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File: 2.0 42.png (367 KB, 445x677)
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You are Charlotte Fawkins, dashing heroine, detectivess, adventuress, heiress, sorceress, etcetera. Three years ago, you drowned yourself in a quest to find a long-lost family heirloom; nowadays, you're just nobly c̶a̶u̶s̶i̶n̶g solving problems with the help of trusty retainer Gil and MIA snake/father Richard. Inexplicably, many people tend to "dislike" you, though you've never done anything wrong in your life.

Right now, you are infiltrating Headspace inside the body of your nemesis' lackey, Everard Kurz. You're currently in a tour group composed of yourself, Headspace CEO(?) Casey Kemper, and Gil... except that Gil's been brainwashed. You're still working out what to do about that.

Also, Virginia's dead. She died. She wasn't dead when you last saw her, or maybe she was, or maybe she should've been— it wasn't good, what happened to her. Or to you. She was you at the time, you mean, but it didn't feel— it didn't look— it looks worse on the outside. Or maybe you just can't notice how bad it gets on the inside. Or maybe you're just that good at handling it. You and your sorcerous bloodline. Even if you're not aware of any direct sorcery, except what you saw at the party: the earth sucking at your father's feet. Henry's fangs. (He really does have those, even now.)

The god that never happened. You have a daring heart, Wyrm-daughter...

>[ID: 2/14]

Even though you're in a great position, tactically speaking— Casey oblivious, Everard locked down, Gil in arm's reach— you're in a strange mood. It might have something to do with almost dying multiple times. Or with the sphere/sun/red stuff thing. Or with a continuing lack of Richard. Or with Gil, in arm's reach, but still miles away: he barely looks at you. Or with being in Everard's body, which you're avoiding thinking about, but there's only so much you can avoid. (If your poor aunt knew...) Or with Virginia, who looks like a lizard got stepped on. She didn't die from that, though. There's a crossbow bolt in her eye socket.

A couple minutes ago Casey's talkie-thing started squalling. It's not like it wasn't before, and it's not like he was pleasant to the operator before, but he really flipped out this time. You think maybe he thought he was done with the interruptions— and so did you, a bit. If you had a little stability, you could think of a proper plan. As of now, you have nothing, and Headspace remains conspicuously un-blown-up. It's all been so much harder than you expected. A tiny nasty bit of you wonders whether Pat was right to scoff...

(1/3)
>>
File: real ellery - @cryptbones.png (3.73 MB, 1610x1992)
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...but it's quickly squashed. If anything, your commitment to the mission has redoubled: you can't leave empty-handed after all that, can you? Remember what leaving the kidnapping mission empty-handed felt like? You're here for the long run: either you'll win or it'll kill you. Two options. It killed Virginia. Somebody killed her, in any case, on purpose. Crossbow bolts don't just grow from bone— or on trees. In a manse, given a chance, everybody'd just pack a gun. Unless they happen to be some kind of stupid, smarmy, self-righteous, better-and-smarter-than-you-and-everybody lame sad gangly coward. Right?

Ellery was here. Is here, you'd imagine, close by. Was here, with Virginia, minutes ago, no longer. (You didn't walk back: Casey yanked the corridor and it bent back on itself.) You told him not to come, but you should've known he wouldn't listen. Couldn't listen. Too much of a stupid horrible asshole to listen. God-damnit! At least you know who the other intruder is— one of them. God knows who the other one is. Knowing your luck it's Horse Face.

Ellery was here, and you haven't told Casey, though maybe he knows already. He knew Ellery at some point. He's currently looking at the body, same as you, lips taut against his teeth, the picture of a man who'd throw an unholy tantrum if it wasn't for his important honored guest right there. That's you. You feel special. Gil is blank, blank, blank, like there was never anybody in there at all, like you imagined him. You regret the Headspace tee-shirt. You get sad any time you look.

That's why you don't look. That's why you missed it, almost, except for the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. Isn't that hackneyed? You thought it was a Josey Hatchcock thing, except you felt it: a disturbance, a frisson, the hairs, and an ineffable sense of... of... a familiar sense of...

You don't have time to put your finger on it. If you did, maybe you would've looked past Everard's eyes and seen it for real, Gil's body standing hollow, the skeins outside, and you would've expected what was coming. Instead, you watch dumbly as Gil's dead face flexes and resets, as his body twists, as he jolts and kapows his fist straight into Casey's chin— and jams his other one down, grabbing the talkie, and yanks it and shoves you hard and takes off like his life depends on it. Which you suppose it does, given Casey.

(2/3)
>>
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Then you're here and he's gone, footsteps banging away, until all of a sudden those are gone too. Did he fall? Jump? Fly. Beetles. Aha. Ahaha! Suck it, Casey! Of course some stupid brainwashing wouldn't stick! Not to your retainer— your best one. Casey has gone maroon, which is funny, but maybe a bad sign overall. Now that you're thinking about it.

Were Gil's eyes blue?

No. No time. He's getting away! Can you even track beetles? Uh... yes! Of course! The bigger issue is not letting Casey come along. Or maybe you should trust Gil's plan and stay here? To really solidify Casey's belief in you? Think fast!

>You are at 2/14 ID.

>[1] You need Gil back. No question.
>>[A] Say something fast and incoherent about "apprehending" Gil, then take off ASAP. It might be suspicious, but by the time Casey thinks of anything, you'll be gone. If you want to catch up with Gil, there's no time to waste.
>>[B] Or maybe you can take your time, since you have an easier way to contact Gil? (How? Write-in.) There is an answer, but I'll take alternatives if they're plausible.
>>[C] Write-in.

>[2] Hey. Hey. Deep breath. Positive thinking. Rushing after Gil once led to... uh, Virginia. Let him go and see where this takes you.
>>[A] Play it casual. Tell Casey that you're more interested in Virginia's murder. Does he know anything about the bolt? Have there been other deaths? Where exactly is the security team in all this? Or, uh, Management? You've hardly seen either.
>>[B] Play it exasperated. You're sick and tired of all these interruptions. You want to get to the finale of the tour already. You know, where Casey shows you the (explodable) center of Headspace operations?
>>[C] Write-in.
>>
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>Announcements
Welcome back to Drowned Quest Redux! Despite the extended break, I got almost nothing quest-related done. Too busy. But we're back now, and this thread will surely go smoother than the last two... right?

>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 14 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

>Archive (nicer)
1-4: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-IhGrvvy5DAGXpk1VWBeSLN19IIDjP4YnUjroUEplDo/edit?usp=sharing
5-9: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1BFsue8klDevUAuCvVb2V3ktsBvdvYmAhGIDhhscKHDE/edit?usp=sharing
10-14: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1NFrr6hT9Ho8ThW-n86zqzf9SxTzya65c2XRBSaWZIhU/edit?usp=sharing
15-19: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1XE8ygoN6nWucvZEqmBeoQ9jKNdc6V_FOvrrIitRi3dU/edit?usp=sharing
20-April Fools: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1NqCgQYDq5NajT36m9dxkpZE85mqMMjClsz-gu9FYKtQ/edit?usp=sharing
25-29: https://docs.google.com/document/d/11aZ013qySgw0wWawb2SHra3ExtJrs6FLQaCp9S7udUU/edit?usp=sharing
30-34: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1COMiZB7lKEu756_CS-lfaID2oMtHVMGBVLjXrXmMBHQ/edit?usp=sharing
35-38: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ZkI18l-PNI7i-HQdQmqTJJvUM-iLKBBCNpvSC-POhk0/edit?usp=sharing
39-40: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1asjG0cNqn1nlyqoxHxr5nV6BiIHu2YAFS6LhZR5zjkw/edit?usp=sharing

>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

>"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!
>>
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>LAST TIME ON DROWNED QUEST REDUX
Anthea Aves, the woman in the diving suit, tells Gil that she's chasing down Real Ellery-- who apparently has intentions to blow Headspace up and himself with it. She erroneously concludes that Charlotte must also be there to stop Ellery, but Gil sheepishly tells her that they're there to blow Headspace up themselves... but safely! And with an evacuation plan! Anthea is skeptical, but a sudden power outage encourages her to bring Gil along-- except Anthea would like to rescue the prisoners of the "Thinking Machine" first, while Gil would like to steal Casey's walkie-talkie. His daring attempt to do so is quickly aborted: Casey grabs him and threatens him with Friendification. Gil's effort to shoot an unsuspecting Casey in the face fails, and Casey does with him what he will.

Elsewhere, you are still under the powerful, Law-enhanced sway of the red stuff-- but Teddy intervenes, and you awaken mostly nude inside a blood-filled container. (While you were mucking around with the mystery sphere, Headspace claimed your abandoned body.) After escaping, you finangle your way onto an invisible roof, from which you can see Headspace's ever-shifting layout... including where Casey, Everard Kurz, and the still AWOL-Gil are. You leap at the chance to find your retainer and descend from the roof, only for a tour guide-ish Gil to open the door to your darkened room.

Hastily, you assume the persona of Claudia, who claims to Casey, Everard, and Gil that she saw Virginia's body melt. All of them accept this pretty blithely, including Gil, who is evidently under Casey's influence. Pissed, you ditch Claudia, let the red stuff overtake you again, and chase the trio down. Your attempt to physically reclaim Gil is halted when Casey electrocutes and Everard pins you, but you sneakily possess Everard to escape. Virginia's limp, mutated body is hauled off by Management, and you pick Everard's brain, learning that he doesn't know much about you, that he's heard all about Headspace's depravities (though not their motive for them), that Headspace is partnering with Ramsey to "back a winner," and that Ramsey and co. are located to the west of you, near the town Thatsall. Casey begins to give you the side-eye, but you threaten Everard into deflecting his suspicion. Safe in your disguise, you head off on the tour.

Meanwhile, Gil, trapped in his own mind, is aware, awake, and deeply guilty about "fucking things up" for Lottie. In his attempt to escape, he finds himself face-to-face with... himself. Other Gil is an abrasive prick who, confident that Gil will only make things worse, refuses to let him leave or wake up. After their confrontation gets personal-- and physical-- Gil concludes that "Other Gil" isn't another Gil at all, but actually, literally just himself, a manifestation of all the doubt, fear, and self-loathing that plagues his mind. It's a little embarrassing, but it does mean that Gil can just walk out, and he does.

(1/2)
>>
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Outside is a swamp polluted with Headspace merchandise. Gil flies up to get a better vantage and spots Teddy, who's going fishing, and who asks Gil to join him. Teddy's idle conversation starters turn pointed, and he tells Gil that maybe he wanted Casey to brainwash him, that he self-sabotaged his attempts at bravery. Gil gets offended, but Teddy clarifies that he means it subconsciously: that Gil's primitive 'fish brain,' committed to preserving his life and (deeply negative) self-image, kicked in. Gil isn't sure what to do with this idea, or with the bite on his line. Teddy has vanished.

Gil struggles to reel in the heavy fish, but manages to tap into Teddy's fisherman knowledge and hauls it up successfully. His catch is huge, nasty, covered in Headspace trash, and has human eyes. They're Gil's eyes, and the fish is evidently a metaphor for the fish-brain Teddy was just talking about. Despite his irritation with the clunky symbolism, Gil pities the fish, and tries to help it the best way he knows how: by tricking it into swallowing the blessed idol he got from Horse Face earlier.

This wildly succeeds in healing the fish, which is blasted free of mud, pain, and Headspace influence... as is Gil, shortly thereafter. He's suffused by divine water and light, feels (in retrospect, humiliating levels of) infinite love for everybody he knows, and is spat out into the hand of a god. A real god? Probably not-- it doesn't talk-- but it does show him an inscrutable red-and-white wasteland, lit by a sun and a dark moon, populated only by a two-legged lizard-thing.

Then it's back for the spin cycle, as all the muggy love-stuff is rendered sharp, clear, and clean, and Gil is spat out a few feet outside his vacant body. He takes a few moments to evaluate. Then he reclaims his body, punches Casey in the face, steals his walkie-talkie, and sprints off down the hallway.

-----

>TO-DO

Immediate goals:
- Find Gil (again)
- Navigate "Below"
- Find a way to harvest your memories of Annie
- Get the siphons back from Casey, then put them up (12 remaining)
- Optionally, do something permanent about Jean Ramsey's vile lackey (whose body you are inside)

Short-term goals:
- Punish Casey for his cruel brainwashing of YOUR retainer
- Blow up Headspace

Long-term goals:
- Resurrect Annie
- Return Claudia
- Regain your missing memories (...if possible)
- Attend your richly deserved Game Night
- Use, extract, or otherwise deal with the Wyrm stuff you got going on
- Find Jean Ramsey and her snake; challenge her to epic single combat (probably); reclaim the Crown
- In the meantime, continue collecting and storing Law (4/16)
- Make friends (who are not named Gil)
>>
Mysteries:
- Who or what is Namway Co. and Headspace Corp.'s “Management”? What did they want with the clone of a snake? What do they want with a massive store of Law? If they're snakes... what does that mean?
- What kind of company(?) does Richard work for? What is its endgame? What does it want with you? What is its relationship with Management?
- Who is Horse Face investigating, and why?
- Who wiped three years of your life from your memory? Why? Can Richard really not remember them either?
- What is the Herald? Why does it keep showing up? What does it want? What are you supposed to forgive yourself for, exactly? (You haven't done anything wrong!)
- When is the world going to end? How?
- Do you have a destiny? Is it God-related? It's a good destiny, surely?
- Why does Richard keep developing stab wounds?
---

>Don't forget to scroll up and vote!
>>
>>6110457
>2A
No quest work done but a bunch of sweet new art

I especially like Ellery in >>6110456
>>
>>6110457
>[2] Hey. Hey. Deep breath. Positive thinking. Rushing after Gil once led to... uh, Virginia. Let him go and see where this takes you.
>>[A] Play it casual. Tell Casey that you're more interested in Virginia's murder. Does he know anything about the bolt? Have there been other deaths? Where exactly is the security team in all this? Or, uh, Management? You've hardly seen either.

Seems like a slightly smarter option.
>>
>>6110457
>[2] Hey. Hey. Deep breath. Positive thinking. Rushing after Gil once led to... uh, Virginia. Let him go and see where this takes you.
>[B] Play it exasperated. You're sick and tired of all these interruptions. You want to get to the finale of the tour already. You know, where Casey shows you the (explodable) center of Headspace operations?
>>
>>6110457
>[2] Hey. Hey. Deep breath. Positive thinking. Rushing after Gil once led to... uh, Virginia. Let him go and see where this takes you.
>[B] Play it exasperated. You're sick and tired of all these interruptions. You want to get to the finale of the tour already. You know, where Casey shows you the (explodable) center of Headspace operations?


>Who or what is Namway Co. and Headspace Corp.'s “Management”? What did they want with the clone of a snake? What do they want with a massive store of Law? If they're snakes... what does that mean?
They want to use the Law to end and remake the world they want it remade, they know Snakes have the mechanism/knowledge to do that, so they want to collect Snakes and force them to end the world.

>What kind of company(?) does Richard work for? What is its endgame? What does it want with you? What is its relationship with Management?
Snakes want to end the world but they want to do it the right way, unlike Namway.

>Who is Horse Face investigating, and why?
What, not who.

>Who wiped three years of your life from your memory? Why? Can Richard really not remember them either?
Richard. To keep Charlotte pliant. No, because he wants to keep Charlotte's memory double-blind.

>What is the Herald? Why does it keep showing up? What does it want? What are you supposed to forgive yourself for, exactly? (You haven't done anything wrong!)
It's Charlotte's delusional image of herself from the future from when her ego got too big right before the world ended trying to stop the world from ending.

>When is the world going to end? How?
Soon. Too much Law in one place.

>Do you have a destiny? Is it God-related? It's a good destiny, surely?
Yes. Probably. Yes.

>Why does Richard keep developing stab wounds?
Snake HQ is in London.

You can end the quest now, your mysteries have been solved.
>>
>>6110457
>>6110901
+1
>>
Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>6110655
>>6110853
>[2A]

>>6110901
>>6111056
>[2B]

Flipping for it.

>>6110655
Two of them are actually older pieces, but it's possible I haven't posted them before (or at least recently). I'm a big fan of the Ellery one too-- it reminds me of something from a contemporary art museum. tfw all my art is outdated since Charlotte literally stole his sun motif

>>6110901
Now this is some detectiving Charlotte would be proud of. You got one of these nearly right and four of these half-right. I will not tell you which.
>>
>>6111062
>[2A]

Writing.

By the way, since anon >>6110901 started the trend, I'd be interested in seeing other people's takes on the current Mysteries list. No pressure-- I'm not over here assigning homework-- but it's great information for me on the QM side, so I can laugh at how terribly wrong you guys are... just kidding. It's a good way for me to gauge how well I'm doling out info, as well as how clued-in I should be writing Charlotte (since I try to keep her roughly on par with player knowledge). Post if you feel up to it.
>>
Always a rough start getting back into writing after a while off, and you guys picked the longest and most complex option on my end (I'd expect no less). I spent a lot of time brainstorming and less time writing, so I'll have to get back to this tomorrow. At least it's a weekend.

In the meantime, consider >>6111064. For science! Maybe I'll even tell you how right you are.
>>
Alright. This is the absolute worst way to start a new thread, but I'm at the end of my rope. After two straight days of picking away at this update, I've concluded that I don't know how to write it in an interesting way. I think I need to try something new.

Quick FAQ first.

>What do you mean, it can't be written interestingly? It doesn't seem that bad.
The problem is less with the option itself and more with all the context and previous choices surrounding it. As anyone who read the last thread knows, it was a bitch to write and got more painful as it went, chiefly because almost no forward progress was being made. (Lots of sideways progress -- but you got no closer to your actual goal.) The Gil interlude was a fun change of pace and relieved some of my writing stress, but did nothing to solve the underlying issue of nothing happening. Similarly, sticking with Casey without guiding him to the goal... is still nothing happening. We're still in the mud, going nowhere.

>Can't you just make something happen?
I mean, yes. But throwing stuff in randomly doesn't necessarily benefit the narrative. It could just make things worse (more chaotic, move moving parts, even more difficult to write).

>Why did you offer the option if it's such a big issue?
I'm not psychic. If I'd known I'd have such a tough time, I wouldn't have offered it.

>skill issue lmao
I'm sure that a better QM could've made this work. Unfortunately, you're stuck with me!

>This seems like it's your problem, not ours.
I mean, yeah. You guys didn't do anything wrong individually. I'd also argue that I didn't do much wrong individually (except in hindsight): It was an unpredictable sequence of events that led to this, not anybody's "fault." Such is questing. That being said, since I'm writing this thing, my problem is everybody's problem (assuming we all want the story to continue).

>Is this railroading?
I mean... yes? Maybe? For a good cause? I'm not sure what you want me to say. Trains are best when they have scenic routes to many different destinations, not when they're derailed in a ditch, if you catch my strained extended metaphor. That being said, I do intend to offer some choices about how to proceed. See next post.

(1/2)
>>
YOUR CHOICES ON HOW TO PROCEED ARE:

>[1] Soft reset. Pick this option if you'd like to keep your current position (in Everard's body, Casey on goodish terms, Gil AWOL), but with a more obvious path forward. This option may feature temporary embarrassment for Charlotte, but no long-lasting consequences.

>[2] Backtrack and pick one of the [A]s instead. I unfortunately had more planned for these than I did the [B]s, so they lead to more interesting immediate outcomes. Pick this if you want the Gil and Charlotte brosquad back together as soon as possible, because otherwise it could be a while still.
>>[A] Pick [A1]-- sprinting after Gil. Casey may be a problem later, but you'll have time to regroup first.
>>[B] Pick [A2]-- a better method of contacting Gil. (Write-in.) Casey will be less of a problem.

>[3] Write what I voted for you hack: I will do my best to write [B1]. The result may be either boring or random-feeling, depending on what I end up with. Sorry.

Please vote. No, you can't pick [B2]-- it's better than [B1], but only marginally, and I'd rather either pivot completely or honor the winning vote. Thank you!
>>
>>6111805
>3
Bathing trying to pull a Sojourner on us here
>>
>>6111805
>>[1] Soft reset. Pick this option if you'd like to keep your current position (in Everard's body, Casey on goodish terms, Gil AWOL), but with a more obvious path forward. This option may feature temporary embarrassment for Charlotte, but no long-lasting consequences.

No shame in doing what works.
>>
>>6111805
>>2[A] Pick [A1]-- sprinting after Gil. Casey may be a problem later, but you'll have time to regroup first.

I was debating picking this anyways, so I'll go with this option though am also very OK with 1.
>>
>>6111805
>[3] Write what I voted for you hack: I will do my best to write [B1]. The result may be either boring or random-feeling, depending on what I end up with. Sorry.
>>
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>>6112025
>>6112095 ("very ok with")
>[1]

>>6112095
>[2]

>>6111880
>>6112165
>[3]

You guys aren't making this easy for me, are you? Let's compromise. You'll get all the info you would've gotten from [B1], then we'll soft reset and go from there. (And I do mean "soft" reset -- you won't be losing any progress, just time. Everything you've done will still have happened.)

Writing shortly.


>>6111880
>Bathing
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1c2OfAzDTI

> trying to pull a Sojourner
"Pulling a Sojourner" would be flaking due to a perceived lack of (you)s, no?
>>
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>Priorities

Last time you left Gil on his own, he wound up blabbing your whole secret plan to Casey. This is true. Last time you chased Gil down, Virginia wound up with a bolt through her eyesocket. This is also true. Can Gil take care of himself? He did shake off the brainwashing without your help— or you think he did. You're not sure why he would've bolted otherwise. And it's dim out, and beetles are sneaky, and there's no way he'd get brainwashed twice... positive thinking, right? Positive thinking. Just be happy he's safe.

>[+2 ID: 4/14]

Be happy, but don't look happy: Everard wouldn't. He'd be annoyed, you think. Disgusted. Things were already down the tubes, and now there's this? Is it even worthwhile to do business with these people? It appears they'd benefit more from the Hero-Queen than the Hero-Queen could possibly benefit from them. One asset killed and another on the loose, shambolic security, nonexistent management, and where is all the time and effort going? Frivolous human experiments? How are those part of the two-year strategy, again? Unless Mr. Kemper means to tell you that stretching a person to such great widths is critical to the Headspace mission? Look at him now, gone purple, practically vibrating, and yet— impotent. What is there for him to do?

You wait for him to say something, but he doesn't. You suppose it comes down to you. Er, to Everard: he's better at acting unhappy. "Vermin," he sniffs. "Good riddance."

Casey says nothing. He's not exactly scowling. Looking at him draws out memories of Richard, old Richard, bad Richard, mad Richard. Richard made sure you knew when he was mad, before, during, and after. He was smug, after. He was cruel, during. Before? Before he got mad, he had the face— all blank, flat, and his voice flat and calm, and if you didn't look in his eyes you wouldn't know clouds were darkening. Casey has the storm-warning face. Which isn't like him, you thought, considering all the, um... you thought he just got mad the regular way. Maybe this is different. He's still not responding.

"I wish it wouldn't have touched me," you have Everard continue. "I would've gotten out of the way. For what it's worth, I did think installing it in a guide role was a dubious—"

"Why don't you watch your mouth, Mr. Kurz?"

You're so surprised you stop talking.

"Fantastic. I didn't remember asking for your opinion. You know, this tour is a— it's an exclusive opportunity. This is a VIP experience. It could turn into something else, just as soon as I—" He mimes snapping his fingers. "Do remember that!"

Oh. You didn't think he was mad enough to threaten Everard. He probably doesn't mean it, right? You're just the convenient target. (He really is like Richard.) "Yes. It could turn into a fiasco. Or, let's see— it already has, hasn't it? Who shot this woman?"

(1/3?)
>>
"Nobody relevant to you, Everard."

"Wasn't she surrounded by two of your... your colleagues? They allowed this to happen? For that matter, the security—"

"The Management," Casey says, "is busy."

"There's a crossbow-wielding maniac afoot, and there's something more important than—?!"

"There was a targeted attack on the Brain."

"The Brain," Everard says.

"Headspace's. And as you might imagine, having it go kablooey at a critical moment could cause the tragic deaths of more than just one—"

"I was under the impression that the bomb threat had been averted? Was this woman—" You point down at Virginia. "—not the responsible party? You mean to say somebody else conducted a separate attack on the—"

"The perp is being identified. What does busy mean to you, Everard? Because it seems to mean something different than it does to—"

"How many intruders are there?"

It's not exactly that you're saying all this, or that you're making Everard say it. He's wanted to say it, and you're helping. Is it a wise idea to press Casey while he's in a state? Does it matter? Positive thinking. You want to see where you're going with this.

Casey hesitates. "Four. Three alive."

You scoff. "Four! In one day! Were they invited to a party? Is this typical for you? I have to imagine, with the kind of security system you have—"

"The security system was fried."

"And that's a point in your favor?" You probably didn't need to laugh in his face— you don't think Everard would do that, unless he were drunk— but you're having fun. Plus, you like the way the laugh sounds. Nice and weighty. You can't usually laugh like this, only titter. "You're incompetent. Your business is a joke. You let saboteurs run around with impunity—"

"Impunity, Kurz?" Casey leans down and yanks the bolt out of Virginia's face. It splurches. He holds it up to you. "Like this? Impunity?"

"So now you're taking credit for someone else's work? That wasn't you." You know it wasn't. Does he know who? "Who did this?"

"An ex-employee. A kook. Nobody of note. Are you having a good time on this tour, Mr. Kurz? Do you think you'll report back favorably?"

You laugh again, just to hear it. "Will I?"

"I'm sensing that you didn't have a good time, Mr. Kurz, and that just breaks my heart. I feel we really— we took a bad turn, somewhere. What you've seen isn't representative of what we do here, and it's as simple as that. Can we try again?"

"What?" you say.

Casey doesn't respond: he's too busy taking off his sunglasses, polishing them on his sleeve, and tucking them into his pocket. He looks up and his eyes (have gone? were always?) are yellow. "I think we better try again, Mr. Kurz. No hard feelings! Hold still, won't you?"

(2/3?)
>>
Sometimes, when Richard gets scary calm, he's getting all ready to explode. Sometimes, when he gets scary calm, it's when he's thought of something. Casey has thought of something, has, in fact, gripped the top of your head in one hand— and you could yell, but who'd come for you? You could fight the probe he's sinking into you, but you're sure he'd know— and then you'd be caught, and it'd be the tubes and the box and the red water for you again, or even worse. All you can do is ball yourself up, as small as you can, and let him do what he wants to Everard. Not to you. You'll be safe, for a certain measure of safe.

Why is it always snakes?



>[-1 ID: 3/14]

You are...

...Charlotte Fawkins. Yes, definitely. This isn't your body, but it's you in here. (Still no Richard, though.) Whose body is it? Last you checked, you possessed Virginia, but Virginia wasn't wearing gloves. You don't remember putting on gloves. You don't remember a lot, actually. You were falling? You jumped out a window, and you were falling, and you lost Gil. Is he still missing? He must've been spat out somewhere else, while you got spat out into... a different body? Does it work like that?

"How are you holding up, Mr. Kurz?"

Wait, you know that name. That's, um, the— that's Jean Ramsey's vile lackey! Who Casey was talking to! You're him?! Oh, God. You're not sure how you're holding up: you have a killer headache. Maybe from your vileness. Also, Casey Kemper is touching your shoulder. Gross! You wrench away.

"Sorry! Sorry. My bad. I know how you feel about the..." Casey waggles his fingers. Why is his chin bruised? "Regardless, it's been one hell of a tour, so if you're flagging— energy-wise, I mean— there's no shame in that! No shame at all. In fact, at Headspace, we have something for that. I'd be happy to share if you—"

"Where are we?" you say.

Casey closes his fist around a little baggie. "Right! Yes! Welcome, Mr. Kurz, to Headspace's Edutainment Facility!"

He thrusts his arms out, like he's showing you something really awesome, but truthfully it's hard to see what you're looking at at all. You're up on some kind of balcony, you think, above a maze-like complex of rooms, except you can't really see what's in them: the lighting everywhere is uncomfortably dim, and for some God-forsaken reason it's cycling between all different colors. Admittedly, you've never seen lights that do that before, but isn't it obvious why nobody's bothered?

Also: "...Edutainment?" Entertainment and edu— oh. Education? Is that right? You better be right.

(3/4)
>>
"Short for Education-Containment, Mr. Kurz. Here at Headspace, we're in a privileged position— a very privileged position— to really explore the depths of the human mind. It's our duty, I think, to expand the common knowledge on what people are—"

"That's the education part," you say. (Stupid Casey and his stupid fake words.) "What about the containment?"

"Ah! Yes. Well, sometimes, the results of this exploration... we need to keep them somewhere, don't we? In luxurious accommodations, I assure you. We'll be touring the best of the best, Mr. Kurz, no shoddy back rooms, no temporary containment spaces, no incidents—"

"What?" you say.

"And, of course, I'd be thrilled to serve as your personal guide— as I have been doing, naturally. You're far too important to be pawned off! Ha-ha! Would you come right this way?" Casey beckons you toward a moving staircase.

As you approach, he dangles the baggie. "Oh— and if you are tired, I have a pick-me-up! Phenomenal at pumping your energy up. Simple. Works instantly. Ask anybody— we all use it. Stimmies, they call 'em. Not my name! But if you're interested, Mr. Kurz, please let me know."

>[A1] Yes, actually. The headache's only getting worse. This could be what you need to keep yourself going. (Gain ID.)
>[A2] No! No way! You're not taking creepy Headspace drugs from creepy Casey Kemper. You'll power through using positive thinking, like you always do.

>[B1] You're sorry, you're still confused. Whose minds are getting explored here? (...Surely not nonconsenting Headspace employees? You probably know, but you want to hear it from Casey.)
>[B2] Are the lights like that on purpose? And if so, can they, um, be put on a normal setting? They're not helping your head.
>[B3] Has Casey happened to hear about any escaped beetles? For no reason, of course.
>[B4] Was this Edutainment thing Casey's idea, or Management's? For that matter, does Casey work for Management, or does Management work for Casey? You still don't understand the relationship.
>[B5] You're sure this facility is cool, or whatever, but why exactly is it on the tour route? Is it important for Everard, and thus Jean Ramsey, to know about? If it got exploded, would that be bad?
>[B6] Is his chin okay? It looks kind of messed up.
>[B7] Write-in.
>>
>>6112454
Fucking Casey and his memory wipes. Is this the "soft reset"?
>[A1] Yes, actually. The headache's only getting worse. This could be what you need to keep yourself going. (Gain ID.)
>[B5] You're sure this facility is cool, or whatever, but why exactly is it on the tour route? Is it important for Everard, and thus Jean Ramsey, to know about? If it got exploded, would that be bad?
>>
>>6112454
>A1
>B6
Yes drugs please all the drugs
>>
>>6112454
>[A1] Yes, actually. The headache's only getting worse. This could be what you need to keep yourself going. (Gain ID.)
>[B6] Is his chin okay? It looks kind of messed up.
>>
>>6112871
>>6112987
>>6112469
>[A1]
>[B5] + [B6]

Writing.

>>6112469
>Fucking Casey and his memory wipes. Is this the "soft reset"?
Yes.
>>
>Yes, I would love some drugs

He's not trying to poison you, right? Probably? You're Everard Kurz, his honored guest, and you have no reason to believe he suspects otherwise. Plus, you know he's not lying about stimmies being common— you heard all about them during your first Headspace tour. (Poor Casey, always stuck giving tours.) Double-plus, it's not like it's that different from Richard's "pick-me-up," right? You don't know what he puts in your blood, and you're still alive and kicking. This can't be worse. It could even be better.

"Er," you say, "I am interested, yes."

"Fabulous!" Casey shakes out the baggie and deposits two pills into your hand. His bruise is fresh-looking— all red.

You look down at the pills, then up at him. "Did something happen to your chin?"

"Nope! Gave it a little bump. Occupational hazard. Thanks for asking, Mr. Kurz. Now, do you need water—" Mysteriously, Casey taps his throat. "—or are you man enough to swallow them dry?"

The pills aren't very big. "Dry? Yes. Dry. Because I'm very manly, and, um... you know." You work up your spit, then choke down both pills at once. Their aftertaste is sweeter than you expected. You don't drop dead, which you consider a good sign. "There."

"Excellent! Do tell me how you take to them. Now, we're just down this way, so please— after you."

It's not that you were feeling bad, exactly. Nothing bad had happened yet, unless you count losing Gil, but you know you'll find him again. You were just beat-down for no good reason at all. Did you get enough sleep last night? Did the fall rattle you more than you thought? Whatever the reason for the malaise, it's gone now. Yup. You take one step onto the moving staircase and the fog lifts, the birds sing, the sun shines, and your hands shake. You're taking to them, all right. You could take to this more often.

>[+3 ID: 6/14]
>[TEMPORARILY GAINED: Twitchy -- -5 to rolls involving fine motor skills]

You march in place as the staircase inches downward, in one case jogging down a few steps then jogging back up: you'd rush all the way down, except Casey's doing a thing, and you don't want to be rude. You don't think Everard would be rude. Still, you wish Casey would do his thing faster. What happened was, you stepped on, then a jaunty tune started playing, and there was a puff of smoke— you thought it was the staircase malfunctioning, the smoke. But then, off the side of the staircase, there was a gout of flame. This actually scared you more. But then there were confetti, and butterflies, and you looked down and saw the rainbow lighting cycling in time with the music, and you looked back and saw Casey doing something with his hands. So it's a dramatic entrance sort of thing, is what you've concluded. Does this happen every time somebody heads down to the Edutorium? That must get really annoying.

https://youtu.be/_kZDScT9wz0?si=MexTSG6nbDdUYGMx

(1/3)
>>
The music swells, water jets overhead, flames gout once more (you guess Casey is running out of ideas), and you are deposited in a dimly, obnoxiously lit chamber. All around you are shiny tinted-glass walls and shiny chrome fixtures and barred doors and numbers: 021, 022, 023...

The music's still playing, though more quietly. Casey steps off behind and skirts around you. "Welcome to the Edutainment Facility! How did you enjoy that? Better than rushing around in some dingy backrooms, no?"

"What?" you say.

Casey's grin fades a little.

"Oh. Uh, this is a cool... place." Are you talking how Everard would talk? Maybe you should bring him back. Casey doesn't seem suspicious, though. "Yes. Why are we here? I mean, is this relevant to Jean— to the Hero-Queen? Or is it a critical part of Headspace infrastructure? I am interested in seeing all the most critical parts of your infrastructure, because I'm interested in— I like infrastructure." Uhhh. Damnit. "It's actually sort of a hobby of mine, infra—"

"A critical part of the infrastructure? No, no. Edutainment was a later addition, Mr. Kurz, highly recommended by our esteemed Management. It operates separately from Headspace's typical business plan. Call it our private research wing, if you like. In addition to being conceived by our Management, it's also primarily operated by... dammit! Where'd they go?"

You watch, bouncing your ankle, as Casey turns in a perfect circle and sets off directly forward. Finally, action! You hurry to keep pace. "What's happening?"

"Oh! Nothing! I just thought that you should meet—" Casey checks his wristwatch. "—thought you should meet the Management, since they play such an important role in the operations, and it'd be odd if you didn't, wouldn't it? Very odd, very dissatisfying, and I want the best tour possible for you, Mr. Kurz, and— hey! Wait up!" Ahead of you, a dark figure has swiped open one of the doors. Blessed white light pours out. "We had this agreed on!"

The figure stops and turns slowly. (Perhaps resignedly.) "Yes."

"Yes! So don't try to get out of it, or I'll have you— there'll be a note on your profile. Ahem. Hello! This is Mr. Everard Kurz."

The Manager in front of the door is sleek and black-suited and must be blind: there's no way he sees anything in this kind of light with those kind of sunglasses. Unlike the other Managers you've seen, he has a neat pencil mustache and a spiral-shaped lapel pin. "Hello," he says. "Mr. Everard Kurz."

"You know me. And, Mr. Kurz, this is..." Casey doesn't just trail off: he stops completely, frowns, and pushes up his sunglasses. "...One sec!"

(2/3)
>>
You bounce the other ankle and watch with interest as Casey whispers to the Manager. It's not exactly a conversation— he's saying most of it, and the Manager hardly anything— and, despite your noted eavesdropping skills, you can't make out a single word. You can't even lip-read. Either Casey is good at obscuring his speech, or he's not saying words you know. Still, he withdraws and clears his throat. "This is Jerry."

That can't possibly be right, but it's not like Everard would know better. You can't press it. "Hello... Jerry."

The Manager inclines his head. "How may I serve as assistance?"

"'Be of' assistance, Jerry. 'Be of.' This is— they gotta upgrade— listen, you're going to answer this young man's questions, got it? For the tour."

"Any question?"

"Well, you're going to use your best judgement, aren't you? It's not rocket surgery, Jerry. I'm standing right here. You're going to help us out—"

"I'm busy," Jerry says warningly.

"We're all fucking busy, Jerry. You were the least busy. That's why you're here. Now go on." Casey elbows you. "Ask away!"

>You may pick multiple, but Jerry's already antsy. Choose with discretion.

>[1] ...So how are things going, Jerry? How does he like the job?
>[2] Headspace's Management are big fans of Jean Ramsey's. You, being Everard Kurz and nobody else, appreciate this. But, um, why? Do they like big axes? Do they condone stealing? What gives?
>[3] Where was Jerry going just now? What's through the door? Why can't they light the whole place that way? If you weren't stimmied up, you might've graduated to a migraine by now.
>[4] So, uh, what prompted Management to construct the Edutainment Facility? It's very impressive-looking, though you haven't seen much edutainment yet.
>[5] Could he clarify Management's role in all this? You've gotten the impression that they run the show, but... did Casey strike a deal from the start?
>[6] If you could see one awesome thing in the Edutainment Facility, what would he recommend?
>[7] Tell Jerry that you like his sunglasses.
>[8] Write-in.
>>
>>6113184
>[4] So, uh, what prompted Management to construct the Edutainment Facility? It's very impressive-looking, though you haven't seen much edutainment yet.
>[5] Could he clarify Management's role in all this? You've gotten the impression that they run the show, but... did Casey strike a deal from the start?
>[6] If you could see one awesome thing in the Edutainment Facility, what would he recommend?
>[7] Tell Jerry that you like his sunglasses.
>>
>>6112933
Out of the hole where the doctors head was a massive cock arises. The detective is too stunned to react as the cock doctor launches it down her throat.
As he pulls out she has a pained expression, quivering. Suddenly her head explodes. Anoth cock rises. The cock zombie apocalypse has begun.
>>
>>6113184
>5, 4, 6, 3
In that order
Jerry is the weakest link among Managers for sure, all the others were intimidating and in control but Jerry can't even talk right.
>>
>>6113184
>>[3] Where was Jerry going just now? What's through the door? Why can't they light the whole place that way? If you weren't stimmied up, you might've graduated to a migraine by now.
>>[4] So, uh, what prompted Management to construct the Edutainment Facility? It's very impressive-looking, though you haven't seen much edutainment yet.
>>[5] Could he clarify Management's role in all this? You've gotten the impression that they run the show, but... did Casey strike a deal from the start?
>>[6] If you could see one awesome thing in the Edutainment Facility, what would he recommend?
>>
>>6113199
>>6113568
>>6113197
>[4]
>[5]
>[6]

>>6113199
>>6113568
>[3]

>>6113197
>[7]

Called for >>6113199's ordering of [5], [4], [6], [3] and writing.

>>6113199
>Jerry is the weakest link among Managers for sure, all the others were intimidating and in control but Jerry can't even talk right.
The very first Managers you saw in person, way back in Thread 25, were also a tad ESL. How they compare to Jerry is an open question.
>>
>Gimme the skinny

Wow! A chance to ask a Manager questions without them trying to kill you? Not that Jerry won't still try to kill you, but at least you have a shot at learning something useful. You clear your throat. "Yes. Er, it's nice to— it's a pleasure to meet you. I was wondering, actually, about the Management. What jurisdiction do you have over Headspace? Were you there from its founding, or..."

"Headspace Corporation is Mr. Kemper's brainchild," Jerry says stolidly. "The Management does not claim ownership of its intellectual property. Mr. Kemper founded the business and brought on several employees before it came to our attention."

"What brought it to your attention?"

Jerry pauses. You can't see his eyes, but you feel sure he's looking at Casey. "We were acquainted with one of the early hires. Regardless, we made an offer, which Mr. Kemper accepted."

"To buy Headspace?" Does Management use money?

"To assist in its development. It was decided that Mr. Kemper would retain his status as founder and director, and we would serve in a supervisory and advisory capacity—"

You stick your hands in your pockets. "A managerial one, you mean?"

Jerry looks blankly at you.

"Um... never mind." Weirdos. "Officially speaking, are you Mr. Kemper's boss?"

"We are hierarchically neutral," he says.

"Equals!" Casey corrects. "Equals. I consider myself very fortunate to have so many fine people pitching in on—"

He keeps going, but you get the idea. They're on level ground, allegedly. So why does Casey get to boss Jerry around? No way a Manager would be doing a Q&A unless he was made to. For that matter, why would Management respect an equal deal at all? Everything you know about them suggests they'd want total control. Is there something special about Casey? Or... do they think Casey will do what they want him to do, no matter what? Maybe he's blackmailed, like Ellery was. Or maybe he—

"Is that all?" Jerry is pointedly checking his wristwatch. You didn't think Management would have watches, but if they did, you guess it'd be this kind: rather than a clock, it has little numbers telling the time. It's at too odd of an angle for you to read them, though.

"No," you say. "Uh, hang on. So you signed on to assist in Headspace's development. Does that mean you helped with the manse? Did Management build the Edu-center?"

"The Edutainment Facility," Jerry says, a touch irritated. "And yes. We directed this initiative."

You figured as much: that's what Casey said. See, you were listening, kind of. "What caused you to direct it? I ask because it's... it's not exactly like the rest of Headspace." Even architecturally, it isn't. The only bright colors in here come from the lighting. "It's weird to— it's unusual to spend so much time and effort on something so separate from the rest of Headspace's agenda. Is there a good justification for it?"

"It is not separate," Jerry says.

(1/3?)
>>
"Oh." Maybe you should've expected that. "How so?"

"We wish to achieve a brighter future. The data gathered here is valuable for that purpose."

A brighter future. Have you heard that before? It rings a bell, but only a little tinkly jingly one. Still... "Is that why you all wear sunglasses?"

Zero reaction from Jerry. You press on. "Because you're looking for a brighter future? And it's bright? And it hurts your eyes, because it's bright, so you're..."

"Haw-haw!" That's Casey, and that's Casey slapping your back (you flinch). The laugh sounds a tad forced. "Look at you, Kurz! Sense of humor way down in there somewhere. I'm sorry to say that Jerry has none."

Jerry, checking his watch again, doesn't react to the sound of his name.

"It's congenital, you see. He could have one if he really worked at it, but it's not so easy, coming from..." Casey wobbles his hand back and forth, but doesn't elaborate. "I suggest a different line of questioning. Try straightforward. They appreciate that, being straightforward."

You can imagine. "Okay. Jerry. Jerry?" (Jerry finally looks up.) "What's your favorite place in the Edutainery? Or favorite test subject, or whatever. Imagine that I can't see everything. What shouldn't I miss? What's the most awesome—"

During your spiel, Jerry's expression has been shifting— from indifference, through bemusement, all the way to... you have to be getting this wrong. You're not that good at reading faces. Dread? He turns to look at Casey, who shrugs. "He wants the inside baseball, Jerry."

The inside what? Whatever. Jerry wets his lips. "Is the intention to seek objective rankings?"

"Your opinion, Jerry."

Jerry glances back at you. "I have no—"

"Dammit, man, make one up! Is it your first day out of the office?"

"No." There's a long silence. Jerry pushes up his sunglasses. "...I have found interest in the display of the human carcass. I trust it is Segment Three. It showcases the decomposition of the carcass into its gross constituent matter. I believe it took skill on the part of the display-maker to isolate the pure components, rather than allowing them into a stew, as is typical for the decomposition. It is worth admiring this."

"Jerry," Casey says. "That's not— that's not suitable for a guest, let alone a—"

"What pure components?" you say.

"Blood and mud. Blood is further divisible into water and crystal."

"Thanks," you say.

Jerry nods.

"...Would you recommend anything else?"

Casey is starting to look exasperated, which you consider a win. Jerry's lips purse slightly. "The most awesome location?"

"Or thing, or..."

"Inside the Edutainment Facility?"

"Yes?" That's what you intended. "But if you have a different idea, that's okay too."

"To inspire awe," Jerry says seriously, "look upon the glorious mechanisms of the BrainWyrm."

Huh? Wait. "The Wyrm?"

(2/3?)
>>
"No. The BrainWyrm." With one hand, Jerry points straight up: you follow his finger past the staircase, past the twisting pipes, past the undersides of floating office-spheres, all the way up to the moon. Not the moon. Another sphere, same as the rest, but pulsing irregular white.

At the same time, he points to the floor. You're not sure why.

Casey steps forward. "How about we keep it inside the facility! The Brain's a little— that's a different stop! If we make it that far. Quite a jaunt, Jerry, if you haven't forgotten, and it's hardly in the condition to... ahem. I'll be sure to take you around to the best we have to offer, Mr. Kurz, as I said, and if Jerry isn't that busy—"

"I'm busy," Jerry says.

"He's not that busy. He could at least show us inside here, couldn't he? It's not too sensitive?"

Casey's tone doesn't brook much argument. Jerry pushes open the door, and you file inside after the two of them. Inside the door is a— it must be a manse of its own, right? A mini-manse? You stand in the middle of a wide-open plain, the sun high and hot upon you. There's no landmarks anywhere, not even the door you came from.

"Remind me, Jerry, which—?"

"The subject is agoraphobic," Jerry says, and picks a burr off his slacks.

"Right! Yes. Agoraphobic. I'm sure you can see how this'd impact them, then, Mr. Kurz what you see is infinite in all directions. How are they holding up, by the by? What was the last time this one was inspected?"

"I was just about to."

"Don't lie, Jerry. If I remember right, it's about time to cycle out the conditions, no? Wouldn't want to extinguish the fear! Ha-ha. Nothing to learn that way. Can you locate...?"

Jerry sticks two fingers into the wind, then sets off. How far do you walk? Infinitely far, you guess. But then you're there, or actually Casey is there, stopped so short you nearly tripped on him. You can't see his face, but his posture has changed completely.

"-----!"

He says a word you don't know. You think it's probably a curse word, by the context. Jerry, who lagged behind, hustles over. (It's funny to think of a Manager hustling. The perks of hanging around Casey?) Whatever word he says is under his breath, but you assume it's the same one.

On the ground is a dead man. He's been shot through the forehead by a crossbow bolt. In between the bolt and the head is a blood-spattered note.

Casey is breathing kind of hard. "Mr. Kurz," he says.

Huh? Oh, God, that's you. "...Yes?"

"Jerry will escort you outside and wait with you. I'll be back in a moment."

>[1] Write-in. (Optional).

Real options when I'm capable of it (ETA ~8 hours from now). If you have ideas before then, please feel free to write them in, and I'll take them into consideration when writing the slate.
>>
>>6113813
>Try and sneak a peek at the note
I wanna see how Ellery talks shit to Casey
>>
>>6113813
>>6113865

Back in a moment? What is Casey hiding? Or, no, wrong question. There's one person who'd use a crossbow over a gun, one person who'd assassinate a prisoner, one person who knows your plan, one person who'd ignore you, no matter how emphatically you told him not to come. Ellery was here. Is here? How recent was the shooting? There's nowhere for him to hide, unless...

The grass rustles in the wind, unless it isn't the wind. Casey gestures sharply to Jerry. "Go on."

>[1] No. Everard might not know anything about Ellery, but you do, and you need to read that note. You need to know what he's planning.
>>[A] Play it straight. Argue that, as an honored guest, you should be privy to anything that might affect the tour schedule. You expect your business partners to be honest with you, after all. [Roll.]
>>[B] Play it tough. If your life might be in danger, you refuse to be pushed around— Casey can treat Jerry like that, but he can't treat *you* like that. You won't be going anywhere. [Roll.]
>>[C] Play it smart. If you can prove your worth to Casey, he might treat you as less irrelevant. Is there a way you can tell if Ellery's still here? (Write-in.)
>>[D] Write-in.

>[2] Fine. You can't risk blowing your cover arguing about this, not when you can eavesdrop about it later. Leave and wait briefly with Jerry.

>[3] Write-in.
>>
>>6114080
>1A
It’s our responsibility to get the full picture of events here for the Hero Queen, and we pretend to take that very seriously
>>
>>6114080
>[1] No. Everard might not know anything about Ellery, but you do, and you need to read that note. You need to know what he's planning.
>[B] Play it tough. If your life might be in danger, you refuse to be pushed around— Casey can treat Jerry like that, but he can't treat *you* like that. You won't be going anywhere. [Roll.]
>>
Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>6114138
>>6114225
Flipping between the [1]s.
>>
>>6114239
>[1A]

Alright. I need dice.

>Please roll me 3 1d100s (+10 In Character, +5 Extracommunion) vs. DC 68 (+10 Not Again, +5 Minor Suspicions, +3 Jerry) to convince Casey to spill the beans!

&

Spend 1 ID for +10 to all rolls? You are at 6/14 ID.
>[1] Y
>[2] N
>>
Rolled 41 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>6114245
>No spendy
>>
Rolled 90 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>6114245
y
>>
Rolled 72 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>6114245
>y
>>
>>6114252
>>6114280
>>6114344
>66, 115, 97 vs. DC 68 -- Success
>Spendy

Nice. Writing.
>>
Ugh. I pushed myself to obscene levels of sleep deprivation all weekend to make up for that double-skipped update, but something's gotta give. I'll be back tomorrow.

In the meantime, take a noncanon (or is it...?) doodle comic.
>>
>>6114379
Cute...
>>
File: ellery - @nitroszczur.png (2.1 MB, 1070x928)
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>Excuse me
>66, 115, 97 vs. DC 68 - Success
>Spendy

No chance you're leaving, not when Ellery's involved. Damnit! Of course he has to mess everything up, just like usual. You bet he wrote something stupid on the stupid note, and he probably spelled it wrong— but you won't know until for sure you get to look, and you won't get to look until Casey lets you.

Which he will. Positive thinking. You have to do it right, though, because pushing too hard might blow your cover. You're not exactly sure how aggressive Everard is, but from what you remember he seems kind of prissy. Which... is a point against him wanting to see a bloodstained note, but it's fine. It's fine! You'll make him talk, so you don't look suspicious— but he won't get a choice in what he's saying, if you wrangle it correctly.

When you wrangle it correctly, you mean. It's not that hard. Why did Richard get so upset about this possession stuff being hard? You've practiced with Claudia and everything: all you have to do is shrug Everard on, like a thick overcoat, and let him have your mouth. His mouth? Whatever. You're going ahead with it.

>[-1 ID: 5/14]

It's bad weather for overcoats. Oof. You're stifling inside here, and Everard is irritated, disgusted (the dust! the blood!), and distracted by your incessant leg-bouncing. The dead body is also a major concern, chiefly because it speaks to a total failure by the security team. You don't have to do much coaxing to get him to speak up. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kemper, but this is unacceptable. What's happened here?"

Casey acquires a tight grin. "If it was something relevant to the tour, I would—"

"Mr. Kemper, this is a dead body. Are dead bodies common here at Headspace?"

Casey looks at Jerry. "Well..."

"You wouldn't want to be concealing any negatives to your operations here, would you? I am bound to give a complete and honest report to my employer. Her agreement to your terms is not a given. I will gladly inform her that you attempted to conceal a murder, if that's the route you intend to go down."

Wow! Everard has more guts then you expected. You guess he got hired (sworn in?) for a good reason. Casey's grin calcifies. "Mr. Kurz, I don't think you understand—"

"I don't think you understand. Why don't you tell me who did this, since you seem to recognize it so strongly? Or am I mistaken, and you have zero intel on who was—"

"We have intel, Mr. Kurz."

"And?"

In response, Casey bends down and rips the note off the bolt. He grips it in two fingers. "...Former employee. He had a disagreement with some business decisions. We took measures to prevent him from leaking anything, and he's been taking out his petty frustrations for— how long, Jerry? A few years?"

"Petty frustrations like murder, Mr. Kemper?"

(1/3)
>>
"Don't be melodramatic, Kurz. If it was serious, we would've put him down. Better to allow a little venting so he doesn't do anything stupid, no?" Casey cocks his head. "What can I say— kid has a screw loose. Worked for a long time, too! No skin off our back! But somebody got to him."

You. You got to him. "Who?"

"...We're working on it. What matters is, he's off the rocker. Total nutcase. Broke in, has been causing a couple issues— we've been tracking him, but sightings are spotty. Uh, he's a bit of a freak. Goes invisible. Thus the difficulty. Jerry, we have a map, right?"

Jerry passes Casey a rolled-up piece of paper. Casey stashes the note in his pocket (damnit!) and unfurls the map. The structures on it are esoteric, and the writing illegible, but it's marked with a spatter of red X's— and a dotted line between them. The line zigzags to the right, then doubles back briefly, then vanishes.

You tap the end of the line. "Is that near where we are?"

"Not even close. We, ah..." Casey rubs his thumb against the map's edge. "We're having a couple challenges with the CCTV, but we have our best people on it, Mr. Kurz! This whole thing is a kerfuffle, that's for certain, but it's nothing you have to worry about. Two shakes of a lamb's tail, and it'll be—"

"But he was here," you say. "Recently. Right?"

"..." The corner's of Casey's mouth go down. "Jerry, add 025 to the map. Thanks."

Your detective wheels are starting to turn. Does that make sense? Does one have detective wheels? "Wait, but how'd he get in here?"

"Mr. Kurz, there's no need for you to—"

"The doors are all super-locked, right? You'd need a passcode. And why kill somebody here specifically? It's just a dumb field. It's not even real torturing." You're bouncing your leg even faster. "Wait a minute."

Casey sighs.

"Jerry had the door held open. While we were talking. It was making the white light. Does time go faster in here?"

Jerry nearly drops the pen, he turns on his heel so fast. Casey is a little slower on the uptake. "If it does," you say, "and if, for example, we were being followed, and if he slipped in while the door was open, he'd have plenty of time to write a note and shoot the guy."

"Very funny, Kurz." Casey doesn't think you're funny. "I assure you, we'd know if we were—"

You're not the one to cut him off. Jerry, who's been wheeling around, freezes suddenly and points with two fingers. Casey stops and turns and whips off his sunglasses.

(2/3)
>>
The grass rustles. It's been rustling the whole time. But now, where Jerry points, it parts— and keeps parting, further and further away, as if (to use a random example!) somebody invisible were sprinting away from you. You go for The Sword. Then you think better of it: you clap your sword hand over your eye. Everard Kurz has two good eyes, except when he's you. When he's you, and you're thinking about it, you can see the sparse flat lines of the manse— and an awkward bright tangle, half triangular, lined up exactly with the parting grass.

The nerve of the bastard!

>[1] Goddamn Ellery! First he hides all his stupid secrets, then he flips out on you for no reason, then he crashes *your* bombing plan?! You don't care what Casey wants to do with him— you just want to see the look on his face when he's caught. Pitch in.
>>[A] Everard can't plausibly do most of the things you can do— but you can't plausibly do some of what he can do, either. What Laws does he know, again? (Choose which Law to direct at Ellery: [SINK], [SEAL], or [ARM].)
>>[B] A long time ago, you won a direct fight against Ellery. He acts all tough, like he can't get hurt, but that's just his dumb fake body— his strings are vulnerable, aren't they? And you can see them? Surely you can do something with them? (Wyrm's Dead Eye) [Roll.]
>>[C] Ellery isn't that special in the grand scheme of things. *You're* special. And if you say he can't escape, he can't: it's as simple as that. (Advanced Advanced Gaslighting.) [Roll.]
>>[D] Write-in.

>[2] You really do hate Real Ellery, and you're going to blow up Headspace in his face and laugh. Trouble is, you can't blow up Headspace in his face if Casey shreds him first, so you don't feel like stopping him. Purposefully do nothing.

>[3] As above, but you really, really don't want to see him caught right now. If he spends time annoying Casey, it's actually a win for you: he's not blowing up Headspace, and he's stopping Casey from tracking down Gil (or catching onto you). You need to make sure he gets out of here
>>[A] Using a specific method? (Write-in.) [Possible roll.]
>>[B} You'll figure something out. [Roll.]

>[4] Write-in.

I know! You were supposed to look at the note! Unfortunately, the structure of the update didn't work out that way, and I ran out of time to go back and rework. You have my sacred pledge as a QM that 1) you will get to see it soon and 2) you didn't lose any options or miss anything relevant by not seeing it immediately. On the bright side, here's me cashing in my promise to have you look at Ellery's strings IC. Only took 3 threads...?
>>
>>6115078
>1A
Hit him with the SINKer

3 is pretty appealing but if we let him run free and wild he might actually blow himself up which we don’t want

>On the bright side, here's me cashing in my promise to have you look at Ellery's strings IC.
Finally, and he’s just a weird triangle
>>
File: strings visualized.png (1.24 MB, 1946x1959)
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>>6115127
>Finally, and he’s just a weird triangle
You knew that already :^)
>>
>>6115078
>[3B]
>>
>>6115188
Not only did I forget, I think I made a very similar comment when we first saw that image
>>
>>6115078
>1A
>SINK
>>
>>6115078
>[3] As above, but you really, really don't want to see him caught right now. If he spends time annoying Casey, it's actually a win for you: he's not blowing up Headspace, and he's stopping Casey from tracking down Gil (or catching onto you). You need to make sure he gets out of here
>[B] You'll figure something out. [Roll.]
>>
Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>6115127
>>6115386
>[1A] (SINK)

>>6115447
>>6115198
>[3B]

A tie! And for polar opposites! Let's see what the dice say.
>>
Rolled 77, 11, 86, 40, 63, 85, 92, 32, 87 = 573 (9d100)

>>6115492
>[1A]

Alright. You're going all in. You don't need a roll for this (though [SINK] is a one-time use)... but everybody else does. Please hold.

Dice for Ellery: 3d100 + 40 (+20 Head Start, +10 Half-Real, +10 Slippery) vs. DC 85 (+30 [SUNK],+5 Outnumbered)
Dice for Casey: 3d100 + 22 (+20 ???, +7 BFG, -5 Slow On The Uptake) vs. DC 85 (+20 Distance, +20 Small Moving Target, -5 Home Turf)
Dice for Jerry: 3d100 + 15 (+20 Management, +5 Got the Jump, -10 Boss Is Watching) vs. DC 85 (+20 Distance, +20 Small Moving Target, -5 Home Turf)


>>6115318
Probably. The idea behind it is that like Real Ellery, it's a weird amalgam of real (organic-looking) and unreal (rigid straight lines) strings.
>>
>>6115554
>Ellery: Success
>Casey: Success
>Jerry: Success

We have an even playing field. Ellery narrowly wins the tiebreak by virtue of a higher modifier (+40 vs. +22 or +15). Writing shortly.
>>
File: ZAP.jpg (34 KB, 280x392)
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>Show hole
>Ellery: Success
>Casey: Success
>Jerry: Success


You don't have time to stew. All of a sudden Casey has a gun, but not a normal gun, a too-big two-handed thing, blue and purple and fat-gripped, and you wouldn't know it was a gun except for the trigger on it. When he pulls it, lightning snaps out in all directions, turning the field all white grass and black shadow— then it goes, and it's black grass and black smoke, but Ellery's still moving. It didn't reach him.

You blink bruised spots from your eyes as Casey pumps the gun and Jerry reaches and grabs thin air. You unwillingly slide an inch toward him. Casey slides an inch toward him, then steps back like nothing happened. There's a tremble in the distant grass: Ellery must've stumbled, but he recovers quick. Just a stumble, he might've thought. A root, a rock, a caught toe. Not Jerry, stone-faced, sunglasses reflecting cold sky, twisting the world around his hand and yanking it up above his head and back, so the flat ground rears up wavelike and makes a wall. Ahead of you was grass and open air and Ellery somewhere; now it is grass and grass and grass and Ellery, there in the real world, a pale shape falling. You see his arms flail and feel bad, but only a tiny bit. You told him not to come.

Casey has recharged the lightning gun. He doesn't seem to be enjoying himself: his face is set at narrow angles. He doesn't thank Jerry. Against your will, you also feel a tiny bit bad for Jerry, even though he helps run a torture prison. By the time you quash it, Ellery has vanished. He's not where he landed. Bodiless again? Except, no: Casey's gun is pointed up.

Ellery is there, clinging to the grass wall, feet dug into the dirt. Maybe he's used foul alchemy to achieve this; maybe it's good enough to have limbs like climbing spikes. It's too far to tell. Where does he plan to go from here, though? There's nowhere to climb up to, and down leads to Casey and Jerry and your fine self. At the moment, he's just clinging. You're searching for plausible escape routes— he has to go somewhere— and miss the moment he twists and points the crossbow. You only become aware when Casey ducks.

He didn't need to. The bolt has sailed implausibly far already, and it continues on its merry way far over your heads. It's hard to gauge the angle from his distance, you suppose, to say nothing of when you're trying not to fall off a cliff. Alternatively, Ellery is incompetent.

Either way, he dangles there a moment longer— then Casey aims and fires, not a fat blast, but a fast screaming bolt of lightning. It hits Ellery bang on and flowers black, and then he's falling again, smoking and flaking, and there's a burnt kind of leathery kind of smell. You think it's those two things that do it. The pinwheeling fall— his evident weakness— and then the smell like something cooking. Prey. You will find where he lands, you will leap upon him, you will—

(1/2)
>>
There's heat on your back. Why did you think the smoke-smell was Ellery? It's too close! You pivot as Casey pivots and Jerry pivots and you see what they see: encroaching flames. A grass fire. The hunger dies stillborn: will it hurt you? Can you flee? You can't stop it. You start fires; you don't stop them. That's how it's always been.

That's ringing false. Why is it ringing false? You don't stop... you don't... you. You, Charlotte Fawkins, start fires. You channel the glorious power of The Sword, and you righteously purge the tainted world of its tainted...ness, and stuff. That's what you do, with The Sword, when you have it. In your own body.

You, Everard Kurz, aren't generally of much use. You've been crammed down deep in there, too deep to see, too deep to think, but your self-preservation runs deeper still. You put out fires. That's what you were hired for. Scouring the world clean is a bonus. You have Law carved into you, as deep as it gets, and the one that stands above all is:

"[SINK.]" You say it without knowing. You say it at Ellery, and the ground where he landed drops out: not crumbling, just sagging hard, like a rock in a blanket. He's in a hole now, a deep one. You're not sure how deep. You're not sure if manses have floors. You can't discuss this with Jerry or Casey, because you've unstuck something down in you, and now you can't stop the water coming out of your mouth. It tastes cold and fresh, for whatever it's worth, but it's pouring from your throat like a faucet on full, with no discernable source or end in sight. If you try to close your mouth, it fills your cheeks, starts backing up into your nose— when you start dribbling water from your nostrils, you relent, and spew it at the ground. You are getting your nice shoes wet. Damnit!

The thing is, Everard is unconcerned. Not like you're asking him, exactly. It just feels that way. There's no urgency here, not like the fire— which is maybe ten seconds away, though it's bound to avoid your new damp patch. Is this normal for him? How... your throat? You feel it. It's turtlenecked. Underneath that— you grasp it— is a valve.

Turn the valve and the water ceases. Your front is soaked. Five seconds before the fire hits.

>[1] Okay... fine. Whatever. Buy time for Jerry and Casey to do what they're doing: you'll turn the valve back and put the grass fire out with your mouth. It may be the stupidest sentence you've thought of this week, but you don't have time to quibble.

>[2] Come on. You're not doing that. Rush away from the fire, toward Ellery's new pit, and see what's going on (quickly).
>>[A] If you see Ellery in there, keep him in there until Casey arrives. You're sorry, but you can't let him blow up Headspace. That's for you. You called dibs.
>>[B] If you see Ellery in there, jump in after him. You're not letting *Casey* deal with your sworn nemesis, not when you can give him a talking-to (or a whooping) all by yourself.
>>[C] Write-in.

>[3] Write-in.
>>
>>6115686
>2B
“What the hell bro? Trying to steal our headspace explosion plan? Not cool”
>>
>>6115686
>[2B]
>>
Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>6115756
>>6115881
>[2B]

Called and rolling for something. Then writing.
>>
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>View hole

You're only human. You run.

Jerry isn't: out of the corner of your eye, you catch him moving toward the flames. On the other side of you, Casey is following. Fine. You're happy to let them take care of it. Behind you, your puddle sizzles— that's where you were standing. Ahead of you is the pit, and past it, the wall. The wall's all flammable. No luck there. Ellery's in the pit...

Ellery's in the pit. He might be dead, but he probably isn't. If you can get down there, not only will you escape the grass fire, but you can give Ellery a solid kick on the shin— which he deserves. (You bet he started the fire somehow.) Maybe you can talk him into going home, even, and then you'll be free and clear to bomb Headspace. Assuming you find Gil, of course, but of course you'll do that. Positive thinking!

Getting down there is harder than it sounds, of course. You lack a rope or a parachute or anything that'd break your fall. Then again, you're sure you can think of something. Dashing heroines always do. You've already made it there, to the edge— your forehead beading with sweat, your eyes stinging with smoke, crouching down and peering in. It's dark inside the pit, which is as deep as the wall is tall or deeper. You can't see whether it's deeper. You can't see Ellery at all, or hear anything from down there— only occasional exclamations from Casey or Jerry above. Maybe he already escaped? He'd do that. But you remember, and squeeze your eye shut, and see— faintly— a zigzag array of strings.

That's him. No use, then: you've jumped from higher places into less-certain futures. The fire is a useful motivator, too. By the time you tip yourself forward, there's heat on your back again. You can still feel it, even as you fall.

The sides of the pit are all grass. Maybe you could've climbed down, if you had time, but it's too late now. When you land, the mouth of the pit is the size of a coin.

You land in grass, and on Ellery, who crunches and disintegrates under you. He was all charcoal. You're not sure where you are, exactly— obviously the bottom of the pit, but the space is wider than the pit was, and velvety black. If this were real, landing like that would've broken your back, but as it is you feel nothing.

He can't be dead for real, right? He's Ellery. His whole stupid thing is not dying. You pick yourself up— damnit, now your back's all wet, too, from the grass, not to mention charcoal-y— and turn around, and turn some more. You saw his strings. Is he hiding?

One more turn, just to be sure. You can't hear Casey or Jerry from all the way down here. In a way it's peaceful. Gil would like all the grass, even if it's sort of dry and crunchy. If only he were here. You don't like being alone very much. Not that you're actually alone, since there's no way Ellery's—

(1/2)
>>
"Hey!"

You're grabbed from behind. He was just over your shoulder. One bony hand goes over your mouth, and one pointy metal thing goes into your throat. You can guess what that is. "If you struggle, I'll kill you," Ellery says into your ear.

He won't, you think. He's told you that before, and he's never had the guts. Blah, blah, blah, bluff, bluff, bluff, except... you're not you, are you? You're Everard Kurz. Maybe he would kill Everard Kurz, the same way he killed the guy in the field. He didn't seem well when you saw him last. Somebody got to him, Casey said. You did. You got all the way to his head.

You better tread carefully.

>[1] It's fine. He might kill Everard, but he won't kill you. He knows you. He hates you, but he knows you, right? Tell Ellery that you're actually Charlotte Fawkins, heroine extraordinaire, and he needs to stop ruining your bombing plan.

>[2] If you give up the game to Ellery, it could make things even worse— for all you know, he'd spill it to Casey out of spite. Or shoot you anyways. Stay in character for now.
>>[A] Demand that he release you immediately, lest he face the wrath of Casey and/or the Hero-Queen. Bargain. Bluster. Generally do whatever Everard would do here. [Roll.]
>>[B] Thrust Ellery backward into the wall, then threaten him back with... whatever weapon Everard usually uses. If he wants a hostage, you might as well make it mutual. [Roll.]
>>[C] Ellery doesn't really want to kill you. You know that. He knows that. So why can't it be true? (Advanced Gaslighting.) [Roll.]
>>[D] Write-in.

>[3] Write-in.
>>
>>6116366
>1
If we keep getting in each other’s way then neither of us will get to blow up headspace!
>>
>>6116366
>[1] It's fine. He might kill Everard, but he won't kill you. He knows you. He hates you, but he knows you, right? Tell Ellery that you're actually Charlotte Fawkins, heroine extraordinaire, and he needs to stop ruining your bombing plan.
>>
>>6116366
>>[1] It's fine. He might kill Everard, but he won't kill you. He knows you. He hates you, but he knows you, right? Tell Ellery that you're actually Charlotte Fawkins, heroine extraordinaire, and he needs to stop ruining your bombing plan.
>>
Rolled 8 (1d10)

>>6116451
>>6116473
>>6116525
>[1]

Giving the game away. I'll see if I can get a quick early update out. Writing shortly.

Rolling for reaction:
1 = Final Straw
2-10 = Safe (For Now)
>>
File: the Sword 1 - @observerQM.png (2.3 MB, 1920x1080)
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>Hey it's me

At the very least, if he knew it was you, it'd buy you some time. You don't think he'd leap straight to murdering somebody he knows, even if he knows you mostly for being a thorn in his side. Well, he's a thorn in your side, so there.

If he didn't have his hand over your mouth, you could just say who you are. Of course he has to mess that up. Damnit! You are going to have to struggle a bit, even if he gets tetchy. You raise your arm to grab his off, and he recoils, clamping harder. Fine! You lick his palm.

That does it. Ellery keeps the crossbow to your throat, but he wipes his saliva-y hand on his slacks, leaving your mouth free. You make the most of it. "You stupid ass! I'm Charlotte Fawkins!"

"Ha-ha. Funny joke. Did some oppo research, huh?" Ellery yanks you backward. "Why don't you go ahead and prove it, then. Quick. Should be easy, since she's such a colossal—"

"A colossally... impressive... hey!" He's going to rip a hole in your turtleneck, jabbing like that. "Okay, geez. Here."

It doesn't matter who you are, or where you are: The Sword is there when you want it, and right now you want it flaming gloriously in your hand. You point it straight out, illuminating the space around you— wide, short-ceilinged, and tiled with familiar linoleum. You didn't break out of the manse, did you? You don't think so. The pit and sky are still above you. Everything down here is beaded with water.

Ellery lets go immediately, backing several steps away. You turn to face him, illuminating him too: that's Ellery, all right, except he doesn't have a face. There's a ripped-in hole where the face should go. His voice comes out of it. "What the fuck?!"

"I told you so," you say.

"You stole that guy's fucking BODY?! I know you weren't him from the start!" He hasn't lowered the crossbow. "Is he still in there?!"

"Yes? I'm not letting him out, though, or he'll be really mad. Also, he's evil, so who cares? Also, can you stop pointing that at me? I don't want to stab you."

You do, a little, but you won't say that. You're not sure if Ellery believes you. He hasn't moved. "You're not human."

God, again? "We talked about this already, Ellery. Multiple times. I'm sorry you're jealous of my—"

"You're in a guy's fucking BODY."

"So? It's not like it was hard. Maybe you're just lame. If you bothered stealing some guy's body, Casey wouldn't be chasing you around, and you wouldn't be stuck in a hole."

"You—" Ellery clenches his free hand. "You STUCK me in the hole, you—"

"And would I have stuck you there if you stole some guy's body? I bet not! I don't see how that changes my point at all." You wave The Sword at him. "Also, you wouldn't be chased around if you stayed home, which is exactly what we agreed on doing, so this is entirely your—"

There's a breeze and a thunk. You blink, then swing around to double-check. Yes, there's a bolt embedded in the wall behind you, an inch higher than your head.

"Shut up," Ellery says.

(1/5?)
>>
You straighten. "You're not a very good—"

"SHUT UP!" he screams, and it bounces up and down the walls, and The Sword casts his face in sharp light and harsh shadow. "SHUT THE FUCK UP! YOU LITTLE SHIT! THIS IS FUNNY TO YOU?! THIS IS A GAME?!"

When you've already been through it multiple times, it's hard to take him seriously. "I mean, you never—"

"It's ALWAYS been a game, hasn't it?! NONE of it matters. NONE of it has any stakes. ANYTHING could happen to you, and you wouldn't care, because you're—"

"The heroine?" you say helpfully.

"Yes. Yes, that's exactly what I— yes! Thank you! Good use of the 'the,' too. You're not 'a' heroine. You're 'the' heroine. You're the only person who matters! It sure isn't me who matters, is it? I—"

Talking to Real Ellery is sort of like talking to your mother, now that you think of it. You have to be very patient. "Well, maybe if you tried to be a hero, then you—"

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK THIS IS?!" He grasps his face and rips it downward, hard, so a paper strip of it comes off in his hand. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I'VE BEEN DOING?! DO YOU THINK I'M HERE FOR FUN?! I DID THIS TO ME FOR FUN?!"

"Well, I told you that I didn't need you here, so I guess—"

He crumples the strip and pitches it at your feet. "I have only EVER tried to do the right thing. I am trying to do the right thing RIGHT NOW. And you only ever shit on me for it, and the universe—"

"You're not trying to do the right thing." You put a hand on your hip. "You're trying to kill yourself."

"IT'S THE SAME THING!"

Also, sometimes the best thing to do is not to say anything. You let the hand-on-hip deal speak for itself.

"It's the same thing, and still, I'm only shit on for it. I have gone through HELL for—"

"So have I," you say. "I think it was two... three days ago? Two?"

"This is funny to you," Ellery says.

Not a lot funny, but it is sort of— you mean— you'd way rather have Ellery yelling at you than Casey. Or Richard. Or Gil, even (if he were yelling at you, you must've really messed up). Most people, really. "Kind of?"

"It's allowed to be funny for you. It's not funny if you're in real danger. You're never in real danger, are you? You're the heroine."

You've lost where he's going with this. "Um, I mean, I am in danger, but my quick thinking and heroic virtues always—"

"OF WHOSE STORY?!"

"Huh?" You guess at least he's listening, finally. You've told him you were a heroine the whole time. (Slash detectivess.) "Mine?"

"Ha!"

Okay, that is a little offensive; you'll admit it. "I mean, if I'm the heroine, it's my story by—"

"Hahahahaha! You think that? No godsdamn wonder!" He's pointed the crossbow at the sky. Is that good? Or does it mean he thinks he's winning? "Your story! Ha!"

"...Well, whose else would it be?"

"Theirs," Ellery says matter-of-factly.

(2/5?)
>>
"...Um, whose, though?"

"THEIRS." And he raises his arm and stretches the crossbow as high as it'll go, straight up to the sky above, where... Casey and Jerry are?

God, Ellery's so stupid. "Management's?! I don't— it's not like I work for— you're the stupid hero of their story, probably. Or, like, the comic relief. Or the sidekick everyone hates. Not me. I didn't even know who they were before before I started investigating—"

"You didn't?"

"Um, no, I didn't? Because they're some secret evil organization? It's not like I automatically—"

"Why do you act like them, then, Charlotte?"

You frown. "I act literally nothing like—"

"Really?" Ellery spreads his hands. "Nothing like them, except for the gullshit. I'm sure you mean to tell me it's normal to read minds."

"Well—"

"It's normal to get into minds. It's normal to tell people what to think and have them think it. The fangs are normal."

"I don't have fangs right now," you say uncomfortably. "And I wouldn't say I—"

"Right! Yes. You don't have them right now, because it's normal to steal some guy's FUCKING body. Is that right?"

"Um," you say. "I mean, I never said it was... obviously I'm special. Because I'm a heroine, and... you know."

"You're special because you're the heroine, and you're the heroine because you're special. Is that right?"

You liked it better when he was yelling. "I thought you were mad because I was a god, or whatever. Or queen. So it's probably that. I don't care."

"No, Charlotte, I thought about it." Ellery retreats, finding the far wall and leaning casually against it. He rests the crossbow over his lap. "That's what you wanted me to do, right? You thought I was crazy."

"You are crazy," you say.

"I am crazy. But I thought about it. You're still fucked-up, but things have reasons, don't they? And, you know, I believe you."

Trap statement. You've learned these from Richard. You scootch your foot against the smooth floor.

"That's also what I thought about. I believe you. I think you honestly— I think you've told me what you know, or have been telling me that. So, thanks. Don't know if I've said that. Thanks for the honesty."

You hesitate. Maybe he does mean it? "You're welcome?"

"Yeah. I don't think you're a liar. I think you're a fucking idiot, Charlotte." The face-hole is staring right through you. "Or maybe you're blind? Dense? Because most people, if they're normal, if they start off normal, they'd notice when things got weird. When did things get weird for you, Charlotte?"

Richard would know what to say. Maybe he's never coming back. Maybe he died in the snake hospital and left you all alone. "I— I don't— I can't remember a lot of things—"

"When did you lose that eye?"

You touch the bad eye, even though you don't have one, even though Everard's are perfectly normal. "I can't remember. It's extremely rude to make fun of somebody's—"

(3/5?)
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"I'm not making fun of it. You can't remember. Do you know what else people can't remember?"

You're so cold. It's all the water— down your front, your back, everywhere here. You bring The Sword closer to warm yourself.

"Locitis. That's interesting. You know what else you can't remember?"

"Uh... I don't think I can... by definition, uh, I mean, I can't..."

"What Casey did to your boyfriend."

"What?" you say. "...Gil? He's not my— I keep telling everybody! He's my retainer! And we just got separated. He's fine."

"He is fine," Ellery says. "Now. You don't remember before. Do you know who wiped it?"

"Richard isn't here." You touch the valve at your neck. Does it do warm water? "There's no way he—"

"Who the fuck is Richard?"

You don't say anything.

"Wait, that's... the guy. The Dread and Awful..."

"Dread and Terrible Beast," you mumble. "But he's not really dread and, um... he's nice now. And he's not really a beast. He's my father. Sort of. It's complicated."

"Your father—" Ellery stands straight up. "Your dad is Management?"

"I just said he wasn't exactly my— Richard isn't Management. What are you talking about?!" You stand up even straighter. "You are crazy! You're a crazy person! He's never once said anything about—"

"He's never walked up and told you he was Management?"

"No! He— no! Why would he?! I—" You slow yourself down. "Um, he, well— he never even seemed like he knew—"

"And he's never hidden anything from you before? This Dread and Terrible Beast?"

"Shut up," you say. "He's not— he's not Management. That's stupid. He's a snake."

"Not when I saw him," Ellery says. "When I saw him, he was dressed exactly like—"

"He just likes sunglasses! Lots of people like sunglasses. And he—"

"He gave you the fangs."

You clamp your mouth shut.

"That's what you said. The Dread and Terrible Beast gave you the fangs. Let me guess; the eye, too?"

"I told you I didn't know where—"

"Do you think it was him?"

How did it turn into this? How did he turn it around? "Maybe? I... I don't want to talk about my..."

"How about the rest of it? Please share. Did you forget where that all came from, too?"

No, you haven't forgotten all of it. A little bit was from when you fell through that seal and saw God. You don't think you should tell Ellery that. You'd prefer not to tell him anything. "I— I don't know."

"You don't know. Because you're an idiot, Charlotte. You're a stupid kid. You're getting played. I've been there; it happens. I got played, and now I'm this, you see? Nothing left. They dip you full of water, then they wring you dry. They're good at it. Have they wrung you yet?"

(4/5?)
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"I don't know what you're..."

"I don't think they have. You're the heroine. You get the whole story to yourself, and you get to go along it, all the ups and downs, fucking up as much as you want, and it doesn't matter, right? They're not going to let you fail. They're not going to let you die. Not yet."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say quietly.

"Me neither," Ellery says. "But it's the best I've been able to come up with. I think that, if I shot you, you wouldn't die."

"Don't shoot me."

"It wouldn't matter if I did or didn't. Maybe it'd hurt for a second. But would you die? That's not part of the story. Be realistic." He twiddles a bolt between his fingers. "We can try it if you want."

"Um," you say. "Please don't—"

"If you don't want, then I'll get going. I want to mean something too." He tosses the bolt in the air, then catches it. "You can come if you don't stop me."

"And what if I don't?"

"Then say hi to your patrons. I'm sure they'd be happy to have you back. Bad optics to lose your tourist, huh? Hope they haven't been listening." Ellery gestures upward; Casey and Jerry are up there now, peering down. "Though we are down pretty deep. Who knows? Anyways, you can try to stop me. You might succeed. But they've been trying."

"Okay," you say.

"Okay." The hole in Ellery's face is dark. "Well, go ahead."

>[A1] You have to stop him. It's *your* plan. But you don't have to tell him that. Come along.
>[A2] Sorry, Ellery, but you have a cushy set-up— and you just proved your bonafides with the whole pit thing. You don't want him to get tortured, so he can "accidentally" escape if he wants, but then you're coming after him. And you're going to win.
>[A3] Sorry, Ellery, but he's just too much of a threat. Prevent him from leaving now, turn him in to Casey, and stroll your way to the bombing. You won't feel guilty hardly at all. [Roll.]

>[B1] No, you don't want Ellery to shoot you point-blank with a crossbow bolt. No part of you wants that. You already declined. Moving along now.
>[B2] What would it mean if he were right? Probably nothing. If you did survive, it would be because of your heroic spirit. (You have it because you're a heroine. You're a heroine because you have it.) And you do have heroic spirit, so if you put it like that, there's nothing to worry about. And wouldn't it be the ultimate show of dominance? To survive? And it's a manse, so you... you... you just want to know. You want to know. [???]

>[C] Write-in? (You can get in a couple additional questions with Ellery if you want.)


Sorry about the delay— for obvious reasons, this will be the one update for tonight.
>>
>>6117017
Are you trying to subtly suggest we stop playing Charlie as a fuckup? Or being meta and suggesting we are the Management?
Could you please clarify what exactly does A2 entail?
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>>6117017
>B2
Let’s do it
We know it wouldn’t kill us, we already acknowledged that with Pat
Good cover for rejoining Casey and Jeff too
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>>6117090
>Are you trying to subtly suggest we stop playing Charlie as a fuckup? Or being meta and suggesting we are the Management?
Neither, anon. I can see where you're coming from, but you're overthinking it. While there are minor meta overtones in how Charlotte operates as a "protagonist" even inside the world of the quest, and how Ellery (a quest ex-protagonist) is most clearly able to recognize this, this isn't a "meta plot," and major story elements aren't epic clever references-- they're major story elements. Management isn't a metaphor for anything, and it's definitely not a metaphor for the players, which I think would be confusing. (Do you guys metaphorically operate a conglomerate of underwater businesses?)

Similarly, Ellery's opinions here are his own, and they're a fairly straightforward evolution of his previous stance on the matter (knowing something was "wrong" with you, but being unable to pin down what). Always try to assume that IC warnings, declarations, advice, or anything "definitive-sounding" are first and foremost from the character who gives them's perspective, not mine-- even if I agree OOC with what the warning/etc. is for, there's no telling if the character is unbiased, honest, or fully informed. Two examples: Richard is usually reliable about worldbuilding details, but is (was) frequently and deliberately dishonest about everything else, even things he states as fact, and when you were picking people to come along on the kidnapping rescue mission, Eloise warned you point-blank about picking Monty... who would've likely been fine; Eloise just doesn't trust him. In this instance, not only have you guys not been fucking up much this thread so far, but I don't think Charlotte would be Charlotte if she were some kind of uber-competent badass; it's core to her character that she's a little bit dumb. Don't deliberately take bad options because they're bad, please, but it's okay to fuck up sometimes. If you're thinking about my frustrations earlier in the thread, that wasn't because of fucking up-- it was due to a long string of fuck-ups writing me into a corner. Mix a few successes in there and we're just fine.

>Could you please clarify what exactly does A2 entail?
It entails that Ellery will consensually shoot Charlotte point-blank with a crossbow bolt, likely in a region that ought to grievously injure or kill her. This will have unknown effects. I will tell you that it won't involve a roll; the outcome is fixed. If you're nervous about it, don't take it!

>>6117109
Don't forget to take an [A] (if you don't, I'll default to [A2], since you're talking about cover for Casey).
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>>6117315
Are you sure you didn't mix up A2 and B2?
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>>6117382
Oh, I'm sorry, you're right. [A2] goes like this:

>You let Ellery escape
>You escape and/or let Casey "rescue" you
>You tell Casey (& Jerry) that you narrowly survived an encounter with the intruder, but you weren't able to capture him
>You set off with Casey (& Jerry) on the rest of the tour, but probably actually to capture Ellery for real
>???
>Profit

.[A2] preserves your disguise/spot in the "tour" without needing to turn around and totally backstab Ellery, as you would in [A3]. That being said, [A3] gets rid of him as an obstacle (if you succeed...), while [A2] means he's going to be out there pestering you later. You're just making it a fair fight, rather than sacrificing him straight to Management.

Notably, I mixed it up there, but not in my note to >>6117109, who genuinely is missing an [A] option. That might be the reason for my confusion.
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>>6117109
>>6117315
Yes I'd like A2 as well, good default choice
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>>6117017
>[A1] You have to stop him. It's *your* plan. But you don't have to tell him that. Come along.
Our setup is not actually that cushy. We need to break off from Casey if we want to do anything.
>[B2] What would it mean if he were right? Probably nothing. If you did survive, it would be because of your heroic spirit. (You have it because you're a heroine. You're a heroine because you have it.) And you do have heroic spirit, so if you put it like that, there's nothing to worry about. And wouldn't it be the ultimate show of dominance? To survive? And it's a manse, so you... you... you just want to know. You want to know. [???]
>>
>>6117315
>>[A1] You have to stop him. It's *your* plan. But you don't have to tell him that. Come along.
>>[B2] What would it mean if he were right? Probably nothing. If you did survive, it would be because of your heroic spirit. (You have it because you're a heroine. You're a heroine because you have it.) And you do have heroic spirit, so if you put it like that, there's nothing to worry about. And wouldn't it be the ultimate show of dominance? To survive? And it's a manse, so you... you... you just want to know. You want to know. [???]
>>
>>6117017
>[A2] Sorry, Ellery, but you have a cushy set-up— and you just proved your bonafides with the whole pit thing. You don't want him to get tortured, so he can "accidentally" escape if he wants, but then you're coming after him. And you're going to win.
>[B2] What would it mean if he were right? Probably nothing. If you did survive, it would be because of your heroic spirit. (You have it because you're a heroine. You're a heroine because you have it.) And you do have heroic spirit, so if you put it like that, there's nothing to worry about. And wouldn't it be the ultimate show of dominance? To survive? And it's a manse, so you... you... you just want to know. You want to know. [???]
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>>6117493
I support this option.
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>>6117411
>>6117493
>>6117566
>[A2]

>>6117487
>>6117421
>[A1]

Drowned Quest Redux: where the players unanimously vote to get fatally shot for no clear benefit. Love you guys. Called for [B2] + narrowly called for [A2] and writing.



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