>>2014030
>Visiting a dead relative.

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>>2014036
Hey Baron, looks like you finally made it!

Sorry for the delay, guys.

>>2014030
>"I've been looking up the history of some of the people buried here for a local history project. I've only just started, but my first subject here you might know from the urban legend of the Prom Night Ghost."
>"What about you..." (stares at the spray paint)

Hey, boss. Welcome back. I was wondering when you'd get here. How's your day going?

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>>2014055
>Hey, boss. Welcome back. I was wondering when you'd get here. How's your day going?

Sup sup. Yeah, got stuck coming home. Didn't want to start from a weird IP for the 3rd session in a row. Formatting is nice to have.

Day's good. Halloween is (shockingly) a big deal for my family so I've been getting all that ready. Been looking forward to this.

Hope you're ready for Spooky Girl shit

>Visiting a dead relative

+

>Write in

>Writing

"Visiting a dead relative," you blurt.

He stares at you, "In the middle of the night?"

"Well," you waffle, "It's also sort of a history project. Local connections to history, you know? I've only just started, but my first subject here you might know from the urban legend of the Prom Night Ghost."

He and his friends all turn their attention to the tombstone. "Prom Night Ghost?" he says, "What, she kill people on prom night?"

"Died on prom night," you correct. "So, what are you guys doing out here anyway?" you look pointedly at the spray cans.

This guy and his friends looked like they were probably up to trouble no matter where they went, let alone visiting a graveyard with masks and spray cans in the middle of the night.

They all trade looks before he answers, "You heard of Cody Schrodinger?" his expression tells you that, yes, you should have.

"Cody Schrodinger?" you repeat.

He shakes his head, "Oh man, I know you have. Let me set the stage for you. Roselake High, 1999, Cody Schrodinger walks into first period English class with a semi-automatic rifle, a duffel bag of bullets, and a list of grievances as long as his arm."

You didn't need to hear more. You only have the vaguest recollections of the aftermath of the Roselake High shooting. It'd happened when you were just a baby.

"I remember. He killed five people, right?"

"Six. Well, you may not know that dear old Cody is actually buried here."

"Really?" This was news to you.

"Yeah. It's not exactly advertised, but he's gotta go somewhere right?" he laughs and pauses a moment, "So look, we were gonna see if maybe we could talk to him you know? A little late night communion with the dead."

"I see." Ghost summoning had become kind of mundane to you.

"Well, I've got a ritual we're gonna try and . . . Well . . ." he looks back to his friends again who are stifling laughter. "Look, are you a virgin?"

>Yes
>No
>What!? Why?
>none of your business!
>Write in

>>2014158
>(scornful stare)
>"No."

>(scornful stare)
>"No."

>writing

How embarrassing. You look between them, staring daggers.

"No."

The boys have a good chuckle.

"Eh, too bad. Apparently this goes easier with virgin blood. Maybe it'll work anyway."

"The ritual?" you ask, voice still cold.

"Yeah. So, you wanna come along? Could be fun."

>Yes
>No
>Write in

>>2014257
>>Write in
"All right. Sure."

Just prepare to bug out if either the guys get handy or the ghost actually comes out and starts wreaking shit.

>>2014257
>Yes

>Yes

+

>Write in

>Writing

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"All right. Sure." God, what is the matter with you? Hanging out with strange boys in a cemetery alone at night? It was asking for trouble. Although . . .

You look at the boys again, each one in turn, they seem boisterous but not dangerous, beside, you always had your little 'gift' from your friend if you had to get out of a tight spot. He was right anyway, maybe it would be fun.

"Awesome," the leader says, "I'm Zack by the way."

"I'm Alice."

"Alice," he repeats, apparently committing the name to memory.

"I'm Brent," the shortest of the three says, he leans forward to shake your hand awkwardly.

"Arthur," says the other kid, looking like he was already bored of his exchange."

"Hi."

"This way, Alice." He turns to lead you deeper into the cemetery, you can now see that his black jacket has a white pentagram stenciled crudely onto the back. Interesting.

The four of you walk in silence for a few minutes, long enough for you to notice your friend's own silence.

"You go to school at Roselake?" Brent asks.

"Yeah. What about you guys?"

"Lasker High," Zack says over his shoulder, carefully stepping around a partially hidden foot stone. "We made a special trip down here. I wanted to come Halloween night, but that's too obvious right?"

"I don't know," you say, "Maybe."

"So, was that really the Prom Night Ghost?" Zack asks.

You nod, "Yeah, people say they see her on the road around Prom, waiting for her ride."

"Spooky!" Brent says before laughing.

"Here it is." Zack stops the group and gestures to a simple headstone a few paces away.

Cody Schrodinger
1981 - 1999

Arthur reads the epitaph, "God forgives all. Heh."

"But not what you did, sorry Cody," Zack adds with a chuckle.

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{This is a waste of time, Alice.}

You jump a little, having become accustomed to the silence in your own head.

{Don't think I can do for this boy what I did for Ellie. Cody isn't here to talk to.}

You almost ask your friend where he is before you stop yourself, reluctant to look more crazy in front of this group of strangers.

"Right," Zack drops his bag and, after unzipping it, starts pulling out some instruments. The first is a dozen or so sheets of printer paper, stapled together in a crude booklet.

Summoning demons and spirits, you read the title before he lays down a can of spray paint on top of it.

"Brent, can you get started?" Zack asks.

There's a rattle as Brent shakes his own can and steps up to the headstone. He kneels down and puts the nozzle close to the stone as he starts laying down a thick, runny line of red, the beginning of a circle.

"Hey!" you say, "Don't do that!"

Brent jumps and looks back, "Why not?"

"It's . . . Well it's not right," you protest.

"You think Cody deserves better?" Zack asks.

"I mean . . . " you look at the others again, "I don't like people vandalizing graves."

Arthur snorts and shakes his head.

"Relax, Alice," Zack says, laying a hand on your shoulder, "It's all for the greater good right? Besides, maybe you can apologize to Cody yourself, huh?"

You don't say anything and Brent goes back to his work, finishing his rough circle which he then cuts through with an X that overlaps the edges of the circle. "Like that?" he asks Zack.

"Yeah man, perfect." Zack looks at you, "Hey, so this is supposed to work better with virgin blood but . . . I think pretty girl blood may work too. Do you mind?"

You suddenly see that Zack is holding a large knife, a dagger really. It looks like some kind of prop or replica the hilt might be plastic, but it looks sharp.

"What?" you pull back reflexively.

"I was going to cut your hand," he says, holding out his empty hand, "It'll be quick, I promise."

>I don't think so.
>well . . . Okay . . .
>Write in

>>2014369
>>well . . . Okay . . .
I can do it myself

>>2014369
>I don't think so.

>>2014369
>I don't think so.
You could try sometime around Halloween. Might not need virgin blood on that particular night.

Or you could try on the day when he did what he did. A day that's significant to him might be able to do it.

But I'm not giving you my blood. Not for free at least.

>>2014390
Let's have them bargain for it first, anon.

>>2014417
This.

>I don't think so

+

>Write in

>writing

You look at the knife, seeing the wicked sharpness of the blade.

"Uhh, I don't think so."

"Aw, c'mon Alice," Zack says, "I promise it won't hurt. I'll be real quick, it won't be deep, won't leave a scar."

"Maybe it would work around Halloween," you say, "Without virgin blood, I mean. Or you could try for the anniversary of the shooting. A that's significant to him might do the trick. But I'm not giving you my blood." you cross your arms, "Not for free at least."

Zack looks to Arthur who shrugs, then looks back to you with a grin, "Okay, Alice. No sweat." he cocks his head slightly, "So what do you want then? For your blood I mean."

"Name a price," you suggest, feeling uncharacteristically bold.

He laughs, "Okay, well I don't have but like twenty bucks on me, and I don't think you'd do it for money."

You shake your head.

"I can't give you my parents car, either. Seems like that's a bit much. Hmm, so what do you want for it?"


>Why don't you promise your loyalty to me forever?
>Your body
>{Your soul}
>Never mind, I don't think you have anything I want
>Write in

>>2014482
>>Write in
"Tell you what. Do you guys have any sort of urban legends in your town, like Cody or the Prom Queen we have here? Let's practice on one of them first."

>>2014482
>Three favors, no complaints, no questions asked. Promise me those and you get my blood.

>>2014514
>Let's practice on one of them first
Point of clarification:

By "practice on them first" do you mean before trying to call Cody's spirit, try to summon a different legend instead?

>>2014525
Yep. Might have someone who is still around, for one. The people they select might also not be a total rampaging nutter as well.

Gonna try to combine both write ins

God help me

>Writing

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"Tell you what," you say, "Do you guys have any sort of urban legends in Lasker City? Like Cody or the Prom Queen we have here? Let's practice on one of them first."

Zack grins, "What, are you scared or something?"

"No," you say, honestly, if your friend is right, 'Dear Cody' is less of a threat to you now than that knife is. "I just think . . ." your struggle for words, "I just think you guys are going about this wrong. Cody might not show up, and I'm not cutting up my hand on an off chance that he does show up."

"You mean like the Logging Road Thing?" Brent asks you.

"Logging road thing? What's that?" you ask, not missing the withering glare Zack shoots at Brent.

You're not sure if Brent missed it or ignored the look, but he doesn't react, "I mean, it's not a ghost. Probably. But people say there's something out on some unnamed logging road outside Lasker City, closer to Edenvale."

You're intrigued.

"Man, that's not real," Zack says, exasperated.

"Bullshit, my uncle says it I," Brent replies "A couple of hikers went missing up that way, and they found some guys car overturned one day, no driver, but a lot of blood. I wouldn't go out that way. Shit."

"Yeah, but that's not something we can fucking summon, dude. That's probably just weird hobos or something," Zack replies.

You hated to admit it, but Zack was right, although it did sound intriguing, it wasn't something you could exactly summon. Besides, now you knew about it and they couldn't take that back. You sigh. "Alright. Three favors, no complaints, no questions asked. Promise me those and you get my blood."

"What, from all of us?" Brent asks.

"Just Zack will be fine," you say, deadly serious.

"That all depends what they are," Zack says, "Some things I might be willing do for you without any kind of bargain." It's impossible to mistake the look in his eyes.

"Anything," you repeat.

"That's a bit steep," Zack says, "I mean, blood is blood, I've got it, Brent's got it, even Arthur's got it."

"But you want mine," you say firmly.

"Okay," Zack says, "Let me make you a counter offer. I'll trade you those three favors for your blood . . . and your phone number."


>Forget it
>Sure, but I do it myself
>Write in

>>2014620
>>Sure, but I do it myself
We were probably going to need to exchange numbers anyways, if we were going to contact them again.

>>2014620
"Sure. Might not even need the blood, if I research it correctly."

(grabs his phone, programs it in, gives phone number)

"I need your phone numbers too, you dorks. And don't call me after 8."

>>2014645
Clarifying: You're agreeing to the phone number, but not to going through with the blood bit?

>>2014671
Personally, I want to go through with both.

>>2014671
More like, "I'm going to research about summoning the souls of those no longer with us. If I find something we can use that won't have a pint of my blood outside of me, that'll be good, but if I can't, I'll go with cutting myself."

>Sure, but I do it myself

+

>Write in

>>2014684
Well you already know that you have the ability ot summon ghosts, but according to your friend there is no ghost here to summon.

I'm going to interpret this as "Do the blood thing to humor them."

You can then promise to research when it inevitably fails.

Yell at me if this is not what you intend. Otherwise

>Writing

>>2014707
Sounds good to me.

>>2014707
Sounds good.

You shrug, "Sure, but I do it myself."

Brent laughs at this sudden display of confidence.

You hold out your hand.

Zack mirrors your shrug and, in a move probably intended to impress you, twirls the knife around so blade is between thumb and forefinger, extending to the hilt to you.

"I mean your phone," you say.

Zack, looking a bit flustered, fiddles in his pocket with a free hand taking out an Android and laying it in your palm. You flip through menus and add yourself as a contact.

X_Alice_X

Hopefully he didn't have a girlfriend, or she might have some questions for him if she saw your contact.

"I'm gonna need your phone numbers too, you dorks. So we can meet up again."

Arthur snorts.

"Not exactly what I meant," Zack mutters as you hand him his phone and yours.

"And don't call after eight."

"Do you text?" Zack asks hopefully.

"Of course," you say, "Now, the knife."

Zack hands you the dagger and the three of them stop what they're doing, watching you as you study the knife before laying the smooth metal blade on your left palm. Hopefully your sister wouldn't notice.

In one swift move, you close your hand around the metal and drag the blade out, feeling the slightest resistance and the sting of split flesh. A trickle of dark red blood springs from the base of your first.

"Shit . . . " Brent says, his voice low.

"Damn, girl. Uh, right!" Zack remembers his purpose, "Smear that shit on the grave."

You walk to Cody's headstone and kneel down before it.

{This isn't going to work. Why are you humoring them?}

You don't answer and instead open your hand, seeing the small pool of blood in your palm before laying it on the cold stone of the grave and dragging it along the top, leaving a dark purple smear.

"That's fucking brutal, dude," Brent says.

There's a camera flash and you look behind you to see Zack snapping a pic with his phone. "Too cool."

"Now what?" you stand up curling your bleeding hand again.

Zack nudges Arthur, "Read the thing, man."

With a sigh, Arthur picks up the rumpled, home-printed guide. "Blood offering made and sigil applied, the faithful repeat the incantation." He looks at the group, "Just say what I say after I say it."

Zack steps up close to you, taking your wrist and turning your hand toward him.

You subconsciously open your hand so he can see the cut.

"Shit, that's awesome. You okay, Alice?"

"I'm fine."

"Guys?" Arthur says. "Come on." He clears his throat.

"Spirit of this decaying flesh, we call you to us. We bind you to our will. Reveal yourself to us."

There's a pause and the rest of you repeat his words

"Spirit of this decaying flesh, we call you to us. We bind you to our will. Reveal yourself to us."

Of course, nothing happens. The four of you try it again, sans the hand cutting. Once was a enough. Zack even gets everyone to try again, standing in a circle holding hands, he holds your bloody hand, careful not to apply pressure to your cut.

"I don't think it's going to work," you say. "But I don't think we did anything wrong. Maybe Cody's spirit is somewhere else."

The three boys look at you. "What do you mean?" Zack asks.

"Why would some nutso school shooter hang out at his grave?" you ask, "Seems more likely he'd stay where he killed himself, where his emotions were highest."

"The school?" Brent asks,

You shrug, "It's a guess."

"Well, we can't exactly break in there now," Zack says.

"I think I should do some research on this," you say, "I'll see if we can find where his spirit might be, and see what we need to summon him, if I find something we can use that won't have a pint of my blood outside of me, that'll be good, but if I can't, I'll go with cutting myself again."

"Damn, Alice. You're fucking hardcore." Brent looks awed.

"Yeah, you're pretty sick." Zack agrees, "Too bad you're stuck in a podunk place like this. You should come to Lasker sometime."

"I've got a lot here to keep my busy," you say.

"We'd better get going dude," Brent says, "I told my mom I'd be back before ten."

"Right," Zack replies, behind him Arthur and Brent start gathering up their summoning supplies again, Arthur rubbing the bloody knife in the grass to clean it before putting it back in his bag, but Zack stays with you. "Hey, so, can I text you?"

>I'd like that
>If you want . . .
>As long as it's about spooky stuff, you can text all you want
>write in

>>2014811
>>If you want . . .

>>2014811
>Sure.

>>2014811
>Sure.

>I'd like that

>Sure

>writing

You shrug again, "Sure."

Zack looks uncertain, "That's fine right?"

Truth was, you weren't terrible interested or impressed with Zack. He wasn't bad, he was cute, and had fun interests, but he reminded you a lot of Franz. You weren't sure exactly where he fell in your plan yet. "That's fine."

"Dude, let's roll," Arthur says, hoisting up the duffel bag and throwing the strap over his shoulder.

"Awesome," Zack smiles, "I'll text you tonight when I get home."

"Okay."

"Bye, Alice!" Brent waves, "Hey, let us know when you find out about calling that ghost, huh? And let me know when you want to check out some logging roads."

You smile, "Okay, I will! Bye guys!"

After goodbyes are said, you're left alone by Cody Schrodinger's vandalized headstone. You frown at it, you still don't approve of vandalism of cemetery's, no matter whose grave it is, but nothing can be done now. You look down at the cut on your hand, it stings a bit, but has stopped bleeding at least.

{Why did you do that to your hand, Alice? You knew that wasn't going to work.}

"Maybe I wanted to make some friends," you say. "It's not bad."

{No, but I don't like seeing you hurt yourself. You're special, Alice.}

You can't help but laugh, "You keep saying that," you say. "That I'm special."

{You are.}

"But then you turn around and gag at Ellie being grateful to me?" you ask.

{Ellie is-}

Your friend goes silent.

{Alice, that's different. You and her are NOT the same. You're vibrant, alive, beautiful. You're not some pathetic spirit sitting in a dirt hole feeling sad. You are her are worlds apart, Alice. I came to you, to help you. To improve you. Ellie won't improve. One day Ellie will give up the pathetic shreds of her old life that she clings to. One day she'll be gone and you'll still be here. Beautiful and powerful.}

You don't think you've ever heard your friend say so much at once, it's sort of alarming how passionate it became.

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'm special."

{You are.}

You roll your eyes before taking a careful step up off the ground and into the air, it being dark enough now that no one will see you flying home, not to mention the particularly embarrassing situation that could be caused by flying around in a dress. Traveling home this way would be a lot faster than walking.

{Alice. Are things okay between us? You seem distant.}


>Everything's fine
>You've got me a little concerned honestly
>I've just been busy, there's a lot going on
>Write in

>>2014901
>I've just been busy, there's a lot going on

>>2014901
>Everything's fine
>I've just been busy, there's a lot going on
>(keep our concerns over Friend to ourself)

>>2014901
>You've got me a little concerned honestly.
>Maybe I am special and maybe Ellie isn't, but that doesn't mean her life (or lack thereof) is meaningless. She's still a person.
Friends are honest with eachother, after all.

>I've just been busy, there's a lot going on

>Writing

You're briefly torn between telling your friend your concerns or keeping it to yourself. What do they say? Discretion is the better part of valor?

"I've just been busy," you say, "There's a lot going on, this is a lot to take in."

{Okay, Alice. I'd hate it if I were making you uncomfortable. That's not why I'm here. Please tell me if you need anything.}

"I will."

You see your sister's house coming into view, carefully checking the time on your phone shows you that it is indeed approaching ten O'clock, not late enough that your sister and Mark will be asleep. So you'd better walk in the front door like a normal girl.

You land about a block away in the dark and finish your walk home, careful to hide your cut hand when you come inside.

Grace is in the living room reading a trashy romance novel and perks up when she sees you. "Hey, Alice! There's leftovers in the fridge, I put them aside when you weren't back for dinner."

"Thanks," you say.

"Everything okay?"

You nod, "Yeah. I just went for a walk. It's nice out."

"A little cold though," Grace says, miming a shiver. "You gonna do your homework?"

"Yeah, before I go to bed," you say.

"Well, don't let me keep you! Let me know if you need anything!"

"Thanks," you say before trudging upstairs to your room. You did have just enough time to do your homework, although you could also try to further your investigation into Ellie's old boyfriend's whereabouts.

>Homework
>Try to track down Cliff

>>2014976
>Try to track down Cliff

>>2014976
>>Try to track down Cliff

>Try to track down Cliff

>writing

Homework could wait. Well, it couldn't, but your grades were good enough you could take a small hit, Besides, you might be able to do some of it in the morning before class. No, it was time to knuckle down and focus on your investigation.

The second you got into your room you closed the door behind you, pulled out your laptop and sat on your bed. Might as well start with the obvious, right?

You bring up Google and type Clifford Ellison Roselake. Enter.

"Here's something," you say to no one in particular, "Ellison and Jefferies, Attorneys at Law in Lasker City."

{Interesting.}

Even through your unorthodox form of communication, you sense boredom and sarcasm. You ignore it, "Think it could be him?"

{It could be.}

You bring up the website for Ellison and Jefferies. Or rather, Jefferies and Jones. A bit of poking around on their about page and some cached searches shows- "Ellison, Cliff Ellison retired a few years ago. It's got to be him, the ages fit."

{Yes, I think so, Alice.}

Your phone buzzes on the bed beside you.

>u home? -Zack

Hmm.

You quickly type back a response.

>Just sat down, doing homework.

Still, this was a big lead. With a bit more googling you track down an address and a phone number for Clifford Ellison of Lasker City. The question was: what to do with it?

You could call Cliff and try to talk though some of this, or at least figure out if he was the right Clifford Ellison. You could also maybe try to figure out a way to track a trip out there and meet him in person. Ellie only wanted you to pass on her message that she was happy and that she didn't blame him for what happened. Still, it was heavy news.

>Call Cliff
>Visiting in person would be better, just need to make plans when and how
>Write in

>>2015032
>>Visiting in person would be better, just need to make plans when and how

>>2015032
>Visiting in person would be better, just need to make plans when and how

>Visiting in person would be better, just need to make plans when and how

>writing

>>2015032
>Also, do a bit more research: what type of law did he practice.
>We can ask Ellie more specific questions about Cliff if ahe comes to our house.

I'm curious if he was inspired to become a lawyer after the accident that killed Ellie.

No, it would be better to deal with it in person. It seems that Cliff became an accident and injury attorney, if the law firms website is anything to judge by. You wonder if that's coincidence or not.

Either way, you'd be better off making plans to meet him face to face to deliver this news. Ellie was supposed to try to visit your house soon, tomorrow in fact, you could always get more specifics from her then.

It remained to be seen how you could get to Lasker, though you were free as soon as Sunday. You didn't have a car your own, so you'd need a ride. Flying there was out of the question since any old person would be able to see you flying around and that would likely raise some questions.

As it stands, you only know three people with cars and each came with their own pitfalls.

>Ask your sister Grace to drive you
>Ask Franz, your ex-boyfriend to drive you
>Ask Zack to drive you
>Write in


X

By the way, I'm on vacation this week, and I feel like running late, so I apologize if this carries the game out of your timezone or whatever. Feel free to complain to me here.

>>2015067
>Ask Zack to drive you

Question, how fast can we fly? Like, do we have an idea of how long it would take us to fly to or from Lasker? Cus' another idea I have would be paying for a bus ticket there and then just flying back come night time.

Anyways, it's 2am, so I'm gonna have to pop off. Stay spoopy, QM

>Ask Zack to drive you

>Writing

>>2015075
>how fast can we fly?
I hesitate to put an exact number because I'm shit with numbers but I figure it's probably like a slow moving car, like 25-30 MPH. Fast, but a car is faster

Flying from Lasker home could take an hour or more, but the bus fare idea is sound.

>I'm gonna have to pop off

No problem, looks like you're not alone there, this is my last post anyhow.

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On a whim, you pick up your phone again.

>Hey, what are you doing Sunday?

Zack's response is quick.

>Nothing, why?

>I need a ride to Lasker then. Can you take me?

You only wait another minute or so,

>yeah lol. I'll call you Sunday morning, k?

>K

You put your phone down and yawn while glancing at the clock. It's late. You got a lot done today and you have even more coming up. You're going to try to watch movies with Ellie tomorrow, and after that, on Saturday, Sam comes over to study Spanish. You still weren't sure what you were going to do about that . . .

In any case, first comes bed.

You stand to undress and pause.

{Alice, I-

"Nope. Hop out."

{But Alice, it's silly to think-

"I don't like people watching me change. Please?"

{I'm not 'people'}

The protest is halfhearted and you feel the strange heaviness return as your friend repossess its temporary host, your skeleypus plushie. You watch it wriggle the ungainly, fluffy body around to face the wall, again leaving you unsure if it even "saw" like people did. Pushing the thought out of mind, you change in your pajamas and climb into bed, feeling your body lighten as your Friend returns to your mind.

{I don't feel that way about you, Alice.}

"I know," you say. "But it makes me feel better. Goodnight, Friend."

{Goodnight, Alice.}

X

Thanks for playing guys, next session will probably be next Thursday at 7 EST, 11 UTC, but if that changes I will let everyone know on the Twitter.

Thanks again!

https://twitter.com/TimeKillerQM

>>2015102
Night, bossman. Hope to see you again next week, hopefully for the full session.

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>>2015102
Thanks for running. I’m absolutely loving this quest.

>>2015118
>>2015692
Thanks guys!

I just put it on Twitter, I MAY have some unexpected free time in about an hour or so and so I MAY run the game for a bit. Not sure if anyone is here to play, I won't run if no one can show up.

That night you dreamed that you watched revolutionary-era militiamen line up captured British soldiers along a treeline between two crop fields. The Redcoats were forced to their knees, backs to the woods, hands bound with twin, faces marked with soot from musket fire. On some, tears left clean streaks in the black powder.

You watched with the other towns people as one by one, the colonial militia went down the line, driving a gleaming bayonet into the gut of each prisoner, shoving them onto their backs or allowing them to fall face first in the dirt. The last two soldiers made a run for it rather than be executed.

Even as the militia were rolling the bodies into the shallow graves they'd dug, you heard the crackle of musket fire and the fleeing soldiers fell, bodies broken. One yet lived, writhing on the ground, femur shattered by a musket ball. A captain of the militia paced across the field, pistol draw and fired it point blank into the wounded man.

X

You open your eyes and see only your bedroom.

{Good morning, Alice. Sleep well?}
"I had weird dreams," you say, sitting up and pulling hair out of your face.

{I'm sorry, Alice. Anything you want to talk about?}

"I think Mr. Cook' s class got to me," you say, pulling off the covers and getting ready. "Now, out."

You and your friend execute your strange body switching routine, giving you a modicum of privacy to change.

Today was a big day, you were going to see about watching movies after school with Ellie, that is, if she can leave her grave. It was a school day of course, but it was also a a Friday!

You feel an empty grumble in your stomach, but also feel the nagging sensation of unfinished homework. You were normally a pretty punctual student.

How to spend the pre-school hours?

>Breakfast at home
>Breakfast at Denny's
>Breakfast at school
>Hurry and do homework before class
>Write in

>Hurry and do homework before class

Responsible mode: ON

>>2016185
>Hurry and do homework before class
Gotta be a responsible procrastinator

>>2016185
>Hurry and do homework before class.

>Hurry and do homework before class

>writing

Well, if you were going to procrastinate you at least were going to do it responsibly. Whatever madness Mr. Cook had assigned you could probably wait to be done over the weekend, he might have even forgotten he assigned it.

Your other tasks however . . . Especially French, would be painful. No matter you'd prefer a 'C' over a 0.

You rounded up your books, easy since you'd never taken them out, and throw on your backpack. You give your unfinished pig-bone artwork a sad look. It had fallen by the wayside given the exciting turn your life took.

Tromping down the stairs, you breeze through the kitchen, surprising your sister.

"Morning Alice, are you-"

"Sorry, Grace," you grab a pop tart, "I've got to run."

You don't wait for her reaction before you're out of the house and on your way to school.

The trip is short, made shorter by your wandering thoughts. Once you're settled in the cafeteria, you eye the time and dove in to your work.

You didn't have much planned for school, another regular day, but it didn't have to be that way.


>Talk with Franz
>Talk with Sam
>Text Zack
>I'll just focus on school
>Write in

>>2016305
>Talk with Sam.

>Talk with Sam

>Writing

You were really only looking forward to one thing as far as school was concerned, and that was talking with Sam. It was a strange realization. Sam, after all, was a major part in your painful breakup with Franz. Franz who had seemed so perfect at the time. Sure, Franz was a major factor in that, but still, sometimes it felt more natural to blame the "other woman".

Even now, all you had to do was look up from your homework to see her. She represented a lot of things to you, but one of the biggest was, in a way, superiority. She'd "beat" you with Franz. She evidently had something that you did not, why else would Franz have so willingly gone to her over you, his girlfriend?

She was cute, sure, charismatic, creative, or so you'd heard. Back when she and Franz were "just friends" he'd had a lot to say about her. You'd completely stopped writing now and were just watching her, head bowed slightly. She was pulling on Franz's arm while another of their friends pretended to pour milk on him.

Weirdos.

Sam looks up and you lock eyes, your heart pounding. You look back down and continue filling out your French worksheet, hands sweating.

{Are you scared of her, Alice?}

"I- no. I mean . . . I don't know," you say. "It's weird that I never felt this way before. What's going on?"

Your friend laughs softly in your mind.

{People change, Alice. You're still a child only now becoming a woman. You will likely continue to be surprised at how you change as you grow. Everything about you, intellect, appearance, hobbies. Sexuality, morality. Everything.}

You dodge the jab at your heterosexuality. "I don't think my morality is likely to change."

{This is a common belief, but tell me, when you were younger did you think twice before pulling the legs off of a centipede? Did you hesitate before shoving a child out of your way in line?}

"I . . ." You weren't expecting the conversation to take this turn, "I didn't know any better then, kids have to learn that stuff."

{And so you are still learning, Alice. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable, this is the truth.}

You put in your earbuds, closing out any more commentary your friend might make and spare another glance at Sam, feeling that strange conflict within you, that alien conflict. Sam was just a friend. Yes, you just wanted to have friends again.

https://youtu.be/vhXFmN9C7Tc

The bell rings, signaling the start of another day of classes.

Mr. Cook's class is a breeze, as typical he forgot whatever homework he may have assigned. You have half a mind to ask him if the Colonial militia really did execute their British prisoners after the battle of Edenvale, but don't get the courage to.

"Guys, remember, the test on the Revolution is on next Friday, so be thinking on your paper topics! And no, gangrene doesn't count!" Mr. Cook calls after the class as you leave.

You cross the hall to your locker, trading out your history books and steeling your nerves against the conflict you felt within.

{Alice, conflict is natural. There's no reason to struggle against how you feel.}

"I'm not struggling against anything," you lie, then you see Sam coming down the hall on her way, you assume, to Spanish class. You'd already planned to meet with her on Saturday to help teach her a language you only knew with the help of your friend, but it might be better to get to know her a bit more before showing up at her house the first time.

Here she comes.

"H-hey Sam!"

Fuck, tripping over the first word doesn't bode well.

Sam smiles politely at you, juggling her books from one arm to another, "Hey, Alice! How's it going?"

"Good, you know. History class."

"Who do you have?"

"Mr. Cook."

"That messed up war guy?" Sam asks with a smile, "Heard it's rough."

"No," you shake your head, "It’s good. He talks about all kinds of cool stuff?"

"Ah, cool."
>Mind if I walk with you to your class?
>Excited about Saturday?
>So are you and Franz still together?
>Write in

>>2016489
>Mind if I walk with you to your class?

>>2016497
This.

>Mind if I walk with you to your class?

>Writing

"Do you mind if I walk with you?" you ask. "To class I mean."

Sam looks confused. "Um. Sure, that's fine."

You fall in step beside her, cursing yourself that your own next class is in the opposite direction.

"So, how'd you learn to speak Spanish?" she asks.

"An uncle," you say, words that aren’t your own, your friend speaking for you. "He taught English in Spain and 'went native.' I learned it from him."

"Well that's pretty cool," Sam says, "Not many people get out of Roselake."

"Y-yeah."

"So . . ." Sam picks at a black cord bracelet on her left arm, "Did Franz talk to you yesterday? After school?"

"Oh, yeah he did," you say.

Sam winces, "I hope it wasn't anything weird, I didn't mean to make it weird. I told him you talked to me and . . . and it was unusual cause we've never talked really, that's it."


>Did he say anything?
>It's okay, don't worry about it
>Yeah, he thought it was strange too.
>Write in

>>2016583
>It's okay, don't worry about it
>Yeah, he thought it was strange too.

>It's okay, don't worry about it
>Yeah, he thought it was strange too.

>writing

>>2016650

Trips

You shrug and give Sam a weak smile, "It's okay, really, don't worry about it."

"You sure? I just hate that it looks like I was trying to start something. I wasn't."

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's okay. Franz thought it was strange too, that's all we really talked about." A lie, but a harmless one.

Sam looks a bit less troubled, "Okay. Jeez, I was just telling him we were going to be studying together you know? He took it somewhere else. He . . . Well, he took it somewhere else."

"Don't worry about it," you say. "Franz is like that."

"Yeah," Sam smiles, "I guess you would know. You knew him before I did."

Ah, there it was. The unspoken baggage, the thing you both had in common.


>Let's just put that behind us, okay? That was the past.
>So, I'm sorry if this is forward, but are you two dating?
>Are we still studying at your place, or did you want to come to mine?
>{Where did France 'take it'?}
>Write in

>>2016682
>Let's just put that behind us, okay? That was the past.
>Are we still studying at your place, or did you want to come to mine?

>Let's just put that behind us, okay? That was the past.
>Are we still studying at your place, or did you want to come to mine?

>Writing

"Let's just put it behind us, okay?" you give Sam what you hope is a reassuring smile, "That's all in the past."

Sam nods, "That's good. You know, Franz talks about you a lot. I think he misses hanging out with you."

You stiffen a bit at the thought of hanging out with Franz, but it'd be hypocritical to refuse after you just said that was all in the past. "We did have fun," you allow. "I've just been busy."

Your friend flutters in your mind.

{Indeed we have been busy, Alice. But I don’t think that's why you haven't been with Franz. It's hard to be with a person who used you and left you behind, isn't it?}

"He used-" you start, accidentally repeating your friends words, "Ah, he used to be different is all."

"Oh," Sam looks like it's dawned on her the situation she may have put you in, "Right."

You quickly shift topics, "So, on Saturday, are we still doing it- uh, studying at your place or did you want to come to mine?" you mentally berate yourself for your awkward word choice, the last thing you needed was more people calling you a dyke.

"I hope you don't think I'm awful, but I'd prefer to have you come to my place. You know, I'm always super nervous going over to someone else's house. I mean the first time I went over to Franz's place-" she stops herself, "It was . . . It was a bit awkward."


>Your place is fine
>{Don't worry about bringing up Franz. That's all behind me. Whatever you two have is okay by me.}
>{Sorry for being pushy, but I think we'd have more fun at my place.}
>write in

>>2016772
>Your place is fine
Sure thing

>>2016772
>Your place is fine

>>2016772
>>Your place is fine

>Your place is fine

>writing

"Your place will be fine," you say, pushing back your friends subconscious suggestions.

"Great," Sam looks relieved, "Come over Saturday around, four-ish?"

"Okay, I will."

"Let me give you my number in case you need it."

You offer up your phone and Sam quickly programs herself in. You notice her pause long enough to study your other contacts. You don't have many, your sister, Mark, your parents, Franz, and the three Lasker High guys you'd met in the cemetery. You imagine it was these three fresh names that draw her attention.

"Here," she hands it back, expression unchanged.

"Thanks, I'll text you on Saturday."

"Or text whenever," Sam says, "Chances are I'll need Spanish help."

The tardy bell rings.

"Shit! Gotta run, see ya, Alice!" She turns and heads quickly into the classroom you'd reached, leaving you late for class.

"Bye."

X

{I'm happy to see you and Sam have taken to one another so quickly, Alice. She's a very charismatic young lady.}

You walk alone through the empty halls to the opposite end of the school.

"I can see why Franz took to her so well," you say, bitterness thick in your voice.

{Now, Alice. Don't be like that. You've turned a new leaf, things are looking so good for you. You're starting to grow and develop as a person.}

Weird.

"Things are different," you allow, "But people still seem to think I'm a freak."

{Those boys in the cemetery seemed impressed. I think Zack is rather taken with you, Alice.}

You shrug.

{Sam seems to like you as well, Alice. She's a bit nervous I think, but she'll warm up to you. Especially if you let me help you.}

"I appreciate it, but having help when making friends doesn't feel like making friends, you know? I sort of want them to like me for me."

{Alice, we're friends. I feel like I have to remind you of this a lot. But I'll remind you that you promised me that we would be friends forever. That was your promise, Alice.}

"I remember," you say, "And I meant it. I think you're great, I just like to do something myself."

{Alice?}

"Yes?" you hope you didn't somehow offend your friend.

{How do you feel about Sam?}

"What do you mean?"

{I can tell that you've got . . . Conflicting opinions and I wanted to see if maybe we could set the record straight.}

Your friend flutters at a joke you don't get.
>I'm just looking for a friend. I'm tired of being alone.
>I . . . Don't know. I'm just drawn to her I guess.
>I think it'd be nice to take from her what Franz did. That was your idea after all
>I-I don't know. I haven't even been with her for more than ten minutes, let me actually get to know her first, okay?
>Write in

>>2016932
>I-I don't know. I haven't even been with her for more than ten minutes, let me actually get to know her first, okay?

>>2016932
>I'm just interested in trying to make some friends. Anything more serious than that... It can wait.


>Your friend flutters at a joke you don't get.
>set the record straight
>straight
C'mon, Alice, low hanging fruit there.

>>2017035
>>2017042

>writing

>Low hanging fruit

Lulz.gif

"I-I don't know." you stammer "I haven't even been with her for more than ten minutes, let me actually get to know her first, okay?"

{Of course, Alice.}

"I'm just interested in trying to make some friends. Anything more serious than that... It can wait," you say, calming your nerves."

{I understand. There's no pressure, Alice. You have lots of time.}

You feel a strange nagging in the back of your mind.

[Low hanging fruit]

"Hey!" you stop. "Set the record straight!? That's not funny!"

You feel your friend positively rolling with laughter in your mind.

You stop walking and cross your arms, pouting. "I get enough people teasing me about that stuff, I don't need you added to the list."

{Oh, I'm sorry, Alice.}

Your friend's laughter subsides.

{Please forgive me. That was just for that quip about me always wanting to eat people. I felt like fair was fair.}

Your mood lightens. A little.

"Yeah, well . . . Having a crush on a girl and consuming souls for fun aren't exactly the same thing."

{Maybe not to you, Alice. Myself, I subscribe to a fairly hedonist set of principles. If it feels good: don't stop. Do it again. This applies to boys, girls, food, blades, and souls. Speaking of, you mentioned you might have me consume people you didn't know}

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a short laugh before walking on, "We'll talk about that later. I'm not entirely comfortable doing that to people who don't deserve it."

{I'm sure if we try we can find someone who does. I have much more that I can show you after all}

You don't doubt it.

X

That's all the time I have. Thanks for coming to this REALLY short notice game, again, I appreciate the turn out.

As always, please feel free to hit me with questions, comments, and concerns. Discussion is one of my favorite parts about questing!

Thanks for playing guys!

>>2017222
Thanks for running!

>This applies to boys, girls, food, blades, and souls.
I found this line very interesting, particularly the mention of blades. Then there's them knowing Spanish for some reason, though we never really checked if they just happened to understand every language... I really wanna know what our Friend's deal is.

>>2017259
>friend's deal

You could always ask, no one's done that yet.

>>2017315
Fair, though there hasn't really been a great time to bring it up.

>>2017420
That sounds like a request! So I'll make that happen on Thursday

New thread:

>>2034808