>Previously on: Drowned Quest

You were executed for the crime of worship by being thrown into the deadly ocean. It didn’t work out. You made camp on the seafloor and were awoken by a woman with a spear, who you got into a fight with. The two of you made your way back to the camp where she lives, where your exploration of it was cut short by the announcement that “crabs” were coming. You and the spearwoman, Madrigal, hiked north to try and delay the crabs while everybody else prepared for them. The stalling attempt was mostly unsuccessful, but luckily it wasn’t necessary: the crabs only came to ask for aid against “incursors” in their territory. They’ve requested you and Arledge, another man at the camp, to come… on account of your MALLEABILITY. Nobody knows what this means. You have a week before you have to leave.

Meanwhile, other strange things have been happening. Your lungs have turned slick and solid, rendering you unable to breathe or speak. And your reasonable (you prefer “naggy”) thoughts have turned traitor and have started manifesting themselves as you... but a little cleaner and taller and with blue eyes, not hazel. On one occasion of panic, you’ve had it/him assume control of what you aren’t quite sure is your body. Nobody yet knows about this.

>Last Thread: >>3148921

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

>Twitter: https://twitter.com/BathicQM

>Character Sheet: https://pastebin.com/vugu4geW

>Other People: https://pastebin.com/f0k1deSv

>>3179238
>3

Excellent time to try switching with naggy us. Sleeping Maddy will be less likely to notice a cut connection.

>>3179256
Writing.

>EXPERIMENT: "Switching"

There's something that's been… there's been a lot of things bothering you. Most things have been bothering you. Dumb turn of phrase. But there's something that's primarily bothering you, and it's when you dissolved.

Or, or whatever. You haven't been thinking about it enough to give it a good solid name, because you haven't wanted to be thinking about it. You're scared of it. How- how wasn't the question. Where had it come from, inside of you? From what deep silent place-

You're pontificating. And you're going to try it again anyways. Look at yourself. You're crouching on your bedroll, hands splayed out in the sand. You're doing a pose! There's literally nothing I can do about this. It's a fecking stupid-ass idea that didn't make sense the first time and continues to make no sense. So you're gonna do it.

You are going to do it. You have to do it. You are deeply fecking scared about what this means, but you also need to know. And… unless Madrigal is pranking you, she's asleep, right? She isn't gonna know like last time.

The only issue is knowing how. What, do you just… squat here and wish really hard? Do you say something? Draw magicians' sigils? You don't know any magicians' sigils. What happened last time?

Roll me 3 1d100s vs DC 0...
>+40 - Thinking too much.
>DC 40

No Passes - Critical Failure
One Pass - Failure
Two Passes - Success
Three Passes - Critical Success

Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>3179343

Rolled 20 (1d100)

>>3179343
Damn, that's a huge penalty for overthinking!

Didn't we just envision the other us in our place last time?

>>3179357
You don't know how you did it last time. While you know for sure it happened and know vaguely what "you" did, the initial process is a complete blur.

>>3179361
Ok, I just looked it up and apparently we willed ourselves to dissolve into the water and darkness, leaving the double behind. Also we got +5 to actions involving our double which is still not enough to save those rolls.

At least it's shaping up to be an interesting failure.

Rolled 70 (1d100)

>>3179343
Last.

>>3179347
>>3179357
>>3179365

>18, 20, 70
+5 to actions involving your DOUBLE!
>23, 25, 75
>Failure!

Writing.

>>3179364
Did I forget about that bonus? Uh... yes, probably immediately after I gave it. I'll stick it on the sheet shortly. Thanks.

>Failure!
In the end, you just try to relax. There was something about dissolving. So lay back and dissolve, right?

You scrunch your eyes closed and wait. The seconds tick by with your heartbeat.

It's not working.

No shit. You scrunch your eyes harder, until they start making that buzzing sound.

No, I mean: it's not working. I'm *making* it not work. You wanna know why you're scared?

He already has your answer, and you already know his response. Funny how things work.

I'm scared. That's why. If I weren't around, you'd be barreling into danger every time you got the whim. This is danger! This is danger, Ellery, and you know it is, and so you're stopping yourself. I'm just the vector.

You open your eyes to the blank tent ceiling.

You're sabotaging yourself. This fact is supremely fecking annoying, but facts haven't stopped you before.

>[1] Try again. [Easier roll.]
>[2] Maybe…take some precautions before anything happens.
>[3] He's right. You're right. It's not safe, and you don't even know if this is something new. You need to talk to someone about it.
>[4] It's not safe. Do something else.
>[5] Write-in.

>>3179414
>2

Not sure what precautions would help though. Tying ourselves down? Meditation? Having a mirror handy?

>>3179414
2.

>>3179442
>>3179448
Writing.

>Take some precautions first.

You have the entire day empty, so there's no use in rushing things. And though you're loathe to admit it, he's right-- this is... maybe not dangerous, but certainly untested and definitely unusual. It would be wise to prepare a little.

You aren't sure what preparations would be necessary. Would he be violent? Nothing happened last time, but it'd only gone on for a minute or two. Well, I don't know. Would you be violent?

No. So probably not, then. What else?

Madrigal might be up by now, and a repeat of last time would be a disappointment. You buzz her. "Hey-"

"I'm in the middle of getting searched for smuggled goods. Can it wait?"

"What? Like, really?"

"In my head. It's very tense. What?"

"Uh..." You've lost your train of thought. "Oh. Uh, if you feel any... breakage, don't come check on me. I'm just trying something."

"Not planning on it. Bye."

That's settled, you hope.

You've been wondering if it's actually you, physically. Is that a silly question? No. No, and you can- oh, okay. In agreement here.

You lean for your bucket in the corner and fumble around for its contents, finally pulling out the stone knife. You could make a cut...

You couldn't make a cut. Gross. But you do slice the bottom of your jacket, before thinking better of it and discarding the jacket entirely. (You're cold.)

Would that be enough? You don't know, but you're tired of waiting.

Roll me 3 1d100s vs. DC 0.
>+20 - Thinking a little less too hard.
>DC 20

Rolled 49 (1d100)

>>3179493
We gotta knock ourselves put before trying this for that coveted DC 0.

...wait...

Rolled 16 (1d100)

>>3179493
Second.

Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>3179493
Rolling to keep things moving. Regardless of this result, it's a success. Forgot the +5 again! I'll learn at some point.

>>3179499
>>3179508
>>3179531
>54, 21, 18
>Success!

Writing.

Halfway through the post, but I need to step out for a few. Should be 30 minutes maximum, hopefully sooner. Sorry to keep you guys hanging!

>>3179598
no problemo

>>3179598
Back and continuing.

File: that guy.jpg (181 KB, 564x670)

181 KB JPG

>54, 21, 18 - Success.

You settle back down into the crouch, feeling very naked without your jacket. You'd had it on for a few weeks straight on account of the cold, and then on account of being distracted by larger issues.

Steadfastly ignoring the persistent buzz of concern in the back of your skull, you close your eyes. Just relax. Dissolve, or whatever. The sand grates against your knuckles.

Focus, or relax, or both. Just dissolve into the water and the dark in your head. Just...

The buzz of concern gets louder, and then cuts out completely.

-

Godsdamnit.

You open your eyes, and then regret opening your eyes. It's very bright.

Godsdamnit! He did it again. Now what, huh? What did you expect to gain from this? I'm just gonna have to figure it out?

It continues to be very bright. You sit up, unsteadily, and by chance touch the discarded jacket. It's still intact. You feel your way down to the hem: there, a gash, with little brown threads fraying the edges.

Okay. Okay. So that means what? Lifting yourself to your feet is a difficult proposition, especially when your hand keeps catching on your... jacket.

Not the jacket on the floor. This jacket is a little bit paler, and checking the hem reveals a gash- but at a different angle, and with no threads.

Shit. Shit. You scrabble to unbutton the new jacket while a thought comes unbidden: can you make infinite jackets, then? Maybe, but it doesn't come to pass: even without your shaky hands, the new-jacket refuses to come loose below your customary undone top two buttons. You push. You pull. You even try the knife, but it's no use.

... You stare pensively down.

>[1] This is all well and good, but a mystery jacket is the least of your concerns. What about your face?

>[2] You need to examine this more. Try the rest of your clothes.

>[3] What's the point of this? You really don't know, but it's probably not to sit in your tent. Go outside.

>[3] Abort! Abort!

>[4] Write-in.

>>3179711
That should read [4] Abort! and [5] Write-in, of course.

>>3179711
>1
>2

1 is why I wanted a mirror on hand.
2 is a complete surprise.

>>3179724
You don't know what a mirror is, much less have one.

>>3179711
>[1] This is all well and good, but a mystery jacket is the least of your concerns. What about your face?

>>3179733
What? How do we do our hair in the morning!?

>>3179746
If you're lucky, there's a puddle around. If not, you finger-comb and hope for the best.

It's been mentioned that you aren't well-groomed. I believe "unkempt" or "disheveled" have been the words tossed around.

That being said...

>>3179724
>>3179734
>1
>2 (briefly)

Writing.

>Check out the rest of your clothes...
>But mostly your face.

Half out of obligation and half out of dread, you feel down to your boots. They also refuse to peel off, as do your pants (probably a good thing: don't want to be caught with your pants down. Heh.).

Okay. This is not something I can deal with. You're going to leave all the rationalizing to someone else with more experience functioning as an individual. Face.

What? You feel up to your face instinctively. Still there. Still got all the face bits. Mouth. Uhh, nose. Eyes. Wait, shit. Can't tell color. You've been told they're hazel, but color is difficult to determine from puddles and even more difficult to determine from nothing at all.

>[1] You need to ask someone about your eye color. Find someone to ask about your eye color.
>[2] It's too risky, and you're lacking in other options. Abort.
>[3] It's possible there's something reflective outside. Go out but avoid people.
>[4] Write-in.

Sorry for size in relation to time spent. This post suffered a few rewrites.

>>3179835
>[1] You need to ask someone about your eye color. Find someone to ask about your eye color.

No probs.

>>3179837
>1
Writing.

>>3179835
All that time and I still managed to miss the vote.

>3

Also if we can't take our pants off I guess it's a good thing we don't need to poop down here.

>>3179869
Little late there, sorry!

>Find someone to ask.

There's no way around it: I'm gonna have to ask someone. Your eyes have mostly adjusted to the lighting in the tent, but the unfiltered sunshine blinds as you step outside.

At a first glance through squinted eyes, nobody seems to be around. Good. You'd rather it be this way, so you can promptly vacate and get back to whatever it is you do that isn't this. (Your head throbs warningly.)

No, there is somebody. Arledge. He's making concentric circles in the sand with a wooden pole to your left, nearly out of sight. Weird, but you guess he's as good as anyone.

"Hey," you call out, and instantly regret it. Firstly: the word grates like sandpaper in your throat. Secondly: You aren't supposed to be able to do that. Thirdly: It rings out clear as a bell. Arledge freezes where he stands and whips around to face you. He looks you in the eyes.

"U-" and before you can get another syllable out, he's upon you. It'd be quick for someone normal (somone real?), but you're unused to physical space and so it seems an instant: you're bowled back over into the tent and he has his pole against your throat. Still staring you down, he raises his free palm to his mouth and bites down.

It draws blood, and you squirm. He spits onto the palm and presses it hard against your forehead. A great ringing joins the throb, and you squirm further.

"Answer me," he says inside your head. "What are you. Speak out loud. Don't struggle."

>[1] "Uh. Ellery Routh."

>[2] "Dude, what are you doing?"

>[3] "What color are my eyes?"

>[4] Answer as honestly as you know.

>[5] Struggle. (Difficult.)

>[6] Write-in.

>>3179909
>[4] Answer as honestly as you know.

>>3179911
Writing. Nice dub dubs.

>>3179909
>4

This is the pragmatic one.

>>3179938
fuck, I almost made it

File: arledge.jpg (52 KB, 564x646)

52 KB JPG

>Answer as honestly as you know how.

His eyes burn, thin rings of blue barely containing the hot green middles. You wilt under his gaze and thought-voice, and the truth tumbles out of your mouth.

Quick, panicky: "I- I don't know. I mean, I do, kind of, but-"

"What??"

"-BUT it's uh, uh, complicated, I think, and honestly it doesn't sound super good to say it out loud-"

"Say it." His pole presses harder. You swallow hard and rush on.

"uh, uh, I AM Ellery, but not exactly? Not really. I, uh, I'm in his head... I am his head, I think, I mean, but he's cut me off. And, uh, this..." You gesture weakly to your face. "this, uh, well, I mean, it's me, I guess. He's gone somewhere. So it's just me left."

You can't read his face, but his eyes have stopped burning and his voice no longer reverberates. "Has this happened before?"

"Once, on accident, uh, I think."

"After Montgomery punched you?"

"Montg..."

"Monty."

"Uh, yeah."

The storm clouds clear from his brow, and he raises the pole. "I see. And the- you said 'cut off'?"

"When he hit the ocean. We. I don't know."

"Ah."

Your head hurts quite a lot.

>[1] "What does 'ah' mean? Is that meaningful?"

>[2] "So... what do you think?"

>[3] "What did you see about me? To warrant the, uh, tackling."

>[4] "Who are you?"

>[5] "What color are my eyes?"

>[6] "Write-in."

>>3179981
Needless to say, the bolding went out of control. Imagine it for Arledge's dialogue up and through "Say it."

>>3179981
>3
>5
yay multiple choices
also good night

>>3179981
3. How bad is it?

>>3179981
3 + 5. I really want to put this eye color thing to bed

Taking a shower. There's enough to call, but I'll leave it open just in case.

>>3179987
Good night! Thanks for voting!

>>3179987
>>3180005
>>3180009
Writing.

>What did you see?
>What color are my eyes?

The blood/spit lies sticky on your forehead. You reach to wipe it off, but Arledge shakes his head.

"Don't break it."

You don't. You chew your lip instead. Godsdamn.

Arledge won't stop looking at you hungrily. To break his concentration, you ask, finally: "What color are my eyes?"

"Blue." You knew it. You'd always known it. You just had to be sure.

"Sky-blue, not sea-blue. But they were brown before."

"Hazel."

"Hazel. Don't care. Either way, it sticks out. That, and..."

"And?"

"You're paler, don't know if you've noticed. You hair is combed. You don't have the black eye-"

"I had a black eye?"

"Madrigal didn't tell you? Didn't want you to be embarrassed. Yes. Uh, you stand like you're not used to standing; legs spread out. You might be taller, but I haven't gotten a good look. Maybe other things. Very obvious overall, and I'd give you a fail grade if you were trying something. I don't think you are."

"Thanks?"

>[1] "So what are you, some kind of... special ops?"
>[2] "How are physical changes possible? Hell, how is any of this possible?"
>[3] "Would anyone else notice?"
>[4] "Is this something you've heard of before?"
>[5] "Write-in."

>>3180082
4.

>>3180083
>4
Writing. Second-to-last update of the night.

>Is this something you've heard of before?

Is he still staring? He's still staring. You're very uncomfortable.

"Have you heard of this? The... you know, this whole... thing."

"No."

He's squatting now, pole in the sand, still staring. You press him further.

"No... but? You said 'ah'."

"I did. Uh..." He hauls himself up to stare at you from a higher angle. "It's not unheard of for things to change in a person when they hit the water. Sounds like that."

"Change."

"Physically, mentally. Either or."

"Oh."

"You're not that chatty, are you? Madrigal said you'd be, but she wasn't talking about you. Yes, 'oh'."

"Well, I meant- did you...?"

"Change? That's personal. Should probably keep yours personal, too, because I gotta say: it's real weird. How'd you do it?"

You furrow your brow. How did I do it? I didn't do anything, really. "Asking the wrong person."

"Ah. Can you go back?"

>"Sure, I guess." (Requires roll!)
>"I can try, but there's still something I want to do." (What?)
>"I can try, but there's still something I want to ask you." (What?)
>"I don't know if I should."
>"Write-in."

>>3180133
Sure, I guess.

>>3180149
>Sure, I guess.

Roll me 3 d100s!
>DC 20 (Easy)

No bonus, because the you who has the bonus isn't available!

And I am going to stop here for the night! Please roll in the meantime, and feel free to leave me questions, comments, or concerns.

I also have a question for you!
>If you're new, where'd you come from? If you're here from last thread, what has you coming back?

Good night!
(Running tomorrow most likely.)

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>3180159
First.
I'm from thread one. Seeing where the story goes.

Rolled 86 (1d100)

>>3180159
Second.

>>3180178
>>3180161
>Samefagging the roll
It's open until I run again. No need to rush, bud.

Rolled 1 (1d100)

>>3180159
Here ya go

Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>3180159
Rollan, hopefully the samefag vote doesn't count

>>3180159
From thread one. Coming back because the story and writing are good and this is a high quality quest.

If you're looking to rustle up more players you could advertise it in the qtg thread or discord.

>>3180159
I'm here from the first thread and I'm here because it's some good shit m8

Running in approx. 40 minutes.

>>3181088
Update's taking longer than hoped-for. Running whenever I finish (~15-20 minutes? but no guarantees).

>>3181144
I am sad. My lungs have filled with saltwater and I have begun to hallucinate

>"Sure, I guess."
>43, 1, 13 vs. DC 20
>Failure!

Oh, thank gods. This is your exit ticket from reality, which you've decided is difficult to handle and indeed dangerous. You can retreat back to wherever... (your head throbs)

"I think so," you say aloud. "I mean, I don't know. Sure. I guess so. Yes."

"Wait," he says. "You don't have to if you aren't sure..."

But you don't hear him, because you're already falling backwards into darkness.

-

You are Arledge Graves.

Not-Ellery slackens like someone's let all the air out of him, which you suppose is accurate. You're only half-watching behind your quarterstaff, but curiosity overpowers your disgust and you lift your head to see.

He hangs like that for a second, two seconds, while you tense in turn. Three seconds. You shift the staff from hand to hand.

Four. He bolts straight upright, eyes closed. You're beginning to realize the brand wasn't a great plan, because your head is filling with static.

He opens an eye, newly blackened when you weren't looking. It's brown and darts around in its socket. You uncoil in relief...

He opens the other eye.

-

You are Ellery Routh.|You are somebody else but not entirely. And something has gone awfully|terribly sideways|wrong.

Your vision is very blurry.|You are wearing a jacket. You squint up at Arledge, who is hastily tying the tent flap|down at your chest, which is indeed jacketed. Coated with jacket, you might say.|You would not dare to pun about this.

It is not supposed to be blurry.|You aren't supposed to be wearing a jacket. You rub your eyes, to no avail|fiddle with the buttons, which function as buttons.

Arledge has turned and looks nervous. "Are you okay?", he asks in half your head.

"I don't know," you try to say, but you can't form words|"I don't know," you say in two different voices.

"Gods," is all he says in reply. Now that he's closer, you spot|notice something bizarre|curious: you're seeing double. A fuzzy mirror image of Arledge hovers to his left, looking just as panicked.

Arledge is muttering something in your right, while you get a surprise in your left: "Ellery!", Madrigal says brightly. "You're back! Listen, I've talked to almost everybody about the questions... we're set for lunchtime. Hope you have a list-"

Oh gods|oh gods. What do you do|can you do?

>[1] Can Arledge do anything? Listen to what he's saying.|...
>[2] ...|Settle down. Breathe. Think: what happened?
>[3] |The only way to deal with this is remove yourself(ves) entirely.|
>[4] Write-in.|Write-in.

>>3181254
Goddamn, that was a bitch. Hope it's worth it. Deepest apologies for the extended delay.

>>3181228
Sorry to hear that :(

>>3180283
If I catch samefags, I won't count them (unless there's no other rolls).

>>3180161
>>3180376
>>3180780
Thank you! I appreciate the support, and I hope I can keep things up for you gentlemen (or ladies).

I am advertising on both the QTG and the Discord, but I'll continue to do so!

>>3181254
2. You could have prevented this.

>>3181272
[2]

Writing.

>>3181254
Just got home from work

Wondering if we can just stay as two people forever. Twice the communication. Also Maddy doesn't notice the static? Also she noticed we were gone in the first place? damnit

>...|Settle down. Think.

It's all you can do to not scream bloody murder|curl up in a tightly-wound ball of terror. It looks like it's all Arledge can do too, it seems like, given his pacing like a cat in a cage|fingernails biting notches into the wood of his pole.

But you can't curl up|scream, that would be embarassing. And besides, you have this under control.

There's absolutely nothing under control! You feel like you've been gutted like a fish! And you can't think with-|You have this under control. This is fine. It's clear what's happened, and it's fine, we just have to-|-someone else thinking something different at the same time!|-focus.

What do you mean, it's clear what happened? How is it...

"Hm," says Arledge in your right. "Are you okay?" Madrigal returns in your left. "Who are you talking to?"

Something malfunctioned.

No shit. What did you do? | Something malfunctioned. You were in the water. I was falling back to it.

So? | I hit something.

There's nothing around to hit. It's water. | I hit something. Maybe you hit something.

So? | So, it went wrong. I stayed while you returned.

Good gods. | I don't know how to fix this. It's your head.

"I can hear half of this," Arledge interjects|says, with an edge that betrays his current state. "I don't really want to know."

>[1] |Send one person down to retrieve your body. (Which?)|
>[2] ...|Can you knock me out, Arledge?
>[3] Let Madrigal in on everything before she hears anything else.|...
>[4] ...|Tell Arledge what you think you know before he jumps out of his skin.
>[5] Write-in.|Write-in.

>>3181351
You informed her you there might be a cut-off as part of your prep.

>>3181400
4.

>>3181400
>"I may or may not be both of me at once right now."

>1 - The pragmatic one

>>3181432
second

>>3181400
Someone is going to have to go back for my body. Also I might be two people. We don't understand it either

>>3181432
>>3181410
>>3181434
>>3181435
>[1] - Not you.
>[4]

Writing.

>Have whoever... him... that guy go.
>But explain to Arledge first.

Arledge has trod a sizeable ditch into the sand at the front of your tent. You should probably | you need to help him out here.

"Uh," you say. "I'm okay|fine." Once again, it comes out doubled: a thin reedy|nasal voice muffled by the water, and something clearer and deeper. The last word comes out layered. Arledge rubs his eyes and stops pacing.

"Salt Sea" is all he mutters, but you sense his attention is on you.

"I think | Something went wrong with the going back."

"Yes."

"It didn't work properly."

"Yes. You'd said. You sound awful."

"Uh, sorry. So I'm going to try and... fix it."

"I'd hope so. You look awful, too. Got a brown eye and a blue eye."

"Hazel!|Hazel. So if, I don't know, anything happens..."

"Beyond this?"

"...don't freak out|worry. And I should still be here."

He puts his weight on the pole and reaches up to grab at his ponytail. "Take this." He drops his hair tie onto your legs and brushes his former ponytail back over his shoulder.

|RECIEVED: ALDREDGE'S HAIR TIE(?)|

"What?"

"Take it. I've been thinking. Might help."

"Oh. Thanks."

You slip it onto your wrist and watch as absolutely nothing happens. "Uh, bye."

"Good luck."

It's not your mind, at the moment, so you're already hanging on by a silver thread. It's little effort to sever it (above, you wince), teeter, and plunge backwards head-over-heels.

It won't stick. You can't succumb that easy to subconciousness. But it's enough to head there for what might end up being an instant or a minute or an hour.

The darkness is all-encompassing. Roll 3 d100s to land safely.

>DC: ???

Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>3181535
First.

Rolled 32 (1d100)

>>3181535

File: Spoiler Image (5.24 MB, 265x198)

5.24 MB GIF

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>3181564
Well fuck since things are moving slow I'm going to roll again feel free to ignore

>>3181535
nat 100 incoming

Rolled 59 (1d100)

>>3181535
>>3181583
if I remember to roll....

>>3181587
Our luck is not consistent.

>>3181548
>>3181564
>>3181587
>32, 42, 59 vs. DC ???
>???

Unfortunately, I have to keep you guys hanging! Back in hour max.

>>3181597
not even revealing the ?'s, ouch

Writing.

>DC: ???
>32, 42, 59 - ...

You're used to falling. The wind would be whistling past your face, if this were real air or you had a real face, but it does not.

Instead, you watch in silence as the darkness parts before you and reveals... aw. The pillar, whitewashed. Not dangerous, but certainly not where you left off.

You start to adjust your position (gotta land feet-first), but are stopped by the hair tie on your wrist. It's glowing in its best approximation of white-hot where white or hot doesn't mean anything.

Still falling, you scoot the hair tie off and spread it between your fingers. The interior glows the same. You stretch it farther, and it continues. You stretch it farther than any hair tie had right to go, and it stiffens into a hoop.

There's no wondering involved. You bend to slide the hair tie/hoop under your feet just as the ground rushes up to reach you...

>32, 42, 59 - Auto-Success!

>|Property of ARLEDGE'S HAIR TIE(?): All rolls for subconscious navigation are auto-successful with it in your possession.|

And suddenly your hands lie above you. They're holding a hair tie, which snaps vigorously back into its original dimensions. You haven't looked, but you know: below you is the empty ocean.

Not-empty ocean, rather: for you've landed bodily on a sandbar. Next to you is you, and you do mean you: his hair is combed back.

He isn't moving. He is breathing.


>[1] Just shove him back into the ocean. Problem solved.

>[2] Check him over. This is you, right?

>[3] Try and wake him up. You'd like to talk.

>[4] Write-in.

>>3181745
>[2] Check him over. This is you, right?

>>3181745
>3

Can we talk to ourself like this? Is it just like thinking inside our own head, or is it deeper, so Maddy and Arledge can't overhear?

>>3181762
It's hard to say without trying, but you know Madrigal definitely won't hear: she's only hooked up to real!Ellery, not you. Arledge is a maybe.

Writing for [2] and [3].

>Check him over.
>Try and talk to him.

You're not gonna lie: it's unsettling seeing yourself like this; especially because there really shouldn't be a you here or anywhere. But that bridge is long since burnt.

There's no sign of life from you except the shallow rise and fall of your chest. You don't want to get too existential, but it does make you wonder: you aren't a real person. So who is this? Is he your version of you, making him doubly false? Are you him and you're imagining this? Is he even a person, or just a symbolic representation of something? Hell, are you just a symbolic representation of something? You'd be fine if you were, you think.

It's not relevant, it's not relevant. But you do want to make sure this is who you're looking for, and so you brush yourself off and stand over you. Yeah, that sure is you. Got the face and the neck and everything.

You're busy feeling up his shoulder when he cracks open a blue eye.

"Huh?"

Hastily, you withdraw.

"Hi. Uh..."

He opens the other and scans your face.

"You look like me."

"Yes?"

"How is that possible?"

Oh. You have a rube.

>[1] "Doesn't matter, pal. Let's get you in the water."
>[2] "You know, I was just asking myself the same question."
>[3] "You have no idea how deep this rathole goes."
>[4] "Uh. I'm your dad."
>[5] "Write-in."

>>3181824
I would like to get back to "normalcy," could you help?

>>3181824
Number one

>>3181824
>4

He has blue eyes, meaning we're the silly one and this vote is 1000% valid.

>>3181844
You both have blue eyes. I'll give you a minute to change your vote if this affects it.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>3181837
>>3181844
Rolling between these two: [4] might not be 1000% valid but it's still 100% valid, I promise. 1 - 1, 2 - 4.

>>3181829
And taking this.

And then writing.

>>3181850
This is getting hella confusing. Did we just spawn a third us? Blue eyes one was right, this is dangerous.

>Got any tips on getting back to normal?
>Doesn't matter.

You feel a little bad, but this is potentially even less of a person than you are. You just need to get the job done before your brain starts oozing out through your ears.

"Listen, it doesn't matter. Let's just get you where you're supposed to be."

You grab his hand. He offers little resistance, which makes you feel worse. You decide to throw him a bone.

"Before, uh, you go... got any advice? Secrets? Repressed memories? Hidden stores of power? I don't know, anything?"

"What?"

"Okay, calling that a no. C'mon." You drag him to the very edge of the water. "Nice meeting you."

He just stares back. You give him a shove, and he falls backwards into the water with a plash. It foams briefly, and is gone.

Okay. Could've been worse. Problem solved? Problem solved.

Your finger starts to foam.

You'd half-been expecting this, though you were hoping it'd be a little quicker. Eye for an eye and all that, especially when you're taking your own eye.

It's more interesting than anything else, watching your hand and forearm and arm dissolve and drip onto the sand. There's nothing real at stake here: you're certainly not real, and this whole place is probably metaphorical. The job is probably done. What better can a man do than kick back and watch bits of himself drop off into the waves?

Probably nothing.

-

"Hey," says Madrigal, waving a hand in front of your face. "Hey."

You've been wrestling with the burning feeling that somewhere, bits of you are diffusing into seafoam. But your vision is clear, which you'll take as a net positive.

"What."

"You're staring off again. Pay attention."

"Waving your hand in front of my face makes me more distracted." It's lunch, which doesn't seem to indicate any food consumption but rather general "midday". You're seated at the wooden table in the meeting tent, as is everybody else. You can't hear Arledge at the moment, but he definitely insisted on sitting next to you: he keeps "subtly" looking at your eyes.

You've been told they're both brown. (Hazel.)

"So, yeah. You ask a question, we ask a question. Standard, y'know, tooth for a tooth stuff."

"That's a pretty violent idiom."

"Whatever. You can probably get away with asking a few questions at once. This isn't an interrogation or anything."

>[1] Begin QUESTIONING.
>[2] "Hold on. What do you guys want to ask me?"
>[3] "I'm not sure I'm up for this at the moment. Uh. Not feeling too well."
>[4] Write-in.

>>3181976
2.

>>3181990
Writing.

>"Hold on. What do you guys want to ask me?"

You're still a little out of it, but this doesn't sit right with you.

"Sorry, hang on. What's that you want to know? I don't think I've warranted suspicion."

"It's not suspicion- it's mostly not suspicion. It's just a background check. You know. What's your full name, where'd you come from, what you're good at, whatever. They just want to be safe."

Maybe a little paranoid, but you're not going to begrudge them that. "And I can ask?"

"I don't know. You probably have a lot of questions. Pick one."

>[1] Well, okay. BEGIN.
>[2] "Why'd you call it lunchtime when there's no food?"
>[3] "Do we have to do this now?"
>[4] "Hey, uh, did you notice anything? Recently?"
>[5] Write-in.

I'm going to end here for the night. Vote remains open until my return.

Planning to run again on Thursday, ~3:30-4 PM PST. Questions, comments, etc. are always, of course, appreciated. Take care!

And sorry for the slow updates! Combo of thorny situations and me being tired. Thursday will hopefully be better.

>>3182037
Well, okay begin!

1 & 2

>>3182037
>1
>Also 2 but try not to let it count as one of our questions.

>>3182087
>>3182547
>>3182630
Calling and written. Running approx. 3:30 PST (11:30 UTC) tomorrow shouldn't be a delay because it's done! woohoo.

>>3184093
(6:30 EST) for bEST timezone

>Why do you call it lunchtime when there's no food?
>Begin.

"I do have a question. Why did you say this'd be at lunchtime? There's no food or anything."

Madrigal sighs; she runs her fingers through her hair, down her face. She sniffs. You wait in polite silence.

"Habit."

"Oh. Sorry?" Did you strike a nerve?

"Don't- it's fine, it's all cool. Um, I won't count that as a question. We haven't started. Here-"

She turns from you and raps once, twice, on the table. The handsign conversations stop.

Hey! You can make out a little of what she's saying. "Hello............E-L-L-E-R-Y....here...." Across from you, Visco slumps against the table. Arledge is scraping thin lines into the wood.

"Okay. You're up first. I'll translate both ways. Oh, wait." Elise is signing something.

"Godsdamnit. Okay, uh... 'have...you...two...banged...yet-' Godsdamnit, Elise!" She's flushing bright scarlet. Elise has a cat-like smile on.

You're feeling a little hot under the collar, too. "Tell her-"

"Yeah!" She's up from her stool, signing furiously. Her voice trickles through.

"...and just because we may have been alone..."

"...were stabbed!"

"kind of a slatternly..."

Elise is unfazed, though she clearly starts to get bored halfway through. She starts waving her hand in what you assume is the universal sign for "get on with it." Hedy titters. Monty, from the front, starts unsuccessfully trying to catch the attention of either woman.

You're frankly a little offended that Madrigal's going to such great lengths here. Is it really that outside the realm of possibility that you could've had sex? (Yes.) No.

Finally, she starts to slow down. You pounce: "Hey, uh, I had a question."

"-4 days... What?"

"You know. I wanted to ask a question. Get the ball rolling and so on."

"Oh." She delivers one last invective then climbs gingerly back onto her stool, face still red. "Um. What?"

You didn't actually have a question in mind. You just wanted it to stop.

"Uh..."

(To make things easier: pick a TOPIC, and appropriate questions will be asked. If there's something in particular you want answered, specify and it'll be included.)

>[1] "It was about the [HISTORY OF THIS CAMP]."
>[2] "It was about [WHAT YOU DO ALL DAY]."
>[3] "It was about the [PROPERTIES OF THE OCEAN]."
>[4] "It was about [WRITE-IN TOPIC HERE]."

>>3185028
>3

Why are my lungs all hard and stony now? And is it normal that I can reach down my throat and feel them? Anyone else tried that?

Also how does the blood share brain link work? Is it magic? Can I be a mighty magician?

>>3185042
>A whole bunch of questions!

Writing.

>It was about... [STRANGE GOINGS-ON]: lungs, blood bond, magic

You may not have had a question in mind, but that doesn't mean you don't have questions. You pull a random one from the list.

"Yeah, uh. My lungs."

"What? What about them? The breathing water is... well, I wouldn't call it normal, but it is what it is."

"Oh. No, uh, the opposite. They don't work, remember?"

"What?" The flush, angrier, is returning. "You never told me...?! They don't work?"

Did this never come up? "I guess it never came up."

"Never... how could this not have come up? What do you mean?"

"Well, they just don't work, I guess. I don't know how they're supposed to be normally, but right now they're just kind of... frozen, I guess. Won't move. Oh, uh, and they're sort of hard. And they have stuff in them."

"Stuff??"

"Liquid. I didn't really check further than that."

"How..." She keeps glancing incredulously out to the others, and then back at you. "Check?"

"Well, I just kinda..." You'd been a little distracted during and since, so you hadn't given the whole thing a lot of thought. Now that you are, you're not sure if you want to continue with this statement.

"Yes?"

"Kinda, uh... stuck my hand down there and fished around."

She's stopped glancing and is just staring right at you. You're regretting bringing this up.

"Sorry. Did you just say you stuck your hand..."

"Yes."

"Into your lung. Like, just plunged it straight into your chest?"

"Down my throat."

"Ah. And discovered that it was... solid."

"Yes."

"Ah-h." She massages her temples. "And what's your question regarding that?"

"Uh, is that normal? Anyone else done that?"

"No. No, it's not-- look, I'll ask. Maybe it is! Maybe they have! I don't know. I don't know."

She has to rap on the table again to regain everybody's attention, then launches into what you hope is an explanation of what you'd said. From their rapidly changing faces, it sure seems so. Arledge surreptitiously tries to stick his own hand down his throat, but can't even fit it into his mouth.

When Madrigal stops, everyone else starts. You can't catch anything in the blur of hands, but Madrigal translates snippets: "'No, and are you okay.' 'Are we sure he isn't a goo-' yes I saw his blood, Monty. Uh, 'seriously are you okay' save it for later! 'no'- thanks Visco for the actual answer... 'Can he talk' I don't know, ask him... oh."

(1/2)

You're having trouble following, so it's a relief when she addresses you directly. "Can you talk? Not like this, but you know, out loud."

"No. And while we're at it, what is 'like this'?"

"Uh, hold on." She signs 'no' to whoever asked, which judging from their collective reactions seems to be Eloise. "You mean the blood thing?"

What else would you mean? "I mean... yes, the blood-"

"Hold on." She once again signs something, which you're guessing is 'hold on': everyone returns to their conversations. "Uh, they don't know that much about it, so I'll just handle this."

"But you do know?"

"Well..." Madrigal waffles. "Yes. I've, um, held one before. They haven't."

"Arledge-" You cut yourself off, the phrase 'you're blowing your cover in the least stylish way possible' coming suddenly to mind. "Uh, why not? Wouldn't it be easier?"

"More than one gets taxing. And it can screw with you if it goes on for too long."

What?? "And we have one why?"

"It's been 4 days, it was an accident, and you'd apparently be mute without it."

"But..." You don't know if you can deal with any more mind-screwing.

"Suck it up. You want to know how it works, huh?"

You had.

"No clue. And everyone else knows less, so they have less than no clue. It's something about the blood, but- I think I said this- blood is hard to test on account of having to come from someone."

Blood brings something to mind. "Could it be a magician thing? They don't seem to have any trouble with the blood."

She scoffs. "Magicians aren't a thing. I don't know from what backwards... oh, I do. No."

"Are you sure? 'Cause, I mean, they do the whole thing with the cutting themselves and the drawing blood sigils and collecting the seawater and everything. It sounds like a magician thing."

"Maybe! I don't know what they do."

You come upon a realization. "Oh shit. Am I a magician?"

"Do you draw blood sigils or whatever? I don't know. I don't... we're trying to do a thing here and you're off asking like five different questions at once."

"You said I could ask multiple..."

"Not five. Hey." She raps once more and raises her hand, evidently a pre-agreed-upon signal. Monty signs something back. ".....there......." is all you can make out.

"'When...you...landed...there...Maddie-rigal...said...mauraders?" Her face drops like a stone. "What...kind?"

You don't remember this at all. "Mauraders?"

"Uh. I lied about the stabbing, right? I didn't think they'd remember. Uhhhhh, shit. Shit."

>[1] Make something up! (Specify!)
>[2] Tell her to make something up!
>[3] Be honest!
>[4] Write-in!

>>3185231
>[3] Be honest!

>>3185298
Writing.

>>3185328
Too late to vote, but I'd like to use the phrasing "she stabbed me to see if I was goo but I didn't know that and VERY UNDERSTANDABLY feared for my life and acted in self defense."

>>3185357
Unfortunately, it's up to Madrigal to phrase it! You'll toss your two cents in, though, and hopefully she listens.

>>3185366
We need the stealth switcharoo so we can mental beam Arledge and check. Also I'm surprised no one asked us to demonstrate the hand down throat.

>Be honest!

You didn't cause this problem, and you aren't going to be the one to solve it. "So? Just, I don't know, tell the truth! What are they going to do, lynch me?"

"Maybe," she hisses. "There's a reason I lied in the first place! It's a hundred times less trouble than having to explain that A), we managed to stab each other and B), I brought you in despite this! You seriously want to throw that all away?"

"What other options are there?! I don't know any 'mauraders' or what they might look like, and if I tell them, or make you do it, what then? Are we gonna go on a wild goose chase into the apparently deadly wilderness to go find them? Is that better?"

"Maybe!" She's once again glancing, this time between you and the expectant eyes of Monty. "Godsdamnit. Fine. I will tell them I lied for your sake, and that you asked me to."

"But that's…also a lie. Can't you just say that you, uh, stabbed me-"

"Nicked you."

"-nicked me, and 'cause I was freshly dropped I didn't know why and kinda…you know, reacted in self-defense? Understandably? And then you wanted to avoid the trouble and all that?"

"Mmmaybe. You don't earn the 'understandably'. And you're getting at least a little blame."

"What? Seriously?"

"I stuck my neck out for you and you're jumping up and down on it." She flounces- (that is a word, right? yeah? does it mean that? you're wishing you'd paid more attention while you were forced to get an education)- from you and signs rapidly across to Monty, who frowns and signs back.

"He's pissed. You can tell." He doesn't look pissed to you- maybe a little disappointed. Mostly just frowny.

"That's what he looks like when he's pissed! We're getting an earful later, and it is 1000% your fault, and I'm making you do whatever it is we're gonna do. And I didn't say 'understandably'. Ask a question."

(Select a TOPIC, write in a TOPIC, and/or write in questions.)

>[1] [MAGIC & MAGICIANS] - you think you're on to something.
>[2] [DAILY LIFE]
>[3] [HISTORY OF THE CAMP]
>[4] [PROPERTIES OF THE OCEAN]
>[5] [WRITE-IN]

>>3185374
Normally the guy won't shut up- but he's been dead silent since he backflipped outta your head. You've even been having to do your own sarcastic asides! You can't be positive without checking, but you're pretty sure he's out of commission for the time being.

They may or may not believe the arm thing.

>>3185400
>[2] [DAILY LIFE]
What you do for fun? Besides attacking strangers.

>>3185400
>[2] [DAILY LIFE]

How does one make a living in these parts?
Do we even need to make a living if no one needs to eat?

>>3185409
>>3185415
[DAILY LIFE]

Writing. Sorry, stepped out.

>[DAILY LIFE]
"Okay, okay. Uh… what do you do all day? If you don't need to get food, I mean, and there's nobody around, and there's nowhere to go…I don't see how this actually works. How do you not go stir-crazy?"

"Well..." She seems to forget her previous indignation. "I wouldn't say we don't."

"Oh." You wait for a continuance, but none comes. "So what happens?"

"Depends. If you're smart, you find something to channel it into. Something that lets you get up in the morning and go "I have something to do today". Every day. Until you die, or maybe even not that. Elise likes to paint. Monty collects trophies. Hedy composes a lot of bad poetry. Who knows what Arledge does, but he sure does it. Whatever. But you have to know it or find it, or else one day you're going to snap, feck off into the Lea, and never come back."

"Yeesh."

"I mean, it's not…it's not that bad. We get visitors, sometimes. There's a lot of little errands and jobs to run because everyone keeps making excuses not to do them. We send out expedition parties just to see what's out there. We get monsters, though it's not as bad as it used to be before we moved. Uh… we have game night twice a month."

It sounds kind of nice, really. Your free time has been negligible and frankly of poor quality. Do you even have any hobbies? Maybe now's your chance to discover them.

You have another question, though, because you can feel Arledge's eyes burning into your back. "Why didn't you translate this? They can answer it, right?"

"Yeah. Uh… Visco is here. Everyone else is fine, but he gets— I'm gonna call it 'touchy'— about this topic."

"What?" You can't see how. "I can't see how—"

"He has a very strongly held opinion. Look, fine: I am doing this for you once, and then I am going to tell you I told you so."

"V-I-S-C-O: .................................here", she signs.

He's been draped loosely over his stool this whole time, but as she finishes he stands up so quick it nearly topples over. His eyes lock onto yours for the first time.

"Hell," he growls through the water.

You can only stare back in utter bewilderment as he signs at you. Madrigal translates with unmistakable smugness. "'What do I think we're doing here?? I know you haven't stuck around long enough to figure it out, so let me tell you: we are in hell. We won't die, because we are dead. But we sure aren't living?' Uh… 'do you call this living? Sitting here on our asses, withering away...' yada yada, 'when we do die, we come right on back to do it again'...not true, but okay...'eternal purgatory'…he's still going but you get the gist, right?"


(1/2)

They've heard this before, you're guessing from Hedy's face in her hands.

Madrigal's signing with Arledge, which is uncomfortable since you're directly between them. "Okay," she finally says. "We're just going to let him continue while we ask you stuff. I think Arledge wants to know: what are you good at? Or like to do? Like, I guess it doesn't have to be anything. But it'd be nice to know."

You're genuinely not sure. Hunting, maybe, but only because you've done it so much. There's not a lot of passion in it. Your reforming crusade was too short-lived to count. Maybe...

>[1] FIGHTING. You're scrappy, resourceful, and usually armed. And they broke out every day, so it wasn't like you had much choice.
>[2] TINKERING. You have little nicks on your hands from where the metal bit in. What else were you supposed to do all day, surrounded by heaps of junk?
>[3] GARDENING. It had started with a tiny shoot of glasswort and ended with a healthy patch of a steady food source. And it calmed you.
>[4] WRITE-IN.

(2/2)
I saw the "2 hours ago" from a previous post of mine and freaked out just a little. I'm not that bad, thank goodness.

>>3185569
>[4] WRITE-IN.
Diplomacy
Couldn't fight, had to use our words instead of our fists. Turns out, we're not that good at speaking, given how we ended up here.

Due to the nature of this vote, I'll be leaving it open a little longer than normal.

>>3185569
>2

yay building things

>>3185569
3.

Rolled 1 (1d3)

>>3185579
>>3185597
>>3185607

Rollin'.

>>3185649
>diplomancer

Never change, /qst/.

>TALKING
It's dumb as hell, but you can only think of one thing that'd fit.

You've always been a talker. You'd talk to your neighbors, which is probably why they hated you. You'd talk to passersby, which is probably why passersby eventually stopped coming your way. You talked your way out of trouble, when trouble inevitably came: not because you were particularly charming or compelling, but because you did it so much trouble got annoyed and went home. And then you talked to yourself.

Bitterly ironic, then, that you're fated to never talk again....maybe......

"You are the literal worst," Madrigal says. "I should've left you in your dinky little tent. You were adorable and decorated it and everything. Look, I'll just tell them you were too busy selling drugs or whatever to be good at anything."

"I never-"

"Don't care, doubt they'll care. Got a question?"

|PERQUISITE GAINED: LOUDMOUTH - +10 to rolls involving talking yourself in or out of things|

(Pick a TOPIC, write your own, or just write a question.)

>[1] [PROPERTIES OF THE OCEAN]
>[2] [CREATURES OF THE OCEAN]
>[3] [MAGIC & MAGICIANS]
>[4] [HISTORY OF THE CAMP]
>[5] [WRITE-IN]
>[6] End questioning.

>>3185743
>3

You guys are gonna tell me that explosive sand we ran into on the way back isn't magic? Also my lungs are stone now and my throat expands, even if that didn't happen to any of you. Plus blood telepathy? It's magic. Gotta be.

>>3185743
4. History.

>>3185743
Exactly what I wanted. Thanks for making it fit the character QM
>[4] [HISTORY OF THE CAMP]
I don't think they know that much about magic, but they probably do know a lot about themselves.

>>3185785
>>3185764
>HISTORY
Writing!

>>3185785
Glad to hear it. Honestly I saw "diplomancy" and was skeptical, but I think I figured out a way to handle it that doesn't tread quite so much in the footsteps of past diplomancer MCs.

Writing program just crashed on me. I'm searching for a backup, but if there isn't one I'm going to end it for the night. Sorry, folks!

>>3185901
All good, thanks for running QM
and what's this about diplomancers? I'm relatively new, so I don't know much about past MCs,

>>3185901
I think you need to have saved it in the first place for it to back it up, which seems unhelpful to me but there's nothing I can do about it. I'll try again tomorrow.

>>3185907
Welcome to /qst/! Voters have a habit of making MCs in quests "diplomancers": they try and talk their way out of every situation using diplomacy. It's not a bad thing by any means, it's just... a thing that happens.

>>3185907
Diplomacy, Power of Friendship and waifuin the first thing with a vagina we see (and even some without) is the rite of passage of any quest worth its salt.

Head's up: I'll be redoing and posting the History of the Camp question(s), but not actually running today. Should be here Saturday.

>>3186245
Just finished reading up. Loving it, very weird and interesting premise. Looking forward to the next session

>>3186921
Glad to hear it!

Believe it or not, I am currently writing the update. It remains to be seen if it'll actually get published before midnight, but oh well.

Running tomorrow, likely at 10-11 AM PST (or 1-2 PM EST, for those of you in the bEST time zone).

>MAGIC AND MAGICIANS (bonus!)
>HISTORY OF CAMP

"Wait, wait, hold on. Why does he want to know what I like?" You don't see how this is relevant, especially if she's not even going to answer it.

"I don't know! He probably wants to track your star sign or whatever. Says I'm under the Maverick, which is probably right. Ask him later. Do you have a real question?"

"No. Hold on, I'm not finished. Can we circle back around to the whole magician thing? Because I'm really not on board with that, and I feel like you think I'm on board with that."

"What's there to circle back to? They're bunk. Look, have you ever seen one do anything?"

"Yes!"

You may be exaggerating. You'd seen one, once, but your recollection comes in flashes: needle buried in her shoulder, sclera stained pink. A common addict, but the scales! The teeth! Her blood running red down her face...

"-Okay, okay. I get the idea." Madrigal looks kind of disgusted. "Fun story, but how does it prove anything?"

"How does it... How does it not?!"

"It's a half-remembered anecdote! Sounds to me like you stumbled on some poor sap getting his fix and invented the rest later."

There's no way. You press on. "Well, fine. What do you say about, I don't know, everything else? This? I- you're saying surviving underwater is natural? It's not magic?"

"You're putting words in my mouth! I have not once mentioned anything besides magicians being fake, which they are! Sure, it's not natural. I don't know what it is. I just don't like the word 'magic' for it. Seriously, are you just gonna argue this or do you have a question?"

It doesn't seem like she's willing to go further with this, so you make a note to ask someone else. You're not sure she knows what she's talking about.

"I can hear this. You keep forgetting I can hear this, Ellery, and I really wish you'd keep it private."

Fine. You do actually have a legit question. "You said the camp moved earlier. Does it do that a lot, or...?"

"Finally. Uh, I don't think so, but I haven't been here all that long. Lemme check with Monty."

Monty still has his pissed(?) face on, but returns to placid neutrality as Madrigal leans across to ask. His answer is longer than you would've expected: "yes...............there...here........." is all you catch.

"Yeah, so I was right. It's the first move he can remember, and he's been here ages--"

"How long's ages?" How long have there been people living here?

"Uh-" She again signs to Monty, who looks happy to be included, and again his answer is really long.

(1/2)

"6 years, or maybe seven. And because he's a feckin' nerd, he gave everyone else for good measure. Hedy's second newest next to me by six months or so, Eloise is three years, Visco, uh, fourish. Arledge won't say but Monty thinks it's longer than him. Gideon... I know you haven't met him, but he's been down absolutely yonks. Oh. Anyways, yeah, first move. The attacks just got way too frequent. It happened super recently, which is why everything's so bare."

"What, was it fancier before?"

"Are you kidding? There were manicured gardens! That was all Dwyn, though, and she's not really in a position to reproduce them."

She says it so matter-of-factly, but there's a morbid overtone. And the name Dwyn rings a bell... "Dwyn?"

"Dead."

You thought so, but didn't expect that answer. "Oh... I'm sorry."

"It's fine, it's fine. I didn't know her that much, and I don't think she was very nice."

"Still, I mean..."

"Plus, you get used to it. Been here a year and what? Dwyn vanished, Ambrose got the leafire, Calanthe... don't want to talk about it. And Gideon, maybe..."

"Oh." Is it selfish to be worrying about your own safety? Probably not, right?

"...if he's out any longer you might get stuck on gravedigging, which let me tell you is a bitch in sand. Have you seen the graveyard? It's out back, got the big plants."

Right. Arledge warned you from eating the fruit.

"Probably a smart idea. You won't die or anything, but you'll get their ghosts, who are all super irritating--"

What?

"Like, Dwyn was irritating in life, but Ambrose was alright and Calanthe... and I never knew Constance, but considering Monty sneaks off to go cry over her every week I guess she must've been nice too..."

Seriously, what? "You lost me at ghosts?"

"Right. If you eat the fruits, firstly they taste like garbage and you'll spit them out. And secondly, you'll pass out and see their ghosts, which is much less interesting than it sounds. I've tried."

"O...kay." Fine, whatever. It's not even halfway up the list of things you're wondering about here. "Moving on. Did Monty start the camp, or...?"

"I know this one, actually. No, there was some chick in charge when he got here. He moved up the ranks pretty fast cause he used to be some high mucky-muck up on whichever pillar. When the chick checked out, he took over."

"What, you think he murdered her?" It's not unreasonable. In passing, you've heard of the power struggles at the top levels.

"No! That'd be pretty badass, but no. Dude's a pussy, and I mean that in the best possible light. Seriously. Wouldn't even cross his mind."

Monty must have a sixth sense for being discussed, because he interrupts just then.

"are you- see? Look at that. He's asking if you're okay with the whole adjusting process. 'It can be difficult'... so on."

Arledge's eyes fix onto your face.

(2/2, votes next)

>[1] Actually, yes. Maybe others would have trouble, but so far, despite everything: this is a straight upgrade on before you fell.

>[2] Actually, yes (lie). You're not going to drop your guard for someone you don't know at all. You can manage by yourself.

>[3] You've been putting on a brave face, but it's overwhelming.

>[4] Write-in.

(That's all for... the next 10 hours or so, folks! Vote is open until I return. Good night.

Also, I felt bad about aborting early Thursday, so I included the other vote in the writeup just for fun.)

>>3188819
>[1] Actually, yes. Maybe others would have trouble, but so far, despite everything: this is a straight upgrade on before you fell.
Don't have to worry about food, there are people who care if you die and strange wildlife must beat drug addicts and muggers, or at least it's some variety.

>>3189288
>Actually, yes

I'm back and writing!

>Actually, you're okay.

It's funny. Maybe it just hasn't hit you yet, but you're shockingly free of the extistential questions that should probably ought to be plaguing you right about now. You can totally imagine other people flipping out about losing their friends, their family, their life. But you started with nothing, and this is something, and that's like an infinity% increase.

"Tell him I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Madrigal looks skeptical. "I bottled it up at first, and then after a few weeks it got too much and there was screaming. Ask anyone. It takes time to get used to..."

"Seriously, I'm fine. I don't know. Maybe the worry part of my brain is broken, but I'm not overly concerned about anything. It's no worse than what I had previously."

"Damn. Well, if you say so. If you're wrong, please don't scream in my tent." She relays to Monty, who chuckles but doesn't respond.

"Okay, I think we have time for a few more. Not, like, not like there's a restriction… but I think we're heading towards the boredom tipping point where everyone's gonna pack up."

(Pick a topic, write-in a topic, or write-in questions.)

>[1] [CREATURES OF THE OCEAN] Sorry, monsters?
>[2] [CRABS] You feel like the idea of other thinking(?) beings in the ocean was skimmed over.
>[3] [PERSONAL HISTORIES] (Of whom?)
>[4] [WRITE-IN]

>Last time on Drowned Quest:
You asked a whole lot of questions and answered a few yourself.

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

>Twitter: https://twitter.com/BathicQM

>Character Sheet: https://pastebin.com/vugu4geW

>Other People: https://pastebin.com/f0k1deSv

>>3189522
>2

Crab people who charge us rent and ask for help? What's with that situation?

>>3189559
>[CRABS]

Writing.

>>3189522
>[2] [CRABS] You feel like the idea of other thinking(?) beings in the ocean was skimmed over
What's up with those? They collect protection money, but seem nice enough

>CRABS

"Crabs."

"Pardon?"

"The crabs! You were all panicked about them, and then they were here, and then everybody forgot about it." You'd almost forgotten about it, but you've been kind of preoccupied with… other things.

"You're so damn mysterious. But yeah, the crabs. They marched over here when we moved, which was probably a month or so ago. Two months? Anyways, they basically extorted us for protection money. ...Not money, but valuables, you know. Told us they'd keep out the monsters. Which, I mean, so far so good… but still, right?"

"...Right." That's fine, but not really what you're angling at. "But, like, what are they?"

"Big crabs! We have no idea, so we just call 'em crabs. They're weird things. Really big on decoration, which is why we had everyone decking up the place while we were gone. And they're very polite, in a menacing sort of way. You can take some notes when you're busy being kidnapped or whatever with Arledge."

This you had forgotten. "Oh, geez. Does it have to be with Arledge?" He's been staring at you even more frequently since this morning, and not in a flattering way.

"What, you want to go up there yourself and tell them he's sick? Yep. He's not gonna bite you."

"I don't know! He might! He-" You're cut off by Visco, who scoots back his stool and sweeps out of the tent.

"Oh, there he goes. Watch, Hedy's next. In retrospect, I probably should've encouraged you to open up another bond or something so that there's less of us just staring off into the distance."

Probably. "Are we done, or...?"

"We can be. I'll still answer whatever, but if you want other input you should act quick. It's going to be Hedy, then, uh… it'd usually be me, but it's probably Eloise. Arledge, Monty."

>[1] You do have something you want to ask the others. (Specify!)
>[2] You're done. (End questioning.)

>>3189683
>[2] You're done. (End questioning.)
We can find and question them later

>>3189683
>1

What are these monsters the crabs protect us from?

>>3189742
>>3189715
Calling. I'll write for asking about the monsters, then packing up.

>Wait. Monsters.

"Okay, that's nice, but you keep mentioning things then waiting for me to ask about them instead of just explaining."

Madrigal scoffs. "I'm doing you a solid here by even explaining at all! You know what kind of a welcome I got? 'Hi, welcome to the rest of your life, sure hope you don't die, share a tent because we're out.' You have your own tent!"

"Only because the guy who owned it is maybe dead! Why is there a briefcase in there!?"

"That's where his stuff goes! And it's better than rooming with Dwyn! She kicked in her sleep!"

You have to concede to that. "Fine, whatever, I have my own tent. I was punched and dragged into it!"

"I thought we went over this! You still haven't talked to Monty at all, so what do you expect me to do about it? Hell, Visco whacked me with a femur! It's a rite of passage!"

"You still haven't answered my question."

"You didn't…I don't think you asked one. What."

"The monsters. You said you had to move because of them, and that the crabs are maybe protecting you from them. What monsters? I haven't seen any."

"Good! Do you want to?"

No, you should be thinking, but you can't. "Kind of."

"You're not very bright, then. They have a lot of eyes and a lot of teeth and they kept trampling our driftball field. That's about all I know. Eloise is the expert… oh, she's gone."

Hedy's gone, too, leaving just you four.

"Ask her later. I don't like 'monsters', it feels overdramatic. But 'big teethy fish things' is worse, right? It is. Anyways, they'd swarm almost daily by the time we decided enough was enough."

Finally, Monty unfolds his hands, uncrosses his legs, and signs something to Madrigal. "Okay, he's done. I don't know what Arledge is up to, but I guess he's just gonna stay here. Let's go."

She follows Monty out the door, not really waiting for an answer.

Arledge whistles, clean and clear through the water. He points down at the scratches he's been making this whole time.

"S T A Y H E R E"

>[1] Follow Madrigal. You don't want a part in whatever he's up to.
>[2] Stay here.

>>3189876
>[2] Stay here.
He seems somewhat 'magical' and his hair certainly is.

>>3189876
>2
I'll trust Arledge.

>>3189914
>>3189927
>Stay here.

Writing.

Breaking for lunch then continuing to write.

>>3190015
I'm back and writing.

>Stay here.

Your eyes dart out the door and back to Arledge. He raises his eyebrows.

You stay.

You don't know. He put all the effort into scratching that out. He's good at whistling. And maybe he knows what's going on.

Arledge doesn't say anything, but inclines his head towards your wrist. Confused, you follow his gesture-- oh, his hair tie. You have no idea why he gave it to you. Subtle jibe at your hair length? It is getting a little unruly.

Either way, it's no difference to you giving it back. He takes it and stretches it out a few times before pulling his hair back into a ponytail.

Is that it? Just wanted his tie back? Seems like a lot of effort, but whatever. You stand...

And he stands with you, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. Fine, you don't have to go anywhere. You squat awkwardly back down, which he takes as an opportunity: he grabs your face roughly and starts prodding. If you could speak, you'd be protesting- but you're reduced to staring in blank bemusement as he pries open your eyelids.

After what seems like years, he releases you from his grip and steps back. You rub your cheeks in indignation. Why couldn't he have carved "I'M GOING TO PROD YOUR FACE" into the table instead? It would've been more honest.

You're too busy to notice the steely knife he's pulled out of his boot.

You're not too busy to flinch at the sudden flash of silver, nor at the deft little cut he's bit into his palm. He offers the wound up to you on the table, on top of his carving. It trickles red. The knife rests next to it: it's fancier than you've ever seen, with an actual metal blade. It too has a dash of red on its very tip.

Oh gods. It's not a lot of blood, but it's still nasty. Arledge doesn't meet your eyes, but hunches ahead.

>[1] Make a big cut.
>[2] Make a small cut.
>[3] Oh gods! Don't!
>[4] Write-in.

>>3190454
>3
Grab back the hair tie and switch personas. Then ask if you can keep it, and if he's a magician who can enchant hair ties.

>>3190466
Please roll me 3 1d100s for grabbing the hair tie!
>DC: 50

No Passes - Critical Failure
One Pass - Failure
Two Passes - Success
Three Passes - Critical Success

Rolled 22 (1d100)

>>3190518
Oh geez I didn't mean snatch it back in a thievery style. Diplomance it out of him without words?

>>3190592
...DC 50 still! (No loudmouth bonus because you are not talking yourself into or out of things!)

I'll roll in a few minutes if no others turn up.

Rolled 10, 24 = 34 (2d100)

>>3190592
>>3190635
Well, okay!
>Critical Failure

Writing.

>>3190635
[screams internally]

>Oh gods! Don't!
>Try and get the hair tie!
>Switch!
>22, 10, 34 vs. DC 50: Critical Failure!

You feel your heart rate start to rise as you gaze at the knife. What the feck? Does he want you to do the same? Where did he get a metal knife? Is this a threat? A warning? Did there really have to be blood?

If only you could ask him, and out of habit you try: your mouth moves, but your throat remains impassive. Damn it all! You need to, you have to, you must talk; you can't survive trapped in your head. Excuse me, you want to say, why did you just cut open your palm and offer me a knife? Because I'm not okay with that.

But you were talking to him, this morning... not you. But it was close enough, and he'd understand, right? Just ask what's going on. Simple.

Arledge shifts a little to look at you, then away. You would swallow. He's almost facing the opposite wall, now, and his ponytail drapes over his shoulder- and the hair tie lies black against it. You need it, you realize. Why do you need it, you ask yourself, but the urge won't stop. It will help you.

It's all you can do to not take it right then and there, but you contain yourself and instead reach out to tap his shoulder. He jumps and whips around in his seat, bloodied hand clenching...

As you stop short in terror, your mind filling with the dark and the water...

He realizes too late, and stands, eyes flashing, as you fall backwards...

-

"You aren't supposed to be here," says Arledge with short hair in the utter blackness.

You are spread-eagled on something, not a floor, but nevertheless spongy. He stands over you, one eye closed hard.

"Gwuhhhh", you say, and are pleased to hear sound.

"8 gods," he says only, and his voice reverberates around not a room. "You've really done it."

It's difficult to think here, like running through molasses. So you don't, and let him continue.

"You've really done it. Do you know where you are?"

No.

"My head, is where. Do you know what you're doing here?"

No.

"I sure don't! Especially when-" he closes the other eye, and vanishes, before reappearing (eyes first, then the rest) "-you ought to be in your body, which is on the floor. Do you have something to say about that?"

>[1] ...no.
>[2] ...yes.
>[3] ...what.

>>3190835
>2

Can you kinda just like, push me back? Your hair tie helped me before, so you know about this weird mind shit right?

fffuck captcha

>>3190911
Writing!

>[2] ...yes.

You do have something to say about that, but it's not forming in your mouth or your mind.

"...help..."

It's the only thing you can think.

Short-haired Arledge paces back and forth in front of your prone body, hands clasped to the top of his head.

"This is bad. This- they're going to come back and find us in a minute, and there are going to be questions. And what do I say? What can I possibly say to that? 'Oh, he's not dead, he just vacated his body, but it's okay because he's in here barely functioning.' Look at you!"

You can't look at you. "...help..."

"You're not okay!" He spreads his hands in the air. "You know what I think it is? You tried to swap with blue-eyes. But he's gone! You don't have him in your look, he's gone. So nobody came to take over, and now you're here."

You've found a new word! "...how..."

"You're going to have to do some soul-searching! I don't know, this isn't my area. I do-" he stops himself. "-other...things. Not whatever... I don't know."

(1/?)

(I have to go, so here's the half of the update I have done! Other half in an hour+. I'll keep you guys updated.)

>>3191064
ah fuck we lost blue eyes? I hope he's just sleeping.

Man, that took ages. Back and writing.

Got distracted. It may be a little while yet. Apologies.

>>3191733
No problem, but I'll probably need to sleep after the next update.

>>3191766
>back writing
>two hours ago
>4 hours since last update

Kill me.
It's still in the works (really!), but for obvious reasons it's going to be the last of the night. I'll pick up tomorrow morning.

He continues to pace, back and forth and around and around, and the utter blackness and the utter stillness makes you want to scream. Arledge is not helping you. Maybe he can't help you. He just paces and paces, one eye closed.

"What other things?" You stand over you, jacket fully unbuttoned, hands in the pockets you know for sure are long gone. You have a scar running just under your eyes. "And what about the hair tie? How can you say you don't know about this?"

Arledge just looks resigned. "Hello. Welcome back."

"Thanks. I see I'm not looking too hot." You have no choice but to stare balefully back up at him as he appraises your condition. Gods, he's so annoying. "Not supposed to be here, you know."

"Already covered that. You seem to be doing fine." Not even resigned- quietly exasperated, maybe. You can't think.

"I'm not real. I can seem how I want. Listen, what's going on here?"

"I have two extra people in my head and you have zero in yours." Arledge folds his arms. "Which isn't all that pleasant for either party, I'd imagine."

(2/3)

"No...", he says, and sips the drink just now in his hand. Git. The fruity tang of nothing at all fills your mouth. "...I wouldn't think so. What'd I do?"

Arledge begins to tap his foot, which would have more effect if it made any noise at all. His thumbs dig into his fists. "Well, I don't know, but..."

"...Tried to swap while I wasn't existing. That would do it. Dumbass."

Tap, tap. "You're talkier now."

"There's things to say. What are you hiding, Arledge?" He raises his eyebrows in the manner you've always wished you could raise your eyebrows-- well, you're capable of it, but it doesn't look cool. It looks cool. You hate him.

Tap, tap. "I don't know what you mean. And now isn't the time..."

"You were literally trying to talk to him, just now. And the whole business this morning. And you're just a weird guy, Arledge. It's transparent."

Tap, tap, pause. "It's not... relevant. Look at him! Look at- I'm trying to drag you under the table before anybody bursts in and finds you dead-ish. Is that not enough?"

"No! How is it not relevant! So I'm feckin'... half a corpse in your head." He kicks your side and winces, which makes the kicking worth it in your eyes. "Ow. You want that to stop, right? Maybe you can stop it."

Tap-tap-tap-tap. "I don't know anything! I don't do this."

"Your hair tie! How can you not?!"

Arledge stares at him with a horrible bulgy non-smile on his face but not his eyes. "It's not my hair tie."

"What?"

"It's not. It's not even my hair! Look." He grabs at his head. "This is what it looked like. And I hit the water, and it grew six inches and I had a hair tie on my wrist and that's all I know. I can't help you."

"Are you a magician, Arledge." Your voice comes out of him silky smooth, but it isn't a question.

"No."

"You're lying. I'm in your head."

All of a sudden, the tapping is very audible and very loud. 'TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP' goes his foot, and he unfolds his arms.

"So what."

"So what?! So... well, firstly, that's very cool, I just have to say that. And secondly, you can do something." He slurps on the drink, and you'd give him your black eye if you had the energy to move.

"Something! Do you see any blood here? Any seawater? Knives? No? No, I can't do something, and if I could I would've already. Do you think this is fun?"

"You're not here, though. I'm here; you're visiting. Open your godsdamn eyes and magic something in real life. I don't know how it works!"

-

(3/4. cut off too early)

You are Arledge Graves. Your head is a lot more crowded than you ever would've hoped it to be. You are a magician.

You have just been told to "open your godsdamn eyes and magic something", and so you are opening your godsdamn eye and magicking something.

The blood from your cut has long since congealed into godstuff, and the skin beneath it is closed... but there's more where it came from. You have your knife. You have an ocean's worth of seawater.

What you do not have is a plan. Ellery lies face-down under the meeting table... not breathing, but apparently that's normal. You've closed the tent flap and are hoping desperately that nobody decides to enter.

There are a couple of potential options.
>[1] Give him a little of your blood. Hopefully he'll go with it. (Low risk, low reward, side effects.)

>[2] Drain some of his blood. What he needs right now is less personality. (Medium risk, medium reward, side effects.)

>[3] Inject yourself with a whole lot of seawater. Let the Eight fill your veins and drive out all else. (High risk, high reward, ???)

>[4] Write-in.

That's all! I feel terrible about the ridiculous delay, so I'm running again tomorrow first thing when I wake up.

Have a good night. And cheers to 88kZrlQF, because you're a real bro.

>>3192249
1.

>>3192249
>1

3 seems hella cool, but Arledge is a bro and I don't want a failure to cripple him.

>>3192402
>>3192799
>1

Please roll me 3 1d100s+10 (Practiced) vs. DC 40.

Rolled 62 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>3192849
what would the DC have been for 3?

>>3192872
+10 vs. DC 70 or so.

Rolling the rest. 10s will be added manually. Writing after.

Rolled 12, 73 = 85 (2d100)

:thonk:

>>3192898
Ok, I am glad we didn't go with that.

>Minor blood transfusion.
>72, 22, 83 vs. DC 30 - Success.

You weren't lying: this is not at all your area. You're not sure it's anyone's area. But Eight, you want your head clear. And quiet. Mostly quiet.

You decide upon the most basic of magicks: a blood transfer. If he is in your mind, he may be in your veins. It's difficult to mess up. And side effects are minimal, from your experience.

Sliding your syringe out of the strap on your thigh, you take a moment to turn it over in your hands. "saltseabringdeath", you murmur to the needle. "greenseabringlife," to the plunger, because actually killing him would be difficult to explain.

Satisfied, you wipe the crusted godstuff off the tip with your coatsleeve before dragging Ellery out a little from under the table. He's going to have to wipe sand out of every known crevice, which suits him right. You bend over him and find his wrist.

How is it possible to be so pale despite living outside for... Madrigal said what, 30 years? You don't know, but it makes it easy to find the blood vessels that thread daintily up his arm. You push his sleeve up, then, after some reflection, yours: you're planning to draw from your neck, but it never hurts to have a backup.

You hold your head up at an angle, making sure to push the ponytail to your opposite shoulder. In one swift movement, you plunge it into your neck, draw back the plunger, and take it out.

>Your Blood: 90%

You can't actually see the blood through the metal casing, but the sloshing inside assures you it's a success. You push Ellery face-up, check his eyes one last time (rolled back in his head), doublecheck his pulse (still there), and drain your syringe into his arm.

He doesn't move. Mercifully, the tent flap remains tied.

>[1] You need to activate it. Inject a little bit of saltwater into his arm.

>[2] Just wait. You don't actually know what's supposed to happen.

>[3] Close your eyes and check up on them. You should know straight from the source.

>[4] Write-in.

>>3193032
>3

He just whispered salt sea bring death, so injecting salt water is scaring me.

>>3193114
Writing.

>Check up on them.

You purse your lips and stand, sliding the empty syringe back into its strap. Maybe it just takes a minute, but you should probably find out.

You close one eye tightly and in reality recoil, clutching onto the table edge. In your mind, you just stand and take in the scene: Brown-eyed Ellery still down for the count, faded at the edges; blue-eyed Ellery doubled over next to him, spitting curses.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," he says, and the last is not in his voice. But you can't pin it until he looks up at you wildly and convulses: and it is your face looking up at you. And just as quickly, back again.

"Ah," you say, in a way that indicates you know a lot more than you do. "Hm."

"Did you do this?" His teeth are gritted.

"Yes. Sorry."

"Shit, man! I don't- I think he's going, at least," and he has your face again, and it turns your stomach.

Ellery does appear to be "going", though nudging him with your foot doesn't produce much more than a groan.

"That's good."

"What about me?! What did you do??"

"Uh, I gave you some of my blood. I was hoping there would be a little less of you in me after that. I guess it's also vice versa."

"Any way you can speed it up?!"

"Well, I can..."

>[1] "Try injecting even more blood. He'd probably go faster. I don't know about you."

>[2] "Draw some blood back out. You might feel better. Him? I have no idea."

>[3] "Inject some saltwater into my blood. I need to clear you out altogether."

>[4] "Inject some saltwater into your blood. It might be the kick you need."

>>3193212
>4

Or mutate us even further, but at least it would be us and not Arledge.

>>3193212
>[4] "Inject some saltwater into your blood. It might be the kick you need."

EXPERIMENTATION

>>3193237
>>3193249
[4]

Writing!

>[4] "Inject some saltwater into your blood. It might be the kick you need."


"Inject some saltwater into your blood. It might be the kick you need."

He looks at you without comprehension. "What?"

"Seawater... I thought you were the big expert on magicians here."

At least he has the decency to look embarrassed. "Well, not- not- AUGH!" It's your scream. "-not really. Just spell it out."

"I can inject seawater into your blood, which will turn it into partial godstuff. This might help. It might not do anything. I don't know how connected you still are to your physical body."

He- you?- can only stare haggardly back and nod. "Fine."

With your open eye, you've been keeping an eye on the outside of the tent. There's a shadow out there that looks like Eloise, judging by the build. You need to work fast.

Seawater is a scarce resource on the surface, but you don't need to worry about that here. You take out your syringe and open the cap to let the excess blood curdle, then wipe it out with your finger. This needs to be clean.

You swoop the open barrel to collect the water, cap it, and clasp it again in your hands. "stormseastrikeforme", you pray, and barely looking thrust the needle into his neck.

You haven't even pushed the plunger down before his eyes snap wide open. You push, and the familiar pink tinge crowds into his sclera.

He closes his eyes again, and opens them, and they are blue: not the cold grey-blue you're used to, but bright and pure the way you're... also used to.

You may have overdone it a little.

>Roll me 3 1d100s+10 (Practiced) vs. DC 45 for safety!

Rolled 33 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>3193331

There are too many different eyes coming around here.

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>3193331

File: eye comparision.png (363 KB, 717x235)

363 KB PNG

Rolled 40 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>3193360
For reference!

Rolling the last one.

>Success.

Writing!

>>3193390
Oh wow that is helpful. Saltwater is vivid.

>43, 101, 50
>Success.

But hey, you decide, if there's any time to overdo it it's now. It's his first time with gods in his veins. Might as well be a whopper.

And it doesn't look like an overdose, by any means. He's not thrashing. He's not chanting. Sure, big for a first time, but it'll be fine! It'll be fine.

You can't tell if your head's been vacated yet, so you kick him back under the table and take a final look at Eloise outside. She's just leaning, it looks like. You wish it'd be anybody but Eloise, but there's nothing you can do.

You shut your eyes.

You are in the ocean. You are in your head, which is the ocean. Blue-eyed Ellery (now very blue-eyed Ellery) stands atop the water; real Ellery is nowhere to be seen.

"Hello!" he says. You hate that smile, because you've seen so many people wear it. You've worn it.

"Hello," you respond evenly. "Can we go back to the darkness?"

"Why!"

"Because I don't want my thoughts getting wet. Hey, listen."

Okay, it was too much. Not dangerous, still frustrating.

"I just injected you with seawater. You're having a gods complex, which is a side effect. I just need you to settle down and hear me, okay? Please get rid of the ocean."

He laughs, and the waves thrum with energy. "I've always been like this."

"I can assure you that you haven't. Believe me, I know this feeling, and that's why I know you need to get ahold of yourself. Where's Ellery?"

"I put him back!"

"Did you? Can you please do that to yourself, too?"

"Why!" He rises from the water, and you raise your eyebrows.

>[1] "Because you're making my mouth salty."

>[2] "Because you're going to be very embarrassed in about half an hour."

>[3] "Because otherwise I'll make you."

>[4] "Because we're going to be caught if you don't."

>[5] "Write-in."

>>3193511
> Because you're making my mouth salty.

>>3193511
>5

"Wouldn't you rather be in your own natural body than in mine?"

>>3193555
>>3193553

Nice trips.

Roll me 3 1d100s vs. DC 40 for persuasion!
>-5: Write-in
>DC 35

Rolled 21 (1d100)

>>3193582
If only we had some candy to throw in, sweeten the deal.

Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>3193582

Rolled 12 (1d100)

>>3193612
>>3193693
Failure! Rolling final one for severity. Final update of today.

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179 KB GIF

>>3193612
>>3193693
>>3193757
I need to think about this.

>>3193764
How poorly can a persuasion attempt possibly fail? =D

I'm sure we're about to find out

>You're making my mouth salty.
>You'd prefer your body, right? Not your body. Close enough. It doesn't matter.
>21, 7, 12 vs. DC 35 - Critical Failure!

You feel a little guilty for causing this, but it's a good learning experience- and hey, problem #1 appears to be solved. The only issue here is...

"You're making my mouth salty. I'm sure you can understand how deeply annoying that is, so can you at least make it freshwater, or...?"

He laughs again, and a little godstuff trickles out of his mouth. You're starting to get irked. "Come on. You'd prefer your head, wouldn't you? Or... I know it's not your head, but the head you belong to. What are you gonna do in here while I have you all cooped up?"

The unnatural eyes and unnatural smile freeze and harden and crust up right there on his face, and he sinks back down to water level. "Arledge?" he says, and you think you see his eyes fade.

"Yes?" It's over.

He draws closer, too close, every step making ripples in the placid water. He stops just before you and cradles your chin in his hands.

In retrospect, you should've thought this was off. In the moment, you disregard it as the saltwater. Still, you tense at his touch.

"Arledge?" he says again.

"Just breathe. Hey. It's almost over, and then we can get around to the whole... spiritual experience part. Have you had any of that, by the way-"

His grip tightens, and you decide that enough is enough. You try to duck away, but he holds you close, and the seawater flows through his veins. "I'm sorry,", he says, and you try to say wait!

but he snaps your neck and you crumple and you sink.

[END SESSION]


don't freak
running Tuesday afternoon
have a nice day

>>3194025
Thanks for running!

I'm kinda freaking out
a lot
Arledge was too good for us

>>3185743
This is the best segment. I love every sentence.

Why are we so twitchy about cutting ourselves for communication? We should go talk to Blue Cloak, she cut herself in order to talk to us and we just skedaddled away.

I like playing this like an especially impulsive toddler.

We should try giving our imaginary self nice horns and maybe scales and then swapping with him. We gave him blue eyes, maybe we can give him other cool stuff. Doubt he'll appreciate it though, he's a bit of a stick-in-the-mud.

Too bad we broke Ponytail's neck, we're probably going to be piloting his body around for a bit until he wakes up.

OP, I like your dice system. It's more punishing than usual. Makes it a bit of a risk to do anything though.

>>3196048
It's stolen wholesale from Black Company Quest, with roll over vs. roll under. In retrospect, maybe not the gentlest place to steal from (loved the quest though ForgottenQM) . I'll take a look at the DCs or think about adding more modifiers.

>>3196086
You can balance it by moving DCs or by tuning the severity of outcomes. Do you prefer people don't really mind failing rolls, or would you prefer it to be meaningful? So far we've had few really painful outcomes, failure or no, so it doesn't seem that bad.

>>3196141
Ideally, people would mind failure but not necessarily fear it. I don't want to unduly punish for one roll, and I don't want to stop the story in its tracks for it either, but it ought to make a significant difference compared to a success. I think I've done all that fairly well, though of course there's room for improvement.

Mostly, I just think you've been rolling badly!
Regardless, I'll still take a look and probably write up a dice pastebin for easy reference.

File: everybody (2).jpg (1.57 MB, 2469x2257)

1.57 MB JPG

I like the reference pictures, but they don't 100% capture the characters and I have limited photo-manip skills. Here's some pencil sketches for easier imagining.

>>3196734
> tall faces all around

Okay this is an aesthetic I kinda dig. Especially Ellery's two versions.

It's interesting that no one wants to include Maddy in everything that's happening with this weird split head thing. I mean, I'm pretty sure it just got a LOT more complicated, but still.

Also, the sense that everyone's flailing around with barely half an idea of how everything works and still struggling to make something happen is highly amusing. It grounds everyone as people thrown into a weird situation, bullshitting their way along.

>>3196734
Also helpful! We're taller than I thought, unless that's heads only.