>>1189260
Jennifer. PE teacher, Hyper-active Lesbian.

>>1189260

Jeremiah, Logger, was first exposed to the hippie scene from some protesters blocking off some trees, eventually the arguments started to work their way into our mind and we're starting to get into the environmental activism community and drugs

To be clear: submitting multiple concepts or just rolling for one you like is fine.

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>>1189324
Rolling for this one so this quest doesn't end up being a stillborn. please respond, I promise this quest isn't going to suck or go nowhere.

>>1189324
And again. Seriously, is no one willing to give this a shot?

Well, I guess we have a name. Anyone... reading this? Would they be okay with us just going with >>1189324 's concept? Just for the sake of not having this thing die before anything can happen?

>>1189324
going with this

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>>1189324
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QtYnCmw2CWE

You are Jeremiah Bates, logger turned would-be defender of nature. This whole weird trip started when you came out to a lumber site in Oregon and found some drop-outs chaining themselves to your timber, talking crazy about disrupting the harmony of nature and such. Police eventually hauled them off, but not before the seed had been planted in the barren wilderness of your mind. You'd started reading Thoreau, Muir, Carson, Ehrlin- it was Dubos's 'So Human an Animal' that did it for you at the end. The drop-outs were right. This world, the people in it: they were messing up, and the entire ecosystem was paying the price. Better to stay mobile, stay on the defensive, and appreciate the beauty of the forests before the maw of industrialism devoured them forever.

You've been rolling with a couple of other free spirits for a good bit. Crumpled up beside you is John DiMaggio, a former square like yourself: he got drafted, and the shit Uncle Sam made him do over there convinced him that this world wasn't worth spit. He's a chill guy (his belief in a thousand far-out conspiracies aside), but you worry about him, sometimes- he gets this horrible look in his eyes, like something REACHED in him and sucked out everything human inside.

Snoring, flat on his back in the back and stinking of pot is 'Sane Eddie' (he calls himself that because 'in a world as sick and fucked as this, being nuts is a sane reaction'). You think he used to be a medical student or an ecology student or something: he's pretty sharp, when he isn't using dope or acid to shut out the rest of the world.

Its early in the morning when you wake up, asleep behind the wheel, pulled off the side of the road. You've been wheeling through the wild places of the US SOMEWHERE, but you can't remember where right now.

Wait! It's coming back to you (through a combination of normal grogginess, a hangover, and the contact high that spending any length of time with Sane Eddie in an enclosed space gives you.) You've been driving:

>Through the Appalachian Mountains: high peaks, flooded gorges, and gorgeous forests. Eddie says these are the oldest mountains in the world.

>Towards Acadia: easternmost point in the US. You guys want to be the first to see the sun rise in the US: it's a spiritual thing.

>In the wild, unsettled parts of the Great Plains: too few parts like this left, nowadays. Tragic.

>Across the Sonoran Desert: John's been talking about these spacemen, that supposedly visit people out here? Government covers it up, he says. He wants to see if he can hitch a ride off this planet with them.

>Through the wet and wild forests of the Pacific Northwest:you want to go back to the timber area where you first met those hippies chained to the trees, see if anything's left.

>>1190543
>Through the Appalachian Mountains: high peaks, flooded gorges, and gorgeous forests. Eddie says these are the oldest mountains in the world.

>>1190543
>>Across the Sonoran Desert: John's been talking about these spacemen, that supposedly visit people out here? Government covers it up, he says. He wants to see if he can hitch a ride off this planet with them.

>>1190604
>>1190607
Tiebreaker between these two.

>>1190543
>Across the Sonoran Desert: John's been talking about these spacemen, that supposedly visit people out here? Government covers it up, he says. He wants to see if he can hitch a ride off this planet with them.

I'll break that tie

>>1190607
>>1191493

The sunlight hits your eyes like a pair of needles. Dew's on the windows, but judging from your drive so far, that isn't going to last long: the desert sun and the dry air makes the environs of your van like being in a toaster oven.

You've got a couple Twinkies lying in the glove compartment: guess that's breakfast. You pull one out and start eating it as you start up the car and start rolling down the road again.

John stirs in his seat, absent-mindedly grooming crumbs of something out of his long beard.

"You shouldn't eat those, man."

"Hmmh?"

"That processed cream stuff. It calcifies your third eye, stops your body from taking in good vibes. You end up throwing yourself out the window, or taking the old .38 asprin. Feds cover it up because the flavoring lobby pays 'em to."

>Shove it up your ass, John.

>Whatever.

>You sure about that?

>(put the Twinkie down)

>Write-In

>>1191589
>Write-In

Are you offering me a different option? Body's got to have fuel man

>>1191589
"Your right Di..Maybe we should look for some geckos around here- scrounge some reptilians up. They are mankind's enemies after all, right?"

Chuckle a little at our absurdity, but give thought to actually hunting some Geckos. To be one with nature is too regain our natural Warrior-Gatherer instincts..Too long we as tribe we relied on the conventions of benign modern customs. We've already delegated ourselves to nomads. The Geckos would be the start to a greater path.

>>1191661

I'd be alright with combining these, bring up hunting as an alternative food source for ourselves, pitch it as a natural cycle

>>1191604
>>1191661
>>1191684
"You offering me a different option here, Di? Here's an idea, let's go out into the desert and hunt some reptiles! They're the enemies of mankind, right?"

John grumbles and lights a reefer.

Eddie's balding, frazzled head jerks up from the back of the car. "Fuck... someone turn the sun off, my eyes can't take it... Di, how about you toss me some of your stash?"

John smirks at him. "This is all I've got left, man. Tough luck."

"Ow- Di, you fucking asshole. How am I going to cope with all of this light now?"


"Thunderbird?"

"Ran out."

"Smoke your own stash for once in your life?"

"Sold that for gas. And the Twinkies. And the Thunderbird."

"Drop some acid, try and wait out the sun in never-never land?"

"Can't do any more of that anytime soon. Think I'm building up an immunity or something."

"... hell if I know, then."

"... Shit, we're broke."

"Don't worry about it. A couple hundred more miles, and I'm out of here, at least. I'll see if the Grays'll take you two guys, too."

>Turn on the radio and ignore them

>Where are you driving us again? And more importantly, WHY am I doing this?

>You feel like keeping that gold tooth, Eddie? Because if we don't figure out some other way to make money, I vote to pawn it.

>Write-In

>>1191749
>you driving us
Should be "I'm driving you".

>>1191749
>Write-In

There any towns or ranches around here? Might be able to get some quick cash with laborer jobs, real Salt of the earth bohemian type work

>>1191749
Ask where exactly our destination is. Driving out into the Sonoran was probably unwise, but lets atleast commit to finding worth while.

We could probably cut down some Cacti for its juice and sell it to some Bums for some spare change if we ever hit up a zone, less we become a pack of Bums ourselves.

>>1191777
"Remind me why I agreed to drive you, again?"

"Because, my good friend, once you drop me off, you'll get all of my worldly goods- including a nice thick wad of bills my folks had put away before they passed."

"Oh yeah, that. Where exactly am I driving you, anyways?"

"Roswell. Big UFO crash there back around 30 years or something. Government-"

"Let me guess- covered it up. What the hell's an 'oofoh', anyways?"

"U.F.O., John. Stands for 'unidentified flying object'. Shit that doesn't make sense -ow- on radar. Big flocks of birds, swamp gas, weather balloons-"

"FLYING SAUCERS! Don't tell me you've been eating up all that bullshit too, Eddie! They just say that to misdirect people and make them give up the search for the truth!"

"And look what an incredible job they've done."

"Hey, I had to DIG to find this! Let me tell you, in a few years, when enough people have broken the conditioning and the Grays reveal themselves, Roswell is going to be the new Jerusalem."

>>1191766
"Hot enough to be a new Jerusalem. Pull the map out, Di- there's got to be a town or ranch somewhere around here, we can do some laborer work. Of course, if there's a BANK, maybe you can write us a check, dip a little into this fortune of yours."

"Let me see... Looks like if we hook a left about 40 miles ahead we'll be able to get to a little place called Wagon Mound. Then we have- heh, Las Vegas- then Tecolotito, then Anton Chico, then Vaughn, then Ramon, then a straight shot along 70 miles of road to Roswell!. We're really close though, man: just, like, four more hours. Think the old girl can get that far?"

Looking at the gas readout and the coolant, you really aren't sure. You feel confident, based on John's vague directions, you can get as far as Las Vegas at the most cautious guess. At the most optimistic, you could make it with room to spare.

>Try to get as far as you can: nothing ventured, nothing gained.

>Stop at Wagon Mound: better that than break down in the middle of nowhere.

>Stop at Las Vegas: see if it's as wild as you've heard the one in Nevada is.

>>1191870
>Stop at Las Vegas: see if it's as wild as you've heard the one in Nevada is.

Sounds larger as well, more likely to have banks able to handle that sort of transaction

>>1191870
Lets definitely take a stop at Las Vegas! Even with our lack of financial wealth and our belief of nature over wide scale industrial development, Las Vegas is an oppurtunit not to miss.

If nothing else we can hunder down sleeping in our, before taking in the sights.

>>1191884
Not that one. This is Las Vegas, NEW MEXICO. (Real town. Look it up.)

>>1191891
Oh, lets head to the New Mexican Las Vegas then.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GbfI4tV6Nvs

>>1191880
>>1191884
"We'll stop off in Las Vegas: maybe they'll have a bank and an auto mechanic."

You roll through the Sonoran desert as the heat climbs. Half of it is so green, you can't even honestly call it a desert: swatches of pale green desert plants cover large stretches of the landscape. The plants here are different from what you got used to in Oregon: everything's armed and ready to defend itself against predation. Some little flowers try to hide, looking like smooth grey stones lying above the sand. Most have spines, spikes, or thorns ready to stab into the tender palates of anything stupid enough to try and eat them. One plant in particular catches your eye: a funny-looking thing, with long leaves ridged with short, sharp teeth, like a chainsaw blade.
There's something... beautifully foreign about this landscape and its strange plants. Like the surface of an alien planet.

>Share your observation with Di

>Try and make small talk with Sane Eddie

>Turn on the radio

>Write-In

>>1191937
Keep forgetting that pics don't work right now. This one won't elude me.

https://cache-graphicslib.viator.com/graphicslib/thumbs674x446/3121/SITours/hummer-night-tour-in-the-sonoran-desert-in-phoenix-161004.jpg

>>1191937
>Share your observation with Di

Also make sure we mentally mark it for our journal we keep (so long as no one minds if we keep a journal, I'd also like to pick up a camera when we have the funds to do so)

>>1191937
Share observations with Di.


I'm going of to work now but I liked what I saw, thanks for running

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>>1191963
>>1192034
"Hey, Di, maybe your spacemen friends come here because the view reminds them of home!"

"What?"

"I mean... just look out there. Looks almost like another world, doesn't it?"

"... Yeah, maybe."

Di looks out his window for too long to be comfortable, his eyes blank, glassy- absent. And then, he's back.

"John?"

"Yeah, man?"

"If you could wish for anything- anything in the whole world, what would it be?"

"Like, what's the circumstance, man? Because I saw that episode of the Hitchcock Hour with the monkey paw-"

"Fuck the monkey's paw, I'm serious here. This is soul-searching stuff. Name it. Anything in the world."

It doesn't take you long to answer.

>Mary Tyler Moore. Or Marylin Monroe, come back in her prime and into me.

>Unlimited supply of swank food and drugs. I'm talking Pate de Foie Gras and Lobster Thermidor washed down with champagne with gold flakes and lab-grade LSD in it.

>I wanna be rich. Like, Richie Rich rich. Man who has everything, different limo every day...

>A place I can just crash and forget the world. You know, just fuck around without having to deal with hand-to-mouth shit.

>I remember there was this guy, back in high school, who always picked a fight with me. I wish I could have how he was THEN in front of how I am NOW: he'd never know what hit him.

>I wish I could trade places with one of the Hearsts. I'd have all that money and power, and that fatcat would be out here, begging for a handout. Makes me smile.

>I'd be emperor of the world, obviously. I mean, why wish for anything else? Everyone would have to respect me.

>>1192049
>A place I can just crash and forget the world. You know, just fuck around without having to deal with hand-to-mouth shit.

"A place to relax and hear the world man, just the way it breathes and be able to feel a part of it all again."

>>1192049
>>Unlimited supply of swank food and drugs. I'm talking Pate de Foie Gras and Lobster Thermidor washed down with champagne with gold flakes and lab-grade LSD in it.

>>1192604
you know what?

I'm changing to >Mary Tyler Moore. Or Marylin Monroe, come back in her prime and into me.
because marylin monroe am I right?

>>1192659

That was my second place vote as well, gotta love love, I ended up edging out the quiet space because of our transcendentalist literary influences (and because that's what I would wish for too)

>>1192726
Can we wish for a nice and quiet place with marylin monroe?

>A place I can just crash and forget the world. You know, just fuck around without having to deal with hand-to-mouth shit.

>>1192758

A nice quiet place with a good person to share it with? That sounds like the dream of basically 90% of humanity

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>>1192510
>>1192758
>>1192794
"You wanna know? I'd just like a place where I can forget the world. Everything's taken care of, don't have to worry about working, take things at my own pace, don't have any conflict. Maybe somewhere out in Oregon, I dunno. Just be able to relax."

"I'd love to have my head stop throbbing like a rent-boy's co-"

"No one gives a shit, Eddie, you brought it on yourself."

Di turns back to you.

"Is that really it, Jerry? All you want in life is to be left alone to laze around? That's what's important? Come on, man, Jesus Christ, I know you aren't just some two-dimensional screw."

>No. I wish the corporate gangsters who pollute the Earth and screw the little guy could get what's coming to them. I just don't see why I have to be the one doing it.

>After all the shit I've gone through in my life without complaining, I think I deserve a quiet haven. That's my goal, and I'm not letting anything stop me.

>Anything else I wish for, there'd be some kind of catch or burden or something. This way, I just get what I want, no catch.

>Well, I wouldn't JUST be lazing around. Everything in moderation and such. I'd be exercising, reading, maybe leaving wherever it is to help people out, that sort of thing.

>Hell no I'm not, man! With all that security, I'd be able to really help people out in a meaningful way. Maybe form a commune or something.

>It'd be like monastic life, man. Let me get in touch with God, or whoever's up there. Make sure I get right with them before my time comes.

>It's not a realistic dream, man, but I've got to have something to keep me going. Otherwise, you just break down. You've got to have hope that tomorrow, maybe you're going to be another step closer to that ideal world.

>>1192871
>Anything else I wish for, there'd be some kind of catch or burden or something. This way, I just get what I want, no catch.
>Hell no I'm not, man! With all that security, I'd be able to really help people out in a meaningful way. Maybe form a commune or something.

Mind combining these two? A nice quiet space with our friends and loved ones around, there's no hope in fixing the whole world but maybe there's hope for setting up a good little corner of it.

>>1192890
I like this one

>>1192871
>>Well, I wouldn't JUST be lazing around. Everything in moderation and such. I'd be exercising, reading, maybe leaving wherever it is to help people out, that sort of thing.


or this >>1192890 it works for me too

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>>1192890
>>1192900
>>1193023
"Look, man, this world is sick, and I can't fix it, but maybe I can just defend my own little corner of it for a while. Get my friends and family, unplug, and live my life without all this modern shit getting in the way."

"... Well, I guess I can respect that."

You roll right through Wagon Mound's cluster of throw-up buildings and out the other side. The sun's high in the sky by this point, and the heat is hammering down on you like a vise, making your head throb with dehydration. The air shimmers above the asphalt roads like waves... God, when was the last time you've seen an ocean, or hell, even a lake?

Roll 1d10. The post with the most 3's decides.

Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>1193069
Guess I'll start. Also, that should be 3's, 7's, or 12's.

Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>1193069

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>1193069

>>1193197
You hear a harsh *BANG* come from the tires and your car starts spinning into a nearby dune!

Roll 3d10: 8, 9, or 10 is a success. Best of three.

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>1193354

Ah shit

>>1193364
3d10, anon.

>>1193354

Rolled 5, 6, 5 = 16 (3d10)

>>1193354

Rolled 1, 10, 3 = 14 (3d10)

>>1193371
I'll roll the dice this anon forgot.

Rolled 6, 8, 5 = 19 (3d10)

>>1193354

And the last set

>>1193528
You manage to pull your van out of the way of the dune and desperately throw the handbrake. Your van stops with a jerk that causes Eddie to *THUMP* into the back of the van.

You shake your head as you look at your van.

"Well, shit. What was that?"

"Probably- ow- the heat, my man. black tires soak up the heat and sun, cause the air in the tires to expand, over time, that makes the tires go *poof*. You got any patches?"

"No."

"... Got a spare?"

"Not one that works."

"Should have stopped in Wagon Mound."

"Yeah, maybe. Well, too late for that, though."

"Maybe not, Jerry. I bet it's what, ten miles? I bet we could walk that."

You take a look around at the desert around you. The brush here is so thick in some parts that it almost forms a solid wall: a sign, to your woodsman's eye, that there is plentiful water somewhere nearby.

Di butts in. "Yeah, and die of heatstroke by day or rattler by night. See that mesa a couple miles away? Looks like its got caves in it: Indians probably used it as shelter, back in the day. I bet we could get up there and light a fire, maybe get police attention."

>Di's right. We should find shelter.

>If we leave during twilight, we'll be fine, Di. Stop being a stubborn ass.

>There's an oasis around here. We'll stop at it, get some water, flag down a passing car.

>>1193692
Oasis

>>1193692
>If we leave during twilight, we'll be fine, Di. Stop being a stubborn ass.

While we wait for twilight though we should take a quick look around for the oasis, don't leave sight of the car or the road

>>1193819
Supporting this

>>1193819
>>1194355
"We'll be fine if we leave during twilight, Di. Don't be such a stubborn asshole. Now, I think there's an oasis around here: you two help me find it and maybe we won't die of thirst before then."

Roll 5d10: 8, 9, and 10 are successes: 10's 'explode' into extra dice. Best of 3.

Rolled 4, 5, 5, 2, 1 = 17 (5d10)

>>1194512

Rolled 4, 9, 2, 7, 10 = 32 (5d10)

>>1189260
Guess I'll roll to move things along.

>>1194512

Rolled 1, 6, 5, 10, 9 = 31 (5d10)

>>1194512
>>1196055
Afff

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>1196057
Exploding that 10

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>>1196057
The oasis wasn't that hard to find: a cluster of palm trees hidden maybe a tenth of a mile behind the dune you almost crashed into, arranged around a small pond. From your point at the crest of the hill, the water looks cool and deep, and you think there might even be some edible plants down there. Going down to the oasis would take you out of sight of the road, however.

"Finally, some fucking relief from this oven! Come on, Jerry, let's get some water. Are any of these cactuses the kind you can get drunk off of?

"First, Di, it's CACTI, and second: this is a bad idea. I've heard stories, you know. People head fifty feet away from the road out here, the heat and sun end up frying their brain, make them get lost and wander out into the desert to die."

"There's water and food right there. We'll be fine. No chance the sun's going to fry our brains more than they are already. Especially YOU, Eddie."

>Get those empty bottles of Thunderbird out of the van, guys. Let's fill up on water and get some edibles from the oasis, then head back to the car.

>Eddie's right, it's too risky to go down there. Don't want to end up dead before your little green men come to pick you up, right Di?

>Cool your jets, Eddie. No way in Hell we're getting bamboozled or heat-stroked with the shade and the water. Let's make a day of it, get some R&R before making the walk. Get close to the nature out here, you know?

>Write-In

>>1196894
>Write-In

"Let's head back to the care and get those water bottles to fill up and then we can take the hottest part of the day here in the shade next to some water. No leaving the oasis unless it's to go back to the car but it'll be better to wait out the heat here than in the car, that'll turn into an over within the hour."

>>1196905
"Let's head back to the van and get some bottles to fill with water. We'll wait the heat out here, in the shade and next to a water source. No one wander off unless it's to go back to the van."

"Okay, DAD. Still didn't get an answer about the cacti."

"You sure about this, Jerry? I mean, there's the heat, there might be... I dunno, some kind of killer bug in the water that makes us puke our stomach linings up, we could get bitten by a rattlesnake..."

"Are you always this paranoid when you're sober, man? Look, if you want to get roasted alive in the car, knock yourself out. Di and I are going to be by the pool, okay?"

"Alright, I'll join up with you guys."

The water is lukewarm from the sun, but tastes ice-cold to your parched lips. You recognize the smallish cacti with paddle-like leaves growing a distance from the pool as prickly pears: you pick, skin, and eat the sweet red fruits to keep your blood sugar up. John just collapses beneath a nearby palm and is out like a light a few minutes later.

You see Eddie poking around near the ground, by some small, button-shaped plants. Intrigued, you head over to him.

"What's up, Eddie?"

"Dude, I think I found some peyote. Weird. Normally they don't grow this far west... maybe some kind of freak wind blew germinating seeds? Or a bird held it in for a long-ass time before shitting them out here."

Eddie shrugs, and starts cutting the bases with a pocket knife.

"...What're you doing, man?"

"This stuff gives you, like, visions and shit. The Indian shamans used it to talk to the spirit world. Real far-out stuff. Help me out with this, man, this'll blow the top of your head off."

>Sure, man. Beats laying around doing nothing.

>I'll pass. Save that shit for later, though.

>Weren't you just going on about how dangerous it is to go around here with your brain fried?

>Write-In

>>1197062
I'll pass, and you too, can't have or brains fried out here, save it for later though

>>1197062
>I'll pass. Save that shit for later, though.

We'll get it identified better and go on a trip when we don't have a broken ass car to fix.

>>1197178
>>1197280
"I'll pass, man. We have a car to fix and shit: no time to get high right now. Baggie it for later, though."

Eddie shrugs. "Yeah, I think you're supposed to let them dry out anyways. Makes the psychoactives more concentrated or something."

You lie down under a palm. Here, near the pool, in the shade, the heat and dryness of the desert is lowered to a relaxing, toasty warmth, like being under several blankets in the winter. You close your eyes...

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>>1197323
Di shakes you awake. The sun hangs low on the horizon, painting the desert in fiery scarlet shades.

"Wake up, man! Time for us to move!"

"Why didn't you wake me up earlier, Di? Sun's halfway down already!"

"Fell asleep. Eddie did too. Heat, stress, and hunger, man."

"Managed to bag all that peyote, man!"

"...Well, let's get moving."

>Looking around, as you get up, things seem... different, somehow. The greens of the desert plants seem more vibrant, the water is so blue it's almost turquoise, the sun seems large and fierce, and you swear the mesa in the distance has little lights in some of its openings. It's probably just grogginess.

>Investigate the area

>Head back to the car

>Talk to Di (about what?)

>Talk to Eddie (about what?)

>Write-In

>>1197353
>Talk to Di (about what?)
>Talk to Eddie (about what?)

Ask them if they see those lights or if things seem different.

>Head back to the car

>>1197353
>>Talk to Eddie (about what?)

hey eddie? did we take any of that Peyote?

what's up with those lights?

>>1197364
>>1197366
"...Eddie? Did we take any of that peyote?"

"No, man. I thought it over, and you were right. Save the whole vision quest thing for when we aren't in the middle of nowhere. See?"

Eddie shakes a paper bag full of buttons at you.

"So... anyone else see the lights? Up at the mesa?"

"You sure those are lights, Jerry? It could be reflected lights from the sunset."

"Yeah, except..."

"Except what?"

"...The sun's setting BEHIND the mesa."


"Oh."

"Jerry, let's go back to the van."

"Yeah, good idea."

The van is missing when you crest the dune. So is the road. In their place is a towering mesa wall, stretching up 40 feet at least, running as far as you can see in either direction. Jagged rocks stick off of the face, and from the distance, you can see the vague outlines of carvings or paintings on it. All the colors continue to have that intense, oversaturated feel to them.

"What the FUCK!?! Where's the fucking road?"

"Oh, god... this isn't happening, this isn't happening, thisisn'thappenninggg..."

"Calm down, both of you! Let me figure out what's going on."

>Go down the dune and take a look at the mesa wall.

>Go up the dunes on the OTHER side of the oasis: maybe you just got turned around.

>Write-In

>>1197404
>Go up the dunes on the OTHER side of the oasis: maybe you just got turned around.

yeah....yeah....that's gotta be it, fuck this colors man, there must have been something in the water

>>1197404
>Go up the dunes on the OTHER side of the oasis: maybe you just got turned around.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn knew we should have treated that water, maybe it picked up some chemicals from the peyote or something

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>>1197411
>>1197418
"Shit, we've got to be turned around. Let's check the other side. Fuck, these colors... must've been something in the water... got to be tripping..."

"I don't FEEL high, man. I wish I was right now."

You stumble down the dunes, across the oasis, and up the other side...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=br7GXyDViuE

A field of cacti greet you, tangled together so tight that they practically form a barricade. Paths run across and through the field, out to the mesa in the distance. No sign of the road or the van. Your eyes are adjusting to the colors, and with this, you're starting to notice something... wrong about the cacti. You can't put your finger on what it is specifically, but they just don't... look like how they're supposed to.

"... FUCK! What the fuck, what the FUCK, WHAT the FUCK!"

Di just looks forward, shaking like a leaf.

"... it really happened. It's really happening."

"What're you talking about, Di?"

"They TOOK us, man! This has to be, like, some kind of, I dunno, biodome or something! They probably think they can ease us in better that way."

Di starts waving his hands at the sky.

"Hey! HEY! YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS! I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! COME ON, STAR-BROTHERS!"

"Oh, I'm SO GLAD your Martian boyfriends picked you up, Di you asshole, but I didn't sign up for this! I was hitching to San Fran, not Jupiter or whatever! LET ME OFF, ASSHOLES! I DON'T WANNA GO!"

>Looking around, you can see beaten-down paths in the sand, worn down by many years of footprints. All of them seem to be surrounded by dunes of varying height, small mesa formations, and cacti. One trail leads towards the mesa, another winds up the cliff face behind you towards a massive clump of greenery in the distance, and one each wind north and south on the floor of the valley in which your oasis lies. You remember that Wagon Mound was to the North.


>Shut the fuck up, both of you! We must be tripping or something. Let's just... go back to the oasis, lie down, wait to come down. We can probably make it another day without some shit happening to us.

>Look, let's head North towards Wagon Mound. We should stumble across... ranchers, or something.

>Di, I'm sorry I doubted you on the mesa. Let's head there.

>Fuck... Look, there's another oasis or something off that way, let's head towards it. Maybe its water isn't tainted.

>Shit... south, maybe? Better than standing around here all day.

>Write-In

>>1197576
>Look, let's head North towards Wagon Mound. We should stumble across... ranchers, or something.

Check up on supplies before leaving though, even if the water was tainted it still quenched our thirst

>>1197576
>Look, let's head North towards Wagon Mound. We should stumble across... ranchers, or something.

>>1197576
>Di, I'm sorry I doubted you on the mesa. Let's head there.

Maybe we can get on top and get a look at our surroundings. I have a feeling Wagon Mound might not be there anymore

>>1197583
>>1197601
"Look, guys, let's head North. Wagon Mound's only like ten or so miles that way, and we should stumble on a ranch or something before that."

"Whatever, man. We're on a spaceship. You'll walk like a mile, and then you'll hit the edge."

You press along the path...

Roll 1d10: the result from the post among the first three with the most 3's, 7's, or 12's will be used.

>>1197601
Fuck, i have to go yo sleep, things were getting very interesting...

Anyway, see you later dudes and thanks for running qm

Rolled 8 (1d10)

>>1197663
One last roll before bed

Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>1197663

Rolled 10 (1d10)

>>1197663

And third roll to keep things moving

Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>1197663

File: Bodie1_PICT5229-2.jpg (183 KB, 600x400)

183 KB JPG

>>1197833
The sun has been set for what must have been hours before you reach the first signs of civilization. Buildings made of sun-bleached wood or weathered concrete with cracked, peeling paint surround you on all sides as you walk up the path through the town. Something strikes you as... weird about the buildings, but you can't quite put your finger on it... The sky's the same way, too...
Unsurprisingly, it looks like most shops are closed for now. One building is still open on this street, however: a bar of some kind, by the looks of it. The sign above the door, lit by light from the windows, proclaims this place as the "Aces and Eights Saloon". A skull with clubs for eye-holes and spades for nostrils hangs above.

"...Should we go in?"

"Hell no, man! You know how roughnecks can get! One look at us, and they'll peg us as hippies on the spot! They'll probably beat the shit out of us, or rape us or something!"

"I'd like to see them try to rape me. I'll slice their di-"

"Will you drop the macho act, Di? Eddie, you see any other options?"

"Uh, yeah. Look up the road, it looks like there's a farmstead! Maybe we can stay there and swap work for getting the car fixed?"

"I still say this is a set-up by our star-brothers. They're testing us, man. Or maybe the Reptilians are playing mind games, trying to throw us off with their telepathy. Yeah, that's it! Listen, let's get somewhere high up, maybe I can get the attention of the Grays, or something. Then we'll be in golden."

>I need a fucking drink. I've got 3 bucks: Eddie, try and swap your peyote for auto help or a ride.

>Yeah, let's see if the farmsteader's a nice guy or not. Hey, he might be out on a business trip or something! Then we can just crash overnight, leave some money, and go to the bank and auto shop in the morning.

>Well, nothing else about this makes sense. Di, lead the way.

>Write-In

>>1198048

>Write-in

Look at this place, I feel more likely to get shot walking up to that dudes farm in the middle of the night than stepping in here. Let's just head in and if it seems like they're getting ready to stomp heads we'll beat feet.

File: MeekerCoSaloon,1899-500.jpg (104 KB, 500x340)

104 KB JPG

>>1198109
"Look at this place, Eddie. We're probably more likely to get shot walking up to the farm in the middle of the night then by stepping in here. Let's just take a look around, and if they're planning on stomping heads, we beat feet out of here."


The interior of the saloon is an old step-down layout, decorated in worn, but polished, wood, with a number of circular tables scattered near a bar in the back. The walls are sparse, save for a number of mirrors and vague, indistinct paintings cloaked in the shadows of old gas lanterns. There's even a doddering old man in the back, hammering away at a piano with thrice the spirit someone of his age has any right to possess.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0SIizvT5Bk8
Surprisingly, there seem to be quite a number of customers here at this hour, dressed in a wide assortment of clothing: it all seems appropriate for the desert, but the styles and apparent eras clash wildly from table to table, or even from customer to customer. Most people at the tables seem to be content sitting in the shadows, and a few pull down their hats and turn their heads when you enter. Those you can see look... strange, like everything else you've seen thus far. They all LOOK human, but there are subtle peculiarities about them: hands are excessively gnarled, wrinkles spread across skin like hardened and drought-cracked riverbeds (for some: others have skin that seems too smooth and perfect, like stone worn down by water), eyes are too wide, too piercing, or have strange shades and tones to them. A couple, you swear, have ears that end in little points!

The bartender is a large man, and you mean LARGE: he must have been close to seven feet, with a double-broad chest, limp, oily hair, and skin as grey as a tombstone. He wears a black vest over a white shirt, and is currently preoccupied with wiping down the bar. A boisterous poker game is going on at the largest table: it looks like around seven guys are playing five-card stud. The voices emanating from the table sound... odd, too. One of them, you swear, has pops and crackles in his voice, like an old-timey recording. Smoke wafts from a smoking section on the side, where a number of shrouded figures imbibe smokables. You recognize tobacco and marijuana among the scents coming out of the section, but others baffle you.

>Head up to the bartender

>Head over to the poker table

>Head into the smoking section

>Investigate the saloon more in-depth

>Write-In

>>1198427
>Head up to the bartender

"Uh...hi. Me and my associates are in need of a little refreshment. How much for a drink?"

>>1198456
You walk up to the bar and sidle around an unconscious patron.

"Um... hi. My friends and I are in need of some refreshment. How much for a drink?"

The barman pauses. "Depends. What do you got, stranger?"
You cautiously put your three dollars on the counter. A hand the size of a spade snatches it up and takes a look at it. "That'll do."

He takes a bottle off of the shelf, its label faded to the point of total illegibility, and pours three mugs out of it. The scent of the stuff is wonderfully sweet and alcoholic.

"Er... thanks."
You pass the other two drinks over to Eddie and Di, who begin gulping theirs down in big mouthfuls.

"You wouldn't happen to have a bank in town, would you?"

"Nope, don't got one'a those. So, where'd you and your friends blow in from, stranger?"

"Well, we were traveling to Roswell, but our tires burst and we ended up walking back to here for help."

The bartender nods. "I've heard that before. Yer far from the first to come here that way, and you won't be the last.

You know, stranger, you and yer friends picked a bad time to come through here. Market's in a few days, and all the rustlers, herders, and slavers 'round here are looking for a fine pick fer the Gentry. Lot'a them are willing to take any mortal at this point."

You look down at the hand polishing the bar and notice the skin on the thumb is worn away into tatters, with cool white bone clicking away at the end, and follow the arm back up to two hooded eyes that, you now realize, are just eye-sockets. Several of the figures lurking in the shadows start to come forward, and you can make out the fur, scales, spiky rind, stone, or sand some of them have for skin, or that a few of them look like illustrations of ogres or goblins stuffed into leathers. You can see hands going to sidearms or pulling knives out of pockets, and become acutely aware of the fact you are unarmed.

You hear Eddie spray up his drink.

"Fuck. Oh fuck. I'm dead. We all died in that crash, and we're all in Hell."

"... I got nothing, Jerry. I'm stumped. But whatever the fuck these things are, I'm not letting them take me alive."

>Uh...we'll just be going now, bartender

>Hey, hey, hey! What happened to hospitality?

>(Smash your mug into the nearest tough's face)

>Write-In

>>1198619
>(Smash your mug into the nearest tough's face)
down the drink first though

>>1198619
>"Would you gentlemen be interested in some top-notch peyote? It's freshly picked."

If that doesn't work, glass the nearest thug. Make them regret trying to take on Jeremiah Bates, Protector of Nature

File: Glass Him.jpg (21 KB, 440x498)

21 KB JPG

>>1198659
Forgot the pic

>>1198656
>>1198659
"Would any of you gentlemen be interested in some top-notch peyote? It's freshly picked!"

The only answer is the sound of someone cocking his revolver.

You whirl around and smash your mug into the face of the nearest tough (a pale-faced slimeball with no nose and vertical pupils). Glass sprays everywhere and he goes down like a rock.

You hear a hissing, buzzing sound behind you, and something PIERCES your neck. The

world

aroundyou

starts

spi
n
i
n
g
.
.
.

>>1198704
You wake up in a cage, somewhere dark. The smell of piss, shit, blood, and fear fills the air around you. You're naked, save for something made of rough cloth fastened around your waist and groin region. Your neck throbs- you reach up to find cloth fastened around your neck.

>Take a look-and listen- around

>Call out for Eddie and Di

>Try and find the door to your cage and force it open

>Write-In

>>1198709
>Take a look-and listen- around

>>1198709
>Take a look-and listen- around

>>1198713
The area around you is dark, lit only by slits in the walls that let light filter in. You can see the outlines of other cages in the half-light, with suggestions of other people in them. A door of some kind lies at one end, outlined by light.

You can hear groaning, mumbling, and muttering from the other cages, but beyond that you can make out the indistinct sounds of a man shouting something, the crack of a whip, and the hubbub of a crowd.

You hear the rattling of metal, and turn to see a huge, muscular creature with red skin and an outsized, warty nose unlocking your cage. He reaches in with a pole of some kind and drops a loop of leather around your neck. Before you fully realize what's happening, the beast jerks on the pole and starts dragging you toward the door.

You end up being pulled out into the open air and shoved into a guarded pen of some kind, with a half-dozen others. You realize you have a tag bound to your wrist by an iron manacle: a 57 is stamped on it.

You recognize the figure of Sane Eddie huddled in one corner, rocking gently back and forth and sobbing.

Looking around out here, you can see some kind of auction block set up in the middle of a crowd of various... THINGS of all sorts seated in the middle of a square. A tall, thing creature, like a vulture crossed with a snake, is apparently hosting this auction with the help of a number of grotesque trolls: the objects up for auction, unsuprisingly, appear to be people. Further details of your surrounding environment are obscured by the large, big-top style tent that this event is apparently being held under.
Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a figure skulking at the sides of the auction: a human-looking creature with a handlebar moustache dressed in a carnival barker's outfit. He seems to be less interested in the auction, and keeps stealing glances at the pen you're being kept in.

"Going once, going twice- AND SOLD to the Marquis of Broken Mirrors!"

>Listen in on the auction

>Try and talk to Eddie

>Try and figure a way out of here

>Try and draw the barker's attention

>Write-In

>>1198741
For the interested: https://discord.gg/GQMr35k

>>1198741
>Try and talk to Eddie
then
>Try and draw the barker's attention

>>1198741
>Try and talk to Eddie

Come on man we've got to stick together here

>>1198741
>Try and draw the barker's attention

Rolled 10, 10 = 20 (2d10)

>>1198768
>>1198852
>>1199083
You go up to Sane Eddie in his corner of the pen.

"Hey man, we've got to stick together. Come on, don't crack up on me!"

Eddie looks up at you with eyes you'd last seen on Di.

"It doesn't matter, man! It doesn't fucking matter! We're in Hell, or been kidnapped by aliens, or SOMETHING, and they're going to sell us off and probably kill us. I've tried to run and get help, but I CAN'T, man! They've put something on these tags, it makes it so you can't run, man!

This is all your fucking fault, you know that? I told you that getting off of the road was a fucking bad idea! Maybe if we'd just waited by the car, we'd be in Roswell and Di would've given you that fucking cash, and we'd all be cool! FUCK YOU!"

Eddie lunges for you, and suddenly doubles over, screaming in pain. You can see his wrist-chain glowing a brilliant blue, and the veins on his skin standing up in a disturbing way. One of the trolls on guard walks over and smacks Eddie with a rod.

"No damaging the merchandise before sale, you lumpish bat-fouling clump-dish!""

"Arrgh- Then what the-AHH- FUCK is this, you-fuckfuckfuckkkk-asshole!?"

The troll gives a hideous grin, displaying a mouth full of rotting, stained teeth.

"Discipline."

You hear the voice of the snake-vulture-thing roll out from the stage again.

"SOLD! Everyone give a VERY warm applause to the Sultan of the Brass City for his purchase of lot number 50!"

You start trying to wave down the barker on the edge of the crowd.

Roll 2d10: 8, 9, and 10 are successes, 10 explodes. Best of three.

Rolled 2, 10 = 12 (2d10)

>>1199342
Well, guess my first roll to get the ball in motion settles it?

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>1199360
Okay...

Rolled 8, 1 = 9 (2d10)

>>1199342

Sorry I'm late man, away from my computer

Rolled 4, 8 = 12 (2d10)

>>1199342
One more roll to keep this moving.

>>1199342
>>1199360
>>1199376
The barker saunters over to the pen and hands something to one of the trolls, who steps aside to let him pass. Now that he's closer, you can see that his eyes appear to be made out of golden coins, and that he smells overwhelmingly of frybread and cola.

"Lemme guess, son: you strayed off the path, got lost, and ended up at the auction here."

"Uh... yeah. Listen, I really don't get what's happening right now, or who you are, but please; you've got to get me and my friend out of here! Really, we just want to go back home, we won't tell anyone about this!"

"Get you out of here, hmmm? Well, son, I really don't know about that, I really don't. Isn't my place to steal someone's property..."

"I'm a PERSON, man, not property!"

"All the same here, I'm afraid. My hands are tied. Now, I COULD purchase you, fair and square, but my boss, well, he'll want a return on his investment. You know a trade, son?"

>I can play the guitar a bit.

>I used to be a logger. What's your stance on fair-use lumber?

>I'm good at cards.

>I can do heavy lifting and stuff if you need me to.

>Worked as a bouncer for a couple months, about a year or so back.

>Write-In

>>1199573
>I used to be a logger. What's your stance on fair-use lumber?

This seems like our most likely response to a trade of ours, especially a marketable one

>>1199721
"I used to be a logger."

"Logger... logger... hmm... sorry, don't need one of those! Hard luck, son."

The barker turns around and starts to walk off.

>Wait! I have other talents!

>Please! I'll do anything you want!

>Let him walk off and watch the auction.

>Write-In

>>1199995
>Let him walk off

>>1199995
Wait I have other talents!

>>1199995
>Let him walk off and watch the auction

>>1200163
>>1200282

You look up at the auction block to see Di pulled up to the auction block, with a muzzle strapped over his face and both wrists bound.

"Alright, Lords and Ladies, lot #52 on the auction list: this specimen is a young adult Caucasian male, with several years of combat experience and acute paranoia! His greatest fear is loss of autonomy, and he abused his first girlfriend- an act which he has regretted for the rest of his life! Careful, he's a real fighter! Let's start the bidding at two months! Twomonthstwomonthsdowehavetwo-threemonths!threemonthsLordsandLadiesthisisarealqualityproductheredon'tmissyourcha-fou-fivemonthsgoingoncegoingtw-sixmonths!sixmonthsLordsandLadiesgoingoncegoingtwiceandSOLD! Sold, Lords and Ladies, to the Three Androgyenes!"

One of the trolls comes up and snags your wrist with his prod and hauls you to the front of the pen.

"Time for you to get in line, meat."

Any chance of escape evaporates before your eyes as you're herded into the line.
"And now for lot #57 in today's auction! Young, strong, healthy Caucasian male with experience as a woodsman, a fine catch for many of you, I'm sure! Let's start the bidding at twelve!"

The auction price for you sails higher and higher, until finally, the snake-vulture slams the gavel down with one claw.

"AND SOLD! Sold to-"

>Blackfire, Baron of Despoiled Majesty!

>Long-of-Days, Ancient of the Unseen Wilds!

>Grundelwald Fimpelstrikch, Keeper of Tales!

>The Ever-Mysterious Count Ranalc, Exile of History!

>The Three Androgynenes, again! Quite eager for new subjects, I have no doubt.

>Chrometooth, the Fearsome Engine! Quite a surprise to see you out and about, sir!

>>1200525
>Long-of-Days, Ancient of the Unseen Wilds!

We did want to get to know nature

>>1200525
>Long-of-Days, Ancient of the Unseen Wilds!

File: 4367079df86ce0815c60d7c7e(...).jpg (84 KB, 607x864)

84 KB JPG

>>1200590
>>1200593
"Long-of-Days, Ancient of the Unseen Wilds, by way of his stewards, for the price of a baby's first laugh! Bring my congratulations to your master, sirs."

Two giant figures made of dirt and stone tramp up the steps and shove you into a sack.

Everything afterwards is flickering, half-formed recollection. You recall being dumped out in the middle of an immense forest, with a titanic beast of living wood standing before you. Its eyes burned with naked contempt as it stares upon you. Then, its deep, rumbling voice boomed out:

>You cut down trees. See how you like it.

>Time for penance. Guard my woods.

>I'll give you an hour. Run

>>1200764
>Time for penance. Guard my woods.

>>1200764
>Time for penance. Guard my woods.

>>1200807
>>1200984
"Time for you to pay. Guard my woods."

Everything afterwards is a blur. You can remember the tall, impossible groves of trees, the mountains that consumed the horizon on all sides, the alien beasts that dwelt in the forest. You were made to work alongside Long-of-Days, your six feet of height dwarfed by his titanic frame of living wood. He made you learn the secret names of the plants in his wood, how to call on them for aid, how to rid them of plague and sickness, what animals should be feared, and what should be left alone. These lessons were passed down with utter indifference: should you fail or forget, Long-of-Days was perfectly content to allow one of the horrid wolf-beasts to maul you, or for you to suffer from days of vomiting from a poison fruit. Only when death threatened you did he intervene. Then, one day, he vanished, leaving you only with a prerogative of keeping one stretch of forest safe from the outside world. "One bone will break for every tree an outsider cuts down." were his last words to you.

Then, the foresters came, with their axes and slave-beasts and horrid machines, and you were driven to war. Every snare, every trick, every scheme you could imagine was thrown at the horrid loggers. You sabotaged their machines. You cut their slave-beasts free of their pens. You threw their axes into bottomless gorges. But no matter what, they kept coming.

After three years, you grew more desperate. You would lure the most wild and savage of creatures into the camps of the loggers. Instead of damaging the machines, you would rig them to explode. Instead of just throwing their axes away, you began to use them to decapitate them. Nothing was left to you but the war.

One day, after eliminating a horde of monstrous brutes who'd thought to maim a poor, innocent elm, you were washing yourself off in a cool lake. Looking down, you saw your reflection for the first time in... you don't know how long.

Your skin is a criss-cross of scars, soaked with green chlorophyll and dirt. Your limbs are twisted and bent from the breaking and mending that occurred whenever the loggers felled a tree. Your skin has become aged and wrinkled like old-growth bark, and your hair has moss growing in it. You barely recognize yourself. All your old life comes rushing back to you, with one thought leading the charge:

>What have I done?

>I need to get out of here.

>Oregon.

>>1201259
>Oregon.

Fuck yeah

>>1201259
>Oregon.

>>1201441
>>1201567
"Oregon..."

You know the way out of this patch. You know every inch of it like the back of your hand. You also know, beyond a doubt, that if you run, Long-of-Days will kill you if he can find you. But you know you can't wait around here when the woods of Oregon need someone protecting them. You run. Hard, fast, and frantic through the woods, for hours, hours, days, maybe, you aren't sure, there were animals and plants and trees and towers and stones and rings and things and stars and you're feeling real heavy, and

.

.

.

See you in the first thread.

>>1201652

See you there for sure

>>1201652
See ya there.

>>1201728
>>1201743
New bread: >>1201750