File: mike.png (1.52 MB, 1213x1560)

1.52 MB PNG

>>6126579
“Woah kid, no need for that,” the purple-glowing man says, coming into view as he scales the hill of trash to meet you. He seems older, maybe in his forties, with a disheveled head of black hair, a greasy goatee, and a scar over his left eye. His clothes seem ratty- a torn t-shirt and blue jeans covered by a tan trenchcoat riddled with clumsy patchwork repairs, “Let’s talk this out like civilized people, shall we?”

His words aren’t uncannily translated like the others: instead, he seems to be speaking real, genuine English.

“Who are you? Where are we?”

“Name’s Mike. Mike Arthurs.” He answers, pulling a thick, pitch-black cigarette from the inside pocket of his coat. “As for where we are, well, there’s not a great answer for that. The people here just call this place the MAW.”

“The MAW?”

“That’s right,” he pauses for a moment to take a drag of smoke before continuing, “Belly of some sorta interdimensional predator. Not as bad as it sounds, but definitely not good.”

“W-what?”

“Look kid, it’s a long story. Let’s get you cleaned up first- oh, and most of this stuff goes to the government, but that bag seems like it’s yours, so feel free to keep it.”

Your eyes widen, only now remembering the strap slung over your shoulder.

“I never caught your name.” He prompts you to introduce yourself.

>Write in: what’s your name? Default: Ben Miller

“Also, what’s in the bag?” (All <Standard> stats default at 5, giving no modifier to checks and dcs. Each point higher or lower than 5 will give that modifier to all checks.)

>Your football gear (+2 Athletics, -1 Wits)
>Your reference books (+2 Wits, -1 Knack)
>Your whittling supplies (+2 Knack, -1 Charm)
>Your instrument (+2 Charm, -1 Athletics)
>Weird occult stuff (+1 ???. -1 all other stats)
>Write-in (+1 to any normal stat)

>>6126581
>Your football gear (+2 Athletics, -1 Wits)
HUT HUT!

>>6126581
>Name: Teddy Roosevelt. No relation
>Your instrument (+2 Charm, -1 Athletics)
Y'all ever hear a THERAMIN before?

>Name?
Chad Torchwick

>What's in your bag?
Football gear (+2 Athletics, -1 Wits)

>>6126581

>Name: Brad Masters

>>Your football gear (+2 Athletics, -1 Wits)

>>Your football gear (+2 Athletics, -1 Wits)

Rolled 3 (1d3)

Seems like football gear wins, rolling now for name

>>6126600
+1 if it's not too late

>>6126585
>>6126594
>>6126595
>>6126643

>Your football gear (+2 Athletics, -1 Wits)

“Brad.” You say, using the spear to bring yourself to your feet, “Brad Masters.”

Mike laughs, a raspy smoker’s cackle resounding through your pounding head, “Seriously dude?”

“Seriously.”

“Badass. Anyway, you never did say what was in the bag.”

“Football stuff, mostly. I was on my way to practice when I.. fell?”

“Got eaten more like, but close enough. So, we got ourselves a football star, eh?”

“Not really.” You clarify, too dazed for fabrications, “We kinda suck.”

He shrugs, “Still, you seem pretty well built. Muscle serves you well down here.”

Your mom always told you that you had a better future focusing on academics than wasting your life away on sports. You showed her, you guess.

“I’m keeping the spear.” You declare, using it as a walking stick to make your way down from the peak of the trash heap. Mike shrugs, “Well, that's fine. The metal’s pretty valuable, but Drop-Ins usually get to keep whatever they fall in with. Spear looks Albian, but hey, who's counting?”

“..Isn’t that your job?”

“Well, you had it when I got here. This is probably the worst day of your life, so, I’d rather not act like a dick.”

“..thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, kid. Anyway, let’s get you registered.”

Holding you by the arm, he leads you down the pile. Making conversation, he decides to ask you a question. “So kid-”

“Brad.” You interrupt.

“So, Brad.” He corrects, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “What position you play?”

>Center (Gain Knack skill- Aim)
>Guard (Gain Athletics skill- Intercept)
>Tackle (Gain Athletics skill- Slam)
>Quarterback (Gain Charm skill- Leadership)
>Runningback (Gain Athletics skill- Rush)
>Wide Receiver (Gain Athletics skill- Dash)
>Bench Warmer (Gain Wits skill- Keen Eye)

>>6126648
>Center (Gain Knack skill- Aim)
Spearmaster built is go.

>>6126648
>Quarterback (Gain Charm skill- Leadership)
I feel like this might be pretty handy as THE protag..

>>6126648
>Center
I was convinced, spears are cool

>>6126648
>>Quarterback (Gain Charm skill- Leadership)

We may as well go all in frankly, tho they all seem fine

Rolled 1 (1d2)

Flipping a coin to break the tie- 1 for center and 2 for quarterback

>>6126650
>>6126653
>>6126655
>>6126663
>Character sheet: https://rentry.org/masters-character-sheet
>Center (Gain Knack skill- Aim)

>Aim (Knack):
Grants a number of bonus die to all (Athletics) or (Knack) checks that involve precision aiming equal to the level of this skill + your (Knack) modifier (Minimum of 1)

“Center.” You say, clutching the spear in your hands a little tighter as you remember getting stiffed for quarterback.

“Cool.” Mike replies, seemingly lacking anything else to say on the matter, “What year is it up there, anyway?”

“2024.” You reply.

“Shit, really?”

“Why, when did you fall?”

“1994.”

“Oh, you must have been young. I’m sorry about that.”

“Actually, it was only 5 years ago for me. Time.. works a little differently in the Maw.”

“Time goes slower here?”

“Sometimes. Not always. Oh, right, before we get down to the others, I have to warn you in advance: a lot of the people here aren’t exactly.. human. Or even human looking. There’s no monsters on level zero- that’s where we are- so don’t start stabbing unless they’re obviously hostile.”

You nod, and, once you make your way to the bottom, you find yourself grateful that you followed his advice: you’re met with some sort of massive invertebrate creature, its brilliant golden carapace only adorned with an awkwardly fitting black necktie. It moves its asymmetrical crab-like claws with shocking dexterity, writing some illegible characters (though the handwriting seems pristine) down on what looks like a miniature clay tablet using a stylus.

File: boss.png (3.75 MB, 2055x2412)

3.75 MB PNG

>>6126723

The creature’s mandibles twitch as it releases a series of clicks and wet gargles that, while barely even recognizable as a form of communication on an auditory level, you recognize it instinctively as a feminine voice.

“Name and occupation?” It asks.

“Brad. Masters. Student.”

“Athlete-” Mike corrects, “He’s a bit more modern, boss.” He turns to you, explaining: “Student has implications down here.”

..Is he calling you stupid? Doesn’t really matter, but you can’t help but feel a little offended.

“I understand. Temporary housing will be provided until you either settle into a permanent residence or attempt to Climb.”

“How do you guys do day and night down here?”

“Oh, right, you’re new. The Lining glows for about, what would it be in Terran time?”

“20 hours, give or take. Then it stops for another 20. That means, in effect, days here are twice as long as they are on earth. Albian time is about the same as ours, but our chitinous friends here are pretty happy with it. Their days are about 43 hours Terran time.”

“So, he really is a Terran? I assumed based on his apparel, but it really is quite odd to see three in a row.”

“..is it that weird?” You ask.

“A vast majority of Drop-Ins are Albian.” the bug lady explains.

“Albians.. I guess if I had to make a comparison, it’s kinda like Middle Earth from Lord of the Rings?” Mike elaborates, “It’s not that similar, but, uh, they have elves and dwarves and stuff. Technology level is around high medieval. Ah, also, don’t call them ‘Albians’ to their face too much. They prefer ‘Children of the Gods’. It’s a religious thing.”

You haven’t read those books, and you thought the movie was kinda boring, but it’s a fantasy world, you get the gist.

“So, (Masters),” the bug lady says some series of clicks that obviously isn’t your name, but somehow you hear it as if it were, “You will receive a weekly allowance during your 30 day trial period of adjustment time, but after that you will need to work for your keep. For now, though, please rest and take your time adjusting down here. Once your ID is issued, you may begin to either Climb or seek employment.”

“And, uh, when is that?”

“It should be prepared in around 144 hours- or, if you prefer, three and a half days.”

“Oh, so, what do I do until then?”

She hands you a pouch containing 20 coins- ten copper, 14 silver, and one gold.

“This is your weekly stipend. We have already arranged for temporary housing in the Terran district, but it will take some time to prepare. You may explore during the day.”

>Ask more questions
>Explore the city
>Look for something to eat
>Fast forward until your ID is issued
>Write-in

>>6126726
>Explore the city

>>6126726
Small typo, should be 30 coins instead of 20

>>6126735
And here I was thinking it was just our innate athlete being unable to add up 25 coins

>>6126736
Nope, should be a total of 15 coppers, 14 silvers, and 1 gold- that -1 Wits hit me harder than it hit Masters

>>6126726
>Explore the city
Get our bearings. Holy shit, this is a lot to take in, right?

>>6126726
>explore the city

>>6126733
>>6126739
>>6126740

>Explore the city

“You ok, kid?” Mike asks, “You’re looking a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” you lie, “Just need a little walk around to clear my head. You said I was gonna live in the, uh, Terran something?”

“Terran district,” the boss explains, “Though it’s a little.. politically incorrect to call it that.”

“Officially,” Mike explains, “This place, the bottom or ground floor of the Maw, has five distinct Districts. The whole thing is a nearly perfect circle, which makes life convenient for mapmakers, except for this place right here: Black District, colloquially called the Gut. This is where garbage, and occasionally people, get dumped after they get eaten. Once a month, every month, occasionally with a couple days of leeway. Compasses don’t work, but the Black district is due north by convention.”

“A month down here is thirty days.” the bug lady clarifies, “There are no seasons, for obvious reasons.”

“And, uh, the other four?”

“Easiest to explain and due south of here is the Blue District, colloquially the Lyxish District. Lyx is the empire that the lady here comes from, some sorta futuristic utopian civilization. Their tech is neat, but it doesn’t work down here at all, so it’s a bit useless.”

“Certain quantum phenomena are completely unable to occur down here,” She explains, “Because of this, primitive Albian artifacts and most Terran technology are functional, but even the simplest Lyxish devices are completely and utterly nonfunctional.”

“Wow, that really sucks,” you give your condolences, not really knowing what else to say.

“Don’t feel too bad,” Mike reassures you, “The gravity of the Maw is earthlike- almost half of what you might find on Lyx. Down here, they’re basically superhuman.”

“Anyway,” he continues, “southwest is the Gold District- Terrans, or earthlings, whatever you like, and southeast is the White District, Albian turf. Of the three, the White district is the biggest and the Gold district is the smallest.”

“And in the center is the Red District- or the commercial district. It’s the biggest of all five, and it’s where most stuff is. Additionally, it’s where the Serpent’s Tower is.”

“Serpent’s tower?”

“Yep. Once you leave here, you can’t miss it- big red tower with a snake carved on the outside. Real obvious.”

>>6126755
“Uh, thanks for the tip.” You say, “Where do I go now?”

“Wherever you want. Exit’s right over there.” He gestures to a massive iron fence situated to your right. With a grateful nod, you follow the path to it.

Opening the gate, you see the accuracy of the district names: brilliant white, yellow, and blue lights flicker through the darkness as you look down upon the city. Though some structures, especially in the Blue district, tower high enough to match some large apartment complexes back on earth, all pale in comparison to the colossal tower overlooking the center of the city: a faintly glowing ruby pillar, wide enough to fit an entire block inside, juts into the sky, its top disappearing into the fleshy roof of the Maw’s ground floor. Coiling around it is an ornately carved, almost lifelike crystal serpent, its tail forming the base of the structure and its head arrogantly watching over the entire city.

You can’t suppress a sigh, stricken by awe at the fantastical sight. Honestly, even though you know it has to be real, you still can’t shake the notion that this is all a dream.

>Head to the Red District
>Head to the Gold District
>Head to the Blue District
>Head to the White District

>>6126757
>Head to the Gold District

>>6126757
>>Head to the Red District

>>6126757
>Head to the Gold District
Start slow. Get used to this new, uh, normal. Maybe lock down a job if we're really, truly stuck in this gut.

>>6126757
> Red District

>>6126757
>Gold District
Save best for last

>>6126781
>>6126806
>>6126898
>>6126908
>>6127144

>Head to the Gold District

You begin the trek down from the Black District to the city below- the closer you get, the bigger you realize this place is. It’ll take hours, maybe even multiple days for you to walk all the way from here to the Gold District. Eventually, as you reach the base of the hill leading up to the Gut, you see.. a bus stop? And not even like, the fantasy equivalent, it’s literally a modern metal bus stop structure. The only difference is the symbol for the bus: rather than what you’re accustomed to, it seems almost more like an elongated palanquin. You see a large, blue-glowing bug dressed in a tie, bowler hat, and a strap for his satchel, similar in appearance to the boss from the trash heap. You decide to take this opportunity and see if they know what’s going on.

“Uh.. what is this place?” you ask as casually as possible.

“Airbus stop. Hang on a minute-” He replies, adjusting his hat to get a better look at you, “Are you the new drop-in?”

“Oh, uh, I guess, yeah.”

“A Terran again? What are the odds?”

“Is it really that unusual?”

“Yeah, you usually only get one for every, ten, twenty Albians? Regardless, you almost never see two in a row, let alone three.”

Damn, that is weird.

“Anyway, for the airbus, do you need a pass or something?”

“Paying the fee is fine too. Oh, here it comes.”

You look over the horizon, and are shocked at how accurate the term ‘Skybus’ was- it’s literally an old city bus, with the wheels remodeled as landing gear and large metal handles jutting out from the front. Four massive insects, more reminiscent of beetles than your mantis-esque friend here, seem to be carrying it around, two in front of the vehicle and two in the back.

“Woah,” you say on reflex, “They must be really strong.”

“Oh, no, there’s a Weightlessness Charm placed on the skybusses.” The Lyxish gentleman- whose name of clicks and gargles you decided to translate as Randy- explains, “The pilots are just there to move it from stop to stop. Speaking of which..”

The beetles set down the bus, the wheels flipping to a grounded configuration as it approaches the concrete bus platform. The scene is surreal, but you’ve become numb to it, dropping one silver coin into the payment box as instructed and taking a seat next to your new acquaintance on the empty bus.

“So, headed to Blue District?” you ask, trying to make conversation.

“Actually no, Gold. I’m a bit of a unique case.”

He unfurls a newspaper from his suitcase, and you spend the ride enjoying the view of the city.

About half an hour and a few stops at Blue District later, you find yourself at your intended destination- the first Gold stop. You and Randy file off the bus, with him giving a tip of his hat to the pilots and you awkwardly following suit by nodding.

File: eleanor.png (4.18 MB, 2362x2729)

4.18 MB PNG

>>6127263
Gold District isn’t like you expected it to be, or at least this area isn’t: brilliant electric streetlights, modern in tech but gothic in style, line an asphalt road. The whole district seems to have a layer of concrete covering the natural fleshy terrain of the Maw, but, despite the relative familiarity of the planning, the buildings are an anomaly: you see modern apartment complexes sitting right next to Roman style architecture, next to traditional chinese housing, and so on. The whole thing seems to be a massive hodge-podge of not just places, but also time periods, with some of the styles (particularly brutalism and some traditional aesthetic) being fused together to varying effect.

The smell of cooking meat hits your nose- you forgot how hungry you were- but before you can investigate, you hear a shout coming from your left.

“You must be the drop-in!”

The voice is female and, surprisingly, in English, but it has a distinct accent to it that’s hard to place. You turn your head and see her- a short girl, maybe a foot shorter than you, with an oversized wide-brim wizard’s hat and a head of messy silver hair. She radiates a muddy red light, fluctuating with her heavy breathing as she recovers from running over to you,

“I’m Eleanor! Or at least, that’s my Terran name, haha. Nice to meet you!”

She seems nervous, like a kid at their first job interview. Your eyes wander over to her unnaturally elongated ears.

“Are you.. an elf?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, that is what your kind calls us. This all must be really confusing for you. I’m.. really sorry. Anyway, uh, if you have some time to chat-”

“I wouldn’t get wrapped up with this one, kid.” Randy interrupts with a sigh, “There’s a reason she’s here in the Gold District and not her hometown.”

“L-like you’re one to talk, (Randy).” She shoots back, somehow pronouncing his Lyxish name almost flawlessly, “I never did anything to anyone. You’re a killer.”

“Still, the consequences for being around me aren’t nearly as severe as that of fraternizing with a Witch.”

She stiffens, seemingly having dreaded the title coming up, “Don’t listen to him! Magic is normal down here!”

“Not your kind.”

You seem to be missing a lot of context here. What should you say?

>”Uh.. I should go. Got a whole city to explore.” (Look for an exit)
>”If she isn’t hurting anyone, what’s the problem?” (Side with Eleanor)
>”..I think you should leave, elf.” (Side with Randy)
>”Let’s calm down and talk this out.” (Attempt to diffuse the situation, requires a Charm roll)
>”Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” (Ask for more clarification)
>Write-in

>>6127263

Quick clarification- airbus and skybus are interchangeable. The proper term is Lyxish, and the words for 'air' and 'sky' in their tongue are identical, hence a bit of confusion for the translator

>>6127265
>The fuck's a Witch? (clarification)
Also murderers are based, (Randy) is our guy

>>6127265
>”Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” (Ask for more clarification)

>>6127282
>”Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” (Ask for more clarification)
Also +1 with >>6127282, if possible. What's a Witch and what's with this forbidden form of magic?

>>6127265
Wrong reply*

>>6127265
>”Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” (Ask for more clarification)
Wait, so Randy killed someone? Like murder, or... Uh, war or self-defense or something? And what exactly makes Eleanor's magic so sinister?

>>6127282
>>6127328
>>6127571
>>6127576

>”Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” (Ask for more clarification)

“And what the hell is a Witch? Isn’t that just a female wizard or something?”

Randy shakes his head, “No. To the ‘Children of the Gods’, magic is their divine gift, a tool for their lonely children to compete with the beasts and monsters of their world. In effect, Mages are almost like a mix between mathematicians and theologians- though some have more interesting perspectives on the divine than a clergyman might.”

“..and a Witch?”

“A Devil worshiper.”

“T-that’s not true!” Eleanor interrupts, “A Witch is just.. how do I explain this.. oh, right, so, it’s like this!”

She pulls out a pad and paper, doodling a clumsy and probably intentionally unflattering picture of Randy, fit with an anatomically incorrect pair of angry eyebrows.

“It’s like an upset Randy?”

“What? No- see, I drew a picture, right? I took this idea, and I communicated it without words, right? So, like, imagine if language was a gift from the gods. What would people think about pictures then? About bypassing the divine revelation of <Language> and communicating with pictures instead?”

“They’d see it as a sin, I guess?”

“That’s right! But, you don’t believe in that.. p-probably, right? So, like, you don’t see anything wrong with pictures!”

“She’s leaving out the fact that using Witchcraft degrades your soul and makes you evil.”

“That’s just a myth!” She turns to you, her face flushed with anger, “Seriously, it’s not true!”

“Regardless of the rationality of the matter, Witchcraft is the ultimate heresy among Albians. So much so that if an Albian finds out that you and her are even associated, there’s a very real possibility of being banned from the White district. That’s what happened to me, anyway.”

They did seem like they knew each other. Are they friends or something?

>>6127681

“Do you two know each other?”

“She and I are known as the Exiles. We’re the only two people in the entire Maw banned from their home district but still allowed to live here on the Ground floor. She lives here in the Multicultural quadrant of the Gold District, and I live amongst the People of the Book, about half a day’s walk south.”

“W-we’ve been looking for a third person to Climb with us, but, uh, people don’t wanna get banned from half the ground floor, so we’ve been kinda.. stuck.”

“You’re better off not sticking around us, kid.”

Eleanor rushes forward, keeping you in place by the hem of your shirt.

“P-please stay! I’ll do whatever you want- I can teach you magic! Well, you don’t seem like you really have the bra- still you could learn it! Or Aura- like, the knight version of magic, I could teach you that! That seems like a good deal, right?”

You look to Randy for confirmation, and he gives a slight nod, “Back before she got caught practicing Witchcraft, they apparently called her “Eternal Novice Eleanor”- she knows all the theory and could probably teach it just fine, she just lacks the natural talent for both magic and swords. Still, you could hire an instructor just as good for a couple gold a week once you start working.”

Eleanor shoots Randy a look of betrayal, but he replies with an unrepentant shrug.

"Take it from someone who knows, pal, you don't want to become a pariah on your first day."

This is a lot to take in. Before you make any commitments, you’d like to know more about..

>Witchcraft and Magic
>The quadrants of the Gold District
>Why Randy got exiled
>What the consequences would be for joining them
>Nothing, actually, you’ve made your choice (join or decline)
>Write-in

File: Peter Parker x 4.png (493 KB, 393x587)

493 KB PNG

>>6127683
>Why Randy got exiled
Maw QM is Olympus QM?!

>>6127683
Ha whoops, forgot to change names. Well, the art style was the same anyway so it wasn't exactly a secret. Still, my bad for breaking the immersion for those who hadn't already figured it out

>>6127683
>Why Randy got exiled
>What they mean by climb

>>6127796
>What they mean by climb
Good idea, adding that to >>6127691

>>6127683

File: randy.png (4.44 MB, 2013x2048)

4.44 MB PNG

>>6127691
>>6127796
>>6127806

>What ‘Climbing’ means
>Why Randy got exiled

“So, she keeps asking me to ‘Climb’, what does that mean?”

“Well, exactly what it sounds like.” Randy answers, “You know they call this place the Ground Floor, right?”

You nod, and he continues, “That means there are more floors than that. A party of 3 to 6 people enters the Serpent’s Tower, and they go to the first floor. Then you find the next staircase, climb to the second, over and over again until you reach the top.”

“So you need a specific number of people?”

Eleanor answers this time, “Y-yeah, and, well, the <Maw> is different for every party that tries to climb. Of course, modifications can be made, but, um, the only way for somebody to be ejected from a party without completely disbanding it is for them to die, so, it’s a bit of a commitment.”

“And a disbanded party loses all progress in the Maw.” Randy adds, “So if you start climbing with us, make it up a few floors, and then decide to change your mind, all three of us will need to agree, and even if we do, you’ll have to start from the bottom all over again.”

“People are really upset at you guys, huh.” You say, unable to understand why these seemingly decent people are so despised, “So, I get why Eleanor was exiled, but what about you? Did you really kill someone?”

“Among other things.”

“..What other things?”

“Assaulting an officer, evading law enforcement, resisting arrest, obstruction of justice.. really it goes on and on.”

“H-he’s just trying to make himself look bad!” Eleanor interjects, “You should tell him what really happened!”

He sighs, rummaging for something in his satchel for a moment and mumbling to himself before beginning:

“I promised Father Garibaldi to be honest about this, so I suppose I have no choice." His eyes swivel, focusing intently on you, "You haven’t been down here long, so you probably don’t know, but every sentient Lyxish species is a little bit psychic.”

“Woah, really?” You gasp, “So you can, like, read minds?”

>>6128070

“Well, I said a little bit. For most of us, it basically amounts to a heightened sense of empathy- instead of just sympathizing with what other people are experiencing and replicating it in your own body, a Lyxish mind can literally feel other people’s emotions, pain, and joy. Because of this, the crime rate in the Lyxish Federation is almost zero, and the poverty rate is even lower. Letting another member of your kind live on the street is anathema to us.

“But, like all traits, the extent of this effect is genetic. How much you can sense others- and how much others can sense you- is determined at birth. Furthermore, the heritability of this is almost nothing; it’s impossible to predict what a child would be like based on the sensitivity of their parents.

“Some are born with sensitivity so powerful that they can do far more than what we consider normal- they can commune with and control others, animals, and even objects. Due to their heightened empathy, these individuals are also often the kindest of our species. ‘True Psychics’ like that are rare though, less than one in a million. So rare that, in the entire existence of the Maw, we’ve only ever seen one get swallowed.

“Even rarer than that are ‘Null Children’, born without any sensitivity at all. They are inscrutable- one cannot sense their emotions, and they cannot feel the emotions of others. Even though this is considered normal among your kind, in our culture, such individuals are.. terminated immediately after being born because of the threat they can pose to society. They would abort if possible, but a child only ever awakens to their sensitivity after hatching.”

He pauses, his tone and expression dripping with melancholy. You put a reassuring hand on his arm, and he continues:

“My son, my pride and joy, my very first, he.. was insensitive. I tried, I tried everything I could but I-”

“It’s ok.” you say, “I understand.”

>Witchcraft and Magic
>The quadrants of the Gold District
>Lyxish Society
>What the consequences would be for joining them
>Nothing, actually, you’ve made your choice (join or decline)
>Write-in

>>6128071
>What's the point of climbing? Can a person get home that way?

>>6128071
>>6128273
+1, What does it mean to get to the top?
Also curious about the other quadrants but that can take the backseat for now

>>6128071
>>6128334 +1

>>6128273
>>6128334

>>6128642
Sorry, +1

>>6128273
>>6128334
>>6128438
>>6128643

>Why Climb?

“What happens if you make it to the top?” You ask, “Does it mean you get to go home?”

“It can,” Randy answers, “According to legend, everyone who makes it to the top gets one wish from the Devourer. The thing that ate us in the first place.”

“It’s not just a Myth.” Eleanor corrects, “I’ve spoken to people who were around when the Trailblazers escaped the Maw.”

“The Trailblazers?”

Randy nods, “The first and only party to ever make it to the top. But that’s just a legend.”

“It isn’t.” Eleanor declares, “The [r]Serpent’s Tower[/r] is proof of that.”

“Was it not always there?”

Eleanor shakes her head, “When they made it to the top- back then they just assumed it was how you could get home- the Devourer offered each of the Trailblazers a request as a reward for their persistence. Their captain wished to liberate the entire ground floor, but, obviously, the Devourer rejected that. After all, we are his food, and though he could afford six losses, he could not afford thousands. So, he offered a compromise- a method to make climbing up the Maw a lot easier. That is what the Tower is.”

“But,” Randy interjects, “It was a trick. Sure, the Tower makes climbing a lot easier, but it also makes it easier to quit. The ability to give up and go home at any time without losing your progress, the ability to use the lower floors to safely and reliably gather resources and make money, the Gifts you receive by reporting to the tower on every new floor.. it all makes it more and more tantalizing to give up on the deadly, nigh impossible hope of escape and live comfortably in the Maw until your will burns out.”

“Well, um, that’s one interpretation,” Eleanor sighs, “Others say he had no ill will at all, that it was the Trailblazer Captain’s idea, and that human laziness is at fault.”

“The floors get exponentially more deadly and, ever since that first escape, no party of Climbers has ever made it past the 40th floor. It’s essentially a suicide mission.”

“But, it’s also the only way home.”

>>6128720

>Note: You will not age within the Maw. Instead, you will only die due to Injury, Disease, or a loss of Will.
>Your Will to live is represented in two aspects: your will to Stay and your will to Escape. The difficulty and availability of certain actions may be affected by these values. Additionally, various actions or events may impact your Will.
>Every day that passes, the Maw will devour one point of Will from your highest current Aspect. Should both values drop below 20, [r]you will die.[/r]

Stay: 20/100
Escape: 80/100

“..Why do you guys want to go home so badly?” You ask, “Aren’t you guys both persecuted?”

“U-um, actually, I was going to wish for us all to go to Terra!” Eleanor declares.

Looking between her and Randy, you imagine that she could probably pass if she covers her ears, but..

“Um, I think Randy might stand out a bit.”

“Obviously, I was going to use my wish to become human. I.. can’t trust myself to wish for anything else.”

You give an understanding nod.

“T-that means, if you climb with us, you can use your wish for whatever you want! Money, power, fame-”

“A bigger phallus.” Randy interrupts.

“Randy! That’s inappropriate!”

“It’s not my fault are so invested in that sort of thing.” Randy shrugs, “Lyxish women have Ovipositors, so I don’t have a-”

“Shutupshutupshutupshutu-”

“Uh, I guess I’ll think about it for a bit.” you cut her off.

It seems like, with these guys or otherwise, you’ve found your ticket home. Though, based on what Mike said earlier, you don’t know if things will be the same if or when you get back home.

“I can give you free lessons! No strings attached!” Eleanor offers, “Swordsmanship- or, uh, I guess spearmanship? Not the point- I could teach you magic, whatever you want! Humans learn pretty fast, you know?”

“Honestly kid, I’m just waiting for another person like us to join- you have prospects. You’d be better off somewhere else.”

>Witchcraft and Magic
>The quadrants of the Gold District
>Lyxish Society
>Albian martial skills
>Nothing, actually, you’ve made your choice (join or decline)
>Write-in

>>6128721

Whoops, messed up the formatting a bit. Does this work?

>>6128721
These guys are cool and probably our climbing party, but we may want to check out the other districts first before we get black-listed, get those supplies, maybe an Albian spear that's not rusted
We can always come back and join them

>>6128721
>Write-In
Check out the other districts first, starting with the Terran district.

Get a way to get in touch with these guys before we go though.

Let's see how much our stuff would sell for while we're at it, in terms of like...I don't know, a standard set of adventurer gear.

Which brings up the question of what sorts of things exactly climbers face. Is it monsters? Traps? Tests and puzzles? Reality warping? Maybe let's make this our last question to these two.

>>6128721
>>6128723 +1

>>6128801
+1

>>6128721

>>6128758
>>6128801
>>6128998
>>6129363

>Check out the other districts first

“Honestly, you guys seem cool. I’m gonna see the city before I join officially, but I need some way to contact you guys when I do.”

Eleanor gasps, a brilliant grin blossoming on her face as she claps her hands in glee, “You won’t regret it! I promise! So, hm, in a five days, me and Randy will be in that cafe at, uh, does 23:00 sound good?” she gestures to a small, 1920s americana style coffee shop, complete with large windows displaying the deep yellow light flickering from inside, illuminating the darkened street below as the silhouettes of customers cast shadows into the night.

“Fine by me.” Randy replies, “Though, seriously, it really is no pressure. Nobody ages down here, so we got all the time in the world.”

“We don’t age? Wait, not the point right now, I’m not doing this because I have to. I meant it when I said you guys were cool. Seriously.”

Eleanor lets out an excited squeal, barely suppressing her joy enough to not freak people out. Randy, meanwhile, merely gives a dispassionate shrug.

“So, uh, speaking of looking around, where should I do that?”

“This quadrant’s probably the most interesting as far as Gold District goes.” Randy answers, “The Sun Quadrant- an entire section of one of your ancient cities- Tenochtitlan, I believe- that fell down here a long, long time ago (as well as their converts) are a bit south of here. After that is the Covenant Quadrant- inhabited by the people of Abrahamic faith, and then there’s the Agricultural Quadrant, a large region dedicated exclusively to the cultivation of Terran crops. Vegetables and grains are a hell of a commodity in the Maw, especially among your kinds.”

Tenochtitlan.. you wrack your brain trying to recall where you’ve heard the name before. You really should have paid more attention in class.

“Uh, thanks. How do I get places?”

“You can walk. There are also carts that go back and forth, and the Skybus is also always an option, though a rather pricey one if you plan to see everything.”

You nod, waving to your new acquaintances as you wander off into the night.

>Check out the night market
>Look for your temporary residence
>Move to another quadrant (Sun, Covenant, Agricultural)
>Move to another district (Red, White, Blue)
>Write-in

>>6130760
>Look for your temporary residence
After a day like this, some rest wouldn't go amiss.

>>6130760
>Check out the night market
Just because we're here, in the area, and it happens to be night, we can go to our lil home soon after

Rolled 2 (1d2)

Rolling a tiebreaker

>>6130891
>>6131078
>>6131208

>Check out the night market

Deciding that filling your stomach and seeing the sights is more appealing than sleep at the moment, you head over to the source of the appetizing smells, the nearby night market. You see alleys, streets, and small stone courtyards filled with stands, some selling clothes, others selling trinkets or knick-knacks, but a vast majority selling some sort of food. Most of the food, to your surprise, seems to be meat, but you do notice some stalls selling confections- dragon’s beard, carmels, and honeycomb seem relatively common, but you see very little produce or bread and, when you do see items with grain, they tend marginally pricier than the average.

The glittering radiance of the streetlights and the natural glow of Maw denizens creates a brilliant kaleidoscope of colors against the starless night ‘sky’, giving an almost magical feeling as you stroll through the otherworldly streets. Some of the items you come across seem to be literally magical- toy wands that trail sparks when waved, rings that keep you comfortably cool at the Maw’s slightly clammy climate, medallions that keep your clothes clean, and so much more. You can’t help but feel a sense of dream-like wonder despite the situation.

Feeling your stomach growl, you make a beeline for the food. Oddly, the meat is never named as ‘chicken’ or ‘beef’, instead usually being labeled as simply ‘meat’.

Walking up to a vendor with a particularly appetizing set of marinated skewers, you decide to ask what the meat is. He speaks some foreign language- maybe somewhere close to India- but as with Lyxish or Albian, the meaning of the words enters your mind naturally.

“It is the fruit of the Maw, sir.” He explains, “Are you new?”

You nod, and he shoots you a sympathetic look, “We have been blessed with many analogues for the spices we enjoy back home,” he says, handing you a skewer, “It isn’t much, but it’s some comfort, I believe. Take this, on the house.”

>>6131512

"Oh, uh, thank you. Sir.” You say, gratefully accepting the food. You almost immediately sink your teeth into the tender meat. Immediately, juices flood your mouth, a flavor somewhere between lamb and pork, their flavor complemented and enhanced by the succulent marinade and the spices kneaded into the cut before it was cooked to a perfect medium rare. Almost entranced, you wolf down the rest of the skewer, greedily pulling its contents from the wooden stick and into your gullet. As you turn back to thank the vendor once again, you see a look of shock plastered on his face.

“Oh, uh, I guess I ate that kinda sloppily,” A sheepish grin spreads across your face, “Sorry.”

“No, no, I’m glad you enjoyed it!” The man replies, “It’s just, most drop-ins are a bit hesitant to eat the fruit of the Maw, at least at first.”

“Why? It’s really good.”

He lets out a hearty laugh, wiping a tear from his eyes before responding: “I suppose it is.”

Wanting to give the man some business, you drop three copper coins in his hand, taking another skewer and savoring it a bit more slowly as you continue to explore the market.

>Check out clothes
>Check out food
>Check out trinkets
>Go home
>Write-in

>>6131513
Wait, are we literally eating cuttings of the innards of the creature which ate us? Gnarly. Poetic.

>>6131513
>Take stock of how much money we have relative to the cost of stuff
>Check out clothes
>Ask someone why we all glow, anyway

>>6131534
Support
Also fuck yeah fuck this monster, he eats us, we eat him, like some unending ouroboros

>>6131513
>>6131534 +1

>Take stock of how much money we have relative to the cost of stuff
>Check out clothes
>Ask someone why we all glow, anyway

Asking around, you’re able to ascertain the types of currency- apparently, mostly for the sake of simplicity, they have fewer increments in circulation than most modern nations do. As it stands, the conversions go as follows:

Adamantium (Ceremonial): 1,000 copper
Platinum: 100 copper
Gold: 50 copper
Electrum: 20 copper
Silver: 10 Copper
Copper: 100 Iron
Zinc: 25 Iron
Large Iron: 10 Iron
Iron (Smallest Increment)

You were initially given 15 coppers, 14 silvers, and 1 gold, or a total of 205 copper pieces of spending money. It seems like a copper piece is the closest equivalent to a dollar, though based on the ability to buy a filling meal for just three pieces at the night market, you imagine things are cheaper down here than up on Earth. for a rough total of 3 silvers spending money daily, with more being issued weekly until the end of the trial period. At first you think that it isn’t a lot, but considering that you don’t need to pay for a place to stay, you decide that the stipend is more fair than you had first thought.

You count your remaining coins- having spent 1 silver for the bus fare and 3 copper for food, you have an equivalent balance of 192 copper remaining for the next six days or so. Deciding that you have plenty for now, you opt to search for some clean clothes to change into.

Interestingly, you see three major ‘labels’ on any given item of clothing, ‘True’ cloth, ‘Salvage’ cloth, and ‘Synthetic’ cloth. You decide to make an inquiry of a nearby vendor, a woman who at least looks around your age.

“Oh, you must be new! Congrats on surviving in one piece.” She says in pristine British English, “True cloth is made from crops or livestock harvested down here in the Maw, or raw materials dropped in. Almost always pricey. Salvage is either taken directly or made from loose pieces or scraps either dropped in or found on the upper floors. Synthetic is… cheap, but it’s a bit gross. I mean, TECHNICALLY it’s fine, but, still, ew.” She, a Salvage cloth vendor, is possibly just trying to undercut her competition, but you listen as she leans in to ‘spill the tea’, as your sister so frequently puts it.

“They use magic and Lyxish tech knowhow to transform the stuff in the Maw meat into fiber. Didn’t pay enough attention at Uni, but apparently meat sugar and plant sugar are like, the same thing, so they just take one and use their weird machines to make it into another. It’s also why sugar is so cheap down here… but I don’t wanna think about that part. I need sweets to stay sane.”

You nod, browsing through her wares for an earth tee in your size (some band you’ve never heard of) that happens to be on sale, forking over a silver in exchange.

>Total remaining balance: 182 coppers

>>6132485

As you browse the market, you hear something interesting: somebody, a muscled (though rather pale, most likely due to lack of sunlight in the Maw), tall blonde man is proselytizing. He seems dressed casually, t-shirt and jeans just like someone from your time, with the sole exception of a pendant resembling scales around his neck and a sword holstered at his side. Oddly, he seems to be preaching the ‘Blind Arbiter’, a figure you’ve never heard of. More surprisingly, he Isn’t glowing. Fascinated, you approach his makeshift crate pulpit.

“So, uh, what’s up with this arbiter stuff? And why aren’t you, y’know, glowing?”

He smiles, happy that someone is giving him the time of day.

“You seem a new face! Of the modern sort, as well, which is nice. A Terran, like me, yes?” He seems to be speaking French, a language you lack the knowledge of to discern a time period or dialect from. You decide not to bring too much attention to it, simply nodding at his question.

“I dropped in thirty years ago in Maw time- I believe it was just after the Second World War?”

Wow, he could have known your great grandpa. Ignoring your shock, he continues:

“Tell me boy, are you religious?”

>Yes (Specify Religion)
>No
>Write-in

“And are you too devout to convert?”

>If you selected ‘Yes’ above, rate your devotion to your religion on a scale of 1 to 5. Note that any value higher than 1 will result in an inability to convert to any other religion within the Maw

>>6132486
>Yes (Scientologist)
>4
No wonder we're so chill with this. It's just like Source told us! Right on, LRH. Bet this glows' thetans.

>>6132511
*engrams, rather, weighting down our Operating Thetan level

>>6132486
>No

>>6132486
>Yes (Christian)
>1
Brad's a good American Christian boy, but not that good

>>6132486
>yes (Muslim)
>5
Inshallah

>>6133718
A super hardcore American Muslim named "Brad Masters"?

>>6132486
I'll change votes to back >>6133717 to clear the tie, if that's what we're waiting on.

>>6132511
>>6132602
>>6133717
>>6133718
>>6134199

Apologies for the wait. Real life stuff came up.

>Christian (1)

>You have gained the Devotion Stat!
>Devotion represents your faith in some higher power and allows you to use Devotion Skills. In the Maw, Devotion is a source of supernatural power and, notably, all faiths seem capable of manifesting these conventionally impossible phenomena. Even without dedicated skills, it is possible to use Devotion to attempt these feats, though doing so is far more difficult than a practiced technique.

>Devotion: 1 (-4)

“I was raised Christian.” You say, “But I’m not as serious about it as my parents are. I’m, uh, less than perfect as far as a lot of those sins go.”

The preacher gives a sagely nod, “I was like you, before I fell. Well, you needed some sort of faith to deal with everything after the war. Still, I think you’ll find my case for God a touch more compelling than your preacher’s. Do you know why you glow, my friend?”

You shake your head and he elaborates, “This place isn’t just called the Maw because of its appearance. Even now, all of the people you see are being digested.”


“W-what?”

“To this creature, willpower is food. The desire to do anything, to be anything, is its sustenance. It marks you with colors to keep track of everything and then leaves you at the base of the pit. As you can tell, your god isn’t protecting you. He, if He even exists, averts His gaze while your very essence is sucked out of your soul.”

“..but your god is different.”

“That’s right. Very clever.” He smiles, fiddling with the pendant on his chest before continuing, “As you climb the Maw, you’ll find evidence of the things it has eaten. Amongst them are temples to the Wandering Gods, deities who have spread their grasp across more realities than you or I could fathom. Beings of immense and unshakeable power. One of them is my Lady, the Blind Arbiter. A piece of her rests down here, you know, alongside her crumbling temples. I think the Devourer ate one of her worlds, once, though the lack of her followers amongst its current quarry suggests that the act was too unwise to be repeated.”

“So you’re saying that your god is like, definitively real?”

“Indeed.”

“Then why have so few people converted?”

“A present god is one that many find difficult to believe, counterintuitive though it might sound. Personally guiding lost lambs from the pits of despair is seen as.. undignified for a divinity.”

You look at the green light, apparently a piece of your soul, seeping out of your body and scattering into the hungry belly of the beast you find yourself trapped in.

>>6134462

“And if I convert, she’ll protect me? Keep my will intact?”

“Well, she’ll shield you from the digestive process, but she cannot keep you sane on her own. We are still human, after all.”

“Does it, y’know, cost anything to become one of her people?”

“The Arbiter does not deal in money. Instead, your devotion to her is expressed in your acts. You must act fairly whenever you can- to those who are kind, return their grace as best you can, regardless of whether or not you like them or they like you. To those that are wicked, even if you love them, you must be heartless and cruel. To all but their actions, you must be blind. In turn, she shall guide you to the right decisions, warn you when you may fall, and assist you in doing her work.”

>Ask more about the Arbiter
>Ask more about Wandering Gods
>Offer to convert
>Go home
>Write-in

>>6134463
>Argue a little
Look, we may not be a GREAT Christian, but being unforgivingly cruel to people is definitely a no-no on Jesus' books, right? And who SAYS he isn't going to save our soul, even if a monster eats us? it's not like this street preacher's been to the afterlife to see who all is there, and if there are any alumni of The Maw.

>Ask more about Wandering Gods
Who are the other ones?

>>6134467
I'll support this

Learning that devotional strength can give meme powers makes me regret missing out on ultra-Muslim Brad a little, but that just means we have to become an ultra-crusader for Christianity to compensate
And yeah this Arbiter faith may not be the best religion to convert to given that our probable party members are a murderer (no matter how justified) and a practitioner of evil soul magic

>>6134467
>>6134535
>Argue a little
>Ask more about Wandering Gods

“I don’t like the way she thinks,” you say with a frown, “People can grow and change after they make mistakes, and God knows everybody makes them. Besides, what about people who do bad things because they have no other choice, or for some other reason besides just being evil?”

“There is a reason she goes by Arbiter and not by lawmaker or executioner,” the preacher explains, “Rather than going by strict legalistic rules which create such moral quandaries, she has the capacity to judge each case on its individual merits. In addition, while it is the case that one must face accountability for their actions despite the inevitability of human imperfection, one can atone for a minor sin or one with extenuating circumstances merely by doing right by other people. There is always time to tip the scales for those who haven’t crossed the point of no return.”

“But there is a point of no return for you. A point where someone cannot be redeemed anymore.”

“Of course.” He replies, a darkness burning behind their eyes, “If you had seen what I saw on the Western front of the War- the atrocities and inhumanity subjected by monsters unto people, you would understand that it is more than possible to be beyond redemption.”

You avert your eyes- how could you forget? This man was an allied soldier during World War II.

“..the camps.” You more state than ask. He knows he doesn’t need to answer, simply casting his gaze to the floor.

“I’m sorry to bring up those memories. Still, I don’t think I can believe in your god, but I understand why you do. You said something about other Wandering Gods- others like the Arbiter. Can you explain? I haven’t seen anyone other than you lose your glow before.”

>>6134768

“Well, as I said, the evidence of the Wandering Gods is only accessible on the upper floors. Most don’t even know of their existence, and those that do consider them to be evil or false. People are more religious down here than they were wherever they came from, especially after some time passes and they witness the power of Faith in the Maw.

“Traces of the Wandering Gods are also on the higher floors and, since each person experiences something different on all but a spare few levels of this place, very little is known about most if not all of them. I was fortunate enough to come across a nearly intact version of her lady the Blind Arbiter’s holy script, but very few Wandering Gods have such luxury. The only other ones you’ll find at all worshiped on the ground floor are the Invisible Hand and the Great Raven, neither of which I know much of, but both of which would surely upset your sensibilities even more so than the Arbiter.”

“What about the ones.. not worshiped here?”

“One, the Architect, is simply not followed because so little is known of him that seems impossible to give him your faith. The other two, however.. praying to them is an offense severe enough to be banned from the ground floor entirely. One is the Void- some sort of incarnation of the abstract concept of oblivion. The other is the Devourer itself.”

“What? Why would people worship the thing that ate them?”

“Humans are capable of many inexplicable things.”


>Ask more about the Arbiter
>Offer to convert
>Go home
>Write-in

>>6134770
>Go home
I get where he's coming from, but I don't think there's much point in making brad a Christian just to convert at the drop of a hat.

>>6134770
>Go home
Time to sleep so we have enough energy to tour the entirety of another district tomorrow

>>6134770
The pig prays to the butcher in hopes that he may be spared come time for harvest.

Anyway
>Go home
Honestly our guy seems about as religious as the average urban american so him converting right away really wouldn't be much of a stretch but probably still best to give it some time.

>>6135059
>>6135091
>>6135105

>Go home

You give your goodbyes to the preacher, who hands you a small slip of paper containing the address of his residence in case you want to discuss the matter further- apparently there aren’t enough believers to justify a formal church. Tired from the day’s events, you decide to leave, instead heading towards the Drop-In housing building that Mike and his boss told you about.

You eventually find it, a large building reminiscent of an apartment complex on the outskirts of town. Unlike the surrounding area, most of the lights are off, with only two or three rooms on the first and second floors showing any activity at all. You enter the large glass doors into a reasonably classy modern lobby, in which a lone receptionist lazily waits. She stirs as she sees you, sizing you up as you approach her desk.

“You must be the drop-in.” she says, in some sort of Asian language you don’t speak, “Name?”


“Brad Masters.”

She nods, clacking away at something that resembles an old box-screen computer and nodding at what seems to be matching information.

“You have until the end of the trial period to decide whether to be permanently issued your room in the Golden Gaia complex or accept a government issued housing fund. There aren’t a lot of rules, just don’t be too loud after dark and don’t keep any pets bigger than a dog or from another floor. Ah, of course, should you damage the building, you will be held liable. Sign this waiver.”

You look it over- it seems like a boilerplate renter-landlord agreement with a number of clauses added regarding the government sponsorship of either temporary or indefinite residential costs. Too tired (and, though you hate to admit it a bit too dull) to scour the contract in its entirety, you simply check that there isn’t anything out of the ordinary and sign at the bottom of each page and turn it over. The receptionist skims your signed contract and hands you a key from behind her desk.

“The pool on the rooftop and the gym on the first floor are complimentary, but laundry services cost coin, price depending on the work. Your room 301. Congratulations, you got the whole floor to yourself, kid.”

Thinking about it, it does make sense that property wouldn’t be a major issue when the population growth of the entire city is around one a month.

>>6135262

You nod to the woman, gratefully accepting the key and ascending the nearby elevator up to the third floor. Eventually, you find your way to your new room- flicking the lightswitch, you see the golden lamps of your new home light up. The floorplan is simple, a single living space with a small attached kitchen and a single bedroom. Entering it, you find a surprisingly spacious living quarters, fitted with a desk, empty bookshelf, nightstand, wardrobe, and queen-sized bed. You also find the door to the (thankfully modern) bathroom. The place is undecorated and almost painfully beige, but you have to admit it’s nicer than your apartment back home.

Too drained to even change your clothes, you slump down onto the plush comforter of your new bed, falling effortlessly into sleep.

>The maw takes its due:
>Stay: 20/100
>Escape: 80->79/100

You rise from bed, comfortably rested. Looking out the window, it seems like the day has broken- as described, a sinister red light bathes the entire city of the Ground Floor, the subtle glow emanating from the boundless fleshy ceiling giving the impression of a vermillion sky. You try out the shower (though the hot water seems broken) and switch into the pants (and bundled boxers) you bought yesterday and the spare t-shirt in your bag.

You have a few days to kill before you’re scheduled to meet with your new acquaintances. What should you do today?

>Explore Gold District
>Explore a new district (White, Red, or Blue)
>Go back to Black District
>Work out
>Look for a church
>Write-in

>>6135265
>Explore Gold District
Maybe we can find someone who'll tell us more about that, uh, counter. Or less meta:
>Ask how long it takes a person to be digested around here

>>6135265
>>6135308 +1

>>6135265
At some point I do want to check out a church, but my vote will be for
>Explore White district

I don't mind exploring gold district, but white district and blue district are the ones we're gonna be blacklisted from after a bit
That being said, I'm mostly just throwing this out there, I don't really mind too much one way or the other

>>6135308
>>6135319
>>6135888

>Explore Gold District

You decide to start by looking around the Gold District. As you leave your new apartment, you come to realize how odd everything is in what you imagine is probably the most normal district to a person from modern Earth in the entire Maw- the clothing varies wildly, from suits and ties to flapper dresses to traditional clothing from a number of cultures you find difficult to count. The market square, bustling last night, is almost completely empty now, with only those selling ingredients and supplies or operating out of full buildings still engaging in business. Curious, you decide to ask.

“New guy, eh? Man, I still remember how bad my first week was. That was before all of the luxuries new drop-ins get these days.” An older gentleman selling fruit preserves and speaking some African language asks, a playful smile on his face, “Daytime is the only time where it’s possible to harvest of the Maw. Most people who live down here- or at least in this district- work the Walls during the day. If you’re looking for something more interesting, there’s a community center- sort of like one of your malls combined with town hall- at the heart of the Multicultural Quadrant. The people there work dayshifts. Ah, also, one last tip. Stay out of the sewers. Nothing down there for a nice kid like you.”

You nod, thanking the man for his time.

(Optional vote, compensate the man for his time?
>Pay a copper coin
>Buy a jar of preserves (costs 1 silver)
>Leave without compensating)

>>6136279

Following the man’s suggestion, you take a stroll through town. It seems lonely, almost liminal barring the occasional cart or pedestrian focused solely on something more important than seeing the sights. About an hour passes before you see the building.

A towering structure looms over the surrounding buildings, most not nearly tall enough to match its ten story magnitude. The lower floors seem more modern somehow, sleeker and lined with sleek gray concrete, shiny steel, and shimmering blue glass that seems to carry on the art-deco aura of the golden years of New York City, whereas the top two or three almost seem like a completely different building, a neoclassical marble edifice rests atop the building below, overlooking the rest of the district like a king on a high throne.

Your awe is shattered by what sounds like a heated argument from somewhere nearby, followed by a cry of pain. On habit, you rush over to examine the situation.

“GET OUT OF HER YOU SON OF A BITCH!” You hear what your (admittedly quite distracted) time in sunday school taught you to recognize as Latin. The sound in response is uncanny, a series of unintelligible vocalizations underpinned by a low gargling buzz. As you enter the scene, you find a well-built young man with olive skin burning beet red in indignation holding up a woman of similar age and ethnicity dressed in a skintight latex-esque bodysuit and collared windbreaker jacket.

“(I-I can’t!)” the woman responds, you somehow able to understand despite her not even speaking a real language, “(I already binded, and, besides, she was on the donor list..)”

“YOU DEMON BASTARD!" He roars, "IF YOU WON’T GET OUT OF SEVERA THEN I’LL FUCKING MAKE YOU.” He lifts the woman by her collar and winds up what seems like a devastating gut punch. The woman tries her best to get away, scratching at her attacker with her nails and scratching up his exposed skin, blood dripping onto his pristine saffron toga, but try as she might she seems unable to escape his grip.

>Leave
>Intervene peaceably (charm roll)
>Threaten the man to stop with your spear (charm roll)
>Break them up by force (athletics roll)
>Knock the man out with your football (athletics roll, skill (Aim) applicable)
>Write-in

>>6136280
Looks like someone bodyjacked this girl, but maybe the girl gave up her body willingly? Complex shit here, can't blame the dude for going apeshit
>Leave without compensating
>Intervene peaceably

>>6136279
>Buy a jar of preserves (costs 1 silver)

>>6136280
>Break them up by force (athletics roll)
We're a jock, might as well lean into it.

>>6136279
>Buy a jar of preserves (costs 1 silver)
>Intervene peaceably (charm roll)

>>6136301
>>6136331
>>6136537
>>Buy a jar of preserves (costs 1 silver)
>>Intervene peaceably (charm roll)

Please roll 3 rolls of 3d20. DCs are kept hidden in this quest, but the system goes as follows:

0 successes: catastrophic failure
1-3 successes: failure
4-5 successes: mitigated success
6-8 successes: full success
9+ successes: superb success

Bonus die (when applicable) replace failing die when they pass. In addition, natural 20s are worth 2 successes and Natural 1s are worth a negative success.

Rolled 10 (1d20)

>>6136837
Here goes

>>6136839
You're supposed to roll 3d20, not just one

Rolled 2, 18 = 20 (2d20)

>>6136842
ah
I misread, I'll roll two more

Rolled 8, 9, 10 = 27 (3d20)

>>6136837

Rolled 1, 10, 16 = 27 (3d20)

>>6136837
Here we goooo

File: mfw u r serious.png (263 KB, 400x305)

263 KB PNG

>>6136924
>1

File: Masters.jpg (386 KB, 2849x3073)

386 KB JPG

>>6136839
>>6136843
>>6136870
>>6136924

>5 successes, 1 crit fail = 4, mitigated success
Sorry for the lack of colors/digital stuff, my tablet was dead so I had to improvise

You force yourself between both parties, and, before you can calm the situation down, the man in the toga slams his fist into your cheek, redirecting the punch meant for the woman behind you. Your head spins, and you taste iron in your mouth, but you’ve taken worse hits before. Even still, you feel stronger somehow than you should be. Ignoring that for now, you look your assailant dead in the eye, spitting blood onto the floor.

“Calm down. Let’s talk this out.” You say, not wavering a bit as he withdrawals his hand from your face.

“You must be new.” He replies, rage still smoldering behind his eyes.

You’ve been getting that a lot. “I am. What’s happening here?”

“My name is Decimus Laronius.” he states, trying to keep himself calm, “Me and my wife Severa fell together all those years ago. She passed, very recently, but that THING-” he stops to collect himself grief and rage nearly breaking his Roman stoicism, “took her. It’s WEARING her like a suit of armor. It’s disgusting. To see another color coming from my Severa-” he chokes down a sob, redirecting his emotions into his clenched fist, his knuckles going white as he digs his nails into the skin of his palm hard enough to make his hand bleed, “Step aside. I have to put that thing down.”

“I-I didn’t steal her or anything!” The woman behind you cries, seemingly more to you than to Decimus, “She was.. kind. She donated her body to medicine, and, I had no choice. I needed a host or else I was going to die, and there haven’t been any Lyxish deaths recently. It’s not unprecedented to take a Terran body as-”


“SHUT UP!” Decimus roars, trying to force his way through you as you block his path with your arm, “SHE WANTED TO DONATE HER ORGANS, NOT HER ENTIRE BODY! DO YOU SERIOUSLY THINK SHE WOULD HAVE WANTED THIS?!”

“Why not?” The woman asks, clearly as genuinely confused as he was scared, “What’s the difference?”

“PARASITE SCUM!”

You catch a second punch, again not directed at you, but this time without getting yourself bruised up.

“You seem like a good kid,” Decimus states, his hand trembling in rage in yours as you keep yourself between him and what used to be his wife, “But if you keep getting in the way I’ll have to hurt you. Please, leave this between me and the bug.”

>Leave as directed
>Shout for the police
>Try to calm the man down (roll charm)
>Run away with the girl (roll athletics)
>Ask questions
>Write-in

>>6137321
My boy Decimus is based, but beating people out of anger is just gonna leave you feeeling hollow/empty afterward, there is no catharsis to be found in the abyss
>Try to calm the man down

>>6137321
>Run away with the girl (roll athletics)
Seems like Parasite-chan might want to get the fuck out of dodge.Got any useful skills? Want to join a Tower-climbing party?

Rolled 1 (1d2)

Since quite a bit of time has passed, rolling to break the tie

>>6137446
>>6137484

>Try to calm the man down
Please give me 3 rolls of 3d20. Same rules apply

Rolled 1, 13, 14 = 28 (3d20)

>>6138441

>>6138443
Damn it really be like that huh
Still probably a net one success if I'm predicting the dc right

Rolled 20, 2, 3 = 25 (3d20)

>>6138441
We shoukd have just shived him and ran.

>>6138469
Shoved, not shivved, lol. Although...

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>6138441

>>6138535
two more d20 my friend

>>6138469
nice 20 my friend, you cancelled out my shitty 1 and then some

Rolled 17, 6 = 23 (2d20)

>>6138558
RIP sorry

>>6138443
>>6138469
>>6138535
>>6138560

4 successes + 2 - 1 = 5 successes, mitigated success

“Look,” You say, moving the arm holding Decimus’s fist down below eye level and placing a comforting hand on top of it, “I’m not gonna pretend like I know what you’re going through. I’ve lost people but.. not like that. But still, when I lost my grandfather, I remember I was angry. I lashed out at people and, I know- hell, I KNEW- that I was being unfair. And all that anger, all that screaming and sulking and fights in the locker room-” your voice dies in your throat, and you have to push yourself to project the strength and certainty you need, “It didn’t bring him back.”

A trickle of blood leaks down Decimus’s mouth as he bites his lip hard enough to break it, a crimson streak down his chin masking yours as he trembles, clearly resisting the urge to break down crying.

“S-still,” he musters, voice shaking in grief and indignation, “I still can’t let her be- O Letum, why couldn’t you have taken me?” He collapses onto the ground, first limply, lifelessly, then slamming his fist into the concrete over and over and over again, bruises and blood blooming across his knuckles and fingers as he grunts, the teeth sunk into his lips the only stopgap between him and a flood of tears.

You pull Decimus to his feet, offering a rag from your bag to help him clean the blood and grime from his hand. He simply shakes his head.

The orange aura around his body begins to flicker. A steady stream of radiance sputtering and crackling like an ember struggling to survive against the wind.

“Decimus, wait!” You cry out, grabbing him by the shoulders, knowing what’s happening despite having never seen it before, “You can’t-”

“You were right.” He says, a look of stoic duty returned to his noble visage, “There is nothing in this world that can bring my Severa back to me.”

“W-wait,” you interject, “There’s a wish, remember? At the mouth of the Devourer! If you escape, then maybe-”

“She and I had been here too long for that. We were complacent, and, before we even knew it, we had lost all will to escape. There’s no strength left in me to make it to the top of the Maw.”

The light dims again, its glow becoming increasingly erratic.

“Come on, you can’t just give up like that!”

“Do not fail as I have.” He orders, lifting his calloused hand into a perfect Roman salute, “Do not let yourself or those you love be consumed. Be strong, boy.”

You try your hardest to return the gesture, clumsily raising your arm to match it as best you can. “Yes, sir.” You respond, choking back a sob.

“At ease, soldier.” He smiles, closing his eyes for the last time as the light vanishes from them- and the rest of his body- entirely. Now more than ever, you are reminded that you are being digested.

>>6138609
“He should have lived for another decade at least,” what used to be Severa says from behind you, confusion and melancholy in her voice (but notably not the powerful emotions one might normally feel as even a stranger dies in front of them), “How did this happen?”

Despite yourself, you laugh at her words, “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

She shakes her head, “I can’t feel a thing from those of other worlds. I have absolutely no idea.”

"Still, you can guess, right?" You spit out, your patience wearing thin, "His wife died. You're wearing her face. Anyone would be messed up because of that."

"She passed already. And he survived. Why now would he suddenly lose his will?"

You clench your hands into fists- this time, you’re the one who has to suppress his rage- how the hell did Randy seem so normal, so empathetic and kind and human while this girl is so ignorant?

>Try to explain
>Ask her questions
>Leave
>Write-in

>>6138610
I think I can see why Randy went a little batshit insane, his society probably felt nothing about killing his kid
But now I'm kinda scared of losing all our will and want to get to climbing as fast as possible, if mah boi Decimus can just drop dead that fast
>Leave

>>6138610
>Leave
Yeah it's clear that their empathy is fully based on their ability to sense the emotions of others.

>>6138610
>Try to explain

>>6138613
>>6138705
>>6139613

>Leave

“Before I go,” you ask, unable to help yourself, “Do you know about the exile? (Randy)?”

“A tragedy,” what used to be Severa replies, “In the end, his biological impulses stifled his moral compass., and his connection to his brothers and sisters. He went mad.”

“..You really think that, don’t you?”

“It’s true,” she replies with a tone of objective finality, as if stating that water is H2O.

Wordlessly, you turn and leave. The better part of you knows that they’ve just been socialized like that, that it’s the only thing they know. Still, you can’t help but think that the Lyxish are truly a disgusting people.

Escape: 79->82
Stay:: 20->15

Shaking your head and leaving the alleyway, you barely resist the urge to throw up somewhere as you stumble into a nearby coffee shop on the perimeter of the commerce center. The place is quaint, with what looks like real wood flooring and dim, atmospheric electric lighting. The furniture is obviously salvaged, with tables of similar but slightly varying sizes, shapes, and wood makeups.

“What can I get you?” A man who looks your age but has much older eyes asks in what you assume is Russian, or something similar.

“..do you have hot cocoa?”

“Of course, take a seat.”

“How much do I owe?”

The gentleman merely shakes his head, “This one is on the house. I know that look in your eyes- you’ve seen someone be Eaten, haven’t you?”

You muster a weak nod in reply.

“Damn shame. Terrible thing to see. Well, at the very least, lucky for both of us cocoa is actually pretty abundant in Gold District. In fact, it’s one of the primary confections down in the Maw. The climate is, ironically, perfect for it. Plus, the folks in the Sun quadrant have been growing it forever. Take as much as you like, on me.”

“..thank you. Sir.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

You take a seat on one of the old chairs- it’s slightly off balance, but you can’t bring yourself to care. The gentleman at the counter places a steaming hot cup of cocoa in front of you.

“Where do you get the milk for this, anyway?” you ask.

“You seem like a climber, so you might find out.” He replies cryptically, a mischievous twinkle in his blue-gray eyes.

You stare at the foamy white surface of the drink, lacking the appetite to drink. All you can do is run what just happened in the alley back in your mind. What happened? What went wrong?

>You should have tried to motivate Decimus instead of just discouraging him from violence
>You should have let him get his frustration out on you instead of letting it kill him
>You should have let Decimus beat that bug into paste
>Decimus was a dead man walking anyway. This wasn’t your fault.
>This was a mercy, anyway. Death is better than.. this
>Everything was a part of god's plan. For him, for you, for everything.
>Write-in

>>6139647
>You should have let him get his frustration out on you instead of letting it kill him
Though I am eyeing that faith booster
Unfortunately net loss in will, but more escape will is good since like hell we're staying in here

>>6139647
>You should have tried to motivate Decimus instead of just discouraging him from violence

>>6139647
>You should have tried to motivate Decimus instead of just discouraging him from violence

File: aisha.png (1.98 MB, 1721x3025)

1.98 MB PNG

>>6139723
>>6139749
>>6139875

Sorry everyone, been super busy lately.

>You should have tried to motivate Decimus instead of just discouraging him from violence

You forgot you were in the Maw, and that was a critical mistake.

You can’t just take away a person’s will down here, that much is tantamount to murder. How could you forget? Down here, Will is life itself.

>Gained the charm skill Motivate

Motivate (Charm): Level 1

When an ally fails a roll, you may make a (Charm) check, replacing their result with your own. If you fail once, you may not attempt to Motivate again until the end of the day. Additionally, you may make one (Charm) check to attempt to save a person dying of insufficient Will

~

As you finally begin to drink your cocoa, you marvel slightly at the technique- the mouthfeel is smooth and silky, a rich chocolate flavor enhanced by the creaminess of the beverage itself. The warmth against the slightly cool air of the cafe brings a mellow comfort to your soul.

Just as you started to feel better, you hear the jingle of the bell on the door, and look up to see the last face you were hoping to meet again.

What used to be Severa looks at you, more at your clothes than your face, and nods to herself, pulling up the chair across from yours and greeting you with a somber expression.

“I never introduced myself,” she says, “My name is-” she states, as Randy did, a garble of characters that you can’t repeat. You interpret her name as Aisha.

“Why are you here?” you deflect, trying to repress your resentment.

“You have saved my life. In the heat of the moment, I lacked the wherewithal to express my gratitude.” She lowers her head in a clumsy bow, clearly not used to the joints and structure of a human body in comparison to an invertebrate one.

“It’s fine.” You lie, “I just thought it was the right thing to do.”

“Still, we never forget favors.” Aisha insists, “And, so, We have decided to compensate you.”

“We?”

She nods, “The Blue and Gold districts understand that there would be issues if we were to publicize this matter, but the Emergency Council- the Blue District government- would like to compensate you regardless.”

You scour- it feels wrong to be rewarded for what happened in that alley. You wonder if this is supposed to be hush money, but you can tell by her overly expressive face that she genuinely wants to thank you for saving her life.

“So, what is it?”


“Whatever you like! Uh, within reason, of course. But you don’t seem like the greedy sort.”

>Reject the offer
>Ask for coin
>Ask for information
>Ask for a lifetime bus pass
>Request that Randy be pardoned
>Request Aisha to climb with you
>Write-in

>>6141442
I doubt that pardoning Randy is deemed "within reason," sadly. Plus, pardoning him would mean his staying down here until he's digested...

>Ask for information
Any intel she's got that could help with our climb.

>>6141442
>Request that Randy be pardoned

>>6141442
>Ask for information

>>6141442
A favor from the bug government itself seems pretty insane
I don't mind information, but I'll say
>Hold onto the favor for later

>>6141448
>>6141633
>>6141635
>>6141672

>Ask for information

“I need intel.” You say, leaning forward somewhat as you consider your request carefully, “I’m new, and there’s a lot I don’t know.”

Aisha tilts her head, visibly confused, “The wealth of our knowledge is publicly available to everyone. Barring, of course, a couple of details which might lead to civil unrest or public safety concerns.”

“I.. might have some circumstances which’ll make it hard for me to drop by Blue district soon. Is there any way you could give me a rough collection before then?”

“Hmm, well, I don’t know what might cause you to do that, but sure, that could be arranged. You must be staying at the Golden Gaia, no?”

“That’s correct.”

“In that case, you probably have access to a rudimentary Terran computational device.”

“I do?”

She nods, “They’re complimentary.”

Huh, maybe you should have done a room tour.

“Wireless connections are nonfunctional down here- the Maw interferes with electromagnetic signaling- but I can send a, um, what do you call them? Yuexbee?”

“USB drive?”

“Yeah, that. We can send one of them to your room.”

You nod, telling her your room number, which she clumsily transcribes onto the device on her wrist. “Ugh, this really is quite inconvenient. How can you people get by without quantum computation?”

“Well we do have it now, I think.” You protest, slightly offended at your species being dissed, “For over a decade.”

Her eyes widen, “Is that so? You primates really do progress at a frightening pace.”
…Did she just call you a monkey?

“Regardless,” She interrupts your thoughts of potential racial discrimination, “This hardly qualifies as an equivalent favor. Is there anything else you want?”

>Hold onto the favor for later
>Ask for coin
>Ask for classified information on the Wandering Gods
>Ask for a lifetime bus pass
>Request that Randy be pardoned
>Request Aisha to climb with you
>Write-in

>>6142734
Some classified intel seems nice, but I'll stick to
>Hold onto the favor for later
Whenever we check out Blue district maybe we'll find something cool to spend the favor on

>>6142758
Agreed.

>>6142734
+1 to the holding onto it vote.

>>6142734
>Hold onto the favor for later

>>6142758
>>6142769
>>6142904

>Hold onto the favor for later

“Very well.” She nods, rummaging through her chest pocket and withdrawing a fragment of some iridescent blue material about the size of a dollar coin. As you touch it, the item feels more like fingernail than metal.

“This is a piece of my last molt. Proof of my obligation.”

Her last molt? You decide to just look it up later. “Thanks.”

“It is my pleasure. Any one of us with reasonable sensitivity should know who you are once you show them that. Once again, thank you for saving my life.” She gives you a stiff bow, overbending and nearly falling on her face. Hurried by embarrassment, she leaves the coffee shop.

You finish your drink, now a little gritty thanks to having cooled too long, thanking the shopkeep for the favor and once again leaving.

You exhale, clutching the strap of your bag hard enough to make your knuckles go white. The reality of the situation has made this a lot less enjoyable.

Regardless, you had resolved yourself to at least visit the whole of the Maw before your meeting with the Exiles. You consider where you ought to head next.

>Proceed to the community center as planned
>Go straight to the Covenant Quadrant
>Go home for now
>Write-in

>>6143753
>Go straight to the Covenant Quadrant

>>6143753
>Go straight to the Covenant Quadrant

>>6143761
>>6143823

>Go straight to the Covenant Quadrant

You decide to head straight through the Multicultural and Sun quadrants and directly to Covenant. After what you just saw, you could really use a priest.

You recall Randy saying that there were carriages and ferries that traveled within and between districts on a semi-regular basis- what he neglected to tell you, and what you stumble upon as you look for a major road- was that there was a train system. You follow the rails to the nearest station (mercifully close enough to be seen), a small, old fashioned building more at home in the wild west than next to modern subway stations like the ones in New York or Tokyo. You hear the whistles of an old steam locomotive- it seems like a northbound train will be here shortly.

You look around, passing by various stalls selling confections, knick-knacks, and beverages, eventually finding the ticket booth.

“Um, one ticket to the Covenant Quadrant?” You ask the middle-aged mustachioed gentleman working the booth.

“One way or round trip?”

“How do the round trip tickets work?”

“Ah, is this your first time? You do seem new.” he clears his throat, providing a full explanations: “The trains run thirty hours a day, seven days a week. There are five one hour breaks for upkeep and personnel changes daily. A ticket will get you between the two stations listed upon it- you may choose to exit at any station between the start and end point, but you will be fined for missing your station. There are two stations in each quadrant- this one being the south Multicultural station.”

“Wait, so this doesn’t go between districts?”

The boothman shakes his head, “This train only operates in gold district. If you want to go between them, you can take the train to the nearest station and walk, or use the Airbus or some private carriage service.”

You nod, “How much for a ticket to Covenant?”

“North or South?”

“Um, I’m christian if that helps?”

“You want north, then. Southside is mostly muslim.”

“Thanks. What do I owe you?”

“Costs one copper for each station you hit, including the destination. So, three coppers.”

“Oh wow, that’s actually really cheap.”

“Train’s a government service. The money’s just to break even.”

You nod, “Both ways, please.”

“That’ll be 6 coppers, then.”

You nod, handing over the money:

>Total remaining balance: 176 coppers

You wait a few minutes for the train to arrive, and, once it does and all the passengers exit, you climb into the designated car and take a seat. The inside is surprisingly classy, with rows of leather (or leather adjacent) reclining seats and plenty of legroom. You pick a free one next to a window, listlessly looking out of it as the train begins to move.

>Make conversation with other passengers
>Sleep until you arrive
>Write-in

>>6144406
>Make conversation with other passengers

>>6144406
>Make conversation with other passengers

>>6144406
>Sleep until you arrive