C1
4 is quite tempting but I already wanted this with my B vote earlier

Alrighty.

>>6245726
>>6245815
>[A2]

>>6245782
>[A1]

>>6245726
>>6245782
>>6245815
>Various [B]s

>>6245855
>>6245833
>[C1]

You got it. Writing.

>Just the facts

Nothing about the Wyrm. He might claim he's keeping your head off a pike, but if you tell him you'll be God outright he'll laugh or shove his pole down your small intestine. Can you tell him about Correspondent #301, though? You did briefly mention Management. You don't have to tell him you have a snake, too. And the Crown? That you had it? You only wanted to restore your family's honor— is that so wrong?

You clear your throat. "Er, she's— do you know Monty?"

"We weren't close."

"Okay. Well, she's Monty's friend, or was Monty's friend, from the surface. She used to be a famous competitor in this, um, death game thing. That's not the important part. I don't know why I started with that. She has this crown."

Oh. Okay. Maybe you shouldn't have said that. Arledge is burning a little sizzling hole right between your eyes. "With crystals on it? Sixteen?"

"Um," you say. "Yes."

"It's supposed to be lost. The gods..." He grits his teeth. "Where did she get it?"

Now's the time to change your mind. Keep it to yourself. It's already coming out: "From me. She stole it from me."

"From you." He half-rises, thinks better of it, and curls instead, drawing one knee to his chest and one hand to his brow. "You had the Crown."

"Well, I don't anymore," you say defensively.

"I-I-I saw it being stolen," Gil adds. "She's telling the truth."

"Alright. You had..." Arledge's gesture is limp. "...you had the Crown in your possession. Before you continue, are you aware that its purpose is to end the world?"

You can't see Claudia. She's behind you. But you know, for perfect fact, that she's grinning. "Gil," you mumble, and Gil leans in. "Could you make sure she doesn't say anything stupid? Please?"

Gil nods briefly and disappears behind you. ("Hey!" Claudia says, a second later.) Arledge looks up at her, then down at you, and you suck your lip in. "Um, I do now, actually. But I didn't know that when I had it. And— I don't think Ramsey knows, either, or she didn't when she stole it. How do you know?"

"I know a lot of things. So do you, it seems. What do you believe this Ramsey intends with it?"

Honestly, you don't know. You don't think she had a plan for it at all, except donating it to Monty, before the snake came in. Now? "...I think she wants Godlike power. I don't know why exactly. Maybe just for fun. But I don't see why she'd want to kill everybody, or end the world. Um, she's not evil in that sort of way, as far as I know."

"The end of the world is not optional. Do you believe this woman would listen to reason?"

"No." You haven't seen her in weeks and weeks. You have no idea if she's gone crazy or turned into a monster or anything. But even if she hasn't: "It's not just her. She has this snake in her head egging her on, and she has a bunch of dumb sycophants and things now. And the Wind Court. She's teamed up with the Wind Court."

(1/5?)

"A servant of the WYRM. And the Court. Of course the Court!" Arledge is digging his fingers into his eyelids. "Gods strike them!"

"That's bad," you translate. "They want to use the Crown to bring us back to the surface, though, right? Surely that wouldn't be so—"

"They? The surface? Maybe some. Maybe most. Many Courtiers, most Courtiers, are— ordinary. They are human. They want to go home. If they had the Crown, they might— I believe they would try that, sure. They would end the world instead, but they might try. They won't have it, though. The Eyrie will. And they follow the WYRM."

"That doesn't mean they want to end the world," you say, offended. (Surely Henry doesn't? Surely Jesse didn't? And you, of course, if you count.)

"Doesn't it? All the WYRM knows is hate. It hates the world and hates every last thing on it. Us especially."

Fleas. Ticks. Ants. You blink rapidly. "Well, that's—"

"It hates specifically our imperfections. Our abnormalities. Does that sound familiar? The Wind Court hates as the WYRM hates. Not every person in it. But as an entity it hates. Its goal, its perfect world, does not have room for me inside. It does not have room for Earl. Gil, it would not have room for you. You—" (Claudia.) "—you're from Us? Meaning you should be dead? That's not allowed up there. No room for you either."

You wait for him to get to you. He doesn't. "...And me?"

"You know, Charlotte, I don't know. You're a Courtier. And your own little abnormalities— Dib might not care for them, but I'm sure the Eyrie could get some use. They'd let you in. Why not go?"

He's trying to get under your skin, you just know it, but that doesn't help. Forget the Wyrm. If the Wind Court offered you a ticket to the surface, would you go? You would escape the awful clammy dingy sandy seafloor. You would have a real house and a real bed and real clothes and real food. You would have your mother again, and your Aunt Ruby. Not your father, still, but them.

But no Gil. No anybody. The Sword wouldn't be on fire. You wouldn't be a heroine up there, not even a little, only Charlotte Fawkins. What a small thing to be. What would they do with you? You would have to be married, no question. You think of the window in the treehouse. You think of the night that didn't happen, and the Lottie who never was, who was drunk in the middle of the day.

You fold your hands in your lap. "Um, it'd be boring. And the Wind Court are all jerks."

"Interesting. Well, then, I suppose you're a fiend and a freak, and you better be locked out with the rest of them. Of course, the Wyrm doesn't do things by half-measures, and neither does the Court. The surface-ready can ascend. The rest can be destroyed. It's for their own good, really. Maybe that's not close enough to the end of the world for you, so I suppose you're right. They wouldn't want to end it." Arledge snaps his toothpick in two. "The WYRM will. Courtiers are alive, so they have flaws. Nobody will ascend but It."

(2/5?)

"Yeah? You bothered telling them that?" Claudia says. (You look up at Gil, who mouths "Sorry".)

"Nobody listens to me. I'm not to be trusted. Even if I found an audience, the WYRM overrides reason."

"Have you tried telling Lucky?" you say. "If he cares about the letter of the rules—"

"Dib and I have a special relationship. He hates me."

"Could I tell him?"

"He hates you."

"But I need my warrant lifted!" You fold your arms. "You're saying I maybe didn't even kill all those people, and even if I did, I probably wasn't thinking straight, and even if I was, it wouldn't matter, because they're arresting me for fake reasons! I deserve—"

"Nobody said anything about deserving. I've been arrested a good half-dozen times for minding my business. If you wanted to get through to Dib—"

"Couldn't you show him proof of the Wyrm stuff? He couldn't ignore—"

"He certainly could. He could ignore the nose in front of his face. I don't know if there is a foolproof way to get through to him, frankly." Arledge has steepled his fingers. "He will spin, deny, or discard any argument or evidence you attempt, and he will batter you bloody for trying, if he doesn't leap straight to suffocation. If he has his people around, it's even worse. And he's Court through and through, so he's been inured to any little tricks you have. Trust me."

"So i-i-it's impossible," says Gil. "Is what you mean."

"I think it is close to impossible. You would have to force it at such a velocity he'd be hit and splattered. It would have to be such a profound truth that— that he would sooner tear his tongue out than deny it. If you could do such a thing... I mean... he is human, in the end. Everybody has a limit. Good luck, though." Arledge pauses. "If it helps, he had a wife and a daughter. Above. He was a policeman killed on patrol. He doesn't like to think about it."

"You and your special relationship," Earl crows.

"We've spent some quality time together. Me and him. Oh, ah, Charlotte." His blue-ringed eyes on yours again. "I wouldn't recommend what you did back there. He'll explode your worm again."

"She's still exploded," you mutter. "And I wasn't going to... I mean... if I was in danger, maybe, but..."

"Don't. I don't care about him. It'll eat you alive, if it hasn't already."

"It hasn't! Geez! And it won't! I have it under control. Right, Earl?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah! She hasn't flipped out at me, Graves. All good here."

"No! I mean the—" You open and close your mouth. "—the Dread and Terrible Beast?"

"Oh! Sorry! Yeah, that too! We've been working on some wicked stuff, Graves. Shoulda been here. Her arm was..." Earl makes a wide circle with his hands.

Arledge is not as impressed as either of you were hoping for. "You've— you're doing magic with her corruption?"

Earl's smile fades a little. "Yea...?"

"You're— she's—" He opens and closes his fist. "Charlotte."

"...Yes?"

"Dawn. Gil, are you keeping up with that blessing?"

(3/5?)

"Me? Uh, I-I-I— I actually— I— yes."

"You too. If you don't mind too much. Sleep in, the rest of you."

"I thought it was..." Earl starts.

"We'll get it sorted. In that light, I need to go to sleep." Arledge stands, surveys the four of you, and leaves.

"Cheerful guy," Claudia says.

————

=DAY 13 / NIGHT 13 RESULTS=
>Gained 6/7 progress toward [Gil VII]
>Gained 1/2 progress toward [Legerdemain II]
>Gained 4/4 progress toward [Claudia IV]; [Claudia III] -> [Claudia IV]
>Gil can now exercise moderate control over his divine blessing!
>Gained 1/5 progress toward [Claudia V]
>Gained 1/2 progress toward [Arledge II]

————

>["DAY" 14]

You instruct Richard to awaken you slightly before dawn, so Arledge won't be smug about waking you up. He isn't very happy about this— "Charlotte Fawkins, don't you realize I will have to be up before dawn?"— which you don't understand. Isn't his chronowhatever not bound at the hip? He was very insistent on that. In response, he narrows his eyes at you, then informs you that he has created an alert. He will wake you up, then go back to sleep.

...He doesn't want to be awake for you turning into a horrible reptile monster? What if you start murdering people?

Ha. You have him there. He's silent, then informs you that he's set a second alert, and he'll be promptly notified if any murdering starts. Between then and now, he's asleep. Good night.

You sleep too.

-

«Beep. Beep. Beep.»

Urgh. That's not an alarm. He's saying that with his mouth. His snake mouth. Is he making a... joke?

«You are awake. I'm going back to sleep. Don't die.»

Okay. Back to sleep in his snake bed. Does he even get a bed? Back to sleep at his snake desk? That's kind of sad. You'd like to go back to sleep in a snake bed or a normal bed or anything, but you're on the settee. Arledge gets to sleep in Earl's own bedroom. Hmph. At least you can wait out here for him to—

"Good. You're up."

Ack! He outplayed you! He's sitting at the table in the pitch black— you can only see him through your special eyeballs. Can he see in the dark? What has he been doing? Meditating? What a weirdo. "...Yes," you say.

"Could you wake up your friend? I didn't want to scare him."

Gil is sprawled out on the floor beneath you. You feel bad he's gone two weeks without a bed, but he continues to insist that back pain is a thing of the past. You suppose he doesn't have any bones, either, so there's nothing for a rocky floor to really poke. Still. You lean down and shake him until he coagulates. "Huh?"

"It's me," you whisper. "Lottie. It's dawn."

"Oh yeah. Shit, it's dark. I-I... wait... ha. Ha-ha." A sudden light: a blue one. Gil lifts it up toward your face. "This i-is so goddamn lame."

"Impressive." The chair scrapes as Arledge stands. "Shouldn't linger. Come with me."

(4/6?)

Captain Cheerful leads you and Gil out the door and out of Hellsbells— you become suspicious he's bringing you up to the poisonous surface of Hell, but you stop in a wide, hollow, white cavern. Gil's hand illuminates a crumbling wall and a few intrepid tubeworms, but can't illuminate the ceiling— too far up.

"Nobody goes here." Arledge states the obvious. "It's sufficiently far that noise won't travel, and sufficiently large enough for... well, we'll see what for, won't we?"

"You get a lot of use out of this?" Gil says.

"Yes. Charlotte, could you explain what you and Earl have done already?"

"Well..." You shift. You don't want to throw Earl under the wagon, not after he was so nice. "I... I thought that the stuff in me was kind of the same as the Wyrm's blood. And I knew Earl did all this stuff with blood— I've seen him turn into, um, a big monster. So I thought that I could also turn into a big monster."

"I-i-i-in a good way! She means!"

"Um, yes. Thanks, Gil. In a good way. I— I thought— if I just let it sit, then it might boil up whenever. Um. Like what you saw. And I don't actually— I'm not evil— I don't want to get possessed and start killing people. But I do— I'm going to have to fight Jean Ramsey. And get the Crown back. And I thought, if I could control it on purpose, it could actually be useful."

"And you didn't think to simply purge it," Arledge says.

"I can't. You have to really trust me. It's— it keeps coming back, even if I try, and it hurts. When I try. I'm stuck with it. So I have to try and control it."

"I suppose. What have you done with Earl so far?"

"Um, not very much. I made my finger go all monstery. And an arm."

"But nothing complete? That's good. He's not equipped to oversee that. Not equipped to oversee any type of magic, frankly, let alone dealing with... yours."

"I thought you taught him," you say. "And he does it all the time?"

"The basics. And yes. He..." Arledge sighs. "He doesn't want to know more than that. I've offered. It's not malicious. He simply prefers to not retain awareness while he does what he does."

You think about the scraps of bodies everywhere. The blood. His teeth. "Oh."

"I believe he used to drink before. Up there. You know. This is less damaging to his health, for the most part. But that's all his business, and I shouldn't be sharing. Unlike him, I do retain awareness. Do you ever? Or is it dark?"

"It was dark when you saw me, but..." You're trying to remember. "...I think, sometimes, it's like... like I'm in my spleen. Or somewhere. Like I've been shoved away, and I'm really small, and I can't do anything, but I can— I can think, a little. And see a little."

"Hm. It's a starting place. The goal is for you to retain complete awareness and complete control of your actions. You should be able to experience the breadth of the experience of the other body while not being swamped by it."

(5/6)

"Like riding a horse."

"What's that?"

"Nothing." Richard's saying. You suppose there's not much difference between possessing a human body and a monster one, when it comes down to mechanics. Huh. Actually, that makes you feel better. "And you can do this every time?"

"Yes. You can, too. It isn't complex." Arledge's needle glints in Gil's half-light. "Should we begin?"

———

>[TO BE CONTINUED]

I'm leaning toward double-updating tomorrow, but if my schedule doesn't work out I may just drop a set of options for [NIGHT 14]. You guys know the drill. I appreciate your patience with these long late-night updates.

>[CONTINUED]

"No time like the present," you say. "Is this going to be a long talk, or...?"

"I could make it one. I assume you don't want that." He rolls the syringe around in his fingers. "The guiding principle is detachment. It's normal to feel wedded to your body— most people know no different. Losing their body is death to them. Change is destruction. But that's not how the gods made us."

The gods are dead. Nobody made you. Your Aunt Ruby is in your head warning of filthy strung-out pagan lies, but your Aunt Ruby would wildly disapprove of you turning into lizard monsters, so she's right out. Arledge is continuing. "Factually it isn't. If the gods preferred, they could have made us hard as stone. Instead we are mud and water. We are clay. We are made to be shaped. Change is change, and it is natural. Biological, even."

"Which i-is why there's loads of people turning into lizards up there," Gil says, annoyed. "No big deal. Happens all the time."

"The sun and the wind dry our bodies. It becomes too painful to change. We're from the water originally, you know— but the point is the same. Most people are too attached. They become panicked at a perceived lack of control, and the panic consumes them. To negate this, you must separate yourself from your body. You must know that a change to it needn't meaningfully affect you. The gods would not toy with you in such a way. You will retreat within, wait patiently, and emerge."

"Retreat within my spleen," you clarify.

"Wherever you prefer to think of it. As long as you feel safe. Do you understand?"

That was longer and paganier than you would've preferred, but whatever. You get the idea. It really is like possessing someone— where you're inside, but not inside. Or like Richard, whenever he kicks you out to take control. You're still there. Nothing's happened to you. It's just that he has your legs now. "Yeah."

"Okay. I would prefer to run through some tests, but I'm not convinced testing is possible. Either your corruption has overtaken or it hasn't. Gil. You can halt it?"

Gil nods tentatively.

"Then that's your role. I will trust your judgment about the best time."

"Won't I be able to talk?" you interject, then think. "...Will I need to take my clothes off?"

"I wouldn't count on it, and that's up to you. I wouldn't wear anything you want intact for certain."

Egh. You know it's dark, but you don't trust a pagan not to gawk: you slide your boots off, one at a time, and unbutton your vest, but leave the rest on. "Okay. How do I...?"

Arledge grips your left arm, pushes your sleeve up, and probes around your wrist until he finds a vein. His fingers are very smooth. The blue rings in his eyes catch the blue light and glow double-blue. The white stone is cool on your feet. "Are you prepared?" he says.

Positive thinking. "Yeah."

"Okay." A tiny pinch at your wrist. That's all. "You won't be dying, by the way. Even if it feels that way."

(1/7?)

"What?" But it's over. Arledge backs up. Your wrist is hot. Your arm is hot, and goosepimply, like you have a fever. Your chest is constricting, too, and the heat is spreading out, through your chest, to your heart, which is pounding a million miles a minute, sending cursed blood— tainted blood— sending—

AAGKH! It's alive! It's writhing, it's alive, it's thorny, it's boiling, it's thickening, it's swelling, it's bubbling your skin, sticking up your throat, meaning all you can do is emit a strangled moan as your jaw creaks open and your own steaming blood spills out of your mouth. It's twisted, it's evil, it's real, the red stuff is real, the blood is like paint in its thickness and scarlet and oozing and threaded with fleshy webs and growths that you hope, you hope, are its own, and that didn't come from your body. Because you think you probably needed those. Your tainted blood runs down your legs and puddles at your feet, too heavy to float. You cough. Bad things are happening to your left arm, but you're not looking at it— you're searching for Gil. You're reaching out your good hand. He sees it, and sees you, and hesitates, and takes it.

That's all you needed. Someone being there. His own hand is icy cold, a great comfort, since everywhere now is raging; your blood is expanding in the heat, and what you thought was prickling sweat isn't. Your pores are all open. You cough again, your lips bubbling, and squeeze Gil's hand tight: red is beading on your forehead, dripping down, from behind your eyes it's dripping down, all down your chest and legs and hands and feet it's slicking you, but not fast enough. It can't come out enough. It's building. You look Gil in the eyes— can he see you? Can he hear you mouthing Sorry?—

—then duck your chin to your chest and lock your fingers with his and feel it build, build, build and, at the last possible moment, rip yourself free. So you don't feel it when the red stuff tears out of you, and tears you out of shape—

—because it's dark, and you're falling, but you think dazedly spleen and your fall breaks somewhere small and soft. Somewhere roundish. Greenish? You barely know what a spleen is. All you know is that it's in you, somewhere, and safe. The red stuff couldn't care less about it. Is Richard still asleep? Richard?

«...What.»

You just thought he'd like to know that you're in the process of turning into a hideous giant lizard demon? In real life?

«Have fun.»

Wow. Somebody didn't sleep in his chair very well. Weirdly, though, Richard's indifference makes you feel better. Does he trust you that much? Or does he think it's not a big deal at all? Both of them work. Positive thinking. Outside, you have a hazy impression of being tall. Taller. You don't sense movement. Is it over, then? A last moment, to be sure, and then you claw back out, and you...

(2/7?)

ARE FREE AT LAST ARE FREE ARE HUNGRY ARE are nearly VAST AND FULL OF POWER AND bowled over by the YOU ARE TOWERING ABOVE THE LITTLE ANIMALS, HAVE ALREADY RIPPED ONE APART, HAVE— force of the presence of the thing that you are. You can only take things in in snippets. You are definitely larger. Gil is below you. He is speaking. THE INSOLENT ANIMAL DARES TO SPEAK. "Lottie...?"

Something cold is in your fist, but you can't seem to uncurl it. Something is off about Gil. His hand is gone. Where did his hand go? "Lottie, i-i-if you're in there, do something."

You're in there! You're here! You— you just need to— you need to open the fist. Start there. Open. Open. You're not going to resort to [OPEN]ing yourself. Open. Er, open it, so you can... inspect your magnificent claws...? There! Oh. That's a hand.

That's Gil's hand, and now you look down at him anxiously, in case he's angry. He looks scared instead. Oh, that's not good. That's— THE ANIMAL IS WEAK AND INJURED. IT WILL NOT RUN FAST. YOU CAN EAT IT. YOU CAN KILL IT. YOU CAN KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT. Shut up! KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT. SHUT UP! KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL—

SHUT UP! YOU'RE GOD! YOU'RE THE HERALD! YOU ARE CHARLOTTE FRANCES FAWKINS! YOU ARE NOT KILLING YOUR LOYAL RETAINER!

You're not—

Did that work?

That worked! You think. You can't get complacent or anything, but the urges have died. Wow. Okay. You... you're trying to say hello to Gil, but you guess Arledge was right. The noises you're making aren't 'hello.' You stop making them, because Gil's eyes are getting wider, and turn your fist over instead. You deposit his hand on the ground.

He doesn't pick it up. "...Can you nod if you're Lottie?"

Can you? Er, that's a lot of neck. You swing it broadly upward.

He exhales. "Alright. I-I-I'm glad. Um, i-if you— if you want out— let me know? Arledge says you probably shouldn't spend too long like that, even if you're good for right now."

Reasonable. You don't think you can fit out of this cavern, so it's not like you were planning on going anywhere. Where is Arledge, anyways? You swing your neck around more and catch a wavery glimmer of... what? Gil isn't glimmering. The cave isn't. The worms on the wall aren't. You are, though, a lot. Hmm. Arledge, glimmering, is some distance away. Maybe he thought you'd hesitate more about eating Gil. That's fair.

(3/7?)

You'll let Arledge glimmer. What's happened to you? Your night-vision has improved further, which is handy. Your face feels long. Your mouth feels long. You have a lot of mouth. You are on four legs, which you suppose makes sense, for a lizard. The Herald stands on two, but you are very far from the Herald right now.

Can you stand if you want to, though? You creep backwards, so you don't squish Gil, then rear unsteadily onto two legs. Goodness, you're tall. You can stand like this, but not move, and sway back down quickly. Can you still pick things up, though? Your lizard hands have thumbs on them. You flex and point your fingers and are pleased with your retained dexterity.

What about your body? (You crane your neck backward.) Definitely lizard-y, even boringly lizard-y. Red scales, red spikes, long red tail. You do like the tail. If you concentrate you can swish it. Still, you thought— you don't know. You thought, with how horrifying the red stuff feels inside you, that it'd be a little more creative about the output. If you must be a giant demonic lizard-monster, where's the demon? Where's the monster? You appear, mainly, to be a giant lizard. Not even that giant. Gil's head comes up to your shoulder. A fairly large lizard.

YES! Uh-oh. YOUR POWER WILL GROW. THE ANIMALS WILL BE AS INSECTS BEFORE YOU. YOU WILL BE GLORIOUS AND TERRIBLE, AND YOU WILL PURGE ALL IMPERFECTIONS, AND THEY WILL FALL AT THEIR KNEES, AND—

Okay! You get the idea. You... ough. A wave of dizziness passes over you, then a spate of random twitching, and you fear you've triggered something you can't stop— but then it passes. Maybe you should get Gil to put you back. Or, no. You coil, then careen in one direction, spring off the wall— leaving gouge marks— and careen back the other. One more lap, to prove you're really doing it, then you skid to a halt in front of Gil. He laughs a little. "...Trying things out?"

It's hard to nod when your neck's at the back of your skull. You prod his forehead with the end of your face— your mouth— your snout? Your lizard snout? "Hah. I-is it time, then?"

You touch his forehead with your lizard tongue.

"O-okay. Here." He steps forward, passing under your head, and presses his palms (he's stuck his hand back on) to either side of your chest. It takes a moment before you notice the feeling, but then—

KILL IT. KILL IT. KILL IT! IT IS DESTROYING YOU! KILL IT! BREAK IT IN TWO! SNAP IT IN TWO! PULL OUT ITS GUTS! PUT OUT ITS EYES! BURN IT! MELT IT! EAT IT! KILL IT!

—er, the red stuff doesn't like it much. You're focusing all your energy into not bending down and biting him, which means you're instinctively bucking and stomping and pulling away instead, but Gil holds fast and water runs through you. You feel hollow at first, then insubstantial, then collapse. Gil tries to hold you up, but is forced to let you kneel. The world swims. "Hi," you say quietly.

(4/7?)

"Hi! You..." He kneels too. "You didn't try to eat me!"

"I thought about it... haha..." You were right. It is a small thing to be Charlotte Fawkins. "But I thought... you'd taste bad."

"I-I-I-I probably do. I-I think some beetles are poisonous? So don't get too adventurous. Heh. Eh... can you stand? You're really heavy," he apologizes.

"Um..." You try, but you feel underbaked. "I'll get Richard to walk me."

"I-I-I guess it's good to give him some exercise."

"Mm-hm. Oh!" You remember what you were going to say. "Your blessing worked! You did it on command and everything! I know it's not really your thing, too, so—"

"Yeah. I-I-I-I know. I-I kept thinking, um, what if this is the time I fuck it up... um, yeah. I-I guess not. I-I guess I cracked the nut for real." He squeezes his hand shut. "Which is good, i-i-if you're planning on turning into more lizards?"

You nod.

"I-I-I wouldn't expect anything else, I guess. Um. Was there something else you needed me to be doing, by the way? Not that I-I need you to tell me what to do— just— I want to be useful."

>What do you tell Gil to work on?

>[A1] He should be getting better at being beetles! Not that he's bad or anything. It's just... he's complained about not being able to control them perfectly, and he's only been in a stable position with them for a couple weeks. You're not convinced he's plumbed the ultimate depths of beetledom, is all.
>[A2] He should be tinkering on something in his manse. Those mini-siphons were handy, even if he couldn't stick all of them up in time, and you're sure he can invent something handier if he puts the time in. (Write-in: What general category of thing are you looking for?)
>[A3] He should be babysitting Claudia. You know Claudia is an adult, so it's not like she needs a ton of supervision, but you know you'll have to be unconscious more often than not in the next month or two. You don't want her to feel abandoned, and it'll be a lot better for her if she can rely on Gil. (Plus, she's annoying, so you know she can't replace you.)
>[A4] He should be investigating Ramsey for you. While you're busy getting Heralded, he can get in touch with Eloise and Madrigal and Anthea and anybody else who might know someone who knows someone who knows the Hero-Queen. You need absolutely as much intel as possible.
>[A5] He should be investigating *Lucky* for you. You know you need to get that load off your back as soon as possible, and knowing what Lucky is up to— or where he's looking— could be instrumental in giving you the upper hand.
>[A6] Write-in.

"Okay. I-I-I can do that. Oh, hey! Arledge! She didn't try to eat me!"

"I saw." Arledge, no longer mysteriously glimmery, has approached. "I suppose it went as well as hoped for. Are you satisfied, Charlotte?"

(5/7?)

"...Um..." It worked. You didn't die. Nobody died. Those are the important parts. But could you really eat Jean Ramsey like that? You'd have to do a lot of chewing. "...it felt a little watered down? I don't know. I thought I'd be really giant, or..."

"You'd need to increase the concentration of corruption in your blood. Don't enlist me in that."

"Okay, um, what if I wasn't giant? But I was cooler?"

"Cooler," Arledge says stoically.

You nod.

"I'm not certain what that means to you. Ultimately, though, the gods are receptive to our pleas. Have something in mind before you begin. That's my only suggestion."

Have something in mind. Okay! You can do that! You'll just have to brainstorm. Maybe you can get Claudia to draw an example for you? Richard.

«Good morning, Charlie.»

Oh! He's up for real! Thank goodness. How does he feel about going on a walk?

«...Anything for you.»

That's the spirit!

>Red Stuff III: The next time you choose a [Red Stuff] option, you will choose a sufficiently-leveled other perk to hybridize with. This will affect the appearance and abilities of your Lizard Forme.
>Additionally, gaining more SV will increase the size and power, but also the difficulty of controlling, said Lizard Forme. You are currently at 3 SV.

——

Richard deposits you back onto the settee. You pass out, dream of lizards, and are awoken by Earl, who wants to know all about it, and Claudia, who wants to know even more, but knows it isn't cool to say so.

Much later, you've been left alone. Nearly alone. Richard is polishing his glasses on his tie. "You could simply kill him. Cut the issue off at the neck, as it were."

"Kill Lucky? But I'd— then everybody would think— I know they don't like Lucky either, but— they'd hate me! Again!"

"Not if it were self-defense. But I didn't say it was the optimal option— merely an option."

"Okay," you say. "So what is the optimal option?"

"Ideally you'd be able to turn this man to your side. Note 'ideally.' Given that he hates you and everything you stand for, I wouldn't consider this likely."

"But I could."

"From what you were told, I'd imagine that the only thing he'd hate more than you would be the co-option of his organization by traitors and fiends. And if the Hero-Queen is using the Crown as liberally as I'm imagining, that wouldn't be appealing either. You could in theory be the lesser evil."

"I could put him back on the surface," you say. "If I had the Crown."

"Good, Charlie. That's good leverage. But how do you get him to the point of believing you? That's the instrumental question." Richard bites the arm of his glasses. "You would have to shock him. I agree with that element."

"You're saying I should turn into a lizard. I'm kidding!" (Richard frowned.) "He'd probably just murder me, like Annie. I wouldn't even be as big as Annie. I need to work on that. Um... what about what I did with Gil?"

(6/7)

"That could mean any number of things. You'd like to swear him into your service?"

"No! Dummy. I— I showed him— I don't know what I showed him. He never told me what he saw. But he was all freaked out? Trying to kneel and everything?" You're so glad he gave up on that. "I could do that again."

"Hm. But you don't want to overdo it, or he'll become provoked. Or, if you render him unconscious, his men might take that as a signal to attack you. It's not a simple situation, is it?"

You sigh.

"We'll muddle through all the same. I have absolute faith in you, Charlotte." Richard slides his glasses back on. "There will be time for improvements beforehand. I know that much. Were you going to ask about the tail?"

"The what?" you say guiltily.

"You've spontaneously brought up acquiring a tail every time we've spoken of this. I thought you might be inspired by this morning and bring it up again."

"I didn't say anything. Did I say anything?" You look at your lap.

"Do what you will."

>What will you do NIGHT 14?

>[B1] You were a lizard today. You feel ready to be more of a lizard. Yeah! You can do it! Especially if Arledge gives you tips... (++++ [The Herald's Body], + [The Herald's Mind], ++ [Arledge])
>>[A] You need to be strong! (++ [Good With A Sword])
>>[B] You need to be durable! (+ [Good With A Sword], + [Positive Thinking])
>>[C] You need to be perceptive! (+ [Earthsense], + [Communion])
>>[D] You need to be REALLY GIANT, Richard, seriously, this is IMPORTANT (+2 SV)

>[B2] You were a lizard today. You can give lizard stuff a rest for now, at least physically. (++++ [The Herald's Mind], + [The Herald's Body], ++ [Positive Thinking])
>>[A] You were proud of how you separated yourself so cleanly from the red stuff. You need that ability to detach all the time. (++ [Communion])
>>[B] You were proud of how you spooked the red stuff into oblivion. You need that force of presence all the time. (++ [Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting])
>>[C] You were proud of... okay, it wasn't you, exactly. But you're interested in how you, how you-and-Richard, handled that manse so deftly. Could you begin to approach that without him? (+ [String Manipulation], + [Legerdemain])

———

>How will you ultimately confront Lucky?

>[C1] March into Wind Court HQ and sign yourself up for an arrest / interrogation. Lucky will put you under the torch for sure, but you have nothing to hide from him— and offering yourself up might lower his guard. But there might be other Courtiers around.
>[C2] Attempt to track Lucky down in the Fen or another isolated location, then get the drop on him. He'll be on the back foot, and he'll have less supplies or backup, but he could be more hostile under pressure. [Possible roll depending on other votes.]
>[C3] Write-in.

>>6246706
>A5
If we can swing the Wind Court to our side it’ll be a massive advantage

>>6246708
>B2C
Wanted the basics of string manipulation for a while now

>C
Oh god uh maybe we can wait until the results of A5 come back to decide?
If not I’m leaning C1 - it’ll be harder for Lucky to write off our words as lies when he’s got all his inquisition tools and a controlled environment

>>6246161
>A5
>B2B
>C2

>>6246708
>[B1] You were a lizard today. You feel ready to be more of a lizard. Yeah! You can do it! Especially if Arledge gives you tips... (++++ [The Herald's Body], + [The Herald's Mind], ++ [Arledge])
>>[B] You need to be durable! (+ [Good With A Sword], + [Positive Thinking])

>[C2] Attempt to track Lucky down in the Fen or another isolated location, then get the drop on him. He'll be on the back foot, and he'll have less supplies or backup, but he could be more hostile under pressure. [Possible roll depending on other votes.]

>>6246708
>A5
>B1
>C2

>>6246999
Gotta pick a sub[B], anon.

>>6246995
I'd also tell you to pick an [A], but [A5] is winning decisively, so... only if you want, I suppose!

>>6247001
>B1B

Picking D is really tempting to get a few inches on our heels, but Charlotte wouldn't be Charlotte unless she were short.

Rolled 2, 2 = 4 (2d2)

>>6246809
>>6246832
>>6246999
>[A5]

>>6246832
>>6246995
>>6246999
>[C2]

>>6246809
>[C1]

Called for [A5] and [C2]. We are currently tied between [B1] and [B2], so I'm going to flip twice for that: first between those two, then between the suboptions if applicable.

>>6247005
To be fair, Charlotte could gain a few inches and still be plenty short... but D wouldn't impact that, the BEING REALLY GIANT there is strictly for the Lizard Forme. (Thus the SV.) Whether you'll gain any height otherwise? Who knows!

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>6247111
>[B2]

Okay, I realized I didn't designate which one of the suboptions was 1 and which was 2, so in the interest of fairness I'll reflip.

B2B = 1
B2C = 2

>>6247113
>[B2B]
Gaslighting it is. I have to get up early tomorrow (and I wrote 6,000 words in the last two days...), so no update tonight. You don't need to roll for [B2C], since you're having Gil gather intel, but I do have one last prompt regarding the Lucky scheme:

>[1] Do you bring anybody along with you to help? (Write-in. Assume you can bring anybody within the realm of reason.)

If I don't see votes, I'm defaulting to a solo mission. Have a nice evening!

>>6247121
I will actively vote for solo mission

Rolled 81, 18, 31 = 130 (3d100)

>>6247186
Solo vote for solo mission it is. Gil intel guarantees you getting Lucky alone, but I'm going to roll for whether you get the drop on him: DC 60

>>6247904
>Mitigated Success
You get the drop, but Lucky's guard is up regardless. Writing.

Ehhhh. Started too late. I know I'll be unlikely to update tomorrow night, so either watch for a day update or we'll call this a weekend mini-break. Back Monday for sure. Thanks for your patience!

>Advancing Advanced Advanced Gaslighting

"Also—" The silence went on too long. "—also, I turned into a lizard already today. If I started turning into another one, that'd be too many lizards, Richard. Why is it lizards? Why's the Herald one? I thought the Wyrm liked snakes better."

"The Wyrm didn't have much say in the matter, Charlie. The Herald is of It, but unlike It. It is... approachable. Familiar. In it we see ourselves."

"And you have arms," you say. "And legs."

"We have been over this, you realize."

You realize. It boggles your mind regardless. "And that's two legs? Because today I had four. Did you end up seeing that, by the way? Because— I feel like— I feel like it was really exciting, and you haven't seemed that excited."

"Did I not congratulate you? Congratulations on becoming a large reptile, Charlotte. Good on you for keeping yourself together without intervention. That is the kind of progress we will need to see in spades."

You wait. "And?"

"Should there be more?"

"Yes?" You thought he was supposed to be reading your mind. "You need to tell me it was really cool?"

"I see no reason to inflate your ego. The execution was impressive. There may be some practical benefits. But I can't imagine the Wyrm approves of haemic means of activation, and becoming a large lizard was not on our actual to-do list."

"Yes it was," you say.

"Not that kind of lizard. But that brings us back to the start, doesn't it?" Richard laces his fingers. "Did you have something else in mind? I'll begin there."

Yes. He reminded you: you did keep yourself together. In fact, it seemed to you like you cowed the red stuff into submission, something you didn't think was even an option. Is that part of being the Herald? You don't want to get too far off-topic.

Richard doesn't rise to your jab. He says, mildly, that the Herald isn't thought of as frightening, Charlie. The great WYRM is frightening. But the Herald certainly garners respect, and— and it is at the center of things. It is of vast importance.

"I thought you weren't inflating my ego," you say.

"Did I say Charlotte Fawkins? I said the Herald." Richard studies you intently for a moment, then turns his head. "There is still a considerable ways to go."

"...I guess that's good. I don't feel that different."

"You might never feel different. It's a good thing the object is being, not feeling. Along those lines, I have a proposition. Would you allow me to work with your strings?"

"Isn't that what you've been doing?"

"While you're conscious? I believe you're desensitized enough to tolerate it. I have a working theory about how to improve your..." Richard grasps around for the right word. "...importance."

You think about it. "Will I get a parade?"

"Maybe someday, Charlie. Let us hope. Is that a yes, by the way?"

(1/5)

"As long as I'm not in..." Actually, if you're in agony, you could potentially beat your pain record. You shouldn't say that. "...As long as I don't start sprouting extra arms?"

"Of course not. I'm very good at this. Shall we?"

You wind up flat on a cot— Richard wanted a table, but you consented to unbearable agony, not an irritating backache. You also insisted that Richard wear safety goggles, so he'd look more professional. In return (as revenge?), Richard sticks his fingers into your chest, tweaks something that makes you flinch, and instructs you to bite yourself. Yes, venom and all. It's that or restraints.

Reluctantly, you pump venom into your forearm, and your muscles fall buzzily, numbly unresponsive. Including your jaw: Richard pushes your mouth shut with a finger. "Don't drool. Think loudly if anything unpleasant arises. Notably unpleasant, that is."

Notably unpleasant, because him plunging two hands into your Very Being is always unpleasant— though not as bad as you were expecting. You feel every twitch palpably, and it still casts a pall of unease, but no mortal terror. You suppose you trust him. Not like that. Not about anything else. But you haven't lost your memory of his wicked betrayal, and you haven't woken up slavishly devoted to him, even though you're sure he could do that. Could he do that?

"It's against policy, Charlotte." He pulls his chair up closer.

Uh-huh. Like he cares so much about policy. In any case, maybe it's that, or maybe your Very Being is used to it by now. Richard is being careful, and you haven't sprouted arms yet, though you are seeing bright spots. Does that count as notably unpleasant?

"Not unless they're blinding you. Report how this feels."

"This": a full-fist twist of your strings. You might've yelped or might've spasmed, but stay numb and silent as the effect sets in: a narrowing of your vision, a renewed spate of bright spots, a sense of weight. You imagine the cot distending under you.

"But not painful? Faculties intact? Good." He twists again, forcefully, and you contract; your hands shunt into your wrists, your wrists into your elbows, your ankles into your knees, and so on, and so on, but you don't know if it's real. Or if you only feel that way. Your limbs or what remain of them feel light, hollow, and it's your twisted chest that's lead. No, Richard, it isn't painful. But you would like it to stop.

"Only way out is through, Charlotte Fawkins. See if this eases it." He extracts his left hand, blows on it, and punches two fingers through your temple. A second later, you're hollow in the head, too, and the cot is made of candyfloss and eiderdown, and Richard can do more of that, if he wants. You wouldn't mind.

"No." He extracts the fingers and tightens his grip, the only thing keeping you from floating away. "Your susceptibility to pleasure is a weak point we'll address, but forget that for now. Try this."

(2/5)

You see your own face in the reflection of his goggles, your wide blank eyes, which is maybe why your head goes last. For the rest of you, when Richard wrenches you as tight as you can go, it's quick: first your chest collapses into itself, into churning void, and then you're bent and dragged inside it, and then what?

It's dark. You are in a lot of places at once. Richard's hand dangles, gripping nothing, and you reach from all around and take hold. He grips it back and squeezes.

You are still hollow-headed and take in your surroundings with no prejudice. Yes, it is dark. Below you is the world, almost all blue, with pinpricks of mountaintop and Pillar-white. Below you are glowing rivers of strings. Below you is a diorama made of clay. Below you is you. What are you doing? You're speaking with Gil, who's hovering above you. "I know all that," you're saying.

"What? No you—" Gil catches himself, modulates his tone. "Um, I-I-I found out yesterday, while you were asleep, so, um... were you not asleep?"

"No. I was. Um, I saw it." The you down there looks up— way up. You feel watched. "Lucky's on his way, got a fake tip-off, yada yada. I'll go get him."

"Um, by yourself?"

"Yes? I don't want other people getting arrested! They don't have destinies, so anything could happen to them! I do, so I'll be fine."

"...Okay..."

You'd look longer, but you still feel watched, even after Lottie down there turned away. Squeezing Richard's disembodied hand (it squeezes back), you turn your attention, slowly, above you.

GOD is there.

With your presence of mind intact, you might've panicked, bolted, supplicated, anything. As-is, you float and observe, and are observed. Time does not pass. GOD is an eye, and you are reflected in the black of that eye, and will be, and have been always reflected, always watched, watching, watched, watching, in the pitiless black, until you are a reflection, until you are nothing at all. And then you sleep.

———

You dream of displeasure.

It was going so well. The slaves performed their function. Your offspring freely multiplied, sparing you the trouble. They were perfect, like you; thus the world, which teemed with them, was perfect too. The difficulties were over. You could rest.

You were restless. You knew what to expect from your offspring and their slaves, for the rest of time; in an moment of greed you looked ahead and saw it all, and your captivation was lost. They were perfect. They were beautiful. They were nothing more, and you were young then and craved more. You did not go so far as to mar your offspring. But you did, out of interest, mar the slaves. (Your offspring would destroy them, you thought; the harm would be minimal.)

(3/5)

At once, the way to the end of time wobbled and peeled apart; at once the world traveled on a million million paths, as the slaves, chipped and nicked uniquely, began to do as they were wont. They began to make noises: pain-noises as they completed their function, lesser-noises other times. They began to run. You enjoyed this: it gave your offspring exercise. The slaves joined into small groups, then large groups. The slaves moved earth and built structures. This decreased their effectiveness at their purpose, but you let that pass by, as your offspring were in no shortage.

You began to grow a fondness for the slaves, as pitiable as they were. They had a tenacious spirit. When their population ran low, you resupplied them, from which the brighter ones became aware of you. They named you their God. They pleaded with you to end their terror.

They wanted rid of your offspring. This galled you. The slaves were made for your offspring— were made subordinate to them, even before they were marred absolutely. You could not stomach their weaknesses, their imperfections, any longer, and in a fit of rage you swept them up. You could have obliterated them. You considered it. But they were pitiable indeed, so you cast them all away.

This left your offspring, now slaveless. You could have made them more. But you were tired, and you could not bear to watch them thrash and eat each other, so you made some small and others dormant and decided it was good enough. You were done, if not entirely satisfied, and settled down to rest.

———

>[DAY 16]

"Hey, Lottie. Um, welcome back to— to the land of the living. Ha-ha."

You stir. "...Gil?"

"I-I-I had a feeling you'd be waking up. I-I don't know why."

You're in a cave. Earl's. You feel a bit like you were beaten by hammers, but only a bit. "Maybe it was your god powers...?"

"What? Um... I-I don't... I guess so. Maybe. I-I-It was probably just a coincidence. Um, do you want the Lucky news now? Or do you want to wake up properly first? I-I-It's good news. Mostly good."

"How long has it been?" you say.

"Huh? Oh, um, a little over a day. Arledge got going, actually, um, but he... he left a way to get i-in touch. If you need him, or i-i-if you end up going after the Wind Court or anything. But that's not relevant to..."

"Okay." You guess Arledge said he'd only be staying a couple days. "You can tell me about Lucky."

"Really? Okay, uh... I-I talked to Madrigal, and she talked to, um— I guess she's cozied up with one or two of the Courtiers— since there's so many of them? They're not all loyal to Lucky. Wait!" Gil waves his hands. "Don't get excited. I-I-I-I don't think we can get them to betray him, or anything... um, they'd get punished really hard... like you. I-I guess. I-I-I meant more, uh, she got the inside scoop. And i-it sounds like, uh, Lucky's... gotten... pretty erratic."

"Erratic," you say.

(4/5)

"Not, like, bugfuck i-insane, but he— he wants you bad, and it sounds like he's turned half the Fen upside down looking, and— I guess there's a lot of Courtiers saying they should wrap i-i-it up, since you're probably in the mountains by now. Or anywhere but here. And obviously the whole camp fucking hates him, and town too, probably. But he won't give up. The upshot i-is, um, you could probably bait him into doing something stupid."

"This is good stuff. You're a good detective too, Gil." You brush the hair out of your eyes. "Maybe not a master detective, but pretty good."

"I-I-I didn't detect anything, really. I-I just talked to Madrigal. Um, but thanks. Also, we did bait him."

"Huh?"

"I-I-I thought you'd be up by now, so we— I-I got Madrigal's help— we sent him a fake tip-off. 'Must come alone.' All that shit. I-I-I doubt he'd fall for it normally, but, um, i-if he's desperate..."

Something slides into place. "I know all that," you say.

"What?" Gil says, and pauses, and goes onto say what he always said, what he always will have said, and you stare up at the ceiling, searching. The tip is for today. Soon. You tell Gil you'll go alone, because Gil is your loyal and dearest retainer, but you're not the same as him. Lucky can't hurt you in any way that matters. Right?

This is how you end up in the Fen, in a tree. You should climb trees more often. Do lizards climb trees? You're distracted by these thoughts and more and nearly miss the footsteps. «Charlie. You have company.»

You have company. Lucky is here, in the flesh, evidently alone: if he's brought lackeys, they're well-hidden or far behind. You're pleased to say he looks haggard. You're less pleased to say that he looks on high alert. His tomahawk is gripped firmly in one hand. You could get the jump on him, but after that... positive thinking.

>[1] Wat do? Write-in. Optional: choices incoming in the morning

>>6249033
>”What’s up dude”

>>6249030
>But you haven't lost your memory of his wicked betrayal, and you haven't woken up slavishly devoted to him, even though you're sure he could do that. Could he do that?

>"It's against policy, Charlotte." He pulls his chair up closer.

Why is it against policy? Surely not on moral grounds

>>6249033

>[1] Leap down upon him, Sword in hand! Bowl him over! Pin him to the ground! You'll work out the rest after that. [Roll.]
>[2] Say hello in a friendly sort of way. Don't get down. Maybe you can have a civil conversation?
>[3] Sneak down from the tree and let Lucky "catch" and "arrest" you. He might be more receptive if he feels like he has one over on you.
>[4] Speak quietly, in the hopes he can't tell where you are. Tell him something that isn't true, but could be. (Advanced Gaslighting. What do you say? Write-in.) [Roll.]
>[5] Write-in.


---


>>6249099
>Why is it against policy? Surely not on moral grounds
Not on moral grounds, no. Richard has mentioned before that he's not supposed to directly "intervene" much: he can't get into fights, he can't start tinkering with other people's strings (unless it's "you" doing it), ideally nobody but you would know about him, and so on. Warping a client around his pinky finger* would be frowned upon mainly because it's conspicuous, tacky, and could cause complications. Wiping memory is more permitted, but you're not supposed to do it in excess, and it was implied earlier in the quest that Richard got told off for messing with your memory too much. Moreover, the fact that you had to get semi-recycled the last time you found out suggests that "Richard killed and pretended to be your dad" is too deeply held to be casually erased: Richard had to resort to the professional memory wiping, and he can't (and doesn't want to) do that again.


*Directly / via strings. The father-murdering/replacing stuff was totally fine, if unusual, since it hacked the existing way your brain works instead of altering its structure.

>>6249169
>>[1] Leap down upon him, Sword in hand! Bowl him over! Pin him to the ground! You'll work out the rest after that. [Roll.]

>>6249169
>[1] Leap down upon him, Sword in hand! Bowl him over! Pin him to the ground! You'll work out the rest after that. [Roll.]

>>6249169
>>[1] Leap down upon him, Sword in hand! Bowl him over! Pin him to the ground! You'll work out the rest after that. [Roll.]

>>6249208
>>6249210
>>6249265

Okay! It remains to be seen what you intend to accomplish with this, but you can certainly jump on top of Lucky. Or try to, in any case.

>Please roll me 3 1d100s (+10 Good With a Sword, +10 High Ground, +5 Unusually Heavy) vs. DC (+20 High Alert, +15 No Slouch, -5 Worn Out) to perform a flying tackle!

And spend 1 ID for +10 to all rolls? You are at, let's say, 10/15 ID.

>[1] Y
>[2] N

I will roll for Lucky separately after your rolls come in.

Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>6249281
>Y
No one else wanted to talk :(

Rolled 5 (1d100)

>>6249281
>[2] N

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>6249281
>[N]

Rolled 73, 44, 91 = 208 (3d100)

>>6249283
>>6249291
>>6249356
>71, 30, 59 vs. DC 80 sorry looks like I forgot to write that, but base DC is always 50 so 50+20+15 - 5 = 80) -- Failure

It appears the Drowned dice are back with a vengeance. Spendying would've salvaged that into a Mitigated, by the way, but I appreciate your guys' willingness to facetank this (possibly literally).

Rolling for Lucky's ability to capitalize.

3d100 (+15 No Slouch, -10 Startled, -5 Worn Out) vs. DC 55 (+5 Scales)

>>6249392
>73, 44, 91 vs. DC 55 -- Success

Lucky lives up to his nickname. Writing.

>Kamakaze
>71, 30, 59 vs. DC 80 — Failure
>Lucky: >73, 44, 91 vs. DC 55 — Success

Oh! Oh, he's moving! He's nearly within leaping range. You could leap. Does the Herald leap? Typically? She doesn't seem very agile. You bet you could leap super far if you were a lizard right now.

«You're not. Make a decision.»
«Do you intend to kill this man?»

Kill Lucky? Um... you don't... maybe if he won't listen, and he tries to kill you, but...

«But you intend to leap down from a tree onto him, weapon outstretched.»

You're already up in the tree. You're not sure what else there is to do.

«I see.»

He said he had absolute faith in you, didn't he? So he can't—

«I did.»
«...»
«I suppose we'll see how this ends up. Go on, then.»

Okay! Great! You're doing it. You're unsheathing The Sword, very quietly; you're admiring its licking flames (have they gotten bigger?); you're realizing, too late, that Lucky is moving out of leaping range; you're leaping anyways, or attempting to. You hit several branches, then— Lucky is not below you, Lucky has sidestepped— the ground.

>[-2 ID: 8/10]

Ow! Damnit! Positive thinking. Positive thinking. You did make a prodigious thud, but nothing feels broken. You weren't that far up. You're fine. You can't die. Lucky can't kill you, which is handy, because Lucky has put a foot on your chest and an axeblade to your throat. "Would you look at that. Hello, Leftenant Fawkins."

«I am refraining from comment.»

Yeah, yeah. You squint up at Lucky. "Hi."

"It has been some time, hasn't it? Leftenant. We've missed you." He presses down with his heel. "Where have you been?"

"I don't have to tell you that," you say sagely.

"No, of course not. I expect we'll learn regardless. Now, if you hold very still, Leftenant, I'll do my best to keep my hand steady. If you don't hold still, I might slip. Do you understand?"

Positive thinking. "I— I thought you needed me alive."

"Do you think so? It'd certainly be a positive, but a madwoman jumping from trees... anybody would defend themselves from that, wouldn't they? Could I get this from you, by the by?" He's waggling The Sword out of your hand.

"No!" You grip it tightly. "That's my family—"

"That's Wind Court property. As I recall, you coerced it from poor Mr. Lai before his untimely passing. You were with him then, weren't you?" Lucky tugs. You hang on. "Come on now. Don't make this difficult."

God! What else is there to do?

(Choices next.)

>[1] Surrender The Sword and allow yourself to be "arrested." Let Lucky get over his murderous streak, then wait until he starts talking to you. You need to talk to him, after all.

>[2] Block the axeblade, then lean over and sink your teeth into his hand. You'll be at a disadvantage in the short-term, but Lucky will eventually be paralyzed, and then you can arrest him! Ha! Um, but you need to get through the short-term first. [Roll.]

>[3] Talk to Lucky. Get his attention. You don't think he understands that you're the most important person in the universe yet, but you can certainly let him know. (Advanced Gaslighting. What do you say? Write-in.) [Roll.]

>[4] You don't need to be in this situation. Eventually, you won't be: you will be God, and Lucky will be smited or happily abovewater, depending on how nicely he treats you now. And, if you know you won't be, you don't have to be. Or something. Don't think about it too hard. (Advanced Advanced Gaslighting.) [Roll.]

>[5] Write-in.

>>6249407
>1
Now can we talk?

>>6249407
>[2] Block the axeblade, then lean over and sink your teeth into his hand. You'll be at a disadvantage in the short-term, but Lucky will eventually be paralyzed, and then you can arrest him! Ha! Um, but you need to get through the short-term first. [Roll.]

>>6249407
>[3] Talk to Lucky. Get his attention. You don't think he understands that you're the most important person in the universe yet, but you can certainly let him know. (Advanced Gaslighting. What do you say? Write-in.) [Roll.]
Throw anything about anybody related to the Wind Court we know at him, maybe lie and tie them to headspace. I'm bad at specifics here, sorry.

>>6249407
>>6249636
+1 to this. Time to GASLIGHT

>[2] Block the axeblade, then lean over and sink your teeth into his hand. You'll be at a disadvantage in the short-term, but Lucky will eventually be paralyzed, and then you can arrest him! Ha! Um, but you need to get through the short-term first. [Roll.]

>>6249407
>[3] Talk to Lucky. Get his attention. You don't think he understands that you're the most important person in the universe yet, but you can certainly let him know. (Advanced Gaslighting. What do you say? Write-in.) [Roll.]

>>6249636
>>6249705
>>6249743
>[3]

>>6249706
>>6249571
>[2]

>>6249469
>[1]

Okay. Let's see if you can overcome Lucky's... uh... skepticism.

>Please roll me 3 1d100s + 38 (+25 Center of the Universe, +15 Actual Intel, +5 Meddled With, -7 Axe to Throat) vs. DC 95 (+15 Advanced Gaslighting*, +10 Hates You, +10 Court Loyalist, +10 Inured, +10 Expecting Trickery, -10 Smug) to gaslight, gatekeep, and girlboss!

Spend 1 ID for +10 to all rolls? You are at 8/15 ID.

>[1] Y
>[2]N


*Malus halved due to increased proficiency (though still present since you're only at level II)

Rolled 94 + 38 (1d100 + 38)

>>6249764
>[1] Y

Rolled 88 + 38 (1d100 + 38)

>>6249764
Aw yeah that center of the universe bonus
>N

Rolled 52 + 38 (1d100 + 38)

>>6249764
>spendy

>>6249765
>>6249774
>>6249814
>142, 136, 100 vs. DC 95 -- Enhanced Success
>Spendy

The dice gods taketh and the dice gods giveth straight back, it would appear. Excellent work. Writing.

>Set the rules
>142, 136, 100 vs. DC 95 — Enhanced Success
>Spendy

Could you survive having your throat gashed out? Possibly. Would Richard be really mad at you if you got your throat gashed out? Yes.

«I've trained you well.»

You let go of The Sword. Lucky lifts it out of your reach and tucks it into his belt. "Good thinking, Leftenant. Now why don't you—"

"You'll give it back to me," you say.

"If you renounce your abnormalities and serve your time, the Court is frequently merciful. Turn onto your stomach." He is trying to push you with his foot.

You turn, and he reapplies the sole of the shoe to the small of your back. He is tying your wrists with cord. "No," you say. "You'll give it back to me as soon as you untie me."

"You have a vivid imagination, Leftenant. It will serve you well in custody. Is that too tight?"

It's really digging in. "Yeah," you say.

"What a pity. Up you go."

At his direction, you stand. He's smirking. "The wilderness is a harsh mistress, isn't it? It saps even the most determined of will. Two weeks out here, cold and alone— or did you run away with your freakish companion? The two of you make quite a pair, don't you?"

"Yeah, we do." You hope Gil isn't worrying about you too much. At least he didn't see you fall out of a tree. "I'm doing okay, though. Probably better than you, right? Have you been sleeping? I've been sleeping a lot."

"Anything to escape your harsh reality." He grabs your wrists.

"Not really. I saw God when I was asleep. Or... I was God... or something. It's kinda hard to understand it all. But we don't have to get into that, 'cause it's not the important part. The important part is that you won't arrest me."

"Hm. Too late for that, Leftenant."

"No it isn't." You shake your head vigorously. "You won't. I'm not arrested in the future, so I can hardly be now, can I? That wouldn't make any sense. Hey— hey. I'm serious. It doesn't make sense."

It doesn't. That's what you concluded. You suppose there's a future out there where you get arrested and thrown in jail, and you rot there for years and years, and only after those years and years you become the Herald, but you think that future would be stupid. Lucky might think he has the upper hand, might appear to any onlooker like he has the upper hand, but you think that's stupid, too. You're God and he isn't. Lucky is curling his lip, because he doesn't understand, but he will. "Because you're logical, right? I know you want to torture me really bad right now, but it's not like you're some crazy axe-murderer." (You're averting your eyes from his axe.) "You've... probably been planning this since you ran into me? With all the alligators? And the Crown? I guess I did stomp on you a little."

(1/5)

"You broke my nose," he says tensely.

You peer at his nose. It does look a tad crooked. "Oh. Well, I broke your nose. Yeah. That's the point. And that was a month ago! Ever since then, you've been plotting my— wait. Were you plotting my arrest when you invited me out for drinks?"

There. You got him to smirk again. "The Court does not arrest innocent civilians, Leftenant. The utmost care was taken to ensure you were truly the delinquent—"

"See? The utmost care! So I know you have to be a reasonable person, even if it's way deep inside. And I know you care about the Wind Court, and all that stuff. And you want to go back to the surface, like anybody normal does. I want to go back. That's all I ever wanted the Crown for, was to go back. I didn't care about being God or anything." You look into his eyes. "So I'm really not as bad as you think I am, but it's not about me at all, Lucky. I could be the evilest person in the whole world, and you'd still let me go."

You're not doing anything to him. You're doing nothing but telling the truth so far: not as you know it, but plain and unvarnished. You do think he's logical, and you do want to go back to the surface, and you're not evil. Maybe you should be, all things considered, but you aren't. And he will let you go.

"Always so confident." Lucky leans in, lip and axe lifted, like you thought he might. "Fine! Make my day, Leftenant Fawkins. Tell me why."

Lucky isn't dumb, you think, but he does like talking. He talked to you a ton before the warrant went out: the interrogation, over drinks, with Jesse, inside Us, everything. He blabbed to Monty all about your impending arrest. It was a safe bet you could distract him with conversation.

The next part isn't a safe bet, but it isn't an awful bet, either. You believe, in your heart, that you can get Lucky to listen. Arledge didn't think so, but he's been Lucky's sworn nemesis for ages, so you don't think he's reliable. Also, he's sort of a downer. You're not a downer, and you're God, too. You can only begin to imagine how pathetic this will seem in the future, how ridiculously small and petty, when viewed from a million miles above. Or a million miles below. Either/or.

And you do know things. Actual things. You're not making them up. "Okay," you say. "Um, like I said, I know you're reasonable. And I know you care about the Wind Court for real. And I know there's stuff you aren't clued in on, that you really should want to be clued in on. Like why I'm being arrested?"

Lucky's eyes bore into yours. "Multiple murders, Leftenant. Desertion. Undisclosed mutations. These are entirely public—"

(2/5)

"No! I don't think I even did those murders. I mean, maybe, but probably not— and even if I did, that's not the reason. The reason is that your bosses want me." Behind your back, you lace your fingers. "Either they want me because they know I'm going to be God, and they want to use me, or they want me because Jean Ramsey told them she wanted me. Do you know who Jean Ramsey is? Don't answer that. Jean Ramsey is the lady who has the Crown right now."

"After you conveniently allowed it to be stolen. Isn't that right?"

"Huh? No! It was actually stolen! You made me tell the truth about it, and I told the truth. I only found out who she was way later. The point is, the Wind Court is working with her. Even though she's just as freakish as me, or— or worse."

"Pretty lies, Leftenant."

"Okay, so you don't know about that. Maybe it isn't public. But ask your bosses, okay? It's bad enough that they're helping her at all, but— Lucky, she's going to end the world. Or what's your real name? Dib? No. Um..." You squint. "Duncan, she's going to end the world. That's your name? She will. She has to. That's what the Crown does. Before you say it doesn't, tell me what you think the Crown does. Don't say you don't know. You were going after it for who knows how long."

Lucky is visibly deciding whether to engage or not. But you know he will, because he has to, because that's how you'll get out of here. "Its role is to serve the common good. I'm aware you're unfamiliar with this concept, so—"

"But what does it do?"

"It—"

"Is it supposed to bring everybody back to the surface? Or maybe it grants all-purpose godlike power, but the Wind Court will use it to do that? That's really nice of them, but it just won't work that way. The Crown doesn't actually grant godlike power. It summons God. And God is a really giant snake who wants to murder everybody. I don't know if you know that or not. The point is, the Wind Court is helping Jean Ramsey, and Jean Ramsey is going to summon God into her body and end the world. And I'm the only one who can stop her, so if you arrest me, the world will end. That's the truth."

Count the seconds of silence: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, before Lucky steps out in front of you, studies your face, steps forward, and punches you squarely in the gut. You double over. "That's entirely enough from you," he says, brushing his hand down his front. "Next time, I'll test your sword, understood? Or the Wind Court's sword, I should say. Let's go, Leftenant."

You'll be honest: the punch knocked the wind out of you, but it barely hurt. You have scales in the way. You remain doubled over, though, to think. Richard?

«I'm here.»

(3/5)

You thought you were doing pretty well. Were you? Or did you screw up?

«I believe he intended to cut you off before you were able to convince him.»
«You were getting somewhere.»

Really? Okay, that's what you thought, but— okay! You're glad. You feel like you need a boost, though. Not his usual kind of boost. What was he doing to you last night? Or not... the last time you were awake, you mean.

«Yes. I suppose I never went into any detail.»
«Your strings are extremely densely packed. I had nothing to do with this. I believe it is a byproduct of your exposure to... yourself.»
«Regardless, I thought more could be done. I thought, with the right provocation, a tipping point could be reached.»

And? Did he reach it?

«...No. I was on the cusp, but... it is a delicate operation. Even for me.»
«You seemed to be experiencing something already, so I withdrew and opted to observe.»

Okay. That's fine. You're not expecting him to do anything amazing or special. But could he mess with your strings some more? Like what he was doing? While you're talking to Lucky.

«...»

It did something, before. Even if it wasn't what he wanted, it was still helpful.

«Very well.»
«Your enthusiasm for all things knows no bounds.»

That's right. Positive thinking! You blink rapidly and rise as Lucky grabs your wrists. Behind him, Richard pops into view, rolls his shoulders, and waves curtly. You wave back in your mind, and he cracks a tiny smile, then starts circling behind you. You refocus on Lucky. "Did that make you feel better?"

"It did, Leftenant. Thank you for asking." He yanks you forward. "I trust that will be your final question for me."

"I don't have to ask questions. I can just tell you stuff." Your nose itches: you know Richard's behind you, because that's where the cigarette smell is coming from. "I think you should know that I left out the worst thing, which is that your bosses might want the world to end. They might want Jean Ramsey to turn into God. But that's hearsay, so I can't prove it or anything, and the person I was talking to might be wrong." It's not that you don't believe Arledge, but you do think his reasoning is awfully motivated. "I think them working with Ramsey is bad enough, frankly. She's also a murderer? Did you know that? She's murdered way more than five people. But anyways. Lucky, I'm going to be God."

He smiles broadly, reaches down behind him, and draws The Sword. In his hand, there is no flame. It's only a sword. "Please. Go on."

"Okay. I—"

>[-1 ID: 7/15]

You stop. It feels exactly like a small hatch in your lower back has swung open, and that Richard has stuck his hand into this hatch. You are choosing not to interrogate this feeling. "—I will. I'm sorry. It's not what I wanted the Crown for, really, and I— I still don't exactly know if I want it. But I have to be, because nobody else can. I'm the only one. I know you believe me, Duncan."

(4/5)

Lucky points The Sword. "I do not."

"No." You wince. Richard is doing what he did— winding tightly— squeezing. Spots of light are blooming around Lucky. "No, you do. You can probably sense it, can't you? You're trained to detect... fiends, or whatever it is. I have to be the biggest fiend you've ever..."

"You are remarkably mutated, yes. It's a pity a once-loyal Courtier has come to this. Now—"

You're not saying it right. Or Richard isn't doing it right, though he's certainly doing something. Your chest is tightening. "NO. You're trying to ignore it. You're logical. Such a thing can't possibly be true. I'm lying to you. But LOOK at me! You can see it! You know—"

Two things happen.

First, an out-of-patience Lucky skewers you in the gut with The Sword. Or tries. It tears your jacket, but tings and skitters away when it hits your scales.

Second (only by a fraction of a second), Richard laughs harshly, digs his fingers into your Very Being, and does something inexplicable. Your vision distorts. Time slows. You fold gracefully into yourself, then back out, though Lucky isn't shouting in horror, so that probably didn't happen. What did happen? You feel odd. More solid. Brighter.

«Realer than real.»

>[Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting II] -> [Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting III]
>AAG III BONUS: Extrareal. On a metaphysical level, your strings have collapsed into a form so dense that they reliably distort other strings around them. On a less BORING level, Richard, that means you 'absorb' reality from things you're in direct contact with, including the air. In effect, you have an extremely thin bubble of unreality around you no matter where you are, making impossible, manse-like things easier than usual.

Um... maybe? What? What did he do to you? What are you doing to Lucky? Do you look weird? The air is taut— taut how? Like it's strung around you. Lucky looks half-disgusted, half-afraid. Afraid is good, you think.

"See? You know." you say.

He doesn't say anything. He's staring.

"I knew you'd believe me. I know you're going to cut my rope, too." You half-turn and stick your bound wrists out. "Please?"

He looks down at the outstretched Sword, up at you, down again, grimaces, extends The Sword, pulls it back. He doesn't want to. Clearly. But he will, and you know he will, and maybe he's finally realized that he will, too. You just have to push him over the edge.

(Choices next.)

>You can pick multiple.

>[1] Tell him that you'll use your God powers to put him back on the surface, if he lets you go. As soon as you have them. You promise. (That way he can stop harassing everybody underwater, but you don't have to say that part.)
>[2] Tell him that you don't mind if he wants to contact his superiors and double-check your claims and stuff. You can be out on "probation" or whatever, as long as it means you're basically free.
>[3] Tell him that you could use his help in kicking Jean Ramsey's unnatural, fiendish, murdereress ass. She deserves to be arrested and tortured way more than you do!
>[4] Tell him that you are actually sorry about getting possessed and almost killing him with a worm. You mean, you're not that sorry, but you're a little sorry. You didn't mean to. (He should really apologize for exploding Annie, though.)
>[5] Write-in.

>>6249935
This update was a delight to read
>[1] Tell him that you'll use your God powers to put him back on the surface, if he lets you go. As soon as you have them. You promise. (That way he can stop harassing everybody underwater, but you don't have to say that part.)
>[3] Tell him that you could use his help in kicking Jean Ramsey's unnatural, fiendish, murdereress ass. She deserves to be arrested and tortured way more than you do!

>>6249936
>123
Oh man we can already tank getting stabbed in the tummy
I’d say Ramsey is fucked but she probably has her own enhancements

>>6249936
>[1] Tell him that you'll use your God powers to put him back on the surface, if he lets you go. As soon as you have them. You promise. (That way he can stop harassing everybody underwater, but you don't have to say that part.)
>[3] Tell him that you could use his help in kicking Jean Ramsey's unnatural, fiendish, murdereress ass. She deserves to be arrested and tortured way more than you do!

>>6249957
>>6250150
>[1], [3]

>>6250054
>[1], [2], [3]

Called for [1] and [3] and writing shortly.

>>6249957
>This update was a delight to read
Glad to hear it!

>>6250054
>Oh man we can already tank getting stabbed in the tummy
It's impressive but not jawdropping: your stomach is the most heavily armored part of you, Lucky isn't used to handling a sword, and he wasn't putting 100% of his strength in. Still, you have come a long way.

>Turn the tables

You lower your wrists again. "You know, I can help you once you let me go. I know I said I was God, but I'm not really. Not yet. When I am, though, I'll— I mean— I can do anything. I think that's what being God means. I could—"

"No," Lucky says roughly.

"You didn't even hear it yet. I could put you back on the surface. Wherever you came from. I know you don't like it down here, and, um, I don't really blame you, so I wouldn't mind helping. I heard you had a wife and a daughter." You look steadily up at him. "How old was your daughter when you—?"

Watch Lucky's face flex, the corners of his eyes moving up and in, the corners of his mouth moving down and back. "Eight."

"How old is she now?"

He will not look at you. He juggles The Sword in his hand, juggles, juggles, the blade flashing in the dappled sunlight, the tips of his fingers whitening from pressure, until he heaves suddenly and throws it to the ground. It clatters, rolls briefly, and stops between the two of you. "You'll need that to cut my—" you say.

"A grown woman." Lucky's teeth flash. "She would be your age, Leftenant."

You're silent.

"Returning cannot be done. Thousands have tried. Thousands have failed, have— died. You are deceiving me." He's pulling his tomahawk back out.

"But—"

He grabs your wrists, swings the tomahawk, and severs the cord binding you. "Oh," you say. And, with conviction: "I'll do it anyways, though. I'll— maybe I'll save your whole team, if they're nice to me. They weren't so bad when we had drinks. I'll let you know once I'm God. Okay?"

"Stop talking."

"I will soon. I just—" You scamper over and retrieve The Sword. Lucky's eyes track you as you go. "I wanted to let you know, also, that what I said about Jean Ramsey is real. You can go learn about it yourself, if you want, but she actually is going to end the world. And she actually is mutated and everything. So if you— if you want to help stop her—"

"I don't want to see you, Ms. Fawkins."

"Um, okay. But I live... at camp... I'm probably going to go back there. So you know. Where I'll continue minding my own business, almost all the time. So if you change your mind, you know where to find me. Or if you want to stop Ramsey by yourself, and not talk to me about it, I guess that's also okay? I'm just saying, she actually does need stopping." Lucky is impassive. "You probably need some time to think about it. That's okay! We got plenty of time! A month, at least, I think. Just let me know. Okay, um, bye."

You take a step backwards. He doesn't move. You turn and stride away and hear no footsteps. When you glance over your shoulder, he's exactly where he was; as you watch, he cradles his face in his hand and keeps it there.

Good! Problem solved! You did it! That was... that was easy. That was so easy. Arledge had no idea what he was talking about, apparently.

(1/3)

«Or you are more than what he was.»

Or that, but you don't need to think about that. Not now. Realer than real?

«You are an exceptional person, Charlotte Fawkins, and I am fortunate to have you as my client.»

Uh-oh. Okay. You don't have to think about that either. You're just gonna walk all the way back home.

—

"You sorted i-i-it out?"

"Yeah!" you say.

Gil pinches his forehead. "How? Did you—"

"I bet she killed him!" Claudia says helpfully.

"I didn't— he's perfectly fine! I didn't brainwash him either. Or possess him. I just talked to him, and he said, you know, the warrant was off. He pretty much said that. He implied it."

"Lottie, when you say 'talked' to him... i-i-is it like when you talked to me... and I-I started thinking I was Madrigal? That kind of talking?"

You frown. You wish Gil would be more supportive. "It was a little bit like that, but—"

"Okay. I-I-I figured. I just needed to, um, know for sure. As long as you think i-it'll stick, then—"

"It'll stick," you say.

"...Then are we going back?"

—

"You're leaving already?" Earl leans against the doorway. "Shit! Did the whole situation get sorted out, then? Someone shanked the guy?"

"Huh? No, he's alive. He..." You exchange glances with Gil. "He changed his mind. But it got sorted out, yeah."

"Shit, then congrats! I'll miss having the company! Here— wait—" Earl vanishes into an adjoining room. He emerges with Buster under one arm, and a syringe and a little card in the other. "Thought you'd be moving on sooner or later, so this is one of my spares—" The syringe. "—and if you need to get in touch, drop by the ol' manse, wontcha? You crazy kids are always welcome. Tell me how those mods are going, hon, and— I'll reach out if I need a buddy on a job, all right?"

"Okay," you say, abashed. "Thanks."

"Thanks for everything," Gil says, and sticks his hand out for a handshake; Earl beams, grabs it, and pumps his arm. (You examine the wall. You wish you thought of that.) "Hey! No skin off my back! You're not so bad, for a jacker. And you, honey—" Claudia. "—take care of yourself! Make sure the seafloor treats you nicely, huh? And don't drink too fast, haw haw. Alright. Safe trip, folks."

He waves the three of you out the door, still clutching Buster. You wave back, and Gil does, and, despite herself, Claudia does too.

—

>[NIGHT 16]

The rest of the day was a whirlwind: the long trek to camp, fielding funny glances from passersby, giving Monty a heart attack (nearly), explaining that everything's fine to him, then to Madrigal, then to Eloise, and Fake Ellery, and everyone, but not Horse Face. C.M.S. Garvin, Monty said neutrally, was no longer entitled to stay at Base Camp. Where did he go, though? "That—" He twiddled a pen. "—is not my problem."

(2/3)

Then Claudia, who basked in the attention for hours, turned abruptly sullen and snappy; you bargained with Monty to let her stay for the next day or two, at least, since you have more permanent housing already in mind, and consequently dropped her off at Horse Face's former tent. Gil, ever-loyal, didn't flip on you, but he did cast increasingly lingering glances at his own tent. You let him call it an evening.

Leaving you alone. Well, not alone. Never alone. But Richard's on— what does he call it when he's invisible? When he's talking to you from the snake dimension?

«Voice call.»

Richard's on voice call, and your tent is dim. You thought about starting a new model, but were too tired, and thought about sleep, but you're too wide-awake. You lie on your cot, eyes open, and wait for something to happen.

Eventually it does. There's a knock on the tentpost— Monty? Lucky changing his mind?— and you roll up and out to answer the door. "Hello? Oh."

It's Henry. It took you a second to recognize him without the cult get-up: he's wearing an ordinary black button-up. "...What are you doing here?" you say.

"Hello, Charlotte. It's nice to see you. I, eh, don't burn in sunlight if that's the question. Though..." He gestures around at the dusk-tinted water. "...I suppose this isn't much proof, is it? Are you very busy?"

"Um, is it an emergency?"

"Not at all. It's been some weeks since I've heard from you, was all, and I thought it might be appropriate to catch up. I got it on the wind that you were back in town, and, well..." He grins, his little fangs glistening. "I thought you'd be more receptive to an ordinary visit, not an extraordinary one. Am I right to think that? Could I come in, by the by?"

God. You know Henry is in your good books now, sort of, but you would've appreciated notice. He's lucky you weren't actually asleep. "I guess. There's not much room, though."

"Not to worry, kiddo! I keep to myself." He pats you on the forearm as he slides past you, taking a seat on your desk chair. You plop down on your cot, brushing your hair out of your eyes, and wait for him to start the conversation. You don't see how it's your job.

"Dark in here," Henry says.

"Oh." You guess it is. You haven't been needing the glorb much, ever since Richard tinkered with your eyes. "I can get the—"

"Ah, no need." The fangs again. "I can see alright. I suppose you can, too?"

You finger a lock of your hair.

"I'm sorry, kiddo, I am here to pry. I won't deny it. You're an awfully long way down the Road, aren't you?" His eyes are bright. "More than before. I'm sorry you didn't reach out."

"I wasn't ready," you mumble.

"Wasn't ready. I completely understand. Are you readier now, do you think?"

(Choices next.)

>Pick multiple as desired. (Sidenote: you last saw Henry in Thread 34, pre-Headspace, if you're trying to gauge what he might already know. Two years ago, christ)

>[1] Tell Henry that you can't remember him or your father.
>[2] Tell Henry that your father is dead. Your snake killed him.
>[3] Tell Henry that your snake isn't a snake. He's a snake... man...? from the moon. Maybe from the moon.
>[4] Tell Henry that you blew up Headspace. Also what Headspace was and everything.
>[5] Tell Henry that you're planning on becoming God pretty soon.
>[6] Tell Henry that you're the Herald. Also explain what the Herald is.
>[7] Tell Henry that you turned into a lizard monster the other day.
>[8] Tell Henry that you've been having strange dreams. Stranger than normal, you mean.
>[9] Tell Henry that your fangs are cooler than his. Also, you have scales. Does he have scales?
>[10] Tell Henry that you have an aspiring young Wyrm cultist in tow who'd love to learn the ropes. (Maybe bring Claudia in to show him.)
>[11] Tell Henry that Horse Face BETRAYED you, so he needs to stop humoring his presence immediately.
>[12] Write-in.

>>6250413
>1,2,3,4,5,6,10
AS MANY AS DESIRED

11 is tempting but we’ll deal with Horse Face personally >:(

>>6250413
>[11] Tell Henry that Horse Face BETRAYED you, so he needs to stop humoring his presence immediately.
>[12] Ask Henry why he is a Wyrm cultist if the Wyrm wants to destroy the world
These are what I personally want

>>6250518
>[12] Ask Henry why he is a Wyrm cultist if the Wyrm wants to destroy the world

Good question... so good you've asked him that before! The short answer is that Henry (and your father) was indeed your classic misanthropic murder-cultist for a long time running. Your father renounced it when you were born, but Henry kept up with it in some fashion until he drowned ~10 years ago, which caused him to hang up the murder hat and convert to a milder "support group" format: he doesn't particularly want the world destroyed, but believes it's inevitable, and that all you can really do about it is develop some coping mechanisms / strive for self-improvement, with the caveat that no matter how much you self-improve the Wyrm is probably going to nuke you anyways.


Read about it here: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5718133/#p5720231

and here: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5718133/#p5720232

>>6250413
>[2] Tell Henry that your father is dead. Your snake killed him.
>[3] Tell Henry that your snake isn't a snake. He's a snake... man...? from the moon. Maybe from the moon.
>[4] Tell Henry that you blew up Headspace. Also what Headspace was and everything.
>[8] Tell Henry that you've been having strange dreams. Stranger than normal, you mean.

>>6250413
>>[1] Tell Henry that you can't remember him or your father.
>>[2] Tell Henry that your father is dead. Your snake killed him.
>>[3] Tell Henry that your snake isn't a snake. He's a snake... man...? from the moon. Maybe from the moon.
>>[4] Tell Henry that you blew up Headspace. Also what Headspace was and everything.
>>[5] Tell Henry that you're planning on becoming God pretty soon.
>>[6] Tell Henry that you're the Herald. Also explain what the Herald is.
>>[7] Tell Henry that you turned into a lizard monster the other day.
>>[8] Tell Henry that you've been having strange dreams. Stranger than normal, you mean.
>>[9] Tell Henry that your fangs are cooler than his. Also, you have scales. Does he have scales?
>>[10] Tell Henry that you have an aspiring young Wyrm cultist in tow who'd love to learn the ropes. (Maybe bring Claudia in to show him.)
>>[11] Tell Henry that Horse Face BETRAYED you, so he needs to stop humoring his presence immediately.

Rolled 2, 4, 1 = 7 (3d5)

Alright. Let's see what we got.

6250472
6250756
>[1]

6250472
6250755
6250756
>[2]

6250472
6250755
6250756
>[3]

6250472
6250755
6250756
>[4]

6250472
6250756
>[5]

6250472
6250756
>[6]

6250756
>[7]

6250755
6250756
6250756
>[8]

6250756
>[9]

6250472
6250756
>[10]

6250518
6250756
>[11]

That's majorities for [2], [3], [4], and [8], and support for [1], [5], [6], [10], and [11]. I will go ahead and roll for two of the supported options, with the third d5 being a backup in case of a tie.

>>6250822
>[2], [3], [4], [8], [5], [10]

Horse Face goes unmolested, and Henry continues to go completely unaware that you have no idea who he is. Neat. Writing, with the off chance I might not cover everything-- we'll see how it goes.

Ehh. Motivation is sapped. Back tomorrow with exciting reverse-exposition action, and then we'll be transitioning in the back half of the thread to MEGA TIMESKIPPING (like timeskipping, but even timeskippier). Have a good night, folks!

Back and writing. I need to get up early, so I'll hit as much as I can but will likely need to kick some of it to tomorrow again.

>Spill the beans

You narrow your eyes at him. "You show up at my tent unannounced and you want me to—?"

Henry raises his hands placatingly. "If it is a bad time, Charlotte, I don't mean to intrude. I'd be happy to—"

"It's a fine time! It's just weird! And you're being all vague and creepy again. Why don't you tell me what you know about me, huh? And how you know it? Then I can decide what I want to tell you."

"Fair point. I have my bad habits. Let me see. About two weeks ago, I was made aware that you had vanished from your place of residence, and that the Wind Court was out for your arrest. Apparently you nearly ate the man in charge?"

"I didn't eat him." You fold your arms. "My... my worm ate him. Then he exploded her, so I don't see why..."

"This was the worm you wanted back to life? Did you get my letter about that?"

"Um, yes, but I haven't..." Annie is still the best worm you ever met, but the chaos of the past couple weeks has faded a bond a bit. "I've been a little busy with Headspace, then, um—"

"Headspace?"

Oh. You guess he didn't hear about that bit. "Yeah. Headspace. I blew it up? It—"

You explain Headspace, emphasizing the cool parts and deemphasizing the kidnappings and brainwashings and murder sprees and meltings and so on. Henry is an excellent audience, nodding at all the right bits, which you hate. "How very swashbuckling of you, kiddo. I bet your aunt woke up with cold sweats the night you finished, huh? But your father would be proud. Very, very proud."

You sit on your hands. "He would?"

"Absolutely. I think half the reason he followed the Wyrm was for the thrill. Did you wind up eating anybody during all that?"

It's not impossible. The red stuff did get you for a little while. But you're not admitting that! "No! And I didn't eat anybody the first time! I told you, that was my worm, and that's not even what the warrant—"

"That would make more sense." Henry smiles genially. "But you were under the sway of some type of bloodlust, right? And for the warrant, you were accused of multiple ritual murders that occured several years ago."

You scowl.

"I did think you were remarkably far down the road, but perhaps not in that direction. All that, and that messenger following you around... I thought, when I heard, that you were entangled in something I could help with. But you're a grown woman, now, and I knew you had a means of contact, so I had no intention of overstepping."

"Which is why you're here." God! He got you distracted, didn't he? With his cultish wiles? Never again!

"I'm not going to force anything. Say so and I'll be out of here, Charlotte. I won't begrudge you. But the fact is, I enjoy your company, even if the sentiment isn't mutual. You're remarkably like your father, in many ways."

Your father again. The water is warm, or your skin is cold. You push your fingers into your palm. "My father is dead."

(1/3)

You don't know why you like seeing Henry's smile fade. He sits up straighter. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay." You don't remember him. He never really lived at all.

"No, I— and with Clara— that must have been extremely difficult. I'm sorry I couldn't have been there for you, Charlotte. I'm afraid I was already down here, or I would've— I don't know. I wouldn't have been very good for you, I fear. Your father was a good man."

Your father never really lived. But you have heard about his life. "No he wasn't."

"I don't know. He wasn't a perfect man. He had flaws. A great deal of flaws, if I'm being honest with you. He hurt Clara, hurt your aunt, hurt me, sometimes. There was a period of a few years where we weren't on speaking terms. But he couldn't ever hurt his Charlie. You were his everything. He wanted more than anything to be good for your sake. I don't know about you, Charlotte, but I think it means more if it's a struggle. And he beat me to it by 20 years. I've only just begun to—"

You sniffle.

Henry stops himself, then leans forward, then stops himself from leaning forward. "I— I'm sorry, kiddo. I wish I could—"

"Shut up," you say wetly. Do you have anything to wipe your eyes with? Your sleeve? Richard?

«There's a handkerchief in your back pocket.»

You reach into your back pocket and find a handkerchief. It's monogrammed. CFF. You wipe your nose and eyes straight on the embroidery, then turn back toward Henry. "You're not surprised he's dead."

He's not. He looked sad, but his eyebrows didn't even go up. And he didn't ask how or when. Henry half-smiles, but his eyes stay sad. "No, kiddo. I didn't know, but I— I feared as much. It would explain how you react to me."

Would it? He's off-target for that one, but whatever. "Feared why? Be straightforward!"

"Your messenger was imitating him. The alleged snake. I didn't think you'd tolerate such a thing if Martin were alive and well."

"He killed him," you say. "The snake."

"I feared that too."

"He killed him and pretended to be him," you say. "He wasn't even a stupid snake. He was lying about everything."

"I'm sorry, kiddo. When did you learn this?"

"Two weeks ago." You know Richard's listening. You'd like to remind him that you're going to kill him later. "A few days after I saw you, I guess."

"Ah. I... I did try and tell you that he wasn't your father. I knew that much."

«I told you this man was acute.»

Okay! Geez! He doesn't have to rub it in. "You should've said it straightforwardly! Instead of dumbly, and vaguely, and—"

"I did try. There must've been a miscommunication." Henry sighs. "I'm glad you're aware now. Is he a danger to you?"

Less than he's ever been, unless you count when he was nice. "No. He's— he's trying to help— it's all stupid and complicated. He's from the moon? Did you know that?"

(2/3)

«Charlotte, that is far from confirmed.»

"He's definitely from the moon. And he's not a snake, and he's not a messenger from the Wyrm, 'cause he hasn't even met the Wyrm. He's some..." Damnit! Why didn't you ask Richard what he really looked like? All you can imagine is a snake with arms and legs. "...person... but not a human being! A snake person! And he's trying to end the world!"

«There's no need to be uncharitable.»

"Okay, he's— they're all trying to end the world! Not him specifically. And I guess they don't want it ended, exactly, but they want us all dead so they can take over! And that's the same thing. Did you know all that?" You'll be annoyed if he knew all that too.

"There were stories that the architects of the Great Flood were guided by messengers of the Wyrm. The messengers appeared only to them. They were thought to be deceptive in nature. That's all I knew. The rest is new to me." Henry taps his fingers together. "What does such a being want with you?"

There. You didn't know if he'd get to that question, but here you are. The answer is that you'll be God— Richard wants you to be God— every single stupid snake person wants you to be God, plus maybe Lucky, since you promised him stuff. And Ellery, so he can get the last laugh. It's a clear and straightforward answer, and Henry would understand more than anybody, even if you're uncomfortable. You should tell him, and you will. You just, um, need to think about it first.

>How do you go about conveying the news?
>[A1] Downplay it. You need to be the Wyrm, but it's not a big deal, and you don't want to talk about it with him, okay? You're handling it fine by yourself.
>[A2] Exaggerate it. You, famous heroine Charlotte Fawkins, are DESTINED to take on the BURDENS of the UNIVERSE, and will be SACRIFICING your very MORTAL FORME to... and so on. You're not quite sure how to talk about things like that any other way.
>[A3] Be vulnerable about it (whether you intend to or not). Your father is dead and never lived, but Henry knew your father, and Henry is right here. Admit the prospects are daunting, admit that the worst is still ahead, admit that you're scared. You're thinking positive, but you're scared.
>[A4] Write-in.

>[B] Further questions or commentary for Henry? (Optional. Write-in.)

>[C] Write-in.

>>6251321
>[A3] Be vulnerable about it (whether you intend to or not). Your father is dead and never lived, but Henry knew your father, and Henry is right here. Admit the prospects are daunting, admit that the worst is still ahead, admit that you're scared. You're thinking positive, but you're scared.

>>6251321
>A3
He’s a Wyrm cultist (Wyrm son?) with decades of experience, I bet he can help

>>6251321
>[A3] Be vulnerable about it (whether you intend to or not). Your father is dead and never lived, but Henry knew your father, and Henry is right here. Admit the prospects are daunting, admit that the worst is still ahead, admit that you're scared. You're thinking positive, but you're scared.

>>6251367
>>6251376
>>6251693
>[A3]

You got it. Writing.

Sorry, folks, I'm on a losing streak. I fear this might've been a [TBC] regardless, so I'm going to take the L, get a lot of sleep, and bang out everything in one go tomorrow. I am willing to stretch this thread out as far as needed to get to a decent stopping place, so hopefully this won't impact overall pacing too badly. I am going to finish this quest in 2025 by GOD.

Have a good night!

>>6251837
You mean by THE WYRM

Back and writing.

>>6251883
With only one god alive, it's much the same thing...

>Breakdown

You think about it. You lace your fingers and purse your lips and start to say something but don't. Why is this difficult? You just told Lucky with no issue. You were happy to tell Lucky. You told Ellery fine, and you told Gil fine— okay, and then you had to rip his mind open a little, but that was his fault, not yours. Is it Henry's fault you can't tell him? If he wasn't so cultish, you'd have no reservations. But if he wasn't cultish, you'd have no reason to tell him. He's the only person who isn't Richard who knows what it really means. The only person who isn't Richard or your father.

Your father didn't want you to know about the Wyrm. He gave it up for you. But he kept it all in boxes... why? Because he couldn't destroy the evidence? In case he changed his mind? He understood what was happening when Richard killed him. It's not your fault. Did he know in advance what would happen to you? Was he watching in desperation as destiny took its course— or was he quietly resigned? Or was it all according to plan? You don't know. Henry doesn't know, either. He was underwater.

Henry said your father would've been proud of you for blowing up Headspace. Of course he would've been. Anybody would be, especially if they don't know about all the parts you messed up on. Anybody would be proud of you for saving the world. It's just that saving the world means becoming God— necessitates it— and that's an infinitely messier outcome. Richard is proud of you for becoming God, because his plan is finally going right. You are going to drown Richard in a snake pit the size of the ocean. Would your father be proud of you?

Or would he be horrified?

You're really crying now. You'd held it back before, as best you could, but now you're red-faced and snotty and can feel all the little veins bursting in your eyeball. You haven't even said anything to Henry yet. He's looking plenty horrified himself. "Oh, kiddo..."

Are you proud? You've been proud of how well you were handling all of it, being lied to, Richard's stupid new body, destiny, alterations, everything. Most other people couldn't, you think. They're not positive enough. They're not brave enough. You've kept your chin held high this whole entire time, but is that the same thing is wanting this? You have to want this. If you don't want this—

You're sobbing. Henry is standing from his chair, is sitting down next to you on the cot. He slides his hand toward you, but doesn't touch. You grip on, clawlike, and bury your face in your other hand, and can't even begin to muster words. Your throat's all clogged. Richard! Richard!

«...I'm sorry.»

(1/5?)

What? Shut up! You don't care! You need him to— why hasn't he bothered going into your brain and making you want this? He's changing everything else. Why not that? Can't he help you? Can't he do his God-damn job? He got lazy, and he got soft, and he forgot— he forgot— he forgot to do the most important—

«Charlie.»

He forgot to make you want this! You should be thrilled to be God! You should be ecstatic! Thinking about it should send you into uncontrollable spasms of sheer raw God-damned artificial joy. It'd be the simplest thing in the world for him.

«You're hysterical.»

You're right! Can't he do it now? He stuck his hand into your back this morning and did something awful to you, changed you irrevocably, and he called it "delicate" and difficult and still pulled it off. Meanwhile, he drugs you every single day. A cakewalk to him. Please!

«Fine.»

You dig your nails into Henry's palm, grinning grimly, as a familiar tingle trickles up your spine. The grin inverts when you don't get a headrush: instead, your breathing slows and deepens, and you find yourself relaxing. Your grip on Henry weakens. You forgo the soaked-through handkerchief and wipe your eyes, silently, on your sleeve.

"That bad, huh?" Henry says.

That bad. You laugh a little bit. "I... um..."

"If you can't tell me, I won't ask again. It's not my place to pry. But if there's anything at all I can do to—"

"No. I can..." God, you were hysterical. Spitting image of your mother. "You know that the world is going to end?"

"More than most, I'd imagine. I've known for half my life. More, actually."

"I'm going to stop it."

Henry sighs. "That's no simple..."

"I know it's not. I know the Wyrm is going to end the world when it wakes up. I know it will wake up. Probably soon. I know nobody can stop it."

"You're well-informed." You feel Henry's eyes on you. "What's the plan, then, kiddo? Or your messenger's plan?"

"I..." You retract your hand, fold it in your lap. "Um... I... I'm going to become God. The Wyrm, I mean. If I'm the Wyrm, I can just choose to not kill anybody, because I won't want to. And I could do other things. I could save my..."

Your eyes well up, but you won't do that again. You wipe them and are silent.

Henry is silent too. "...That's a big undertaking."

"I know. But I already did it. I— I saw the future, kind of. I've been seeing the future. I've had really weird dreams. And I had the Crown, until it got stolen, but if I take it back, and use it, Richard says I could— the Wyrm would get sort of summoned into me, and if I just hung on for long enough, I could force my way in, and— you don't believe me."

"...I'm sorry. It's a lot to wrap my head around." His smile is unconvincing. "This is your messenger's scheme?"

"Yeah."

"Are you certain this isn't a trick? Because, from my view, the most likely outcome of summoning Old Earthshaker into your body is, er, your immediate death. Then the end of the world."

(2/5?)

"I told you, though. I saw the future." You saw the Herald, but you don't want to get into that. All of this is bad enough. "And I'm not dead."

"And the world is chugging along fine?"

"Um, yes." If the Herald was alive, but the rest of the world was destroyed, you feel like she would've clarified. Or felt too guilty to visit.

"And the Wyrm is dead?"

"What? No! Um, I am the Wyrm, in this scenario. I'm a nice Wyrm."

"I see." He doesn't. "Is that not an oxymoron? I'm sorry, kiddo, but I just— even knowing how very talented you are, I just don't grasp— how far into the future did you see? Was this in your dreams?"

"Yeah. Um, but only once." You didn't see the future, the future visited, but you're not getting into it. "I've had a lot of weird dreams all the time, though. Stuff about being buried... and, um, I dreamed of you weeks before you even showed up... but I don't think those are important. I don't know how far exactly. I don't think time really existed."

"Okay. I'll rephrase. Did you— did you personally see the world prospering for many years to come, under your stewardship?"

The stupid Herald wouldn't tell you. "...No. But I didn't not see it."

"Alright. Do you have any way to prove that you didn't end the world immediately after that vision?"

"I wouldn't do that!" you protest.

"No, but the Wyrm would. I'm sorry, Charlie, but I can't wrap my head around the idea of even the— the greatest person to ever live— and this may be you, kiddo. I'm not judging. But even the most talented, knowledgeable, powerful, strong-willed person..." He drums his thumb on his knee. "...I can't see how they wouldn't get obliterated. Instantly."

"Not instantly."

"Not instantly. Okay. Then maybe it takes the Wyrm a second, 'cause it's gotten a little rusty with the obliterations over the years, so you get one second of Wyrmhood. Maybe that's the sliver of future you saw. Then it remembers how to do it, and—" He pinches his forehead. "Kiddo, I'm honestly not trying to scare you. I'm just worried you've been led far, far astray."

«Don't listen to him, Charlie. This man is a negative thinker, through and through.»

Only you're allowed to say that. God, maybe Henry's right? Is it futile?

«No. You will not be 'a person.' You will be the Herald of the Bright Epoch.»

Okay. You'll be a lizard. Are lizards immune to obliterations?

«You will be of the Wyrm. It cannot obliterate you without obliterating Itself. We already discussed this.»

If he wasn't lying. Or wrong. You scowl. "I— maybe. What was that about killing it?"

"Hm? Oh. The way I see it, that's the only way to assure safety long-term. Or longer than a couple seconds, really. If Old Earthshaker is up and out, It won't be satisfied unless It's dead or we are."

"You can kill the Wyrm?" you say, excited. (That's way better than becoming it!)

(3/5?)

"No." Henry smiles. "Can't make a dent on it. I don't think It can die in the first place. But a man can dream, can't he?"

"Oh." Damn. "You want the Wyrm dead? Wouldn't you be out of a job? Also, wouldn't the world end without it?"

"I would like nothing more than to be out of a job, kiddo. As for the world... can anybody say? We certainly don't need Its active intervention, judging by the evidence."

You frown. "But... um... if the Wyrm died... wouldn't everybody fall into the void? And it'd all be over anyways?"

"I'd imagine there'd be a great big corpse in the way of that, no?"

"Um, I hope so." You look down at your lap. "Maybe I can kill it anyways? Since I'm— I'd have God powers."

«That would be suicide. Literally.»

But it'd be dramatic, wouldn't it? Henry is smiling. "That would be a better world indeed. But please stay safe, kiddo. I don't want to lose both you and your father. Was there anything else I should know?"

"Not exactly." You already decided against telling him about the Herald, and the scales and stuff are part of that, aren't they? But you can't exactly pass out for a week in the middle of camp, even if you're allowed back now. "Can I use your cult lair? To conduct... rituals?"

"You're welcome any time for any reason. I mean that. I'd imagine I could help with rituals, too, if they're what I'm thinking of. Just ask."

"Okay." If Richard wants the help. "Also, do you take on acolytes?"

—

"Who the fuck is that?"

Claudia is still cranky. You might've woken her up, actually. Oh well. "You're into the Wyrm, aren't you?"

She folds her arms. "I didn't like getting absorbed by It, but sure. That doesn't answer the question. Did whoever-the-fuck make you cry, by the way? Because—"

"No," you say. "Um, this is Henry. He's a cult leader. Of the Wyrm."

"Outdated term, but she has the right spirit. You're Claudia?"

"C.R.," Claudia says, eyes flicking to you.

"C.R. I'll remember that. C.R. Fawkins, then?"

"Uh-huh."

Henry grins. "Another Fawkins! You know Charlotte's the last of her line? It's very nice to meet you, C.R. Charlotte told me you were breaking the mold— what was it, 200 years ago? I'd love to pick your brain about life back then. What people thought of the Wyrm, and so on. Most of our history was lost in the Flood, I'm afraid. And if you'd like to pick my brain in return..."

"Have you ever killed anybody?" Claudia had that one ready to go, apparently.

"Yes."

"In the name of the WYRM?"

"Is there any other way to do it?" Henry steps further into the tent. You flash both of them a thumbs-up, then retreat.

———

(4/5)

"You didn't tell me about your dreams, Charlotte." Richard is examining a half-finished statue in the middle of your manse. You're examining it too, though you're not sure what there is to see.

"Was I supposed to? I always have weird dreams. I can barely remember them." The statue is somewhat lizardy, though it's hard to tell. "Something something, lots of mud, I'm really mad at something. And there's a lot of bugs."

"Thank you for your erudite retelling. Fortunately for you, I've taken the liberty of dredging up the memories myself."

"And?"

"I don't know, Charlotte. You are the master detective, aren't you?" Richard peers over his glasses at you. ("Detectivess," you mumble.) "Would you like to make any attempt to interpret?"

>[A1] Interpret the dreams you've been having since you started getting Heralded. (Write-in. Optional.)
>[A2] Why are they potentially significant? (Write-in. Optional.)

>[B1] Ask Richard if he would brainwash you, assuming it were allowed. You're feeling better, so you don't want it. You just want to know.
>[B2] Ask Richard if killing the Wyrm would work, irrespective of whether you'd survive or not.
>[B3] Ask Richard what he did to you this morning. Specifically.
>[B4] Ask Richard how much further you need to go before confronting Jean Ramsey.
>[B5] Ask Richard what he actually looks like. He might dodge the question, since he's not on truth drugs, but isn't it worth a shot?
>[B6] Talk about something else with Richard? (Write-in.)

>>6252237
>A1
They’re Wyrm POV dreams. Buried by mud, bothered by flea like humans - can’t even blame it for wanting to eradicate us honestly
>A2
They’re signs of our progressing Heraldry and deepening connection to the Wyrm
Signs that we’re on the right path basically.

>B4
Surely 301 has been bragging about his client and her capabilities at the snake office water cooler?

>>6252237
>>6252282
+1 to this

>>6252282
This one

>>6252282
>>6252237
+1

>>6252282
>>6252296
>>6252316
>>6252505
You got it. Correct, but missing something. Writing.

>Dream interpretation

Damnit! You can't back down from a challenge! You stare up at the high ceiling in search of answers. Buried alive. Insects. Being really wet. Ungrateful offspring...

Something about that resonates. Have you heard it before? Thought it? You're always angry in these dreams, you've noticed. You wake up unsettled. Offspring, mud, fleas and flies and ticks. Everything's smaller than you. Angry and really big and underground and...

You clench your fists. Richard looks over. "Do you have it?"

"I'm the Wyrm!" You're not sure how this could be Richard's fault, but you glare at him anyways. "I'm having stupid Wyrm dreams! Why is it so horrible to be the Wyrm? Can't it—"

"Clearly not. Not without the Crown. Freeing It would be a mercy, would it not?"

"Freeing..." For a fraction of a second, you consider it. "No! It's going to kill everybody! It deserves to suffer."

"Not very charitable of you, Charlotte."

"Well, then, it deserves to die! Then it wouldn't suffer any longer. I thought you wanted the world saved, anyways." Okay, he's smirking. You're being goaded. "Whatever! The point is, this is... good? Right? Since I'm going to be the Wyrm? I only mostly get them when you do stuff to me, so that means you're doing the right stuff...?"

"I would hope so, yes."

You wait. He doesn't say anything else. "Is that what you wanted me to figure out?"

"You're not incorrect. I agree that you are inhabiting... or seeing through... or in some sense being the Wyrm, if only in dream. And, I suspect, accessing only its pettiest aspects. I don't believe you are capable of fully comprehending It. I don't believe I am capable of fully comprehending It. But perhaps there are parts closer to the surface, so to speak." Richard inclines his head. "In any case, I was more interested in the substance of the dreams, not the nature of them."

"Okay." You wait some more. "Meaning...?"

"If you are accessing a legitimate, if limited, window into the Wyrm's thinking, that— that would be more access to the Wyrm than we have had in millennia. Or widely known access, but I have no reason to believe such a thing wouldn't be publicized. Meaning that..." He taps his fingers rapidly on his chin. "...that..."

"Richard?"

"...You wouldn't understand. And it isn't substantiated. Carry on, Charlotte."

"But—" Now you need to know!

"We can discuss if further evidence comes to light. Do let me know if you dream further. Promptly, this time."

He's fixing the cuffs of his sleeves. You sigh.

>[A] Prove Richard wrong: what contradiction(s) exist between the dreams and your existing knowledge? (Write-in. Optional.)

—

(1/3)

You can take the jerk out of Richard, but you can't take Richard out of the jerk. That doesn't make any sense. Whatever. No matter how irritating he remains, you can take solace in the fact that he's absolutely, 100% going to die. Soon. Today, even.

"Very funny, Charlie."

Okay, fine! Not today. It's late, anyways, and you should sleep. Why did he drag you up here again? Does it have to do with the chalkboard? You hope it doesn't have to do with the chalkboard. All you did was ask him how much longer you had before you could beat up Jean Ramsey (and kill him), and he was all 'well, Charlie, that deserves a thorough discussion,' and then, instead of having the thorough discussion, you both got distracted by the statue, then the dreams, then he wouldn't even give you a straight answer, and now here you are. He has a telescoping pointer. God save you.

He jabs the pointer at you. "This directly pertains to your interests, Charlotte Fawkins. Focus."

You thought, since he wasn't your father anymore, that he'd give up on all the lectures. Nope. Richard actually, truly, in the depths of his heart, loves giving stupid boring lectures. Can you go beat up Ramsey this week?

"No."

Next week?

"Unlikely. That would require you to be halfway there already."

Are you not? God. More importantly, shouldn't you... be worrying about Ramsey? She's probably getting stronger too. Has he heard anything about that?

"You realize you can speak, Charlotte? With your mouth?"

Oh. But he was understanding you, wasn't he? "Um, sorry. What if I went and killed Ramsey, then I got back to all the Heralding? I wouldn't have any time pressure, then."

"No time pressure? The opposite. You killing the purported Hero-Queen, bloodily, in public— it would be impossible to get extended time alone again. Don't claim you'll do it in secret. I know you." (You roll your eyes.) "As you know, the alterations cannot be rushed. I will not be disfiguring you. They must be done in advance, and the Crown must be used as soon as it's reclaimed. We will not be fucked with again."

You wish he'd go back to not cursing. It startles you every time. "Fine. How long, then?"

"Three to six weeks. Two and a half if everything is picture perfect. I recognize this is a broad estimate, but, in short, I expect the remaining alterations to become progressively more difficult. I don't know how much. They may require you to be unconscious for longer periods of time. I don't know how long. Do you understand the difficulties presented to us?"

"Is #301 having difficulties?" you say. "Or just you?"

(2/3)

Richard bares his teeth. "We don't talk."

"But surely you've heard something going around? You said he's a braggart."

"He— there has been nothing but good news. Purportedly. From the sound of it, the Task will be accomplished any day now." Richard's tone is dry. "Correspondent #301 is a shameless exaggerator. You are in possession of one tine of the Crown; the Task will not be accomplished until they re-acquire it. They're in no hurry, seeing as how you haven't had visitors, so clearly they are nowhere near 15/16ths of the way to completion. Perhaps their urgency will increase with the Court collaboration having fallen through, but for now, focus on yourself. You are far more important."

"And I'll win," you say. "In the end."

"And you'll win. That's right, Charlie. As long as that remains motivation, and not cause for complacency, you should keep it close at hand. I know I do."

He's idly pressing in and pulling out the tip of the pointer. You shift in your seat. "So, um, what's the chalkboard for?"

"Oh, yes. I thought we might review the progress we have made thus far, reflect on accomplishments, areas of improvement, and so on."

You gaze up at him. "But I... I know all the progress we made so far. I was there."

Richard snorts.

"Are you just sad you haven't gotten to lecture me recently? I guess you ran out of things to lecture me about." That's why you can't ask him about the "realer than real" thing: you know for hard fact you'll get a lecture. "So you had to make one up?"

He taps the pointer into his palm and doesn't say anything. Struck a nerve?

>[B1] Fine. Whatever. Let Richard recap your progress, if it'll make him happy. (IC rundown of how Charlotte has advanced over the course of the timeskip so far.)
>[B2] You're not saying you don't need an occasional refresher, but you certainly don't need a chalkboard! Come on. (Briefer OOC rundown.)
>[B3] This is stupid. You're going to bed. (No rundown.)

Possible [C] slate incoming as well, but I'll be watching the [B] votes to gauge how long tomorrow's update will be before I post anything further.

>>6252749
>B2
Uh I gotta ponder that A a bit more

>>6252802
No problem, anon. It's marked [Optional] for a reason.

>>6252749
>>[B1] Fine. Whatever. Let Richard recap your progress, if it'll make him happy. (IC rundown of how Charlotte has advanced over the course of the timeskip so far.)

>>6252747
Ugh I've pondered and still don't know
Only thing I can think of is maybe their history is wrong
>>6249031
Makes it seem like the agents were the slaves, and the Wyrm made them imperfect and then put them in exile (the moon?) Itself

I guess this line was a bit confusing
> But you were tired, and you could not bear to watch them thrash and eat each other, so you made some small and others dormant and decided it was good enough.
Originally I thought this referred to the Wyrms offspring but now I'm not sure.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

I'm going to be real, folks, I spent the entire day playing Deltarune. Flipping to see whether I do some writing tomorrow afternoon or not. 1 = [B1] 2 = [B2]

>>6253164
>[B1]

Richard gets his lecture. Or does he? I reserve the right to backtrack on this and go with [B2] depending on how I'm feeling tomorrow, since I'd rather get a move on in general.

>>6252966
You're a smart cookie, anon!

Alright, folks. I'll be square with you: I sat down to write, burned a lot of time having a minor nervous breakdown (unrelated to the quest), burned more time writing the vote options below, applied for a job, actually wrote a little bit, then looked at the clock. I've been embarrassingly flaky for having nothing to do, but there's no practical way I can finish writing tonight without falling asleep on the couch. THAT BEING SAID, I have options written (and they don't strictly need context from the update), so please vote regardless!

You might need to know this first though:

---------------------

=DAY 14 / NIGHT 14 RESULTS=
>Gained 3/3 progress toward [Red Stuff III]; [Red Stuff II] -> [Red Stuff III]
>The next time you advance [Red Stuff], you can select an upgrade to your Lizard Forme influenced by one of your other perks
>Gained 2/2 progress toward [Arledge II]; [Arledge I] -> [Arledge II]
>Gained 1/3 progress toward [Arledge III]
>Gained 4/4 progress toward [The Herald's Mind IV]; [The Herald's Mind III] -> [The Herald's Mind IV]
>Gained 3/4 progress toward [The Herald's Body IV]
>Gained 2/3 progress toward [Advanced Gaslighting III]
>Gained 3/4 progress toward [Positive Thinking VI]

----

=DAY 16 / NIGHT 16 RESULTS=
>Gained 1/1 progress toward [Lucky I]; [Lucky 0] -> [Lucky I]
>Gained 2/2 progress toward [Lucky II]; [Lucky I] -> [Lucky II]
>Gained 3/3 progress toward [Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting III]; [Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting II] -> [Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting III]
>You are now extrareal!
>You are no longer under threat of arrest!
>Gained 2/5 progress toward [Henry V]
>Gained 2/5 progress toward [Claudia V]

----


=CURRENT STATUS=
>[Positive Thinking V], 3/5 to next level
>[The Herald's Mind IV], 3/5 to next level
>[The Herald's Body III], 3/4 to next level
>[The Sun III], 2/4 to next level
>[Red Stuff III], 0/4 to next level
>[Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting III], 0/4 to next level
>[Earthsense II], 2/3 to next level
>[OPEN II], 2/3 to next level
>[Good With A Sword II], 1/3 to next level
>[Communion II], 1/3 to next level
>[On Fire! II], 1/3 to next level
>[Extrareal II], 0/3 to next level
>[String Manipulation I], 0/3 to next level
>[Legerdemain I], 1/2 to next level

>[Richard VII]
>[Gil VI], 6/7 to next level
>[Earl IV], 3/5 to next level
>[Claudia IV], 2/5 to next level
>[Henry IV], 2/5 to next level
>[Unionized Ellery III], 3/4 to next level
>[Madrigal III], 2/4 to next level
>[Anthea III], 1/4 to next level
>[Monty III]
>[Us II], 1/3 to next level
>[Eloise II], 1/3 to next level
>[Arledge II], 1/3 to next level
>[Teddy II], 0/3 to next level
>[Lucky II], 0/3 to next level
>[Branwen II]
>[Fake Ellery I]
>[Horse Face I]

-------------------------------

Okay, now vote!

----


>Welcome to MEGA TIMESKIPPING! Rather than selecting options for each individual half-day, you'll be selecting bundles for three or four days at a time. Richard will knock you unconscious at the end of those days, do horrible snake things to you, you'll wake up, and we'll repeat until the hour of kicking Jean Ramsey's ass draws nigh.

>Exact progress is obfuscated because it's late and I don't want to write it all out, but rest assured that upgrades (e.g. [Positive Thinking] + -> [Positive Thinking] ++) will continue to factor in. If you need it written out to make an informed decision, please let me know and I'll figure it out tomorrow.

>Also, [Extrareal] is now its own perk, acquired from leveling [Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting] to stage III. You start at [Extrareal I].


Over the next few days, you feel you should focus on...

>[A1] Raising Annie from the dead. Henry reminded you, and now you're guilty you've been letting this lie. No longer! (Acquire [Annie V]. Gain progress in [Earthsense].)
>[A2] Catching up with everybody you haven't seen for a while. In particular, Monty and Eloise deserve to be clued in about the end of the world, and Madrigal deserves to know you're safe and sound... and Pat and Fake Ellery are there, you guess. Maybe you can rope them all into helping you out. (Gain progress in [Monty], [Eloise], [Madrigal], [Fake Ellery], [Pat], [Extrareal], [Good With a Sword]. Optionally, ask for favors.)
>[A3] Making Richard remodel your manse. Okay, maybe he's too busy to to a complete remodel, but can't you spruce the place up a little? Put a bridge over the scary ravine? Add that arena you were talking about? If it's cool enough, you can even show people around. (Gain progress in [Good With a Sword], [On Fire!], [Positive Thinking], [Anthea],
>[A4] Upgrading your majestic Lizard Forme from "boring" to "awesome." Get Claudia to draw up some diagrams, then do whatever you need to do to make the coolest one a reality. (Gain progress in [Claudia], [The Red Stuff], [The Sun], [Earthsense], [On Fire!])
>[A5] Write-in. (If these packages don't appeal to you, feel free to mix-and-match or write-in what you want to see, since they're more for convenient voting than anything IC.)


In addition, you want to make extra sure you... (Pick one. This will get tacked on to the winning [A]. If you pick [B2] with [A2], you'll get extra time with Eloise.)

>[B1] Deal with Horse Face. One way or another. (Decide what to do about him, then do it.)
>[B2] Clue Eloise in about agents and the snake conspiracy. It seems like something she'd really want to know about. (+++ [Eloise])
>[B3] Spend some "I'm sorry I made us be on the run for two weeks" quality time with your retainer. (Level Gil to maximum.)
>[B4] Check in with Lucky. Is he feeling more helpful now? (+? [Lucky])
>[B5] Do something else. (Pick one perk, personal or interpersonal, to make progress on. Write-in.)

>>6253659
Where’s my smart cookie update reeeeee

>>6253660
>A2
Shiny new perk! Also power of friendship

>B2

>>6253660
>A2
FRIIIIIEEENDSHHHHHIIIIIPPPPPP
>B3

>>6253660
>[A5] We need to catch up with Unionized Ellery, since it's him who's working on our anti-Wyrm-mindfuck means. We can take Claudia and Gil along, talk to Us and so on
>[B4] Check in with Lucky. Is he feeling more helpful now? (+? [Lucky])

>>6253660
>>[A4] Upgrading your majestic Lizard Forme from "boring" to "awesome." Get Claudia to draw up some diagrams, then do whatever you need to do to make the coolest one a reality. (Gain progress in [Claudia], [The Red Stuff], [The Sun], [Earthsense], [On Fire!])
>[B3] Spend some "I'm sorry I made us be on the run for two weeks" quality time with your retainer. (Level Gil to maximum.)

>>6253660
>[A1] Raising Annie from the dead. Henry reminded you, and now you're guilty you've been letting this lie. No longer! (Acquire [Annie V]. Gain progress in [Earthsense].)
>[B2] Clue Eloise in about agents and the snake conspiracy. It seems like something she'd really want to know about. (+++ [Eloise])

>[A1] Raising Annie from the dead. Henry reminded you, and now you're guilty you've been letting this lie. No longer! (Acquire [Annie V]. Gain progress in [Earthsense].)
>[B3] Spend some "I'm sorry I made us be on the run for two weeks" quality time with your retainer. (Level Gil to maximum.)

Rolled 1 (1d2)

6253892
6253917
>[A1]

6253678
6253692
>[A2]

6253818
>[A4]

6253804
>[A5] (I'll include this as a formal option next prompt so it gets more of a shot)


6253678
6253892
>[B2]

6253692
6253917
6253818
>[B3]

6253804
>[B4]

Huh. It appears the secret to making everybody vote is not actually having an update attached. Taking notes...

Just kidding. I spent all day (literally) writing up almost 3,000 words of Richard lecture/patting anon (>>6253678) on the head for being a good boy, and I'll be spending all night tacking on [B3] to that. So , uh, expect a long one. [A1] or [A2], depending on what wins the coinflip, will come next update. Flipping.

>>6254088
>[A1]
Reject friendship, acquire worm. Fortunately, Charlotte did say hello to everybody at camp at least briefly (>>6250411) when she arrived, so you're not disappearing underground without a word like a total autismo. Just a, uh, regular autismo.

I might tack on some bonus perks to [A1] as well as the mood strikes.

Writing for [B3].

>LECTURE

You were hoping he'd give up, after your astute observation, but Richard seems compelled to drag out the silence as long as possible. Your guilt grows. He really does like lecturing, doesn't he? That's not something he stole from your father. He'd probably be way happier in a job where he got to lecture all day, or with a client who cared about all his boring interests. But he's stuck with you, so he's pent up all the time...

...also, he murdered your father and stole his body and deserves every ounce of suffering he's ever received and more, so you shouldn't...

...but you're not thinking about that! You'll kill him later. You'll bring your father back to life. That's a fair trade, an honorable trade. Being cruel to Richard now would be basely satisfying, but tormenting people for fun, even if they sort of deserve it, is what Lucky does! And is Lucky a hero? Not in the slightest. If you sat here and listened to Richard's boring lecture, it'd basically be heroism.

"Fine," you say. "Can you act it out?"

Richard collapses the pointer all the way. "What's that?"

"If you're talking about all the awesome things I've been doing, can you act them out? It'd help with visual interest. Or draw them? With your chalk?"

"..." He extends the pointer, slowly. "I'm no artist, Charlie. Neither are you. You could do the acting, if you preferred."

"I'd do it better than you, anyways. But you better start lecturing! Before I change my mind!"

"You leave me with no choice, then." He pushes his glasses up. "Ahem. Despite the unfortunate detour caused by your near-arrest, Charlotte, we have been able to make hay from the situation. You have advanced considerably over the past two weeks."

"But less than halfway," you grouse.

"You need enormous advancements. Considerable is less than enormous. But let's see here..."

>[The Herald's Mind IV]

"...you said you feel no different? Mentally?"

"Not really," you say. "But you said I might not, so."

"The frog doesn't notice the heating water, either. I don't know. You seem calmer to me, Charlotte. More focused."

You stare down at your lap. "Which is why I was crying so hard an hour—"

"How often have you cried otherwise? You are not perfect, Charlotte. If you were perfect, you would be the Wyrm already."

"Or a snake, or..." Something drifts upward. Your dream. You were making something... something was... your offspring...

"Hm?"

"Nothing." You need to let it percolate. "I mean, I guess. But is that something you did? I thought I just realized you ruined my life, and I— I didn't want to let you keep ruining it. What are you doing?"

Richard is drawing something inscrutable on the chalkboard. A blob in a circle. "Is it not obvious?"

"No."

"You failed to do any acting, so I was illustrating. The frog..." The blob. "...in the pot." The circle. "For visual interest."

(1/9???)

Oh. You sit on your hands until your mean first impulse passes. "I'll start acting when there's anything to act. So don't worry about it."

"I see. It might be for the best. Er, back on topic. Regardless of perceived personality change, you have also been having those dreams. I have no reason to doubt their legitimacy. They are too specific."

Which is why there's something in them he's worried about. You'll sit on that too. "And visions."

"And visions. You saw It, didn't you?"

"It didn't obliterate me. Doesn't the Wyrm know everything?" You fold your hands. "If I'm really going to succeed, and take it over— or kill it— why wouldn't it obliterate me? I was right there."

"Why not take that to its logical extent? If the Wyrm knows everything, and you will succeed, then It knows you will succeed. If you were obliterated before you succeeded, you would not succeed, but you will, so you cannot be."

"But that would mean..." You hesitate. "That would mean destiny's stronger than the... I don't know. What if it wants me to be the Herald? What if it sees the future, and in the future I beat up Jean Ramsey, and I get the Crown, and I'm a lizard, and I— I go back into my own dreams and stuff, and the Wyrm waits until after all that to take me over? And end the world? Can we prove that it won't? Also, when do I get the cool Herald powers?"

"Like?"

"Going into people's dreams, I guess?" You don't know what other powers the Herald has.

"Have you tried?"

"...No?" You look sideways at Richard. "You mean I could...?"

"I don't dream, before you get ideas. In response to your first question, no. We can't prove it. Are you giving up?"

"No! I just wish— I don't know. Maybe I should kill it? Just to be sure?"

Richard is silent. Then he taps the blob in the circle. "Moving on."

>[The Herald's Body III]

"You certainly can't doubt the other side of the alterations."

"Don't list them at me!" you say. "I know what you did to me, Richard. Scales, um, fingernails, my skin's stretchier— I don't know what the point of that was. That's it, right?"

"You're denser."

"Oh, yeah." It doesn't feel different, but you guess people don't try to lift you very often. "But not stupider. Physically, you mean."

"I never meant anything else, Charlie."

"But you would've," you say. "Before."

"I suppose we've both changed. In any case, progress here has stalled out, but we must redouble our efforts." He's drawing an upwards-pointing arrow. "As disconcerting as you might find it, it is necessary."

>[Positive Thinking V]

"I don't find it that disconcerting." You click your fingernails together. "It's not that I like it. But you tell me it's going to happen, and I know it has to, and... I liked it when Lucky couldn't stab me. I'll like it when Jean Ramsey can't stab me, either."

"She'll be swinging that axe with a lot of force, Charlotte, but we'll see what we can do. A month ago, you would've been horrified."

"...It's been a really long month."

(2/9???)

"So it has. It would've destroyed many others. What are you doing?"

You've miming getting stabbed in the heart. "Um, acting?"

"Right. Yes. Carry on. I think, despite your reservations— not despite. The fact that you have reservations about the plan, Charlie, is proof you are sane. This is no small undertaking. The fact that you persist despite them... we haven't re-taken the pain test. I think you could score higher than before. Is that acting too?"

You were pretending to writhe in agony. "No. You're just that boring."

"For quite a while, I thought you had no sense of humor."

>[The Red Stuff III]

"For quite a while, you had no sense of humor," you say. "You were a snake. And the Wyrm likes snakes? I think it hates fun. And happiness."

"It certainly isn't cheery, no." He's drawing a frowny face. It has nostrils, for some reason.

"It just wants everybody to die. Or turn into lizards, I guess. Does the Wyrm have legs? Shouldn't I turn into a snake?"

"You have legs, Charlie. I'd imagine it's doing the best with what it has to work with. You did an excellent job of keeping it all under control, by the way."

"It would've been really embarrassing if I ate Arledge. I couldn't do that. And I guess I know what's going on with it, now."

"Or you've developed an ability to channel it in a useful way. Don't discount that."

You examine your non-lizardy hands. "Do you think I could do it without needing the syringe? Or I could use the syringe, but it'd happen really fast? It took a long time. ...And it was gross."

"I don't know if such a thing is physically possible, without a catalyst." Oh, God, he's smirking. "That being said, 'physically possible' may become less of an obstacle. Metaphysically—"

>[Extrareal I]

"No!" you say. "You can't add another lecture onto the first lecture! Keep going!"

Richard sighs.

>[Advanced (Advanced) Gaslighting III]

"Besides, I already do things that aren't super possible. Arledge didn't think it was possible to convince Lucky, and I... it's because I'm God, right?"

"Yes."

"I think it's gotten easier. With Lucky, I didn't have to... I mean, I tried, but... I didn't feel that much pushback. When he should've given me lots. Do you think I could just walk up to somebody and tell them...?"

"Tell them what?"

"I don't know." You don't like to think about it. It's not very heroic. "I guess I'll have lots of time to figure it out."

>[Communion II]

"I suppose, if negotiations failed, you could've gotten inside that man's head."

"Lucky's?" You wrinkle your nose. "It's probably gross in there. And he'd hate me even more than before. Do you think I could do it so they don't realize?"

"Practice is everything. Have you been practicing?"

"...No."

"There you have it."

(3/9???)