>>4594492
Welcome to BONES QUEST--where everything is made up and the points don’t matter! Make sure to check out the following resources:
Catch up on previous threads:
>http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Bones%20quest
Twitter account for updates:
>https://twitter.com/DemBonez3
Imgur Page for art:
>https://imgur.com/a/dvF3SCN

STAT BONE-USES (Gained from eating special bone marrow! Nifty!):
>Bone Speed: You’re faster than the average meatbag thanks to stronger tendons and other stuff. You can move quickly and your reflexes are pretty cool too!
>Emu Leg Bones: Leap high, kick harder! Maybe larger toenails, too?
>Beast Claws: Retractable nail claws that allow you to carve, climb, and cling!
>Lil’ Slugger: Harsh practice at the batting cages have made you a demon with bats and bat-like tools. Hit ‘em outta the park!

Updated ‘LIST OF STUFF YOU HAVE’:
>1 CAP with the Good Boy logo and the letters ESC.
>1 coveralls (Note: get these washed)
>2 rubber boots
>1 COMPANY-ISSUED BLACKBERRY.
>1 Dead (and somewhat damp) CELLPHONE
>1 MICROBUCKET (carries around water)
>1 TELESCOPING ALUMINUM MOP
>1 SPRAY BOTTLE w/CLEANING FLUID! (Note: keep away from skin and mucous membranes. FLAMMABLE)
>1 KEYRING with WORK and APARTMENT KEYS
>1 painfully small WALLET. 67 cents inside made up of various coins. Also a debit card. Chip currently SMUDGED.
>1 super helpful skeleton (Note: Ly insisted you write this down)
>1 TIRE IRON (See Ly, I didn’t forget this. Stop hassling me)
>1 cigar butt
>1 Automated Bone Shaper (ABS) with low battery.
>1 Benetti Handgun that you still haven’t given back to Art. Fully loaded, you hope.
>1 tin of Dr. Harrington’s Hair Wrangler Pomade

Rolls are handled with a 1d100--I take the best of 3. BONUSES AWARDED FOR WRITE-IN CREATIVITY! Discussion, questions, and critiques are highly-appreciated!

>CONTD.

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You pinch yourself a few times, but it’s no use--you’re not dreaming this time, sister. Paralyzed with confusion in the middle of your best friend Sybil’s disheveled room, you find yourself unable to look away from the grim scene arranged on her bed--nestled inside a ring of snack wrappers, wrinkled bed sheets, and crumpled notes sits a primitive doll made of sticks, yet undeniably bares a striking resemblance to the apartment’s owner. Same hair, same outfit, and whoever--or WHATever--made it even had the forethought to include tiny versions of her eyebrow piercings.

Oh, and let’s not forget the doll and several patches of the carpet are stained with blood. You probably should have led with that.

“Stan... “ Ly begins, unease in his voice, “What would you like to do?”

What indeed.
>Call for Art--he’s still outside with the trio, but might be helpful here.
>Examine the doll. This thing’s way too fishy to ignore.
>Get out of here--this whole apartment has a nasty case of ‘bad juju’.
>WRITE-IN

>>4594495
>Examine the doll. This thing’s way too fishy to ignore.

>>4594495
>Examine the doll. This thing’s way too fishy to ignore.

>>4594495
>Examine the doll. This thing’s way too fishy to ignore.

>>4594495
>Examine the doll. This thing’s way too fishy to ignore.

>>4594507
>>4594512
>>4594580
>>4594695
HellOOO Dolly! Writing!

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>>4594507
>>4594512
>>4594580
>>4594695
A large part of you wants to leave the room. Seriously. Ly is tugging every bone in your body in the direction of the door.

“Come on, Stan, I don’t like da looks of dis’ one bit.”

You don’t either, but you find yourself oddly attracted to the doll. Not in a ‘LIKE like you’ way, of course--more like some sort of magickal magnetism way. Something compels you to pick it up!

Also this is great craftsmanship--you could probably sell this for bundles on Craftsy once this all blows over. Stepping over a stack of external hard drives labelled Ep. 226: Speedway Specter one through three, you bend down and scoop the doll into your gloved hands.

“Enjoy the Hepatitis.” Ly scoffs, releasing his pull on your bones. You already lost your tonsils--you’ll be fine. Raising the doll to eye level for a better look, you feel a certain… Heaviness. The doll’s no bigger than a Beano Babe, but it almost feels like you’re cradling a rock. You take a strand of the doll’s hair in between your fingers and caress it--yep, feels real to you. Letting out a sigh you give the hair a bored tug.

“Don’t do that, please.” States the doll. Take it easy, Ly, you-

The doll tumbles to the floor as you leap backwards and subsequently topple to the floor when your leg catches on the stack of hard-drives. Scrambling backwards towards the door, the doll slowly rises into the air as if it were held aloft by wires. You know, the ones they use in those kung fu movies? Ly?

Your bones don’t respond. You grab a loose CD from the floor and fling it over the doll to cut the wires, but the disk sails past. Oh snap!

Swooping towards you like a bird of prey, the doll skids to a halt right in front of you, its brown eyes staring holes into your face. You freeze, unsure of what to do next. Damn it, this is usually when Ly steps in! When your partner fails to respond, you instinctively raise your hands in front of your face. Anything but THERE!

“Who…. Are yooooooouuu?

You spit out your name in chunks as the doll hovers ever closer to your face.

P-p-p-p-p-Parble. Stanley….

The doll cocks to the side like a dog’s head.

“StAanNLlLY…..”

Y-y-y-yes?

“TeLl mE sOMeThInG oNLY tHe ReAAaAaAl StANLeY wOuIld kNOOoooWwww!” the doll wails, the air around you growing colder.

W-w-w-w-w-What’s one only the REAL Stanley would know???
>Your favorite video game is [WRITE-IN]
>Your worst fear is [WRITE-IN]
>Your first crush was on [WRITE-IN]
>WRITE-IN

>>4594722
>WRITE-IN!

>You uhhhh, liked video games and all. But your real favorite game activity was a bit more.... embarrassing
>You were a LARPer, specifically a fantasy LARPer. Its where you and Sybil met, and its something you don't bring up to most people.

>>4594722
>Your favorite video game is [WRITE-IN]
Blood Sucking Freaks 3: The New Batch, as established in the previous thread!

>>4594733
But also this.

>>4594722
>You were not just a fantasy LARPer, but a GOTH fantasy LARPer. No one must know. Ask Ly to plug his ears.

>>4594722
>Your first crush was on [WRITE-IN]
Our very own brother

>>4594812
Lame and extremely unbased.

>>4594812
Not supporting this.

>>4594722
>You tried to use ‘Ly’ as a nickname, but everyone started calling you ‘Lytard’ so you stopped

Don't worry, I see your responses! Like I mentioned in the last thread work started up again, so I won't be able to write until around 12PM UTC. Keep on keeping on!

>>4594733
>>4594762
>>4594776
>>4594812
>>4595107
Finished work a bit early so you know what THAT means! Writing!

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>>4595467
You wrap your arms around you for warmth as you think of something only the REAL Stan… Er, YOU, would know. A dusty lightbulb fizzles to life above your head. Aha!

Video games! You’re Stan and you looooove video games! You’re torn between Blood Sucking Freaks 3: The New Batch and Blood Sucking Freaks 1 because that one had a cuter protagonist, but yea! Only YOU would know your favorite game!

The doll stares at you wordlessly, a frigid mist beginning to surround it. You begin to shiver as your mouth and nostrils begin to dry up--oh man, you’re gonna catch a cold at this rate!

And die, probably.

“Stan, I know it’s not your strong suit, but THINK!” Ly snaps, voice shaky from the cold. Okay, OKAY! Fine! There’s MORE.

The doll pauses, awaiting an answer. You take in a deep breath, then let it go--creating a cloud of cold vapor.

Ly, please cover your ears. You feel Ly take command of your hands and plug your ears with your thumbs. Wait, now YOU can’t hear! Damn it, undo!

He unplugs your ears again. “Getting mixed messages here, cupcake.” Just… Just hum to yourself or something. This is private! Your skeleton borrows your shoulders to shrug, then begins humming an unfamiliar tune. Your focus returns to the homicidal friend doll with glowing eyes in front of you.

You uh… You don’t really bring this up a lot. You shift a bit on the ground into a more comfortable position as the doll remains silent. You love games, sure, but you really used to be into…

Live Action RolePlaying. LARP. The thing with the foam weapons and the meetups at the parks.

You hear Ly’s humming falter for a moment, so you give yourself a quick nudge to the gut--OW!

“Alright, alright, JEEZ! I’ll keep humming…” Ly groans before returning to his tune.

>CONTD.

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>>4595550
Also you guys have full permission to throw a rock at me if I fuck up spelling or formatting again. Christ.

Anyways, you were CRAZY about the local group: Blades of Zamarka. It was high-fantasy, but with a hint of magitech too--it even had elements of Victorian society, but you’re not saying it was STEAMPUNK, damn it--this was unique--It was OURS, damn it!

The air around the doll slowly warms up again as its eyes return to the chestnut color of your best friend’s. “It would see-”

No, you aren’t DONE! You wanted the info, you’re GETTING IT. Your character was Mordelia Ravensfire--a dishonored Mordic Shadowblade. You were born into Mordic nobility, of course, but that all changed when your uncle Belthezar the Grey betrayed your family to the Haringoths--a rival clan. You survived, but at a cost--a spell was cast on you forcing you to taste blood at LEAST once a day--lest your soul was taken over by an avatar of Gohrt: God of Cruelty and Glut--Warden of the Jagged Planes!

“I believe you a-” The doll starts. Wait, almost finished!

You’re standing and pacing now. Anyways, Mordelia wielded her father’s letter opener which, besides being a symbol of the Ravensfire clan, also was enchanted to always find its mark. You got into arguments with other players all the time about valid attacks, but it’s IN YOUR CHARACTER SHEET! Why did they always have to contest it?! You had this really cute dress and fishnets too--the makeup on your eyes and the red contact lens was a pain in the ass to put on each game, but all of it was worth it.

The doll sits on the carpet, clearly realizing you’re not going to stop now. Good, you’re almost done.

Mordelia was adopted by The Shadowblades--an ancient and cruel sect of assassins, but a necessary evil. They saw value in her natural stealthiness and her skills in combat--so much so that they let her do her own missions and never contacted her directly. You smirk. ‘Too volatile’ they always said. You preferred it that way. You’ll never forget the first time you sank your blade into a mark--come to think of it you think the guy playing him was named Mark. Did you make a joke about that back then? Who can say? Anyways, your claim to fame was when you vanquished Barthor Half-Troll--a prominent player, but also a member of The Red Brand, a local mercenary group.

Ly stopped humming a few minutes ago, but you don’t care anymore. You’re always happy to share a tale of a kill over a flagon of Elfsmead--er, mead. Shame you don’t have any.

>CONTD.

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>>4595555
Where were you? Right, Barthor. You had it all planned ahead of time--you showed up to the park--er, Blighted Forest, hours early, and set up in a bush near the sewer runoff--one of the big ones near the barbed-wire fence. There you waited, subsisting on nothing but energy drinks and packs of Skidoos until the rest of the players arrived. You lurked like darkness itself--your sweat-drenched hand gripping your letter opener with white knuckles. You waited until Barthor dismissed his cronies, then POUNCED!
Or uh… You tried. Your fishnets got caught on the bushes and to be totally honest, you were having trouble getting untangled. As your target began to leave, you remember hearing a low, yet confident female voice.

“Tell me,” the voice purred, “What manner of Shadowblade gets bested by mere shrubbery?” You turned and came face to face with a raven-haired girl in a long, flowing violet robe wielding a staff crowded by countless talismans and figurines cobbled together with twine and plant matter. The girl smirked. “Viconia Feldspaar--Witch of the Luna Coven. Charmed, I’m sure. Your corpse will make a fine source of alchemical reagents.”

That’s when you flashed the universal sign for time out--those fishnets cost most of your allowance and you couldn’t risk your dumb parents finding out what you were doing instead of going to the library on the weekends! The girl’s demeanor changed like the flick of a light switch. “No, that wouldn’t be good at all. Wait here, I’ve got a plan.”

And wait you did. Sure enough, the witch came back moments later with a pair of Wailing Caverns sweatpants. You know, the tourist trap caves near the beach?

“We haven’t been in ages. We should go again some time!” Ly suggests. Yea, you doubt there’s going to be lines after this shitstorm is mopped up.

“And once you put those pants on we joined forces to strike a blow The Red Brand would never recover from.” States the doll, grin on its face.

Yea, until that jerk Barthor had you ejected because your pants were ‘Fail RP’. What a jer-

Wait. The doll rises, a gentle blue aura emanating from its center.

“Yes, Stan, it’s me. At least, a portion of me. Tell me, do you remember episode 44 of the podcast? The one about pocket planes?”

SYB!?

>CONTD.

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>>4595560
The doll nods. “In the twine, so to speak. Apologies for taking precautions and testing you--I’ve been tracking your progress since dawn and your aura has been acting...” The doll pauses, trying to find the correct phrasing, “Unusual. I originally attributed that to the recent animation of your skeleton, but I can’t help but wonder what other dark elements have marked and invaded your person. Tell me, did you keep those talismans I sent you?”

You blink. The crafts from your birthday? The doll nods. Yeaaaa, they’re at home. Somewhere.

“They’re currently in a landfill three towns over, but that’s fine. My preparations are complete, so I have all the time in the world to provide guidance to you.” The doll dips in the direction of an office chair stacked with books.

“Please, sit.”

W-wait… Hold on a minute. You’ve got some questions first! First of all,
>How are you a doll?!
>What do you mean ‘marked an invaded?’
>What’s your take on this skeleton situation?
>WRITE-IN

>>4595561
>How are you a doll?!

This is currently at the top of my question list.

>>4595561
>What do you mean ‘marked an invaded?’
>What’s your take on this skeleton situation?
>Write-in: Hold on, where's the rest of her?

She's a doll because of voodoo magic stuff, I'm not too concerned.
also go to hell OP I laughed out loud at the LARP stuff

>>4595565
>>4595568
Guess we're going with D) all of the above. Writing!

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>>4595565
>>4595568
You stumble across the room and slump into the swivel chair, letting the pile of books topple to the floor. This--this is wacky, even for Syb! How is she a doll? Where’s the REST of her?! What’s HAPPENING!?

The doll floats over to the blood-stained bed and plops onto a pillow, then clears its throat.

“Yes, I imagine you have plenty of questions--where to start, where to starrrrrt….” ‘Sybil’ muses to herself.

How about your FIRST question? The doll??

“Ah, the vessel, of course. Like I said, Stan, you don’t happen to remember Episode 44 of the podcast, do you?” You blink. That wasn’t the one with the werewolf at the bus stop, right? You remember, alright--had to get a Tetanus shot when you scraped your arm on a nail recording that episode.

“Not that one, but I AM still very[/v] sorry about that--I was expecting more corporeal threats, not bacterial.” The doll adjusts itself on the bed, then continues like a teacher giving a lecture. “The episode in question dealt with pocket dimensions--in essence, small, nigh-countless folds in the ‘sheets’ that make up our multiverse--specifically, folds that can be observed and utilized by those with knowledge of their location and, most importantly, their existence.”

The doll retreats under the sheets, then peeks out from the folds. “The knowledge of these ‘pockets’ is by no means new, of course--countless practitioners of the arcane throughout history have used them to escape the harangues of everyday life--including, but not limited to, Aleister Crowley, Merlin, and most importantly, the orchestrator of this whole fiasco.”

Wait, you mean Tim?!

>CONTD.

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>>4595825
The doll pops out from the sheets. “Yes, whatever you want to call him--more on that in a moment. I believe he, or one of his associates, sequestered himself away into a pocket dimension until the time was right. Evidence of the use of pocket dimensions inspired me to do my own research--that and the rapid degeneration of the situation outside.”

Okay, so you did some homework. Why are you in a doll and what’s with the mess everywhere? The blood?! Sybil glances down at the stains on the bed.

“Oh, that. Well like I was saying, I did my own research. It turns out locating and crafting a gate to one of these pocket dimensions is relatively simple--after a quick run to the supermarket made easier and relatively cheaper given the current…” Sybil pauses, looking for an appropriate description, “Situation… I was all set to create my own gate and, after a few hours refreshing my knowledge of Wu Shamanism, I was ready!”

The doll floats off of the bed towards the other end of the bedroom where a trio of large scorch marks lie burned into the cheap carpet. Woah, how did you miss those?

“You’re a good camera woman and an even better friend, Stan, but you’ve never been one to catch the little details.” Sybil lowers into the center of the marks, spinning around for emphasis. “This is where I departed.”

So you’re… Gone?

“No need to fear, I’m still very much alive! Painfully so, unfortunately. I was getting bored in the pocket, so I decided to step out and whip up a quick scrying effigy to communicate with you more effectively. I tried your phone, but I believe it’s a bit indisposed at the moment, right?”

Crap, you forgot all about that! You need rice! YOU NEED RICE!

“No worries, there’s plenty in the pantry. Before that, though, let me finish answering your question.”

Please do, the readers must be furious by this point.

>CONTD.

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>>4595829
“I don’t doubt it. In any case, even the simplest scrying effigy requires an element of the user’s vitae--I provided hair and a cup or two of my own blood, but I was halfway through adding the piercings when I realized I hadn’t dressed my arm wound. Careless.”

The doll floats over to the trail of blood near the bedroom door. “What you saw was a trail from this room heading to the kitchen, then back to the bathroom when I remembered my Himalayan healing unguents were kept under the sink. Rest assured I am A-OK and have plenty of recording equipment inside the pocket--I’m sure that once this all blows over we’ll have one heck of an episode on our hands!”

That’s uh… That just about explains it, you guess. Could you come and check it out?

The doll shakes its head. “Afraid not--very cramped in here with all of the gear, snacks, and other nicknacks. There’s also a small chance of increasing my astral visibility with more bodies in here, and like I began before, I have little reason to doubt the ringleader of this whole circus is very capable of finding and attacking me assuming I make enough dimensional ‘waves’,” she explains, the doll making finger quotes with its arm stubs. Okay, you didn’t want to visit the pocket dimension anyways...

>CONTD.

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>>4595832
Hey, speaking of visiting--what was that about being ‘marked’ and ‘invaded’? Do you need to call the cops? You instinctively scan the room for any potential eavesdroppers--if Art is in here he’s breathing a LOT quieter than usual!

“Perhaps I misspoke. I’ve had plenty of time to observe your journey since this all began--at first I was somewhat alarmed by the appearance of your new companion…” The doll pokes at your ribs.

“Tell dolly to keep her hands offa the merch, Stan!” Ly says, fresh annoyance in his voice.

“No offense intended, skeleton. I’m just saying that I didn’t expect you to, well… Exist.” You feel Ly recoil inside of your body.

“What da… You can HEAR me?!”

“And see you too, to a degree.” The doll retreats a bit, still drifting in the air. “I haven’t pinpointed the reason yet, but I believe you had a role in preventing Stanley’s death, so until I find evidence otherwise, thank you. The doll comes in close for a hug. Awww.

“Psssh, y-yea, no big deal…” Ly mumbles, patting the doll on the back of the head with your hand. Sybil looks up at you, smiling.

“Like I said, I don’t have a reason on-hand yet, but my intuition is rarely wrong.” The doll releases you from the hug, then frowns.

“That said, I’m a bit worried about the implications of this relationship. Your skeleton is alive and seemingly an independent, yet symbiotic entity--however, I can’t help but wonder if the same magick the lich uses might be sustaining him.” The doll scans you up and down, chestnut eyes glowing blue.

“Could your own skeleton be a bug? A Trojan Horse? The mind boggles…”

Hey, Ly would never spy on you! Right, Ly? Your skeleton borrows your head for a nod.

“Yea! Don’t act like you know Stan better than I do, sister! I’ve been with her since da beginning!” The doll shrugs.

“Merely a thought I had, nothing more. No need to fight over her.” Wait, what if you want them to fi-

“Shut up, Stan.”
“Shut up, Stan.”

Still borrowing your head, Ly steals a glance at the doll, the two grinning like idiots. Okay, ha ha. Let’s all be mean to Stan.

“Don’t be so sensitive, Stan, it looks bad on you.” The doll groans, retreating to the window.

“Now them…” The doll begins, “Are the ones I’m not sure about.”

>CONTD.

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>>4595835
What, Art? The Trio? They’re sort of okay! Sure, Art’s a sex pervert and a whiner and The Trio are out of touch and violent, but Art’s also a huge fan of your podcast! That can’t be bad, right? The doll turns around and gives you a withering look.

“Stan, I say this not just as your friend, but as a sponsor of potentially one of the only people who can clean up this mess--” Had to go with the clean expression, huh?

“Focus, Stan. I worry that your choice in allies might bring unnecessary attention and hardship upon you.” The doll peers through the window blinds like an old lady peeking at her neighbor. “You might be our best chance at stopping all of this, but your aura is burning like a traffic flare.” The doll turns to you as you join her next to the window.

“You’ve gained the attention of many things, not just your allies.” You blink. What, is the government in on this too? The doll tilts its head in contemplation. “I’m worried that’s not possible--I’ve been sensing a powerful presence around Clearwater since this morning--like one of those dome covers for those disgusting cappuccino drinks.” The doll shudders. Okay, no government, no comes in, got it. The doll grins.

“That might be to our advantage, though--this barrier doesn’t seem to be letting anyone out either, so we don’t have to worry about global domination until our mutual friend lifts it…” Guess escape’s out of the question, then? You frown. That wasn’t too far off on your ‘To-Do List’.

“Sorry, but you’re just too important. Maybe it was your proximity to the epicenter of this whole catastrophe, or maybe it’s your destiny, but whatever the reason you’re probably one of the best candidates for saving the proverbial ‘day’.”

Say, Art WAS mentioning that the G.I Jerks were having trouble knocking out the boneheads for good--is she saying you really ARE special? Sybil shrugs.

“I always knew you were special, Stan, you know that. Believe me when I say, however, that with your ability comes grave danger.”

You gulp. Yea, you’ve been getting that.

“Thankfully I’ve warded this apartment with a myriad of countermeasures--besides the salt and blood barriers at the door, the burning incense will mask the fourth-dimensional space in the apartment and prevent any dimensional shamblers, spirits, or wayward demons from entering. Moreover, your foes should have a hard time locating you in here--consider it a chunk removed from the map.”

Well that’s the niftiest thing you’ve heard all day! Did she see that you slept in a TREE? That sucked!

“Yes, you must be exhausted and you’ll need rest. Feel free to stay as long as you like and help yourself to anything. Mi casa es su casa as they say.”

Yea, uh… Domo arigato.

>CONTD.

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>>4595837
So, you begin, flopping onto the bed, what’s HER take on this whole skeleton situation? You ask because quite honestly, everyone else has been pretty mum about it. The doll floats over to the bed and takes a seat next to you.

“Foul machinations of a maddened old wizard come to fruition after centuries of planning.” Well duh! Sybil continues.

“The minute I saw my neighbor’s poodle’s skeleton devouring the mailman, I had an inkling of what to look for. By the time I had found my ebook of the Necronomicon, you were making your escape from your cell in that repulsive BONE factory.” The doll sniffs, frowning.

“Necromancy, the practice of communicating with the dead, is by no means a rare discipline--name a civilization on Earth and I’ll guarantee that they’ve practiced it one way or another.”

Sure, the raising of the dead--you know that part. So what about the guy who put the whole event together? Sybil’s expression darkens.

“I knew you’d ask about that. Check my nightstand, I wrote it down for you.”

Leaning over to Sybil’s nightstand, you yank the drawer open and reveal several crumpled sheets of notebook paper, some cosmetics, and a handful of jewelry.

“It’s the green paper--the one with the cute pigs on it.”

You grab the paper in question and uncrumple it, revealing a name that seems more suited for your LARPing days.

Tibius Maximus

Tibius Maxim-

Sybil charges directly into your gut before you can finish, knocking the air out of you like a Whoopsie Cushion. OW!

“Sorry, Stan, but the names of revenants, demons, and spirits all hold profound power over them--but they also invite danger if mentioned carelessly.”

What, like Bloody M-

OOF! OKAY, it was a JOKE!

“You have his name now, and luckily I have information. Grab that book behind the door, would you?” Sybil points to a weathered tome lying on the ground next to an empty frozen yogurt tub. You pick it up and carry it back to the bed.

“Page 238, please.”

And here you are without your reading glasses. Thumbing through the yellowed pages of the book whose name you couldn’t pronounce, you come to a chapter titled ‘De Wurkes of De Liche’. The hell does THAT mean? Crazy gibberish!

>CONTD.

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>>4595840
“This, my friend, is a detailed account of the activities of a powerful Druid-turned Lich on an unmarked Scottish Island well over two-thousand years ago. Strange that a druid of all things would turn to such dark practices...”

The doll turns the pages, stopping longer on the ones with pictures. Skeletons prance about with flutes and other instruments while primitive cottages burn--part of you thinks it would make a cool album cover if it wasn’t so topical. Can’t joke about ANYTHING anymore…

“I assure you it’s no laughing matter, Stan. This account is frighteningly similar to our own situation, and I have little reason to believe the sorcerer we’re dealing with isn’t the one mentioned here.”

You lean closer, studying the drawings as best as you can. Faint lines resembling rays of light shine from a large, dark figure down to several other skeletons--their eyes glowing brighter than the others. Could that have something to do with this?

“Without a doubt. You see, a lich is powerful because he or she removes themselves from the mortal coil. Doing this has side-effects, as you might imagine, but can also afford the sorcerer plenty of time to amass magickal power.”

You briefly ponder everything you could do if you were able to live forever. Maybe you could write your memoirs?

“I’d definitely learn Chinese. Dat’s a language to look out for in da future.” Ly muses, angling your head for a better look at the book. So what’s this with the strings? Sybil’s eyes light up as she prepares for another lecture. Oh god.

>CONTD.

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>>4595843
“Consider, for a moment, that your soul is a collection of sheet music. Played together, it creates a beautiful melody, but inevitably ends.”

You frown. Yep, life’s a bitch and then ya die.

“NOW imagine I tore a sheet out and gave it to someone. Then another. And another.” You ponder the image of Sybil handing out sheets for a moment, grinning. Yep, that sounds like something she would do!

“Focus on the analogy, Stan. If I hand out those sheets to other people, can they play the whole song?”

You furrow your brow. Well… Maybe a bit.

“More to the point, can the original owner play the whole song?” The doll taps its foot like a teacher waiting for an answer. Panicked, you fumble.

Sure, if they know it already! Right?! The doll frowns.

“You’re thinking too literally here. Your soul is that sheet music, Stan--it plays, then it dies. Without all of the pages, however, that song is put on pause. Indefinitely.”

See, THIS is why you were never into instruments. So much stuff to keep track of! But you DO admit, you’re beginning to see Syb’s point.

“A lich does exactly what I did. They take their soul and divide it up into small pieces--placing them in various places and giving them to various people. In the case of necromancy, the mage isn’t creating or destroying energy--merely redistributing it.

You raise an eyebrow at Sybil’s last point. Wouldn’t that be bad? Like… If you gave away a lot of your soul, you wouldn’t have much left for yourself, right? The doll grins as you finish your sentence.

“I knew you’d get it! I’ll give you a star sticker later." The doll gives you a playful nudge on the shoulder. Heh, you guess you do deserve a sticker...

"Yes, Stan, in chopping his or her soul into pieces, the Lich inadvertently weakens themself. Therefore the mastermind behind this whole thing is not at his strongest. Even better, I know how to keep it that way. Theoretically, of course.”

You blink. Hey, that’s what you’re talkin’ about! Right, Ly?

“You bet, cupcake. What’s da plan, teach?”

The doll clears its throat. “As you might have seen in the picture, The lich distributes its soul shards, also known as ‘phylacteries’ amongst various hiding places. In the event the lich is defeated, one of them will merely bring them back to life, albeit weaker.” Sybil breathes out, then continues. “If, however, the liches' phylacteries are all destroyed…”

Then he won’t have anything to pop back out of. Game over. Sybil nods emphatically, tossing her raven-colored hair all over her doll’s face.

“Exactly. And I have a feeling you’ve come across at least one of said phylacteries already, right?”

Sybil looks at you expectantly. Oh crap, pop quiz!

Where did you find one of these phylacteries??
>In Terry the Terrible?
>In The Trio??
>In King???
>In Art????

>>4595847
>In King???
"Wait, is it the funky glowing bones I kinda ate?"

>>4595847
Sybli is great and I'm glad Stan has such a friend.
>In King???

>>4595937
thank you anon for saving me from rereading 2 threads
>In King???
But list the rest if it's not right.

>>4595937
>In King???

>"We drank one of his top dudes bone marrow and got some sick Skelebilities, like claws, and SICK PARKOUR SKILLZ"

Sorry folks, gotta sleep. I'll see if I can get a sneaky update in tomorrow during work, otherwise expect me around 12PM UTC as usual! You guys rock!

>>4595937
>>4595964
>>4595965
>>4595970
Hail to the King! Writing!

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>>4595937
>>4595964
>>4595965
>>4595970
You silently stare at Sybil, flashing back to each and every time a teacher put you in the same situation. Not even Ly’s helping you out here!

“Come on, cupcake, you know dis’.” Ly murmurs encouragingly. Oh, nevermind!

You look down at your feet, then at your legs. Hard to believe it was only a few hours ago that you picked up all of these cool BONEuses--you really oughta read that original post agai--

Hey, THAT’S IT!

You hop to your feet, grinning ear to ear. Wait, is it the funky glowing bones you ate?! Like King’s?! Sybil smirks, then crosses her doll’s arms.

“And what led you to that conclusion?”

What didn’t?” His bones glowed like lava lamps! We slurped up his leg AND claw marrow and got some sick skelebilities like claws and SICK PARKOUR SKILLS!

Wait, you had the latter already. You DID gain some stronger legs, though--you could probably leap through the roof right now if you felt like it!

“Please don’t. But you passed with flying colors, Stan--this particular foe of yours must have been the recipient of one of the Lich’s phylacteries. Tell me, what set him apart from the others?”

You shrug. Well, he had a lion skull, for starters. And smoked. Had a weird accent, too. The doll gestures for you to keep digging. Alright… He was pretty tough! You made it a point to avoid fighting when you could help it, but you remember him being really strong! That fight must have taken six or seven updates!

“Think da’ car chase in part 2 was longer, honestly.” Ly states. Whatever, Ly, it’s quality, not QUANTITY that matters. Sybil rubs her doll’s chin for a moment, lost in contemplation. You grab a cushion for your head just as she speaks up again.

“Of course, it all makes sense! Visibly-increased strength, a smattering of leadership qualities, a sense of misplaced bravado… These are all traits characteristic of the lich!”

Or a member of CONGRESS! Topical!

Sybil doesn’t laugh. “The good news is that you’re already on the right track, Stan. If one of these ‘underlings’ is already defeated, then it stands to reason that the others aren’t exactly invincible either. Moreover, if you’re able to absorb a modicum of strength by defeating them…” Her voice trails off as the doll floats back over to the window.

You know, your pals were mentioning their boss Rocky and some boney Egyptian-esque chick. Maybe those two are philanthropys?

“Phylacteries. And yes, I wouldn’t dismiss the possibility.” Sybil nods, remaining by the window. “In that case it seems like you have your goal, Stan: Eliminating these phylacteries, taking their power for yourself, and ultimately use it to rid Clearwater of this vile infestation once and for all. ‘See you tomborrow’ indeed.”

You exhale. Sure, sounds pretty simple when she says it. How the heck are you supposed to go up against an army, though?! You’re good, but--

>CONTD.

>>4596432
“I sense the answer to your question will come in time. Until then I would rely on your allies, but keep them at arm’s length…” The doll turns around, eyes narrowed. “Especially the thralls of the lich. Charming though they may be, they were created with his soul--don’t think for a second that the apple doesn’t fall far from the proverbial ‘tree’.”

Yea, yea, you’ll be careful. You sit back up on the bed and cross your arms. Now what?

“What indeed? Anything else?” The doll stares at you with its bright, Autumn-colored eyes.

>Do you have any idea who the other philharmonics are? Or where?
>What’s your issue with Art anyways?
>Mind if I use your apartment for a bit? Gotta take care of some stuff.
>WRITE-IN

>>4596435
>Do you have any idea who the other philharmonics are? Or where?
>What’s your issue with Art anyways?

>>4596435
>Do you have any idea who the other philharmonics are? Or where?

>>4596435
>Do you have any idea who the other philharmonics are? Or where?
>What’s your issue with Art anyways?

>>4596439
>>4596500
>>4596581
We have our targets, but where do we look? Also what's with Art? Writing!

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>>4596439
>>4596500
>>4596581
Yea, just a few more things. You can understand her distrust of The Trio, sure, but what about Art? You’re pretty sure he’s human! Why is she such an ART CRITIC? Sybil crosses her arms and frowns.

“Don’t be too quick to trust him, either--or did you already forget his orders are to apprehend you?”

“Dat’s what I’VE been sayin’!” Ly exclaims. Okay, sure, you guys had a rough start, but he saved your ass on the way into town, right? Plus he’s given you all sorts of information AND A GUN. You go for a quickdraw, but fumble and drop the handgun to the ground. Cursing, you pick it back up and stow it in your pocket.

“Yes, very impressive. I won’t deny his role in keeping you safe up until now, but don’t forget that he was protecting his own well-being in process as well. Hardly altruistic as far as motivations go…”

Whatever, he OWES you. You got his dumb helmet off and sorta fixed his leg when that deer made you knock his gun out of his holster--going against you now would just be--
“Conniving? Calculated? Until this morning the Good Boy Corporate Security didn’t exist for you, Stan. Tread lightly.”

Okay MOM. Jeez, you’ll keep an eye on him if it will make her feel better.

“So will eye!” Ly boasts, puffing out your chest. The doll smiles.

“For what it’s worth, it does make me feel better. I trust your talents, Stan, but not always your judgement. If you ARE going to keep him close, make it to your advantage--if he can get you equipment or information, don’t hesitate--I feel it’s only a matter of time before his employers track you down again, and I assure you,” the doll lectures, pointing an arm stub at your face, “that encounter won’t be solved with mere dice.”

Pfft, just you WATCH.

>CONTD.

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>>4596732
Okay, Syb’s giving you The Look, better change topics. Your mind drifts back to what you were discussing earlier--You were lucky that King happened to be hanging around and actively seeking you out, but what about the others? Frowning, you flop back onto the bed.

“Think uh… Think you mighta’ landed in some blood, cupcake.” Ly warns.

Yea, add that to the BOTTOM of the massive list of stuff you have to deal with! You turn your head towards Sybil, doing your best to avoid thinking about what Ly just said. Does she know where these philharmonics are? Or WHO they are for that matter? You’re not exactly keen on smashing every skeleton using the process of elimination…

Sybil frowns as she begins to rub her chin. “Unfortunately no--I was trying to keep track of strong power readings around Clearwater for a while, but following multiple auras on top of yours proved… Taxing.”

Bummer. Did she end up getting any readings at all? The doll’s frown deepens.

“Flickers of activity, but nothing more. I suspect their master thought ahead and masked their auras with that very same barrier keeping things in and out of Clearwater, but that’s just a hypothesis--I lost all contact not too long ago, so maybe it’s too late…”

You blink. Hold on, didn’t Gene mention something about a meeting? Maybe they didn’t hide at all--they just went somewhere Syb didn’t expect! The doll’s eyes light up in recognition.

“Of course, that would explain it! Do you know where they could have gone?” Sybil whirls around and stares at you eagerly.

Probably their fortress of doom, right? You hop out of bed and walk over to the window, doing your best to point out the colossal piece of architecture drifting through the ashen sky. Sybil joins you, narrowing her eyes at the flying fort.

“Hmmm… The good news is that I DO detect magickal power. Lots of it.”

Hey, go team! What’s the bad news?

“The bad news is that it’s enveloping the entire fortress. Picking out auras within that would be like finding a specific piece of hay in a haystack. At night.”

The doll sighs.

“Moreover, if the hay finds out you’re looking for it, it’ll shoot you.”

Not the cleanest analogy she’s made all day, but you’ll take it.

>CONTD.

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>>4596735
So she’s saying it isn’t easy, huh?

“Easy doesn’t even scrape the surface. There are several magickal wards on that fortress, and a failed attempt to breach through them with even a simple scrying spell might alert its inhabitants to our presence. Even worse, they might not know about my abilities yet--investigating might be similar to prodding a hornet’s nest with a stick…”

“Are there any other options? Dis’ might be the best chance we get to find all of dese Lieutenants…” Ly muses, borrowing your hand to rub your chin.

Yea, it is, but you’ve heard these boneheads--maybe we just need to do some old-fashioned detective work? It’s not like they’re subtle about who their bosses are. You shrug. Hell, maybe Art’s people have info on who they are too. No need to risk Sybil getting detected.

Sybil sighs, crossing her doll arms.

“There is that… If I was able to spy on that meeting, however, it would save you a lot of time…”

The three of you stand silently for a while mulling over possible options. The doll’s eyes light up once more as its face adopts a mischievous look.

“Unless… It’s not me doing the spying…”

You frown. What do you plan on doing, sending you up there wearing a wire? Sybil lets out a polite laugh, then straightens her posture.

“Nothing so trite as that, no--but if we could put you into a guided trance you could theoretically slip through… With an Astral Projection.”

You blink. What about your ass?

“In short, a controlled ‘out-of-body experience’. Since it would only be a fraction of your aura you would have a better chance of slipping through the fort’s magical barriers--you might even be able to slip into the meeting for a few moments!”

Sybil lets out an excited giggle as you idly scratch your head. Sounds neat and all, but what if you’re caught? The doll shrugs.

“Worst case scenario is your immortal soul is trapped by the lich for presumably all of eternity. Best case, he finds out where you’re broadcasting from. Then you’ll have to leave.”

You frown. Suppose you DID go through with this plan--what’s the timeframe? The doll mumbles a few calculations in her head, then nods.

“I’ll need time, but not a lot. And tea--special tea. And you’ll need to get comfortable. I hate to say it, but you might want to tell your goons outside to stand guard, too. There’s no telling how long you’ll be out and we would need to use every second like it was our last.”

You nod. Okay, good to know.

“Time to choose, huh cupcake?” Ly asks.
You betcha.
“I’m happy to give it a try myself, Stan, but if I’m discovered I can’t guarantee much assistance in the future. We can also forgo magick altogether--I know that whatever you choose it’ll be the right choice!”

>Choices in next post!

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>>4596739
What’s the plan, Stan?
>You infiltrate, Syb. You’re better at this than I am.
>Alright, I’ll do it. Could use a nap anyways.
>Forget it, not worth putting either of us in their sights. We'll just track 'em down the old fashioned way.
>WRITE-IN

>>4596749
>Alright, I’ll do it. Could use a nap anyways.

>>4596749
>Alright, I’ll do it. Could use a nap anyways.

>>4596749
>>Alright, I’ll do it. Could use a nap anyways.

>>4596749
>Forget it, not worth putting either of us in their sights. We'll just track 'em down the old fashioned way.

>>4596752
>>4596787
>>4596836
>Stan can do it

>>4596968
>Forget it
Writing the final update of the night!

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>>4596752
>>4596787
>>4596836
>>4596968
You let the options drift through your mind, weighing the pros and cons of each. You trust Syb, of course, especially when it comes to this kind of stuff. If anyone could sneak into a fortress of the damned using magic, it’s her. Hell, she’d probably make a podcast episode out of it and gain a sponsor or two!

Staring at the animated effigy of your friend, you can’t help but frown. That said, what happens if things go wrong? How the heck are you supposed to protect her when you barely get any of this magic hoodoo? You got off lucky during your encounter with Tib--er… Big T before--but can you say the same thing for your pal?

“Stan, you don’t have to narrate out loud…” Says Sybil, concern in her eyes.

Just work with me here. You could go the other route, too--forget magic in general and use what you already know. Hell, the guys outside can probably show you the way to at least TWO of these philanderers--not a bad deal in your opinion!

You take a seat on the side of the bed to steady yourself. It’s safe, sure, but that’s like refusing a car ride to the next town over because you’re scared of crashing. Sure, you’ll make it there eventually, but that takes forever! Plus this is California--only jerks walk to get places.

Standing up, you ball your fists and nod. It’s gotta be you. You weren’t planning on sticking around here forever anyways--if you get caught you just leave a little early. Easy!

“What about that whole ‘getting your soul trapped for eternity’ thing?” Ly asks.

Well, when you think about it again that does sound like it sucks. Syb, what’s the chance of that happening?

“Very maybe possibly.”

Works for you.

>CONTD.

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>>4596988
Taking another deep breath, you glance back at the doll. Where’s this tea?

“Kitchen cupboard, next to the lentils and organic peyote.” You blink. “Don’t act surprised--can’t contact my spirit animals without it.”

Sure. Ducking through the bedroom door you emerge once again into the living room/kitchen combo--the interior somehow MORE cluttered than you remember it being. What gives, Syb?

“Hm?” The doll floats through the doorway and surveys the scene. “This is what it always looks like--helps me locate things easier. Order in chaos, and all of that. You don’t remember?”

Man, you need to stop drinking--you can barely remember what you CAN’T remember any mo--

Your thought is interrupted by an object crashing into the front door! Slamming against the wall, the door flies open revealing none other than Art, rifle aimed directly at your forehead!

“Stan! Woah, crap… I was wondering what happened. You’ve been in here for a while and--”

Seeing the floating doll, Art fumbles with the rifle in his hands, letting out a surprised yelp.

“DOLL!”

He rolls to the side, then fires a shot in the floating doll’s direction. The bullet goes wide and tears through a stack of notebooks sending papers flying into the air!

Woah, woah, WOAH! EASY!

Too late. The doll’s eyes glow red as the air around you heats up. Art barely dodges to the side as an orb of light forms at Sybil’s side and arcs towards him, taking out an old coat rack stuffed with various outerwear. As Art prepares to fire again and Sybil charges with more energy, you find yourself diving into the center and taking charge of the situation!

SIMMER DOWN!

>CONTD.

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>>4596990
The energy of the room dissipates as Art and Sybil, both resembling kids who were caught stealing from the cookie jar, do just that. Dividing the two with your arms, your eyes narrow in frustration.

Art, you almost killed Sybil. Sybil, you almost killed a fan. Ly, you didn’t really do anything--props to you.

“Shucks.” Ly says bashfully.

You take a deep breath as the two offenders recover from their brief battle, then make your way to the kitchen.

“I… I uh…. Didn’t know you made an effigy.” Art sputters, returning his rifle to its sling. “Episode 22, right? Elves and Effigies? Sorry about that… Love uh… Love the podcast.”

“Yes, well… I think I acted a little too hastily too. I’d never be able to forgive myself for disintegrating a fan--you must be Stan’s erm…”

“Hostage, yea. I’m Art. Art Berry. Pleased to er…”

“Yes, the pleasure’s all mine.”

The two hover in their own corners for a while, neither daring to move an inch. You groan as your cursory search of the cupboards bears fruit: inside next to the lentils sits an ancient tea kettle along with a small metal box. Jackpot.

Fishing the components out of the cupboard, you return to the World’s Most Awkward Mexican Standoff. Art sweats profusely while Sybil’s doll floats idly in place, somehow adopting an embarrassed expression. Christ.

You rap the metal box and the kettle together a few times to get their attention, and thankfully it WORKS!

“Oh, you found them! Get the teabag out of the box, Stan, we’ll whip it up in no time.”

As you pop open the metal box revealing a small stack of yellowed teabags, Art backpedals towards the door, grasping the wall for guidance.

“I uh… You know what? I’ll just let the guys know you’re okay. They were looking for a screwdriver, but I uh... I think we can manage.”

The operative grabs the front door knob and carefully shuts the door--a faint ‘love the showwww’ squeezing through the door’s crack before closing. Well, looks like you met Art.

Sybil blinks a few times, still recovering from the meeting. “Looks like I did. Update, Stan--I don’t think he’s malicious anymore, but his aim and trigger discipline leaves much to be desired.”

Yea, he’s a goof, what are ya gonna do? With a shrug you toss one of the bags into your open mouth and start chewing. Tangy!

“Stan, NO-”

>CONTD.

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>>4596992
A few minutes of scolding later, Sybil decided to take over the tea brewing process leaving YOU with the task of…

Relaxing. Yep. She even said you were free to use the shower and borrow some clothing if your coveralls were getting gross. Which uh… They kinda are. Kicking your legs back and forth on the side of Sybil’s bed, you contemplate what to do with your downtime--Lord knows you haven’t been getting a lot of it.

“Carpe diem, cupcake!” Ly says. Yea, you could go for some fish too.

What do? Syb said the tea would be done in about TWO choices or so, whatever the hell THAT means.

>Take a shower and (Wash work clothes OR Change Clothes)
>Talk to someone (Syb, Ly, Art, Trio, Other)?
>Grab a snack
>WRITE-IN

>>4596996
>Take a shower and Change Clothes
Can't be a cool hero in dirty coveralls.
>Grab a snack

>>4596996
>>4597006
+1

>>4596996
>Take a shower and wash work clothes.
>Grab a snack.
It feels wrong to not be in our signature outfit. We'll show them the true might of a sanitation professional (with sick parkour skills and BONE POWERS)!

>>4596996
>take a shower and wash work clothes
>get a snack

sweet , sweet precious downtime

>>4596996
>Take a shower and Change Clothes
>Grab a snack
can we keep the hat on though, feels wrong to not have it on.

>>4597006
>>4597016
>>4597099
>>4597176
>>4597262
For those looking to change clothes: you will have a chance to specify what clothes you'd like to change into, so don't worry! I'll be back around 12AM UTC, so keep on votin'!

>>4597006
>>4597016
>>4597262
>Shower and CHANGE

>>4597099
>>4597176
>Shower and CLASSIC STAN COSTUME

Snacks, too. Writing!

>>4597262
The hat is definitely an option!

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>>4597006
>>4597016
>>4597099
>>4597176
>>4597262
Taking a deep breath, you consider what to do with the first bit of free time you’ve had in… Well…

A while. Feels good to finally be taking a load off, especially since you’re apparently about to take a mystical field trip to the hornet’s nest. You take in the quiet around you for a moment, basking in the freedom of not having to do anything, at least for a little while.

Off near the kitchen you hear the voices of Art and Sybil--the former barely hiding his excitement, the latter trying their best to keep up appearances. Best not to get involved.

Out the window you hear the clanking of metal against metal along with the occasional string of swears, followed by laughs. Sounds like The Trio have stuff under control, whatever that stuff is. You shrug--whether it’s a suped-up engine or a car bomb doesn’t matter--you’ll just have to check when you come back.

IF you come back.

Taking off your Evening Sanitation Coordinator cap, you run your gloved hand through your messy hair--frowning at how dry and tangled it’s gotten over the last few hours. You glance down at the rest of your ensemble--dirt, blood, mud, bone dust… Geologists would have a field day analyzing all of the garbage stuck to your coveralls. Even worse, they’re still slightly damp from your trip through the drainage pipes the night before--not exactly comfortable with how cold it’s been.

It’s decided. Hopping to your feet with a muffled squeak against the carpet, you make your way to the bathroom to borrow the shower. Art and Sybil are still chatting as you duck into the bathroom, which thankfully looks much cleaner than when you first arrived--looks like Sybil did a bit of cleaning. Hey, there’s even a few new towels!

Like a fish shedding its skin, you unzip the coveralls and let them fall to the tile floor, your boots, gloves, and inventory items following shortly after. Man, you were carrying a LOT!

“Pretty sure fish don’t shed their skin, cupc-” DDAUGH! LY! WHAT THE HELL!?

You’re still in your undergarments, but you cover up anyways! RULE 1, DUDE! RULE 1!
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m stuck here, I can’t help it!” Ly stammers, fumbling for an excuse! Just great, you forgot all about this crap. What the hell are you supposed to do on dates?!

“I uh… Well… Should I start humming?”

Damn it. Just… Focus on something else. ANYTHING else.

“Yea, of course! Sorry!” Ly yelps, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

You let out a frustrated growl. Can’t have ANYTHING nice, can you?

“For what it’s worth, you look kinda cute without the covera--”

DUDE, CAN IT!

>CONTD.

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>>4597751
Ly breaking Rule 1, the skeletons, your job, injuries, stress--all of those negative things wash away as the warm water from the shower nozzle trickles through your messy hair, over your freckled face, down your bruised body and into the drain. You take your time scrubbing the dirt and grime from your body with a scrub that smells like peaches--say what you will about Sybil, she knows how to pick her soaps.

As you move on to the shampoo part of the shower, you reflect on everything that’s happened so far--how your night shift went to night shit, how you were able to defeat one of the lich’s philologies, and all of the people you’ve met who suddenly think you’re some sort of hero.

Closing your eyes to keep the shampoo out, you sigh. What if Sybil was right? What if you just got lucky and you surviving was some sort of cosmic dice roll? What if that shitheel BORIS was there that night and not you? Would you be dead right now? You take a mouthful of water in your mouth, swish it around, then spit it out.

What about your other pals? Your parents? Can everything go back to normal after all of this? Do you even want to BE an Evening Sanitation Coordinator anymore? You lean your head against the shower wall and let the water run down your neck. What the heck are you doing?

“For what it’s worth, I-” AAAUGH! WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY LAST UPDATE?!

>CONTD.

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>>4597754
“Stan, I talk to your friggin’ REPRODUCTIVE SYSTEM DAILY. And I’m sorry, but you seem like you can use a pep talk.”

Frustrated, you cross your arms over your chest and gesture for Ly to go ahead. Why even MAKE those damn rules...

“Look, Stan, I know things look grim. Confusing. Hell, this whole talking thing still freaks me out.” Ly begins. You put a dollop of conditioner in your hair as your bones continue.

“But you… You’ve handled it. Even when something seems too stupid to work, you come out clean on the other side like a runner at the end of the race. I can tell you’re scared--your Nervous System’s been pretty open about that--but you’ve gotta understand, Stan…”

Ly pauses, searching for the right words.

“We’re all rootin’ for ya. We know you’ll get to dat finish line, even if you trip a few times on da way.” Bubbles of shampoo and conditioner drip out of your hair and into the drain.

“Don’t ever forget that you’ve got people cheering you on, Stan. Even if you can’t hear ‘em.”

What, like your digestive system or something?

“Oh, DeeGee adores you. Nervous System won’t admit it, but they like ya too. Muscles knows you’re gonna go the extra mile, and even your Pancreas passes along its regards. As for your biggest fan…”

Oh boy, here it comes.

“You’re makin’ it difficult for me. You’re one of a kind, Stan. I don’t always agree with your decisions, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t impressed.”

You feel one of your hands involuntarily pat you on the shoulder.

“You’re never alone, cupcake. And we’ll be with ya’ ‘til the bitter end, stupid ideas be damned.”

A smile finds its way onto your face as the water continues to drench your hair. You spend a few more wordless minutes letting it wash over you, then turn it off.

>CONTD.

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>>4597756
Wrapped in a set of towels, you emerge from the bathroom in a cloud of steam and pleasant scents. The conversation in the kitchen seems to have died down, so you retreat immediately to Sybil’s room and shut the door behind you.

A plate with a PB and J sandwich sits at the desk along with a glass of clear liquid and ice. Man, that’s a lot of vodka even for you!

“Pretty sure it’s called ‘water’, cupcake.” Ly explains. Oh, that.

As you take a sip from the glass you see a note underneath the plate. Careful not to disturb the sandwich, you lift the plate just enough to fish the note out from underneath and read it.

Stan, thought you might be hungry, so Art made sandwiches. Feel free to check my closet for spare clothes--pretty sure a lot of them are yours anyways. Ritual’s almost ready! ~Syb

You put the letter back on the table, then turn your attention to the closet. She’s not wrong--you can’t remember how many times you’ve crashed here after a night of drinking.

Seriously, you can’t. Do you need help?

“Absolutely, but we’ll deal with that after the current predicament, okay?” Ly asks.

Yea, sure.

Pulling open the closet, you scan the interior for suitable clothing.

As for what you find…

>CONTD.

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>>4597757
>That’s up to YOU to decide! What should Stan’s new outfit be? Feel free to draw OR give a description, I’ll put pieces together from there!

>>4597757
Something tells me Sybils closet is a bit goth oriented.
>A sick ass hoodie with a SKULL on it
>some comfy but fairly tight black jeans, for maximum parkour movement
>Do those boots have spikes in them? I dont think Doc Marten would approve of what Sybil has done to those boots, but they sure look like will kick some ass.

>>4597798
+1

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>>4597798
+1 but with the hat. It looks cooler when you wear a hat with a hoodie anyway

>>4597751
Can it, Ly, we look cute with the coveralls too!

>>4597757
I've noticed Ly didn't mention Stan's liver among her fans...

>>4597763
I like >>4598000

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>>4597757
>>4598000
But let's also add some badass shades.

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>>4597798
>>4597965
>>4598000
>>4598183
>>4598188
Looks like we've reached some sort of consensus--Lookin' flashy, Stan!

>>4598183
Stan's liver wasn't available for comment--they always learned that if you can't say something nice...

>>4598188
Preem as hell.

WRITING!

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>>4597798
>>4597965
>>4598000
>>4598183
>>4598188
It takes you a few minutes of rummaging around to find rags that fit--being one of those mutants with an insane metabolism, Syb was given the vertical advantage while you… Well, you’re stuck with the horizontal. Don’t get Ly started.

Thankfully you don’t have to search long--bushwhacking your way through a jungle of black dresses, black tights, black coats, and bla--well, you get the idea, you manage to find a diamond in the rough--a sick-ass hoodie with a SKULL on it. You hold it out for Ly to take a look, who responds with a thumb’s up. Topical, right?

“Topical indeed.” He replies. Smiling, you shove your arms and head into the proper holes--no wait, that’s where your arm goes. Damn it.

Okay, you shove your arms and head into the proper holes on your second try, then snag a pair of Sybil’s black jeans from black jean drawer #4. It takes some doing, but they fit! You do a couple of quick high-knees to test flexibility, then grin. Barely any resistance at all.

Pushing past rows of sneakers and knee-high boots, your attention is caught by an anomaly--a pair of black, sturdy boots with SPIKES.

Oh hell yea, come to momma.

Last but not least you snag a pair of shades from one of the in-closet shelves--Syb mentioned she had some of your clothes--you hope to Hell and High Heaven that these belong to you.

Shrugging, you plop them on your face anyways, shooting the mirror some gun fingahs. Pew pew!

“Lookin’ savvy, cupcake.” Ly says, admiring the new you. Hold on, Ly, you’re missing the final touch.

You left your coveralls and boots in the bathroom, but you took one thing with you--like a strawberry on a shortcake you carefully place your Evening Sanitation Coordinator cap on your head and adjust it to a roguish angle.

Oh yea, that’ll do it.

Achievement Unlocked: Sharp-Dressed STAN

It takes you a few minutes to gather up your inventory again, but wow, somehow you were able to fit it all! These jean pockets are HUGE!

>CONTD.

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>>4599138
Downing the rest of the water and shoving the peanut butter and jelly sandwich in your mouth, you kick open the bedroom door and make your long-awaited debut. You find Art reclining on the couch while Sybil--er, her DOLL form, is busy taming a noisy tea kettle--the one you found earlier.

“Sounds like a good episode to me.” Art says, adjusting a pillow behind his head, helmet resting on his side. A crystal ball sits in the middle of the now-cleared coffee table.

“Of course it does to you, but it’s hard to overcome how overdone the premise is. Reptilians in the sewer? Shame I misplaced all of my recorded--”

Yoooo, you say, lazily sauntering into the center of the room. The two turn towards you and blink a few times, taking in the sights.

“Stan! I know the saying goes ‘the clothes make the man’, but in this case… I’d say the woman makes the clothes!” Says the doll, clapping its arm stubs together excitedly. Art shoots you a grin.

“Yea, you almost look human now.”

Shut up.
Munching on the sandwich, you take a seat on the far side of the couch from Art, who moves his legs to give you more room. Sybil sighs as the kettle finally quiets down, then turns back to you.

“The tea’s just about ready. I’ve described the plan to Arthur and your… New associates--they mentioned wanting to speak to you before you started your journey.”

Kept you waiting, huh? She’s acting like you’re going to the moon. What’s the big deal? The doll furrows its brow at you.

“The big deal, Stan, is that you’ll be alone in the lion’s den with a fraction of your power.”

Art nods, then gestures to the ball on the coffee table.

>CONTD.

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>>4599139
“Sybil says that we’ll be able to watch through this thing, but not communicate. That’s why we’re planning things out now.”

You find yourself frowning. So what, you’ll just be dropped in with nothing?

“More or less--you’ll be exploring via an astral projection--a projection of your soul and consciousness. The good news is that you’ll have far more maneuverability in this state--something akin to floating. Even better, walls shouldn’t be much of a problem in your… Ethereal state.”

Sounds peachy, but what’s the bad news? Why didn’t she start with the BAD?!

“The bad news is just that--you’re a projection of your consciousness. That means no muscle, no powers, and most importantly you’ll stand out like a firecracker in a church to anyone with even the faintest magical ability. Think of yourself as a firefly--small, fast, yet easily spotted.”

“And swatted.” Art adds. Yea, you’ll keep that in mind, thanks.

You lean in closer to the crystal ball, accidentally letting a glob of jelly drip onto it. Whoops.

“Any questions before we get started?”

Your mind floods with several candidates.
>Getting in is fine, but how do I get out?
>Anything in particular I should be looking for?
>How long do I have?
>WRITE-IN

>>4599144
>Getting in is fine, but how do I get out?
>Anything in particular I should be looking for?

>>4599144
>Getting in is fine, but how do I get out?
>Anything in particular I should be looking for?

>>4599144
>Getting in is fine, but how do I get out?
>Anything in particular I should be looking for?
>How long do I have?

>>4599335
>>4599430
>>4599596
In retrospect I realized that this isn't that much of a choice--all of this info is kinda necessary. Sorry, folks--won't happen again. We only go for the HARD-HITTING AAA Game choices in Bones Quest!
Writing!

>>4600118
It happens. Takes a while to get a feel for the kind of choices you should be providing, especially for a new QM.

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>>4599335
>>4599430
>>4599596
Uh, yes! SEVERAL. For starters, how long is this vision quest thing even going to work? Should you bring a sack lunch? Sybil frowns and starts mumbling calculations to herself.

“Guess it depends on how strong that tea is, huh?” Art guesses, scratching the back of his neck. Sybil breaks out of her trance and nods.

“Exactly, that and Stan’s concentration. People with experience in the arcane arts and those with high mental fortitude can sometimes project for days, even weeks!”

The doll glances at you with a look that you can’t really decipher.

“In this case, I’d wager minutes--barely an hour at the most. Time will be of the essence.”

You feel kinda insulted, but you can’t put a finger on why. Shaking your head, you move on to your next question--what should you be looking for anyways? Spellbooks? Planners? Diaries?

“Those do sound like good reading material, Stan, but given the short amount of time you have I don’t think you’ll have enough time to get much out of any literature lying around.”

“Yea, plus you probably won’t be able to turn any pages either, right? So that’s a no-go.” Art adds.

“Correct.” The doll continues, floating over to the crystal ball on the coffee table. “We’ll have to settle with who or what you see and what you hear.” Sybil points an arm stub at the pile of recording equipment set up next to the window. “We’ve got everything focused on the crystal ball, so while I keep that link open, Arthur will record. Hopefully we’ll have plenty of material to review.”

Art rises to his feet and meanders over to the recording equipment, then starts checking all of the connected wires.

“Don’t forget what Gene said--apparently the whole gang is there for a meeting!” He says, flicking on a power strip. “If you can sit in on that you’ll be sure to hear or see something educational, right?”

The doll nods. “Yes, but do so with extreme caution. You’re dealing with a lich older than most governments--if he can’t see an astral projection in his midst, I don’t know WHO can.”

Pfft, you avoid liches every day of your life--how is this any different? You jot down an imaginary shopping list in your head--meeting, gang, possibly diaries. Bing bang boom.

>CONTD.

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>>4600185
As the pieces start falling into place in your mind, you feel the familiar tingle of Ly’s presence in your skull.

“Solid plan, teach, but how are we gettin’ out when all of this is said n’ done?” Ly asks.

“We?” The doll replies, raising a yarn eyebrow. What, no room for Ly? Art glances between the two of you, oblivious.

“I hadn’t thought of that. Ly, since it will be Stanley’s astral projection there’s a chance that you might not tag along. On the other hand…” She trails off, thinking on the possibilities, “You might both be projected. I suppose it depends on whether or not your skeleton is alive enough to warrant a separate entity…”

“Hear dat, Stan? I’m special. Ly says, smugness dripping off of every word. Yea, yea, get a bumper sticker.

“In any case, leaving is as simple as giving us a sign.” The doll leans against the crystal ball and continues. “When you’re ready to leave, you make a signal and we will wake you up.”

Just like that? You’re a pretty heavy sleeper--what are they going to do, splash water on your face?

“Astral projection takes you into a deeper state of rest than the usual cat nap… Unfortunately we’ll probably have to resort to more… Direct… Methods.” explains Sybil. She gestures to Art who reaches behind the couch and pulls out a large foam bat, slapping it against his palm a few times with a grin.

Well okay then.

>CONTD.

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>>4600188
Great, you think you’re getting the idea now. One last thing--what kind of signal can you perform as an asteroid ghost thing?

“You should still retain the ability to speak and move--we’ll be watching and listening through your eyes and ears, of course, so anything works.”

“Might want to keep it recognizable, though--it might take us a little bit to wake you up, so it shouldn’t be too complex.” Art adds, poking the crystal ball with the bat. Hey, careful with that!

“Arthur’s right. It might be difficult to perform certain tasks if your projection’s in the process of being shackled and/or devoured, so short and simple is probably best.” Sybil states.

“Now that I think about it--I’ve never been able to observe the effects of pain and suffering on an astral projection… Maybe the worst case scenario might still be educatio--”

Uh, nope! Not gonna happen!

“Of course, Stan.” She continues, snapping out of it, “That would be horrible. If you were caught we would cut the crystal ball connection, of course. Totally out of the question, yep!” The doll shakes its head vigorously as Art leaps in with a question.

“So uh… What is the signal, Stan? We might as well pick something you’re capable of.”

Yea, thanks. You’re not about to quote the Hippopotamus Oath or something like these dorks.

What SHOULD be the signal to pull you out of there?
>Some sort of safe word. Simple! (WRITE-IN the word)
>A hand gesture maybe? Something obvious? (WRITE-IN the gesture)
>Do something with your eyes! Blinking, rolling? (WRITE-IN the eye movement!)
>Something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT! (WRITE-IN)

>>4600191
>Some sort of safe word. Simple!
AAAHHHHHHH GET ME OUT!

>>4600201
This made me spit coffee all over my keyboard. Damn you, anon.

>>4600191
>Some sort of safe word. Simple! (WRITE-IN the word)
OHFUCKOHSHITOHFUCK!

>>4600201
>>4600232
Simple, yet classic! Writing!

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>>4600201
>>4600232
You mull your options over in your head for a few minutes. A good signal is visible, to the point, and can’t be easily picked up by the enemy.

How about something like “AHHHHHH GET ME OUT!”?

Sybil and Art stare at you speechless. Or what about “OHFUCKOHSHITOHFUCK!!”?

The two remain silent for a little longer, then shoot a glance at each other.

“I don’t know her that well, but I think that’s the best we’re gonna get.” Art murmurs.

“I know her very well and I agree. Anything else might make her confused.”

You lean back on the couch, smug grin on your face. First try, baby--the genius of it all is how simple it is!

“What about my signal?” Ly asks impatiently.

He can get his own--you already came up with yours! Sybil crosses her doll arms over her chest and sighs.

“Ly, considering your relationship with Stan you’ll most likely be pulled out when she does. That said, if you DO have separate projections, don’t stray too far from each other.”

Why’s that?

“Best case: You or Ly will get left behind when the other snaps back to reality.”

And worst?

“One soul returning to two bodies? Hard to say. I can’t be sure, but it might result in tearing the fabric of reality like tissue paper. Just don’t do it, please.”

Alright, alright, you’ll leave the fabric of reality alone. For now.

>CONTD.

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>>4600571
The doll clasps its arm stubs together and smiles.

“Excellent. Get yourself comfortable, Stan. Don’t want you waking up ahead of schedule.” Sybil nods at Art, who begins the painstaking process of turning on every piece of recording equipment set up in her living room. As you stretch out on the couch, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re forgetting something.

With near perfect timing, your thoughts are interrupted by a loud series of THUMPs on the apartment wall outside. Sybil and Art hop in surprise--the latter accidentally knocking a microphone off of its stand and onto the carpet.

“DANG IT!” He groans, stooping to pick it up. What the hell was that?

Sybil floats to the window and peers through the blinds, then turns to you with a frown on her face.

“Your… Associates. Looks like they wanted to get your attention.”

Oh right, they wanted to talk to you! You hop off of the sofa and make for the door.

“Don’t take too long, Stan--we have no idea what our timeframe is here!”

You’re just chewing the fat with the guys--no sweat! You shoot a gun finger at Sybil, then duck outside. From the front of Sybil’s apartment you spy Wyatt T and Stripes still waist-deep in the van’s engine surrounded by an army of tools and tune-up implements. Gene leans on the railing watching the two--a half-smoked cigarette hanging limp in his mouth.

“Boss.” He mutters, not looking your way. Rude!

>CONTD.

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>>4600571
You join him on the railing, staring past the two greasers by the van and out at the rest of Clearwater. Colossal plumes of smoke trail into the sky peppered with streaks of lightning and the shapes of winged creatures. You let out a low whistle.

“Ain’t it somethin’.” Gene says, though it doesn’t really sound like a question.

Somethin’ BANANAS. How the heck did this all happen so quickly anyways? You were passed out for like an hour, tops--you expected a bit more resistance, that’s for sure! Gene shrugs.

“Da’ Boss had a plan, that’s for sure. When me, Wyatt, and Marion--er, Stripes were brought back, Rocky already had jobs for us to do--targets, areas, yada yada. Pretty sure the other groups did as well.”

The greaser glances at you, puffing out a plume of smoke.

“How do you figure he knew so much about this town before he started takin’ over?”

Good question!
>He was conscious all of those years! He wasn’t really dead!
>He was getting help from someone! Or someTHING!
>He looked Clearwater up online! Gotta be!
>WRITE-IN

>>4600578
>He was conscious all of those years! He wasn’t really dead!

Thats my bet at least

>>4600578
>He was getting help from someone! Or someTHING!

>>4600578
>He was getting help from someone! Or someTHING!

>>4600584
>He never died!
>>4600892
>>4600900
>Outside assistance

The conspiracy deepens! Writing!

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>>4600584
>>4600892
>>4600900
You furrow your brow as your face is whipped by an ash-filled breeze. Gene’s barking up a tree, sure, but which one’s the right one?

What if.... What if Tim never really died? What if, after whatever happened to him back in the Stone Age, he didn’t actually go away? You glance at Gene, trying to gauge his reaction. All you get is a shrug.

“Oh yea, your rent-a-cop pal gave us the short version. Think you’re off a few years, though, dolly. It’s possible, though--we never got a chance to show off, but us boneheads are pretty hard to snuff out.” He says it with a hint of pride, grinning behind his cigarette. You shrug. Wasn’t too hard for you.

“Exactly--meanin’ you seem to need a special someone to get the job done properly, especially back then.” The greaser shrugs. “Guess those ‘special someones’ were in short supply back then.”

You return the shrug and sigh. Going back to your original idea--would Tim be able to do anything if someone smashed him up, but didn’t kill him? Like… Talk? Roll around?

“It’s definitely possible, boss. Not easy when you’re all smashed up, but where there’s a will…” The greaser’s voice trails off like cigarette smoke.

Man, staying awake for two-thousand years? That’s a whole lotta time to make an evil plan. Gene nods. “You said it, sister.”

>CONTD.

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>>4601023
Your eyes light up as a new idea comes to mind! It doesn’t matter if he was conscious or not, Gene!

The skeleton puffs another cloud into the air. “Oh yea? Why’s that?”

Because the big guy had HELP. Backup, an ace in the hole, pals! Finishing his cigarette and letting the butt tumble to the parking lot, Gene looks at you like he was judging a project at a science fair. Brings back bad memories of Sybil’s High School project: “The Effects of Electrodes on the Human Brain”--you’re still disappointed that you never got that cheese she kept promising you.

“I considered that one too. You have any people in mind? Local crazies? Townsfolk with a vendetta?”

You shake your head. Oh no, this goes deeper than that. Deeper than Clearwater, deeper than the State. No, only a select few could be capable of putting the town on a silver platter for the big guy…

“And those few are?” Gene asks, interest piqued.

Your short list includes aliens, reptilians, and possibly sewer mutants. You spit the last candidate out with a shiver, reminded of your harrowing escape from the drainage pipes. Gene sighs, then turns his back to the rail.

“Well, I was with you in the beginning. Guess the jury's still out with all of the weird crap going on, but still--you might be onto something with that ‘backup’ idea.”

Oh yea, because he’s such an expert. What makes him so sure anyways?

“Just a hunch. Seems like this whole thing’s too big for one guy to set up, that’s all, especially a guy almost older than writing.”

Frowning, you gaze upwards at the sky, eyes stinging from the ash. So many questions, so little time. Why did Tim resurrect at the Dog Bone Factory of all places? Why Clearwater? Seems a bit out of place, doesn’t it?

“Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe when you’re on your voyage or whatever you can check for us, eh?”

Say, that’s not a bad idea! Gene winks, running a bony hand through his hair.

>CONTD.

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>>4601024
You blink, realization hitting you like a baseball bat to the face. Right, the ritual! You’ve gotta hustle! You lean in closer to Gene--did he just want to shoot the shit, or did he actually want to tell you something?

“Right, almost forgot. No big deal, but the guys and I know you’re gonna be trying to pay the bosses a visit up there.” Gene points upwards and your eyes linger on the silhouette of the floating fortress. Yep, that’s the plan.

“Then I won’t bash ears for too long--got a request for ya.” You raise an eyebrow. Wow, that was quick.

“No sweat, not gonna ask you to grab souvenirs or anything, but when you’re up there and if you see our boss Rocky…” The skeleton begins, drumming his phalanges on the railing, “Let us know if he or anyone else mentions anything about a guy named ‘Cliff’.”

Huh. THAT sounds like a story right there. Who is he? Gene shakes his head, not bothering to make eye contact with you.

“Long story short, he was our old boss… Before Rocky and before we all got back outta’ bed, ya dig?”

Like.... In the Greaser Times? Gene grins.

“Yea, sure, back then. The guys and I figured that if everyone else got a ticket back, well… Might want to see if Cliff’s kickin’ too.” You stroke your chin, committing the name to memory. Clint...

“CLIFF.” Gene says, raising his voice. Yea, yea, you’ve got it. You’ll do some digging.

The greaser looks you in the eyes and smiles. “Thanks, boss. I know it’s a bite asking you for things this early, but we’re glad you can get with it.”

Hey, no promises, but you’ll try. Gene nods, then waves you off. “Keen. Your wheels oughta be ready by the time you come back. Later, gator.”

Yea, in a while. You wave to Gene before ducking back indoors, leaving him and the others outside.

>CONTD.

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>>4601025
Last update of the evening, but I'll check in tomorrow!

The door shuts behind you with a clang. As you stroll back in Art finishes placing a camera on a tripod and flicks the power switch. The camera comes to life with a jaunty note and the operative shoots you a thumbs up.

“Ready for your close-up, Stan?”

You shrug. Ready as you’ll ever be. Next to the crystal ball is a cup of dark tea--strands of multicolored steam escaping from the liquid. As you approach you get a whiff of the tea itself, but the scent is unlike anything you’ve ever smelled before!

“I was gonna guess mugwort.” Ly mutters, borrowing your hand to waft the scent. Sybil appears from behind the kitchen counter, incense stick in each arm.

“Close, Ly, but look more easterly. I won’t bore you with the story of how I obtained it, but you won’t find this brand in any grocery store, that’s for sure.” Propping the incense sticks against the crystal ball, the doll looks up at you.

“Showtime, Stan. Drink the tea in one go, then have a lie-down on the couch.” Wait, what if you have to go to the bathroom? Oh no, she’s giving you The Look. Guess you’ll hold it.

“Excellent. Arthur and I will be on stand-by--we’ll rouse you if anything happens on our end. Again, be quick, and be quiet. You too, Ly, if you end up joining her.”

Ly shoots Sybil a quick salute as you pick up the tea. The cup feels warm against the palm of your hands, and even breathing in the faint trails of vapor causes your vision to swim. Looks like this is it.

Any last words or actions before you get this party started?
>Nope. Nada.
>Yes, actually. WRITE-IN

>>4601026
>Yes, actually. WRITE-IN
"If I die, bury me with Blood Sucking Freaks 3"

>>4601075
+1

>>4601075
>>4601432
Locked in and WRITING!

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>>4601075
>>4601432
One more thing, you begin, bringing the teacup towards your mouth.

“Anything, Stan.” Sybil nods as she takes her position next to the crystal ball.

If I die, bury me with Blood Sucking Freaks 3. Collector’s Edition if possible--the one with the reversible cover.

“Sure, we’ll place an order on NetMart the minute you go under.” Art mumbles, fiddling with the video camera.

Or they can just grab the one from your apartment! Duh!

“Of course, Stan. Now please… The tea?” Sybil asks with a placating tone. Sure, sure, but we’re gonna have a talk about Art’s snarkiness when you get back. With one last breath to cool the tea down, you raise the cup to your lips and drink the whole thing down. The concoction warms your throat from beginning to end, then spreads from there to your arms, hands, fingers, feet…

“Remember, Stan, focus on tortress. Thabout th tress!” The dolays.

What theappenig? Your visswims and colors go oucontrast. Woaah.

You fourself on the couch, but yovements feel delayed, like lag in aline game.

You bli”FORTRESS, STAN!” Sybil yethings go dark, and you feel youbeing whisked away to an

>TD.

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>>4601973
It takes you awhile to realize you’re moving--your mind and vision are still swimming as you regain control of your senses. You’re surrounded by a blur of red, yellow, black and white--the colors contracting and expanding around you like a kaleidoscope. Looking downwards you see that you’re giving off light too--your body shines with a yellow glow not unlike a lantern on a foggy night.

Focus, Stan. The fortress. Think about the FORTRESS.

You feel yourself shift in midair as you focus on your destination--as you squint past the jungle of colors passing by, you realize that you’re looking at Clearwater.

Man, you wish you had a camera.

Slowly but surely you gain more control over your new body--you even manage to pull off a few flips as you accelerate towards what you HOPE is the fortress. Are there any others in Clearwater? You sure as hell hope not.

Your thoughts are answered as the blur of your hometown rapidly shrinks in the distance--the colors replaced by blackness and a steady crackle of what sounds like radio static. The sound grows exponentially along with the blackness--eventually ringing past your ears and into your head. As you feel your whole body resonating with the noise, you feel yourself slow down, then stop.

That’s when you wake up.

>CONTD.

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>>4601975
You find yourself peering upwards into an abyss of dark clouds bordered by rough-hewn stone walls riddled with carvings of skulls, bones, and other Halloween Staples. EERIE! Rising to your feet--well, TRYING to, you realize that you aren’t lying on the floor at all. Rather, you’re floating.

Flapping your arms like a kid in a pool, you manage to bring yourself upright, but find it difficult to stay in one place for long. You drift back and forth in place for a bit before getting the hang of things, bracing yourself against the nearby wall.

Never mind, your hand passes right through it! Tumbling into a lazy somersault, you frantically regain your equilibrium and return upright. Okay, no sweat. You’re here, you kinda know how to get around, and you can pop through walls.

Piece of cake.

Satisfied, you turn around and prepare to begin your ANY % GHOST RUN of the fort!

Aaaaand come face to face with a glowing skeleton.

“Got any smokes?”

What do?
>Scream!
>Attack it! Use uh… Projector claws or something, you don’t know!
>Say something! (WRITE-IN)
>WRITE-IN

>>4601980
>Say something! (WRITE-IN)
"Um, maybe?" Attempt to produce a ghost cigarette.

>>4601993
+1

Going to bed for the night, but I'll check in around 12AM UTC! Thanks as usual for playing along and see you then!

>>4601993
>>4602058
Smoke if ya got em! Writing!

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>>4601993
>>4602058
Swallowing your surprise, you blink a few times in response to the skeleton’s question. Uh… Maybe?

You check your astral projection for any sign of tobacco, but come up empty. You look back at the glowing skeleton and shrug--you’d turn out your pockets if you had 'em!

“Worth a shot.” The skeleton says. “What are you doin’ here anyways, fleshie?”

You uh… Wha? You were just looking for the bathroom. Duh. The skeleton stares at you for a moment, then bursts out laughing.

“Stan, you don’t recognize me?!” What? No, you totally did! You’re such a kidder, Stripes.

“It’s me, Stan. Ly. You know… YOUR bones?”

Huh. You were wondering why the skeleton was roughly your size. And why he wasn’t alerting the guards or deboning you like a trout. Wait a minute--does this mean you’re BONELESS?!

“No, cupcake, I’m still in there. Just uh… Got my consciousness out here for now.”

Neat. Well you’re not about to try and suss out how or why this happened, but it’s nice finally talking face to face… Bones. Ly nods.

“You said it. Totally different style of conversation! And hey, I don’t look half bad, either!”

Your eyes bug out as Ly’s voice echoes down the corridor. Does he HAVE to speak so loudly?

“Whoops, still used to the whole ‘only you and Syb can hear me’ thing. Won’t happen again.”

It sure as hell better not--you’re still not 100% convinced you’re where you’re supposed to be, but you’d bet a crisp dollar that this is the fort! Ly rubs his jawbone in contemplation, then snaps his finger.

“Got an idea--sit tight.”

In what is easily one of the strangest sights you’ve seen all day, your glowing bones backflip into the wall and disappear without a trace. Huddling closer to a relief of a cackling skull, you peer in both directions for any sign of life. Er… UNlife.

Nothing. Either no one’s here, or they’re being extremely quiet.

Or they’re just not in THIS hallway. You mull over the possibilities in your head for a moment or so before a glowing skull rematerializes at your feet.

“Hey cupcake, follow me.” How did he--oh right, you can go through WALLS!

“You think that’s neat, wait until you catch a glimpse of DIS.”

>CONTD.

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>>4603387
You follow Ly down through the stone floor, feeling a rush of cold pressure around your body. Ignoring it, you swim downwards like a dolphin through a black abyss--the fortress’ foundations, you think.

A few moments later your senses return to you, namely your sight. Popping out from the cold and dark of the fortress’ masonry like a spectral gopher, you find yourself staring downwards through thick clouds at Clearwater--its buildings and structures barely bigger than ants--the sea shining crimson under the cloud-covered sun. Hey, you can see your house from here! And the boardwalk!

“Looks like we’re in da’ right spot, unless there’s another flying evil fortress hangin’ around.” Ly quips, popping up next to you. How likely do you think that is?

Your bones shoot you a withering glance, then sigh.

“It’s the right one, Stan--call it instinct. Now come on, teach said we didn’t have a lot of time to spare.”

You and Ly duck back into the masonry and emerge in the hallway you materialized in. Ly continues ahead with his skull barely peeking out of the wall like a shark’s fin, beckoning you to follow. Wait, what the hell? You thought YOU were the leader in this operation!

“If we keep shoutin’ you’ll be the BLEEDER in dis’ operation!” Ly hisses as he swims forward. “Gotta keep an eye out in case dis’ joint has any--”

Your erstwhile companion freezes up, then ducks into the wall. Has any what?

That’s when you see them. A duo of gaunt figures wrapped from head to toe in tattered robes, hovering over the floor not unlike you are. Both of them carry staves in their boney hands, the weapons humming with some sort of energy.

“Stan!” Ly whispers, his hand beckoning you to retreat. You do so and hold your breath as you hear the figures continue floating down the hall. When you feel the coast is clear, you and Ly pop your heads out of the wall.

“Has any guards.” Ly finishes, wiping the imaginary sweat from his brow. You breathe a sigh of relief, then scan the remainder of the corridor. The decor’s the same the whole way down, but at the end of the hall sits a heavy set of metal double doors. You point them out to Ly who grins.

“Good thing we don’t need a key, huh?”

You can say that again. Not a lot of hidey-holes in this place, that’s for sure. The two of you float onwards, stopping in front of the door before moving forward.

“You check.” Ly commands, watching the hall behind you. Shooting your skeleton a thumbs up, you peek through the door.

You can hardly believe what you see.

>CONTD.

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>>4603388
The doors lead to a central chamber several stories high--you crane your neck to see how high up it goes, but the angle you’re at makes it tricky to get a good look.

That’s not what gets your attention, though. Neither do more of the floating sentries making their way up and down the chamber, OR the eight foot tall freaks clad from head to toe in spiked black armor like the guys standing right next to the door. Their maces look scary, sure, but no… The winner sits in the middle like a giant hourglass.

This one, however, doesn’t use sand--stretching above and below you for several stories, the central fixture sits almost fit to burst with piles of bones.

HUMAN bones.

Trying not to tip off the door sentries, you watch as the human remains lazily float upwards--destination unknown.

You feel Ly’s presence appear below you and lo and behold, there he is! Opening his mouth to talk, he quickly reconsiders when he notices the guards on the other side of the doors. Gesturing for you to come back, he disappears behind the door once more and you follow.

The two of you drift a safe distance down the hallway from the door before trying to process what you saw. That’s… That was a LOT of bones, Ly.

“Guess our wizard doesn’t have to worry about running out any time soon. That’s a lot of guards, too, cupcake. You think he’s stockpiling?”

Without a doubt. You were wondering where all of the other humans are--guess you found them. Your voice trails off on the last word as you glance upwards… This is, well….

This is not groovy, Ly.

Your bones nod. “Couldn’t agree more, but there’s nothing we can do about those bones right now, right?” You respond by poking your finger through a carving of a horned skeleton on the wall. Not unless you develop psychic powers, no. Damn it, Sybil should be here!

“She woulda been picked out in an instant, Stan. Our lack of ability is keepin’ us alive here!” Ly argues, trying to keep his voice down. You shrug. Guess so.

You poke your head through the wall, but don’t see anything apart from… Well… Wall. For a moment you could swear you saw what looked like a chicken leg, but... Nah.

“Where to? We’ve gotta find something, right?” Ly asks.
You bet, and you know exactly which way you’re headed.

>Up! The bones are heading that way, so maybe that’s where the big cheese is!
>Down! The bones are brought in from there, so maybe there’s people down there?
>Around! We haven’t explored this floor yet--maybe there’s some offices? Do skeletons have offices?
>WRITE-IN

>>4603390
>Up! The bones are heading that way, so maybe that’s where the big cheese is!

Well, lets try and stay stealthy.

>>4603390
>>Up! The bones are heading that way, so maybe that’s where the big cheese is!

>>4603390
>Around! We haven’t explored this floor yet--maybe there’s some offices? Do skeletons have offices?

>>4603426
>>4603441
>Up up and AWAY

>>4603460
Around!

Looks like we're going straight to the top! Writing!

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>>4603426
>>4603441
>>4603460
Ly, where does the final boss always hang out in video games?

Your skeleton contemplates the question as he floats back and forth in the corridor.

“The secret lab in the basement, right?”

No, that’s just Blood Sucking Freaks 1. And okay, Blood Sucking Freaks 2. AND Blood Sucking Freaks Gaiden. But besides those examples, where ELSE?

Ly ponders for a moment, then grins.

“The ROOF.”

Right. So it stands to reason that all of the important crap will be near the top of the fort, right? Ly’s grin falters.

“Stan, this isn’t a game…”

Exactly--it’s reverse mycology--they THINK we’ll be searching below, but they’ll actually be above!

“Didn’t we just say that most final bosses hang out in secret basements, though?”

You said that. This is different. Ly starts to say something else, but pauses.

“You know what, forget it. We probably don’t have much time left anyways--let’s follow your lead.”

Great. Stay close! Adopting a crouched posture, you slip through the wall bordering the Bone Express chamber. You and Ly stick close enough to keep an eye on the way up, but not enough for the sentries to notice you.

You think…

Did bathrobes over there just look your way?

>Roll a 1d100 to head upwards! Nothing to worry about--you’ve got noclip activated! I’ll take the best of three rolls.

Rolled 33 (1d100)

>>4603638

Rolled 72 (1d100)

>>4603638

Rolled 2 (1d100)

>>4603638

>>4603648
>>4603856
>>4603861
Not bad, not bad! Writing!

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>>4604523
You and Ly dip deeper into the walls as you climb just to be safe… Something about those robed jerks rubs you the wrong way. Swimming upwards parallel to what you THINK is the central chamber, you hear the faint sound of something resembling the creaking and croaking of roots--you take a chance and poke your head out of the wall--man, you’re gonna miss being able to do this--and spy one of the mage sentries. Bringing its staff around in a circular motion, you realize that the sound is coming from under its hood--is that German? No wait--the guy’s chanting a SPELL! LY, HIT THE DECK!

You and your bones retreat further into the stone walls, but keep one eye exposed as a trio of red orbs forms above the mage’s head. With a burst of energy they come to life in the form of…

Skulls?

Bobbing in the air like seagulls on the water, the skulls clack their ghostly teeth together excitedly as the mage gestures for them to disperse! The floating skulls respond with a quick CLACK, then shoot through the walls and--

Oh shit, they can go through walls TOO.

“Cheese it, Stan!” Ly whispers, gesturing for you to follow. Don’t have to tell YOU twice! Dipping back into the walls, you and Ly swim with all of the speed the astral projections of your limbs can muster. It’s tough, though--who knows who or what the heck you’re going to bump into? What if this wall you’re swimming through ENDS?

Your worries are interrupted by a blur of red light rushing past your face--oh crap, you felt that thing brush your astral… Tail? Is that what this is called?

Ly?

Your companion is nowhere to be seen. Granted, you’re still swimming through a wall like a speedrunner, but still--you’d think he would stay close or something! Continuing forward through the void, you start to hear a chorus of clacking jawbones--that’s it, screw this.

Like a fish hopping out of a tank, you flop away from the safety of the wall and into a room--as to which one, well… You’re not a walkwaycist, but these corridors all look the same!

This one has some stairs leading upwards, though, so there’s that…

>CONTD.

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>>4604612
Glancing behind you, you notice a set of double doors leading to what you assume is the tube of bones from earlier. You’re not entirely sure you want to go back that way just yet, especially now that there are ghost skulls hanging around.

Speaking of, a familiar skull rises out of the floor in front of you. Jeez, Ly, you were worried si-

No wait, that isn’t Ly. Like a surfacing submarine one of the magical skulls emerges from the floor, clacking its jaw menacingly. You barely have enough time to paddle backwards and towards the stairs before it turns your way--eyes burning with magical flames.

You’re out of there in seconds. Who knows if he saw you or not--you’re not exactly keen on sticking around to find out. You slither up the stairs like an eel, cursing your lack of powers. If you weren’t a friggin’ ghost you would be taking these punks DOWN. Talk about a ripoff!

Then again, you’re not sure how you feel about those mages. Not that you’ve been keeping track, but you’re pretty sure magic’s got you beat today--maybe stealth isn't the worst option here?

You and your train of thought screech to a halt as you reach the top of the staircase and its sentries--two mages like the others downstairs, but with nicer staffs an--

One of them glances your way--a burning yellow eye peeking from under its hood. Whoops.

Diving through the wall, you emerge in… Well, nothing! You flap your arms for a moment before you remember that you can float. Looking downwards you see nothing but fort and storm clouds, while to your right you see what appears to be a staircase exposed to the elements leading into a large, circular tower.

JACKPOT. Skirting around the section where you almost ran into the skeleton mages, you approach the entrance to the tower, but freeze as a feeling akin to static electricity washes over you.

Something’s not right with this area, you’re damn sure of that…

>CONTD.

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>>4604616
As you carefully float forward, you feel trace amounts of resistance forcing you back like a magnet. What the hell? You want to go to the boss’ lair--move it!

With one last push you feel your projection break through--but as you emerge on the other side of whatever it was, you feel a weight on your astral shoulders--like you were just given a ten-ton backpack. What the?

Your thoughts are cut short by the sound of shrieking overhead. Glancing upwards you see what looks like a swarm of birds, or bees congregating around the tower. Squinting, you start to pick out the shapes of not birds, bees, or any other garden-variety critter, but SKELETONS.

FLYING SKELETONS--LOT’S OF EM.

Retreating under the staircase leading to the central tower, you find yourself panting. Why the hell are you PANTING? Looking down at your hands, you notice your projection’s healthy glow starting to flicker--the hell is going on?

You look back at the central tower and frown. Whatever you’re gonna do, you’d better come up with an idea soon. Looks like you’re on borrowed time!

>Get away from this tower--it’s clearly got bad juju.
>Infiltrate the tower from below. Less skeletons there, maybe!
>Infiltrate the tower from the top. Flying skeletons are bad, sure, but that’s gotta be the best spying point!
>WRITE-IN

>>4604618
>Infiltrate the tower from below. Less skeletons there, maybe!
We'll be fiiiiiine.

>>4604618
>Infiltrate the tower from below. Less skeletons there, maybe!

....probably fine.

>>4604618
>Infiltrate the tower from below. Less skeletons there, maybe!

>>4604619
>>4604709
>>4604714
Grab some vegemite, we're headed down under! Writing!

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>>4604619
>>4604709
>>4604714
This sucks. Part of you thinks that while the roof looks pretty crowded, that’s probably where the best spying point is.

Then again… No one expects someone spying FROM UNDER THEM. You give yourself a high-five. Once Ly finds his way back he’ll have to slap you some skin. Er… Astral skin. Bone?

Whatever--you’re starting to feel like you’ve run a marathon--or at least a mile. Time to get to the bottom of things!

Starting with this TOWER! You scan the crowd of flying skeletons above, waiting for your time to move from under the staircase. MAN, this will be hard when you can’t fly! When you’ve judged that the time is right, you make your move!

Wait, you’re already under the stairs and the bottom of the tower is right over there. Never mind. Floating over as stealthily as you can muster, you approach the base of the main tower. With one last exhale, you creep through the masonry, the weight on your shoulders now WAY heavier than before! Okay, you’re close to something, that’s for sure!

For a moment you only see darkness. More stone, you think. Then from the upper right corner of your vision you hear a muffled voice. And another.

Bingo.

You drift upwards slowly, holding your breath as you go. The stone gets brighter and brighter and the voices get clearer and clearer--eventually, you emerge into a bright, wide chamber--a meeting hall.

“AHA!” Rings out a familiar, nasally voice. Your astral projection’s blood freezes in your astral projection’s astral veins!

TIM!

>CONTD.

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>>4604881
“I KNEW IT!” His voice rings throughout the chamber and up to what you guess is where the ceiling is. You freeze in place, not daring to move an inch.

“You came to the meeting late on PURPOSE! When Tibius Maximus beckons, you COME! I WAIT HALF AN HOUR FOR NOBODY!”

Good think you’re under the table--that would have been bad news! You look around at the different sets of feet under the table--each set with a glow similar to KING’S! This has got to be the meeting! Pumping your astral fist, you take quick stock of who’s sitting at the table...

You count at least five guests, not including Tim, who, upon further inspection, doesn’t seem to have feet--only those animal bone and metal tentacles he made when you first met. One of them snakes under the table, but stops a few feet from you. Grody!

“Like I said, had ta’ take care of some business, baby,'' A cool voice replies. Glancing in that direction you see ratty work boots attached to torn, grease-stained blue jeans. A jacket lies drooping behind the chair--leather, from the looks of things.

“If I was your baby, I’d throw myself out with the BATHWATER!” Tim responds, slamming something on the table. “If I catch you running fibuLATE again I’ll tear your soul out and use it as a HOOD ORNAMENT!”

The table goes quiet once more. Awkwaaaaard.

“Did someone say something?!”

Oh crap.

“Arrrrrrrr, time an’ tide wait fer’ no man…” Growls the owner of an old-timey buckled boot and a sand-covered peg leg near the back of the table. “Are we to be squabblin’ all day, or are we talkin’ like men? Present folk excluded, mind.”

You hear an unamused sigh from above the boney feet wrapped in sandals and…

Huh. Don’t really recognize those duds.

“Pardon, sea witch.” The salty voice continues.

INTERESTING!

>CONTD.

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>>4604883
“I WOULD PREFER THE LATTER!” Barks a voice at the end of the table paired with immaculate army boots with olive drab service pants tucked inside. “THE SITUATION TOPSIDE HAS ONLY IMPROVED--I MOVE TO DISCUSS THE NEXT STEP OF THIS OPERATION!”

“Seconded.” You turn in the direction of the gruff voice and find a pair of worn riding boots caked in dust and burrs sitting slightly away from the table--rusty spurs dangling off of the heels underneath the tails of a duster coat.

“What’s wrong, Pecos Pete? Tired of singin’ in the prairie while my boys do all da’ work?” jokes the leather-jacketed pair of feet. If Spurs reacts, you can’t see it. What you CAN see is Tim raising one of his tentacles and bringing it down onto the table.

WHAM!

“SILENCE, you bickering BONEHEADS!” Shouts the lich, “It was I who summoned you here, and it will be I who decides what the topic is!”

The room falls silent. Uncomfortably so. “ExSKELLent! On to the next topic! Happy DAZE here will have to catch up later with what we talked about before--now I DEMAND a status report! How have each of you been SQUANDERING my gifts, hmmm?”

“Pardon, your evilness--” Mumbles a mousey voice from near Tim’s throne, “But I thought we could maybe discuss the status of--”

“You thought WRONG!” Growls Tim, slapping the floor with a tentacle. “You will wait your turn like everyone else, Professor! Or perhaps you’d prefer to wait in the PILLAR OF TIBIUS with the REST of your egg-headed ex-coworkers?? HMM?”

The voice goes silent. You glance past Tim’s tentacles and barely get a look at the owner--whoever they are seems to be wearing a labcoat of some sort, along with a plain black lab skirt and tights. Weird though, no glow like the others...

Whoops, weird angle. This doesn’t make you a pervert, right?

“NOW then, why don’t I decide who shares first, hmm? Who will talus how they’re doing first?”

You bet he’s gonna pick...
>The guy with the leather jacket and work boots! Could this be Rocky?
>The sea witch! Wonder what HER deal is?
>The salty sea dog--he’s practically drilling a hole in the floor with that peg leg!
>The soldier boy. Sounds like a general or something!
>The scientist. Sounds like she was going to say something important!

>>4604885
>The sea witch! Wonder what HER deal is?

>>4604885
>The scientist. Sounds like she was going to say something important!

She seems like a potential ally choice, she might still even be human

>>4604885
>The guy with the leather jacket and work boots! Could this be Rocky?

Rolled 1 (1d3)

>>4604977 (Choice 1)
>>4605131 (Choice 2)
>>4605221 (Choice 3)

Rollin' for tiebreaker and will write based on the winner!

Also found some appropriate theme music courtesy of John Carpenter--check it!
https://youtu.be/_wiwdlu-Zg0

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>>4604977
>>4605131
>>4605221
No clue why my Copy+Paste is acting up today, but screw it

Sea witch, gotta be! You’d be lying if you weren’t a little curious about who they are--you’ve been able to place everyone elses’ stupid archetype, but her?

Well, you certainly won’t be able to tell by hiding under a table.

“Izitha, my pet, you look like something’s on your SPINEnd!” The lich cackles to himself as the owner of the fancy sandals straightens her posture and begins purring in an accent you just can’t place…

“Progress ees the same,” The witch begins, “No intruders from below sea--ze sentinels are making sure of zat. And ze barrier above.”

You hear a series of taps on the table near Tim’s corner. “You don’t sound very thrilled.”

“Oh no, dahling, I am walkeeng on ze sunshine, that’s how threelled I am.” Okay, you’re still not sure what accent that is, but you can tell she’s lying. Girls understand this kind of code!

“Arrr, the witch be speakin’ true--'' Begins the one with the peg leg, “Seas are calmer than a drunken clam, they be.” The lich sighs.

“I was being thorough! I heard they had NAVIES in this age, but apparently I was wrong, okay? I admit it! I’m not perfect! Close to it, but not perfect!”

“Perhaps thees ees a good time to call upon ze Dweller in the Dee-” The witch begins, a glimmer of hope in her voice. Her question is shot down by another slam on the table!

“No! I don’t want to hear anything about summoning daemons, especially that infernal ignoramus IDZNAK!”

The sea witch recoils with a gasp.

“What? I’ll say whatever name I want! IDZNAK, IDZNAK, IDZNAK!” The lich pauses, waiting to be smote down.

>CONTD.

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>>4605683
“See? That dimwit couldn’t do anything to me even if he wanted to--I’ve warded this fortress with seven different barriers! Even if someone or someTHING got through they’d be bursting with harmful residual magick--I wouldn’t wish THAT death on my worst enemy, even IDZNAK!”

Ooh… Is that why your whole body stings? You thought it was that weird soap at Sybil’s…

“I was merely suggesteenk we hold a ritual or two to bring some more sea daemons to thees plane…” The witch says, carefully weighing each word. “My acolytes sit ready in Atlantis--you don’t even have to talk to heem--”

Another slam on the table.

“That sea snake was born with a demonic spoon in hand!” Tim howls, “Look around you! All of this was MY doing! I mandibuilt this whole plan and everything in it by myself! Never did I once rely on those extraplanar egomaniacs!”

Another sigh from the witch. “Fine, fine, just thought I’d ask…”

“You already have ONE sea daemon--use it!” The lich growls. “What of the other tasks I’ve given you?”

“My acolytes tell me ze totem ees working,” The witch explains, “But ze effect on our magickal power might take some time to generate. As long as no unexpected guests drop by, eet should do eet’s job.”

“Arrr, no soul alive can match sails with The Burning Armada!” laughs the skeleton with the peg leg.

“I hope so… Apparently I only get one sea daemon to work weeth.” The witch says, displeasure in her voice.

“Oh come on, BONE't get all emotional!” The lich groans.

>CONTD.

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>>4605686
She doesn’t speak any further--judging by how her legs are crossed you think she might be upset. GIRL CODE!

“Fine, be that way!” The lich shouts. “Who’s next, then? Izzie’s warmed it up for you!”

Is it possible? Could you go two for two on the guessing? Who’s gonna speak next, you think?
>Leather jacket and work boots--Rocky, you think?
>The pirate guy. He seemed a bit annoyed!
>The military dude. Maybe he wants to talk strategy?
>The scientist. She was mentioning something important, right?

>>4605689
>Leather jacket and work boots--Rocky, you think?
Lets figure out what the lay of the land be, that totem thing sounds like a great place for a wrench as well

>>4605689
>Leather jacket and work boots--Rocky, you think?

>>4605783
>>4605806
Looks like Grease is indeed the word! Writing!

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>>4605783
>>4605806
You’re really not sure who’s gonna go next, but you hope it’s the guy with the leather jacket--you could use some info on the greasers…

“Rocky! If you have time to SMOKE at the table then you have time to TALK!” The lich shouts. Hey, you recognize that name! Also, TWO IN A ROW!

“Sure, baby, no need to get frosty!” The faint smell of tobacco drifts past your nostrils as the greaser continues. “Lemme clue you in, boss--Clearwater is all but officially named ‘Bonesville’ courtesy of yours truly. Well… And the rest of the boys, of course.”

Clearly that isn’t received well--the voice attached to the combat boots rings out again in response.

“YOU HAVE ONE HELL OF AN IMAGINATION, MAGGOT. YOU AND YOUR DO-WHOP GROUP HAVE DONE NOTHING BUT RUN DOWN HUMANS AND FRITTER AWAY PRECIOUS OPERATION HOURS!”

“Don’t rattle your cage, pops--it’s not good for ya.” Rocky says with a chuckle. “Your boys might have the center of town locked down, but it’s my guys who are runnin’ the show.”

The skeleton in the army boots rises to his feet, followed by Rocky. Oooooh, FIGHT! The two of them walk towards each other, but right before they get in striking range both of them fly backwards into their seats!

“I always approve of some friendly workplace competition,” begins the lich, “But if I hear ONE MORE THING that isn’t important to me, you’re ALL going back to the bone pile! IN PIECES!”

This shuts them up. Rocky clears his throat, then continues.

“Yea, no need to be a wet rag, General, just givin’ the boss the report!”

The general growls, but says nothing--you hear his fingers digging into the table above.

“Anywho, West Clearwater is ours, baby. Police Station’s emptier than school on Sunday, Hospital’s no longer hospitable, and my boys are busy running down any skinnies still fighting back.”

“Splendid!” Tim begins, reclining backwards. “I suppose that means that we have nothing more to worry about, hm? No more paramilitary goons from that wretched Bone Factory to worry about?”

Rocky’s voice catches. “Well uh… Not many, no. We’re still rounding them up, but--”

SLAM.

“THEN WEST CLEARWATER ISN’T YOURS, YOU HOPELESS HOTRODDER! I won’t tolerate stragglers, squatters, or guerillas of any kind! If you or your hooligans spot ANYONE, you RIB them limb from limb! The more bones we gather, the better!”

>CONTD.

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>>4605950
Rocky takes a puff from his cigarette, then responds.

“I get it, I get it! No sweat, boss, your wish is my command! We’ll kick it into high-gear.”

“See that you do!” Shouts the lich, “That capricious custodian was last seen in YOUR area, that means it’s YOUR duty to hunt her down and bring her to me!”

You raise an eyebrow. Hey, that’s you!

“Got just the pill, baby--gonna solve that problem of yours the minute we’re through here!” Well THAT doesn’t sound good.

“Already got word that some of the boys are on her trail--I’m expectin’ good news when I head back to the ground. Otherwise, well…” The greaser pauses, taking another puff. “I’ve got a backup plan. So you can tell four-eyes over there to put away her wind-up doll, dig?”

“He’s um… He’s not a toy--” The scientist begins. Another slam on the table cuts her short--how sturdy IS this thing?

“SILENCE! Professor Venaas will do HER job, you do YOURS! Get that moronic mop-jockey or someone else will! I don’t care WHO does it, I just want her found! AND DESTROYED!”

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with that ‘Chosen One’ business, would it?” Drawls the deep, ragged voice belonging to the spurs at the end of the table. Chosen whatnow?
>CONTD.

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>>4605951
“We already DISCUSSED THAT!” Shouts Tim. “The Chosen One will get what they deserve, nothing more, nothing less! Focus on your jobs!”

Well crap, that’s a letdown. As you check the rest of the feet for any movement, you spy a small box sitting near you underneath the table.

Zebra Strikes: Toasted Tobacco. Wait a minute…

“What the… Hey, where’d they go?” Rocky runs his hands over his shirt and pockets.

“Arrr, mayhap they’ve fallen overboard?” Growls the pirate.

“Does ANYONE want to treat this like a meeting? ANYONE?” Groans the lich. You hear the scientist’s voice start for a moment, but it stops.

Hey, wait a minute--THEY MIGHT LOOK DOWN HERE!

As if on cue, you see Rocky’s begin to bend down. Oh man, you’ve gotta hide--in this case smoking really WILL kill!

>Roll 1d100 and make it snappy! I’ll take the best of 3!

Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>4605956

Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>4605956

Rolled 62 (1d100)

>>4605956

>>4605999
>>4606112
>>4606259
Nice rolls, folks--looks like I've got an update to write!

>>4605999
>>4606112
>>4606259
Panicked, you duck below the floor before Rocky can find both you AND his smokes. You find a snug spot under the floor and wait, using the muffled scuffle of boots and voices as your guide. A pause… Then a voice. You take a deep breath and wait a little longer--this ain’t your first stealth rodeo, after all!

Speaking of stealth, Ly’s doing TOO good of a job--you’re almost upset that he isn’t invading your privacy. You start to whisper his name, but reconsider when the voices above you start up again. Oh right, the immortal sorcerer and his cronies who all want you dead are there.

Waiting for what you THINK is the right moment, you float back upwards--each flap of your arms making you weaker and weaker. By the time you pop through the floor again you’re panting--is this the projection thing wearing off, or?

“So THERE! Now that I’ve briefly RE-explained the chosen one situation, you NEVER have to ask me again!”

“Thanks, boss, I dig.”

DAMN IT!

Oh well, at least you weren’t detected! You pump your fist once more, balking as a wave of exhaustion washes over you. Looking downwards, you notice your once-brilliant sheen fading rapidly…

You hope that’s just you waking up!

“Well then,” Begins the lich, “let’s move on, shall we? I think that we ought to hear from t--”

“Your wickedness, please, it’s really important!!”

The scientist again. Venaas? You brace for Tim to blast her with a magic missile or something, but nope… Nothing.

“That reminds me! Professor!” Tim asks with a jovial tone in his voice, “I never punished you for interrupting me! Quick, I’m thinking of a number between seven-hundred and eighty-two. What is i-”

“Two-hundred and six?” Squeaks the scientist.

“BLAST! Very well, you live for now… Alright, YOU take the floor, then.”

As you prepare to listen, your vision starts swimming and color drains from the world around you. Shit, not NOW! You feel your consciousness slipping--this has gotta be the limit!

The professor clears her throat. You take one last glance around underneath the table to memorize the Lieutenants--did you get enough info??

As you ponder the question, a wave of dizziness wracks your head, causing your body to jolt the side, sending you tumbling through the floor and into the open stormy air outside of the tower.. Plummeting to the ground, you get a grip on the last bits of concentration you have--you still have time, DAMN IT!

As the tower rapidly gets further and further away, you weigh your options. You might get some critical info if you catch the opening of that professor’s report. Then again, if you’re already on the way out you might as well charge to the top of the tower and check it out, right?

Another thought occurs to you--what about LY? Should you go and find him?

>CONTD.

>>4606423

What do? You're almost outta time here!
>Let’s catch a bit of the meeting--a little info is better than none, right?
>Screw the meeting, let’s see what’s at the top of the tower. There’s always cool stuff there!
>Let’s try to signal Ly--don’t wanna leave him behind.

>>4606426
>Let’s try to signal Ly--don’t wanna leave him behind.

>>4606426
>Let’s try to signal Ly--don’t wanna leave him behind.

We have enough info at this point hopefully. We got two people on land, two at sea. Sea-witch is the more stationary high-power force, sea-dog is the roving navy. Military dude has the center of town, probably with some strong munitions and entrenchment, and Rocky is doing the cleaning up, using hot-rods and greaser skeletons.

Timbo has a nice little captive scientist type thing working for him, but we probably won't be able to reach her soon. We gotta figure out where we wanna start tossing wrenches in plans.

I'll keep this decision open until around 12AM UTC--got a big day tomorrow. Tune in then and let's see what we get from all of this spectral snoopin'!

>>4606446
>>4606472
Don't LYve your friends behind! Writing!

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>>4606446
>>4606472
You clench your fists with resolve--no, you’re pretty sure you have all the info you need now. Lieutenants, territory, hell, you even found out that Tim might have a NERD on a leash--that can’t be good.

Part of you wants to hear what she has to say, but you’ll just have to get it from her later in person--your skeleton’s gone missing and you’ll be damned if you leave him here while you wake up!

You fall for a while longer as lethargy grips the rest of your body. Shit, how are you supposed to find him? Yelling? Nah, he might be indoors. Plus that might alert someone else to where you are, not Ly.

That settles it--you’re getting a bell surgically attached to your collarbone the first chance you get. Or one of those shock collars. As your thoughts focus on your missing astral skeleton, you notice your body slowly beginning to shift directions. You’re still falling, sure, but now you’re pointed…

THERE!

You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life--Ly’s ahead, just around the western wing of the fortress. Using what little energy you have left, you drift in the direction of Ly’s presence using your fall for momentum. Your astral eyes feel droopy now--you close them for a moment and briefly feel the presence of two people shouting. Tea, urgency, waki--

No, focus! You redouble your floating efforts and make for Ly’s signal as fast as you can, rubbing your eyes and biting your lip to stay awake. Well er… ASTRALLY awake.

Because of this you can barely believe your eyes when you see it: Ly’s astral form diving and climbing like a bird trying to escape a hawk. And behind him?

A flock of magical skulls clacking so loudly you can hear it from a distance. SHIT.

“SIGNAAAAAAAL! SIIIIIIIIIGNAAAAAAAAALLLLLL!!!!” Ly shrieks, barely keeping ahead of the flock. You take a deep breath, then shake the lethargy out of your body--time for a rescue.

What do?
>Distract the flock and get them to chase you!
>Intercept Ly, maybe you can both wake up!
>Try to get his attention--maybe you can direct him somewhere?
>WRITE-IN

>>4607315
>Intercept Ly, maybe you can both wake up!

>>4607315
>>Intercept Ly, maybe you can both wake up!

>>4607315
>Intercept Ly, maybe you can both wake up!

>>4607315
>>Intercept Ly, maybe you can both wake up!

>>4607568
>>4607726
>>4607885
>>4608000
Finished work a bit later than usual today, sorry! Writing!

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>>4607568
>>4607726
>>4607885
>>4608000
You’re not 100% certain, but you think Ly might not be able to wake up on his own--call it woman’s intuition. As you watch the astral projection of your skeleton duck and weave between the rapidly-approaching flock of demonic skulls, a dull lamp flickers on in your head!

Ly needs HELP!

There’s no time for sneakiness here--it’s getting hard to keep your eyes open and all of your movements are starting to feel delayed… With your last ounces of concentration you dive towards your pal, your body whipping through the air like a squirrel falling off of a power cable!

As you get closer to the flock the world around you starts to warp--the blood red clouds and the dark stone walls of the fortress slowly bend into the spartan walls and worn carpet of Sybil’s apartment. Your ears are battered by the sounds of howling winds, clacking skulls, Ly’s panicked screams, and the indecipherable shouts of Sybil and Art. You grit your teeth and slap your face a few times to stay awake--JUST A FEW MORE SECONDS!

Hopefully that’s all you’re going to need!
>Roll 1d100 to see how successful your rescue is! I’ll take the best of 3!

Rolled 45 (1d100)

>>4608376

Rolled 98 (1d100)

>>4608376
>Roll 1d100 to see how successful your rescue is! I’ll take the best of 3!
LYYYYYYYYYY

Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>4608376

>>4608376


>>4608471
Noice

>>4608471
The power of friendship!

>>4608425
>>4608471
>>4608539
>>4608552
>>4608626
https://youtu.be/R43dYg_Kuc0
WRITING!

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>>4608425
>>4608471
>>4608539
>Best: 98!
You DON’T LYVE FRIENDS BEHIND!

The astral projection of your skeleton shoots you a bewildered glance as you dive at him, arms outstretched--even the skulls seem surprised when you connect! As you feel Ly’s presence merge with yours, you close your eyes and relax letting the fort, the skulls, and everything else drift away from your consciousness.

When you open them again, you’re lying on Sybil’s couch in a pool of your own cool sweat. Blinking a few times, you adopt a satisfied grin. Yep, you’re back!

You live… AGAAAAAAIIII--

Your triumphant return is cut short by a foam bat connecting with your mouth. OW!

“Oh, you’re awake!” Art says, startled. “She’s awake!”

Sitting up and rubbing your jaw, you shoot a scowl at Art. What the hell? He didn’t have to use the bat!

“I did! Multiple times, actually!” Art shouts, “We’ve been trying to wake you up for the last five minutes--you weren’t waking up!”

You frown. Five minutes? You think you would have noticed being hit in the face by a foam bat! Art shrugs.

“Yea, we can talk about how weird that is later, you see--”

“STAN!” Sybil’s doll shoots like a bullet from the hallway leading to the bedroom, stopping with a SKID in front of the couch. Oh, hey Sy-

SMACK!

It didn’t hurt as much as the bat, but getting decked across the face by a doll isn’t that fun. Rubbing your cheek, you shoot a glare at the doll. Yea, you’re welcome!

“You had us both worried, Stan, but we can talk about that later--the situation here has taken a turn for the worse and time, unfortunately, is of the essence.”

The heck is she talking about? You know who the lieutenants are now--there’s a pirate, a cowboy, you met Rocky--the doll nods vigorously.

“Yes, yes, we saw quite a bit of what you saw. I had to cut the recording short, though, and I’ve only just been able to back up the footage in my pocket dimension.” The doll floats over to the living room window overlooking the parking lot… What’s eating her?

“See for yourself, but do it slowly.”

Shrugging, you creep over to the window and peer through the blinds.

Wait a minute… Where’s your van? And similarly…

Where did all of those OTHER vans come from?

Uh oh…

>CONTD.

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>>4608956
You stand by the window as the vans quietly open up, releasing operators with the same equipment as Art, the letters G.B.C.S stenciled on their shoulders and rifles in their hands. What the hell--you actually have to DO something in this chapter? You thought it was one big info dump!

Sybil shakes her doll head gravely.

“We don’t have nearly enough time to discuss all of the author’s shortcomings, Stan. What matters now is making sure you get out of her alive.”

Art nods, taking position near the door. Hey, why didn’t he just go out and talk them down? The security guard shakes his head.

“Didn’t want to jump the gun before you woke up. Whether I was able to talk them down or not, they’d still probably want to come in while you were on your uh… Vision Quest. Didn’t want to give them a freebie.”

You smile. Well that was thoughtful of him! Watching the operatives file out in the parking lot, you notice the trio’s hotrod still sitting where it was before. Say, where did THEY go?

“Oh, right! They were the ones who tipped us off, actually!” Art says, digging into one of his many pouches. “Here, catch.”

He chucks a small piece of metal your way and you catch it--then drop it on the ground. Whoops. Picking it up you take a closer look--besides having wires, a small antenna, and some non-lit lights, you couldn’t guess what the heck it was.

“The guys found it when they were tinkering with the van.” Art explains, spinning his mask and helmet combo in his free hand. “They weren’t sure what it was, but we had an idea.”

Sybil nods gravely. “A tracking bug. It makes sense your company would like to keep tabs on their vehicles, I’m not sure why I didn’t think of it sooner--”

Hey, no need to apologize--we all make mistakes.

“You didn’t think of it either…” Art mumbles.

Yea, well neither did HE! They didn’t cover that shit in Paramilitary 101?!

“Alright, C O O L I T!!!” Shouts a familiar shrill voice!

LY?!

>CONTD.

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>>4608958
“In da flesh. Yours, actually.” Your skeleton chuckles. “Don’t tell me you forgot I was here or somethin’.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. You were worried he wasn’t going to make it! Ly borrows your shoulders and shrugs.

“Me too, you really came to my rescue there, cupcake.” Ly says, admiration in his voice. Hey, you weren’t about to let your skeleton get chomped by uh… Smaller skeletons.

“I think we owe you an apology, Ly,” begins Sybil, “Art and I heard your shouts, but it seems your projection was linked to Stan’s.” The doll frowns. “Next time stick closer together! You might not get a second chance!” She scolds. “Who knows how much damage that extended projection did to Stan’s mind… You KNOW she doesn’t need any more--”

“Yea, yea, we’ll be careful.” Ly says, placatingly. You clear your throat, signalling everyone to quiet down. You weren’t done asking your question--where are the trio?!

“After finding the bug, the three began scouting for anything unusual,” explains the doll, “The one with the jean jacket noticed a convoy of vans coming from the East, informed us, then said he and the others would try to lead them away.”

Clearly THAT didn’t work. Art shrugs.

“It kinda did, actually--two of their vans followed the guys, now we just have to deal with three.”

Alright, that isn’t too bad. Wait, are they coming BACK!?

“Don’t think so. They mentioned meeting at the Malt Shop, but who knows where that is…” Art grumbles. Sybil’s eyes light up at the mention of the shop.

“Shane’s Shack! The old diner a few blocks away!” The doll says, snapping its arm stubs. How the hell?

Art nods. “Guess that’s the meeting point.” Peeking through the peephole again, he fumbles with his helmet and pops it back on his head. Great, now the BREATHING’S happening again…

“Look sharp, I think they’re getting ready to come up here!” Art whispers, raising his rifle.

>CONTD.

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>>4608962
You peer through the blinds once more. Sure enough you see at least nine operatives rallying around the vans. Operatives with red armbands sign orders, their squad mates taking position near the bottom apartment units and the bases of the two staircases leading to the second floor. Shit.

Sybil floats upwards and squeezes into your hoodie pocket. “We can discuss what we saw later--right now I think we should decide how you’re going to get out of here.”

Art nods in agreement. “I don’t know how possible it is, but I’d prefer it if we didn’t kill anyone!” Yea, and you’d prefer not getting stalked by Corporate Security for a DOG BONE COMPANY. Shrugging, Art returns to the door.

“Maybe I could distract them? Talk them up while you slip out?”

You feel your pocket pulse with energy. “Not a bad idea. You can also possibly slip out through the bathroom window--it's a drop, but it should get you behind the building.”

“You know…” Begins Ly, “We could also just try to talk dis’ out. Maybe if we show ‘em what we know they’ll stop botherin’ us?”

You frown. And what if they aren’t in a talkative mood? Ly shrugs.

“Then we clobber ‘em. Self-defense, right?”

What’s the plan?
>Art, go talk with your people--we’ll slip out while you do your thing.
>Sybil’s a smartypants, let’s just head out the bathroom window!
>Ly’s got a point--let’s just parley and get this beef settled.
>Nah, I’ve got a BETTER idea! (WRITE-IN)

>>4608968
>>Art, go talk with your people--we’ll slip out while you do your thing.

>>4608968
>Sybil’s a smartypants, let’s just head out the bathroom window!
We know at least Stan can handle the drop due to our leg BONEus

>>4608968
>Sybil’s a smartypants, let’s just head out the bathroom window!

>>4608983
Art Distraction

>>4608999
>>4609006
To the windooooow

Been busy the last day or so, apologies! Writing!

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>>4608983
>>4608999
>>4609006
You pat Sybil’s head protruding from your hoodie pocket, eliciting a surprised noise from the doll. Her ideas haven’t led you astray so far, so let’s head for the bathroom window! As you make for the bathroom, Art lingers near the door for a moment, mulling over your decision in his head.

“You uh… You sure about that?” He asks, gripping his rifle tighter.

He’d better believe it. You almost lost Ly during your field trip to the fort, no way you’re gonna let Art try to sing and dance for those assholes. The guard rubs the back of his helmet, unsure how to respond.

“Appreciated, but uh… Is the window big enough?”

Sybil lets out a contemplative ‘hmmm’ as she pokes your side a few times.

“It won’t be an easy squeeze. You really could stand to lose a few pounds, Sta--”

Okay, OKAY, you get it! You’re gonna have cheese grater abs once this is all over! And after a few pole dancing classes! You’re saving up, okay?!

“I uh… I actually meant me,” Art begins. “But pole dancing is cool too!” He gives you a thumbs up.

Whatever, you’ll FIT. With a huff you make your way towards the bathroom, keeping your distance from the windows as you go. The bathroom remains about as disheveled as you left it--your coveralls and boots lying on the floor, condensation dripping off of the shower curtains and mirror. Your salvation, the window, sits above the shower beckoning you. Sybil sighs and crosses her doll arms.

“Really, Stan, you didn’t even put away your clothes in the hamper?”

You were going to, but the outfit select vote took longer than you expected! Hell, you’ll do it right now if that will make her happy!

“No, we don’t want there to be evidence that you were here. Take them with you and toss them in a waste bin when you can.”

You pick your old outfit off the ground, grumbling to yourself. Until you toss it, you’ll just plop the COVERALLS and BOOTS in your inventory. Who knows when they might come in handy?

You Obtained COVERALLS and BOOTS! Again!

>CONTD.

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>>4611028
That settled, you focus on the window with a grimace. The windowsill is lined with various shower products and the window itself is small and covered with a flimsy mesh screen. At least it opens to the side--that oughta help a bit!

“Just toss the products aside,” Commands Sybil, “I’ll reorganize them later once we sort out this mess.”

Shrugging, you painstakingly remove each bottle, jar, and dispenser and place it on the base of the shower. Art, meanwhile, glances nervously at the bathroom door. A little HELP?

“Sorry, I’m just worried…” mumbles the operative, “What if they’re waiting below the window?”

Then you’ll give them a WARM WELCOME, you say, patting your hoodie pocket. Art’s sidearm tumbles out of the side, landing with a loud CLACK on the shower floor. Whoopsie daisy! As you fish the gun off the ground and brush the leftover shower water off of it, you turn to find Art ducking and covering in the corner of the bathroom. Wow, dramatic much?

“You have the safety on, right?” He asks, glancing your way. Of course, what kind of moron does he take you for?

“Alright, just checking.”

You surreptitiously flick the safety on, but he doesn’t need to know that. Stowing the sidearm back into your inventory, you continue your task.

A few seconds later you set the final shower product on the floor, then open and hop up to the window. You don’t want to admit it, but your associates were right--it’s a tight fit. Yanking the mesh screen off of the window’s borders, you take a moment to peek into the alleyway below. Nobody. You see a dumpster, a pile of trash bags, a ratty sofa and a tire, but this is an alleyway--that’s basically par for the course!

“Coast looks clear, cupcake.” Muses Ly, his glowing form peeking ahead of where your skull usually is. Wait, HOLD ON.

“What? I’ll be quiet, don-” No, not that! Since when can you pop out like that? Your skeleton, or rather its astral projection, turns around to face you, boney hands on its hips.

“What, I can’t stretch every now and the--” Ly pauses, glancing down at his independent body.

“Wow, I uh… That’s new.”

>CONTD.

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>>4611033
You can say that again! Sybil pokes her head out of your pocket and frowns.

“Interesting… It would appear that Ly’s astral form didn’t properly ‘reconnect’ with your body…”

You wave your hand at Ly, who waves back. Neat! Art shifts uneasily from boot to boot.

“Uh, is something cool happening? If it is, can we hurry things up?” You frown and stare at Art. What, he can’t see Ly? Art responds with an impartial shrug.

“Nnnno?”

Ly cackles to himself, pumping his astral fist. “Now ‘dis is what I call a BONE-US, right, Stan? Can we put it on da’ list? Please?”

You huff, then adopt a wry smile. Okay, but let’s not make a habit of it.

“No promises!”

>BONE-US GAINED: LYD THE WAY--Talk about an OUT OF BODY experience! Ly can stretch out from your body at a short range to peek around corners! Even better, seems like only magical people can notice him!

That good?

“Perfect, cupcake.”

Fantastic.

>CONTD.

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>>4611034
“I don’t want to interrupt,” Art interrupts, “But can we hurry things up here?”

Quit whining for a second, it’s not like they’re gonna check Syb's apartment firs-

You’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching the front of Sybil’s apartment. How in the hell--

“Probably dumb luck.” Art shrugs. “That or the RING OF BLOOD on the doorframe.”

You’re gonna go with the second one, yea. Art breathes out heavily through his mask’s filter. Boy, you sure missed that.

“I knew we should have scrubbed that stuff off once we heard Good Boy was coming…” Art whines. Sybil crosses her arms, frowning.

“Oh sure, rub the ward off, see what happens! I’ll take gun-toting goons any day over DIMENSIONAL SHAMBLERS.”

Art starts to respond, but his words die in his throat. Shaking his head, he starts over.

“Those are real?”

The doll knowingly furrows her yarn brow at Art, who gulps in response.

Okay, time to go! Squeezing through the window head-first, you tumble forwards out the window and down towards the alleyway below! Thankfully your BONE-US SPEED kicks in and allows you to tuck and roll before hitting the pavement--your fall cushioned by crushed cardboard, broken bottles, and some used needles. Ouch.

Rubbing your back and rising from the floor, you quickly scan the alleyway for any sign of operators. Zip. The alleyway is fenced off, but seems to have been used as a dumping ground for the apartment-dwellers--a STAINED SOFA sits nearby, rusty springs popping through the decaying fabric, along with a PILE OF SMELLY GARBAGE BAGS and a LARGE TIRE WITH A ROPE ATTACHED. Must have been a cool tire swing once. Glancing back up to the window, you notice Art peering down at you.

What the heck is he WAITING for?!

“It’s a bit high up,” Art whispers. Yea, so? He can just do some SICK PARKOUR like you did! Art slaps his gloved palm against his mask. Oh good, you missed that too.

“Forgetting something?” He asks, glancing down, then back to you. Okay fine, PLEASE do some SICK PARKOUR.

“My LEG, moron.” Art groans, slapping what you assume is his leg. “I don’t wanna land on it funny. Find something I can drop onto.”

Coming right up, princess. Jeez, he’s still going on about that LEG.

“There are plenty of suitable objects, Stan.” Whispers Sybil. “Whatever you do, do it quickly--I worry that we won’t be safe back here for much longer…”

You heard the lady. What do?
>Take a load off! Push the SOFA over for Art!
>One man’s trash is another man’s treasure? Use the GARBAGE BAGS!
>Art looks TIRED. Use the old TIRE SWING.
>Tell him you’ll CATCH HIM! He can trust you!
>WRITE-IN

Hitting the sack now, but I'll check in tomorrow morning around 5PM UTC! Thanks for playin'!

>>4611042
>One man’s trash is another man’s treasure? Use the GARBAGE BAGS!
Soft and no rusty springs sticking out.

>>4611400
+1

>>4611400
>>4611441
Can't argue with that logic! Writing!

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>>4611400
>>4611441
For a second you consider the sofa, but the rusty springs and the smell of week-old Mediterranean food causes you to reconsider. Art’s already whiny enough--imagine if he pricked himself on some pointy metal?

Best not to think about it. No, your focus is on the pile of presumably soft garbage bags a little further down the alleyway. Plugging your nose with one gloved hand, you begin the painstaking process of tossing the bags underneath Sybil’s window, trying, but failing, to ignore the viscous fluids dripping out of the bottom of the bags.

“HURRY!” Art hisses, glancing behind him. You’re going, jeez! You toss one bag down, then another, then another. Guess whoever left these here was just tossing them out the window. Not a bad idea!

“Yea, a real visionary.” Ly mumbles. Quit being sarcastic and keep an eye out--who knows when those Rent-A-Cops will decide to check BEHIND the building?

You’ve barely stacked five bags before you hear the slam of metal against metal up above you. Checking on Art, you see the operative beginning the painstaking process of climbing out the window. He manages to get a shoulder through, then grunts as he slowly worms his way through the opening. Ha! NOW who needs to lose weight?

“I…” Art begins, poking his rifle through the window, “Have GEAR on. AND large shoulders!” He’s halfway through now.

“What’s your excus-”

Art’s speech is interrupted as gravity claims another victim, pulling his front half and, by extension, the rest of him out of the window and down to the alley below. The guard lets out a protracted yelp before belly-flopping onto the pile of trash bags with a wet ‘SMACK’. Ew.

You uh… You okay?

Art raises a banana peel aloft on his thumb. Cool! As you help Art back to his feet, Sybil squirms out of your pocket, eyes glowing blue.

“If I remember correctly, the malt shop is a few blocks away. Let’s hurry!”

As Art finishes wringing the trash water free of his uniform, you both snap to attention at the sound of boots approaching from down the alleyway.

“Duck!” Art hisses, diving behind the couch. You follow, bringing your knees close to make yourself as small as possible. Art goes to peek around the corner, but you grab his shoulder--Ly can handle this!

“Oh, right. Thanks, Ly!” Art whispers through his mask filter. You feel your skeleton’s presence wrench itself free of your body and stretch over the top of the couch.

“Yep, looks like two-no, three of ‘em.” Ly whispers, looking down at you. “And they’re armed!”

Well duh, you’d be surprised if they weren’t.

>CONTD.