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>>5029984
Welcome to BONES QUEST--we were spooky BEFORE October made it popular! Make sure to check out the following resources:

Archive Link to catch up with the story!
>http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Bones%20quest

Twitter account for updates!
>https://twitter.com/DemBonez3

Imgur Page for quest and FAN ART! You make it, we display it!
>https://imgur.com/a/dvF3SCN

A HANDY PASTEBIN for INVENTORY, SKILLS, and MORE:
>https://pastebin.com/u/DemBonez3/1/TvtRhtJK

Rolls are handled by a 1d100--I take the BEST OF THREE ROLLS! Certain boosts and maluses will be applied based on the situation and existing skills. Describing your actions, write-ins, FANART and GENERAL CREATIVITY are all APPRECIATED AND REWARDED--we like to keep things LIGHT and CHILL here, so come on in and have some fun!

>CONTD.

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>>5029985
https://youtu.be/mHjH3DyKChU
“Sorry to wake ya’, bumblebee,” He continues in that SICKENING half-laugh voice, “but we need to chat.”

You spit a few grains of sand from your mouth in response to the muffled beats coming from his stupid red headphones. Damn right, you do! Rising to your wobbly feet, you hear the now-familiar sound of weapons being aimed in your direction from behind a row of blinding white lights further up the beach. Headlights, you guess.

“Should we blast ‘em, B?” The hulking form of BEA HENNIG appears at Boris’ side carrying a machine gun more suited for a tank in her armored hands. Or a battleship.

“It certainly seems prudent.” Purrs a familiar voice. Backed by a group of robe-wearing weirdos, CURT BLACQUIERE approaches Boris’ other side, scowling at you through his lens-covered eyes. “Those pirates carried them ashore, after all.” The mage and his acolytes send a collective pointed stare in the direction of ANDRE and his surviving mates standing like statues off to the side.

“You’re making a mistake!” Glancing over to where your friends are being held at gunpoint, you can’t help but smile a bit at Syb’s outburst. The last time you saw her she was about to pass out!

“YEA!” Aaaand there goes your enthusiasm. Puffing out his chest, your now-human bodyguard Talbot confidently takes position in front of you and stares Boris down! “Try shooting us and see what happens! I DARE YA!” Great, now we’re gonna die.

“Don’t act like you weren’t gonna say da’ same thing, cupcake.” Ly replies in a quiet voice. Oh cool, he’s back!

“Never left.”

You’ll talk about it later… If later, you know, happens.

Raising his hand like he’s some kind of KING or something, Boris twists his TELESCOPING MOP around a few more times in CAPTAIN MENDOZA’S smashed skull. “Come on, gang… Stan’s might not be the brightest bulb in the box, but she ain’t EVIL!”

YEA!

“Stan can barely mop a room, much less hatch a wicked plan!”

YE-wait, wha?

“So,” Boris continues, still grinning from ear to ear, “I think we oughta at least hear her out.” Raising a perfectly-trimmed eyebrow in your direction, your fellow janitor looks at you expectantly.

“So, Stan,” He asks, “What are you doin’ with all of these skeletons?”

How do you respond?
>HOLD UP, PRICK--WHY ARE YOU HERE ANYWAYS?
>WHAT JUST HAPPENED? DID I MISS SOMETHING?
>TELL HIM THE TRUTH--YOU AND ANDRE HAD A DEAL!
>LET SOMEONE ELSE DEFEND YOU! (WHICH PAL?)
>STAY SILENT--YOU’RE NOT TALKING TO THIS JERK!
>WRITE-IN!

>>5029987
>>TELL HIM THE TRUTH--YOU AND ANDRE HAD A DEAL!
Of course he took our fucking credit.

>>5029987
>TELL HIM THE TRUTH--YOU AND ANDRE HAD A DEAL!
This'll grab 'em for sure.

>>5029987
>>TELL HIM THE TRUTH--YOU AND ANDRE HAD A DEAL!

>>5030040
>>5030067
>>5030108
>TELL THE TRUTH!

Writing!

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As fun as it would be to watch Boris and Talbot duke it out, you’d rather your friends didn’t all get pumped full of hot lead, so you opt to take a different approach. Trying and failing to ignore Boris’ smug grin, you clench your fists tight in a desperate attempt to distract them from socking the guy in the face. He wants to know so bad? You’ll tell him!

“Easy, kiddo,” Ly warns as you maintain shaky eye contact with the headphone-wearing antichrist, “We gotta be diplomatic here…”

You eat diplomacy for breakfast, dang it! Clearing your throat, you begin your explanation by calmly addressing his concerns:

Is he DUMB or what?!

“Great goin’, kid,” Ly groans in your head, “That oughta’ do it.”

Brushing your skeleton’s sarcasm off, you continue by poking your fellow janitor in his annoyingly-chiseled chest! You’re not working FOR the skeletons--you’re working WITH them! Get with the program! Grinning in satisfaction, you turn around and give Syb a thumb’s up--you got dis’!

Receiving a death glare from Art in response, it dawns on you that Boris and his pals are total morons and that you really oughta give them more details. Lowering your thumb, you turn your attention back to the man reeking of spearmint gum in front of you and continue. You tell Boris and his goons all of the gritty details of your journey into the caves--your encounter with the fog, the arrival at FLOTSAM, your ‘trial’, and, most importantly, your daring prison escape! By the time your tale reaches the present, Boris’ expression has changed somewhat.

“Hell of a tale, bumblebee,” He remarks, his pet name earning a growl from you, “and I guess this guy being human again gives it some credibility…” He adds, gesturing to the quietly-simmering Talbot next to you. You bet it does, you hiss! Is he gonna beat it now, or what!?

“Woah woah WOAH, Stannie--cool your jets a little!” Boris chuckles in response before glancing in Curt’s direction. “What’s your expert opinion, Curt?”

“Believable.” The mage replies, not taking his eyes off of you. “... To a degree.”

“A DEGREE?” Eddie shouts from where your friends are! “What proof do you guys even need?”

“It’s not proof I’m worried about.” Curt continues as he turns his attention to Andre and the pirates, “My concerns lie with your clear collaboration with these… Thralls…”

“Yea!” Bea adds excitedly! “All of the boneheads we’ve run into shoot first and ask questions later!”

“It is pretty fishy, bumblebee.” Boris nods, not taking his hands off of his mop. “I mean, if WE showed up with a pack of skeletons, what would you think?”

Well naturally you’d tear him a new-oh CRAP, he’s got a point!

“Ya don’t gotta say it out loud, cupcake.”

>CONTD.

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>>5030190
As the tension in the air grows, Andre takes a step forward with his bony hands raised in the air. “Eef eet would please ye, I would be ‘appy to explain myself-”

“Silence, husk,” Curt snaps, aiming a glowing finger in the skeleton’s direction, “you and your kin were reanimated by the lich’s own life energy--who’s to say this isn’t just another tactic?”

“If it were a tactic, why would they have assisted us in the first place?” Syb counters, venturing a step forward from the friend clump. “Andre and his lot had countless opportunities to eliminate us--why hold off until now?”

“Why indeed?” Curt responds, narrowing his eyes at the Goth’s interruption. As the two stare each other down, Bea’s masked face lights up with an idea prompting her to hop up and down with a raised hand shouting “OOH! OOH! PICK ME!”

“Bea,” Boris chuckles, “You’re up, sweetheart.”

“YES!” She giggles, pumping an armored fist! “So I was thinking: what if the skeletons don’t want to kill Stan?”

You blink. Has she been following the story so far? You’ve crossed paths with death so many times you might as well be dating now!

“Still….” Bea continues, “We’ve never really seen you fight them before, have we, Boris?”

The janitor shrugs in response. “Guess not… What’s your point, Bea?”

“Well,” the amazon continues, “What if, like… What if Stan had an… Like an agreement or something?”

The statement is so ridiculously stupid you almost fall over. The hell is that supposed to mean, anyways!?

“Huh.” Boris replies, raising an eyebrow in thought. “Boss did warn us about a TRAITOR at GOOD BOY....” A spearmint-scented bubble expands from his mouth, then pops. “But come on… Stan couldn’t do that-”

Yea, you snap, you COULDN’T! You were at GROUND-FRIGGIN’-ZERO-- why the hell would you work with that freak TIM?!

“... And yet you miraculously survived the encounter…” Curt adds, rubbing his chin with interest. “How very fortunate…”

“Wait, you were there where it started?” Talbot asks, shooting you a sideways glance. “That’s uh… That does sound a little sketchy…”

Who’s side is this asshole on!? Ignoring the growing pit in your stomach, you rack your mind for something that’ll acquit you--you’re not working with ANYONE, dang it! How do you prove it, though?

>TELL THEM ABOUT CLIFF AND THE OTHERS! CALL THEM IF YOU NEED TO!
>REMIND THEM HOW YOU’RE TAKING DOWN LIEUTENANTS!
>DEFLECT! HOW DO YOU KNOW THEY AREN’T THE TRAITORS?!
>CALL ON YOUR PALS TO WEIGH IN!
>WAIT--CAN WE TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE BOAT FIRST?
>WRITE-IN!

>>5030193
>TELL THEM ABOUT CLIFF AND THE OTHERS! CALL THEM IF YOU NEED TO!
Some moron once told us to fly to brighter flowers, and we are making a beautiful garden out of tibius, femurs and marrow that will all come together once we eat Tim's magic. And anyone who doesn't join is just a bee in a pool.

>>5030193
>>REMIND THEM HOW YOU’RE TAKING DOWN LIEUTENANTS!
>DEFLECT! HOW DO YOU KNOW THEY AREN’T THE TRAITORS?!

We should also play up on our "stupidity."

>>5030214

You might have Boris here, but Curt and Bea might misconstrue this for us wanting to build our own evil bone empire.

>>5030234
They will misinterpret us anyway or we look like an idiot, if not both. Might as well just go all the way.

Gonna keep this open a while longer because I'd rather not roll for a choice. Guess people are busy tonight!

While we're on the subject, I'll be playing some Tabletop stuff with my pals tomorrow, so I can't promise many updates--might have to wait until SUNDAY AFTER 8 OR MONDAY AROUND 6-7PM PST. I'll keep a tab open here tonight just in case, though.

>>5030193
>TELL THEM ABOUT CLIFF AND THE OTHERS! CALL THEM IF YOU NEED TO!

>>5030193
>TELL THEM ABOUT CLIFF AND THE OTHERS! CALL THEM IF YOU NEED TO!

>>5030193
>REMIND THEM HOW YOU’RE TAKING DOWN LIEUTENANTS!
>AND TERRY THE TERRIBLE!
>WAIT--CAN WE TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE BOAT FIRST?

>>5030214
>>5030588
>>5030629
>TELL THEM ABOUT THE OTHERS!

>>5030234
>REMIND THEM ABOUT HOW YOU'RE TAKING DOWN LIEUTENANTS!
>DEFLECT!

>>5030632
>LIEUTENANTS AND TERRY!
>TALK ABOUT THE BOAT FIRST!

Looks like we're gonna tell them about Cliff and the rest of the goofs. Writing!

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“Well, bumblebee,” Boris interrupts in his typical smug, half-chuckle voice, “Hate to say it, but this really isn’t looking good for you!”

“Nor does being on the enemy ship.” Curt adds, crossing his arms. “What was it, Parble? A staff meeting?”

“It was an infiltration, you morons!” Syb snaps, glaring daggers at Curt and his retinue! “Why on Earth would we risk an all-out attack?”

“And if it were a ‘staff meeting’, why would they leave us on land, then?” Art adds with a confident nod! Atta’ boy!

“To do what we were doing, no doubt:” Curt replies, “Watching the coast for activity. Which is exactly how we detected your van and your stalwart leader being carried ashore.”

“‘Ell’s bells, ye future types are EXHAUSTEENG…” Andre groans as he cracks his neck a bit. “Mademoiselle Parble was merely ‘elping wit’ a standard MUTINY! Eet was a long time coming, let me be tellin’ yo-”

The air fills with the acrid stench of ozone as a sizzling beam shoots from the tips of Curt’s fingers and just barely misses Andre’s head! Blowing the smoke off his fingertips like a cowboy’s revolver, Curt raises a thin eyebrow in the skeleton’s direction. “Speak out of turn again, thrall, and they’ll be your last words.”

“He’s telling the truth though, you… MAGIC NERD!” Talbot growls, earning a few muffled ‘ooooh’s from the order members. As Curt grinds his teeth, Boris gracefully steps between the two.

“Even if he was, this is just one pile of bones, err… Talbot.”

Your bodyguard blinks. “Y-you… You remember my name?!”

“Sure I do!” Boris laughs! “Can’t be forgetting the names of my buddies, can I?”

You groan as a goofy grin forms on Talbot’s face--he’s never acted that way when YOU remembered his name…

“Anywho,” Boris segues, twisting his mop in Mendoza’s caved-in skull some more, “One good player doesn’t make up for a bad team, right, Parble?” You frown--great, we’re back to the sports metaphors… Wait a minute, though!

“Stan.” Ly whispers, pulling the brakes on your train of thought. “Be very careful wit’ your next words…”

Calm down, man--you’re just gonna tell them about CLIFF and the others!

“... The others?” Boris asks, prompting Ly to borrow your hand for a facepalm. What?

>CONTD.

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>>5030839
“So let me get this straight, bumblebee:” Boris begins after you finish regaling his team with tales of defeating lieutenants and poaching their skeletons, “you’re saying that not only did you spare these guys here,” he continues, gesturing to Andre and his men, “but also his brother’s goons, a bunch of soldiers, and most of those skeleton greasers too?”

“Not for long!” Andre adds in a chipper tone! “Zee minute I see my brother again, well, let’s just say ee won’t be animated for lo-” The pirate cuts himself off as Curt’s fingers wander in his direction again, prompting you to continue. Yea, you nod, you can even call ‘em if you wanna! They’re nice guys, honest! Sometimes they even sell you stuff!

“No kiddin’.” Boris replies in a bemused tone as his eyes wander to the rest of his teammates. “Tell you what, then: give your pals a call, Stan--we won’t stop ya.”

“Unless you order them to attack or something!” Bea adds with a giggle! “You get the picture~”

Sure, you snort, and they’ll get the picture too… Of your GREATNESS. Whipping out your RADIO and tuning it to the frequency Cliff and the others gave you, you tap the call button a few times before shouting a few greetings into the receiver--DO THEY READ YOU?!

Your question is answered by a shuffle of papers and the sound of running water. “S-s-S-STAN?! Is… Is th-th-that you!?”

Damn it, you mutter, wrong frequency!

“Is that the DOC?” Talbot asks with a frown. “I still owe her a noogie for turning me into a freak. Tell her I say ‘hi’, Stan.”

You’re not telling her JACK! swiftly changing frequencies, you try your greeting again: CLIFF, STRIPES, WYATT--ANYONE READ?

“Clear as crystal, kiddo!” Stripes reports over the sound of welding in the background! “Was dat’ your handiwork over on the coast? We heard that boom all the way up here!”

Errr, you begin, glancing between Boris, your pals, and the burning wreck sending even more plumes of smoke into the air, yea… That was ALL you.

“Jeez,” Stripes shivers as Boris lets out a short laugh, “Remind me ta’ never get on your bad side, kid. Not that I need a reminder…”

Sure, you nod, giving the headphone-wearing jerk an ‘I told you so’ sneer!

“So uh…” Stripes adds, juggling a few tools from the sound of it, “Didja’ just call ta’ check up on your favorite greaser, or didja’ need something?”

Well…

>I’M ACTUALLY HERE WITH SOME PALS WHO THINK YOU’RE STILL EVIL.
>IS IT COOL IF THE STAN GANG CAME TO VISIT?
>COULD HE PUT CLIFF ON? IT’S IMPORTANT.
>CAN HE QUICKLY REMIND YOU OF ALL THE GOOD DEEDS YOU’VE DONE? LOUDLY?
>WRITE-IN!

>>5030842
>COULD HE PUT CLIFF ON? IT’S IMPORTANT.

>>5030842
>COULD HE PUT CLIFF ON? IT’S IMPORTANT.

>>5030866
>>5030868
>PUT CLIFF ON THE RADIO!

WRITING!

>>5030842
>COULD HE PUT CLIFF ON? IT’S IMPORTANT.

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Yea, you respond, trying and failing to ignore a thumb’s up from Boris, you do need something, actually: could he track down Cliff for you? The pause in shuffling on the other end of the radio betrays Stripes’ reluctance.

“I mean…” He trails off, “I can try. Guy’s pretty busy lately what with all the new blood ya’ sent over… You sure you need to talk now?”

Yes, you reply, squinting past the truck headlights at the countless gun barrels drawing a bead on your forehead, you do.

“You got it, Stan...” Stripes sighs. “Just uh… don’t be surprised if he sounds a little cranky.”

The line goes quiet long enough for you to give Boris a smug grin--see? Does he sound murderous to him? Your fellow evening sanitation coordinator shrugs.

“There’s a lotta good fakers out there, Stan… Can’t be too careful.”

Yea, you snort--you bet he’d know all about that! Before you can get another dig in, the radio crackles with a familiar, if not slightly more weary-sounding, voice.

“Stan.” Cliff states more as a fact than as a greeting. “Stripes said it was important?”

Yeesh, you reply--he really DOES sound out of it! Is he uh… Taking breaks, or anything? Your answer comes in the form of cigarette smoke being exhaled.

“... I’ve got my copin’ strategies. What’s the word?”

Oof… What IS the word?

“Didn’t he tell us to keep folks away from da’ DRIVE-IN?” Ly whispers. “We’d better tread lightly, cupcake…”

Kinda hard to tread at all given the circumstances, but fine--what do you say?

>I’M ACTUALLY HERE WITH SOME PALS WHO THINK YOU’RE STILL EVIL.
>IS IT COOL IF THE STAN GANG CAME TO VISIT?
>CAN HE QUICKLY REMIND YOU OF ALL THE GOOD DEEDS YOU’VE DONE? LOUDLY?
>ASK HIM HOW STUFF IS GOING!
>WRITE-IN!

>>5030922
>>ASK HIM HOW STUFF IS GOING!
>>I’M ACTUALLY HERE WITH SOME PALS WHO THINK YOU’RE STILL EVIL.

Going to play some D&D in a bit, so I'll check back in later tonight! Hope to see you all then!

>>5030922
>>CAN HE QUICKLY REMIND YOU OF ALL THE GOOD DEEDS YOU’VE DONE? LOUDLY?

>>5030922
>>CAN HE QUICKLY REMIND YOU OF ALL THE GOOD DEEDS YOU’VE DONE? LOUDLY?
Specifically how we've taken out tons of bigwig skeletons?

>>5030922
>>CAN HE QUICKLY REMIND YOU OF ALL THE GOOD DEEDS YOU’VE DONE? LOUDLY?

I just caught up after reading the archives. Fun quest.

>>5031223
Thanks for giving it a try! It ain't easy blasting through all those updates, but I'm glad you enjoyed them!

>>5030952
>HOW'S IT GOIN?
>I'VE GOT SOME PALS HERE...

>>5030989
>>5031160
>>5031223
>QUICKLY AND LOUDLY REMIND YOU OF ALL THE COOL STUFF YOU'VE DONE!

Writing!

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The word is, you answer in an excellent transition, that some people think you might be siding with that buttwipe TIM or something!

“... I think we both know that ain’t true.”

Well duh, you reply, giving your audience a theatrical shrug. Even so, would he mind reminding you of all the cool good deeds you’ve been doing? Loudly, if possible?

The line goes dead for a moment before your on-and-off gang member replies. “Where do I begin, kid?” Taking another drag from his non-visible cigarette, Cliff continues talking in a much clearer voice. “If I had to remind you I’d probably go wit’ out first meeting. You remember the one, right?”

You nod--how could you forget? Cliff, going by Gene at the time, was pulling guard duty with Wyatt and Stripes in front of Sybil’s apartment. And by ‘guard duty’ you mean ‘playing DICE’!

“That’s right… We probably coulda’ broke a window or something to get past her defenses, but we didn’t--we’re not exactly zombies, dig?”

“Right.” Sybil nods with a small giggle. “... The zombie thing, that is--they would have been vaporized if they tried to get past the defenses.”

“Point is we didn’t try, right Syb?” Cliff replies with a soft chuckle. “Anywho, the smart thing to do would be to take us out from a distance, but then you did somethin’ odd, Stan… somethin’ none of us expected…”

Yep, you grin, you beat them in dice!

“... No… You talked to us.” Cliff replies with a hint of frustration. “Took some moxie, but ya’ did it--I think that’s when I stopped wanting to kill ya’ too. Can’t speak for the other idiots, but I think they feel the same.”

Your smile widens as Cliff keeps going--DAMN, HE’S GOOD!

“But ya’ didn’t stop there, did ya?” He asks before taking another puff from a smoke. “You coulda tore that school apart, but instead ya saved it all for that homicidal rat, ROCKY.” You can almost hear a faint shake in his voice as he says the name, but you let it go. You weren’t doing anything special, you deflect--you were just trying to be sneaky!

“Don’t act humble, kid--you’re a better judge of character than ya’ know.” Cliff replies. “You gave us boneheads a second chance--that’s better than most of us got when we were alive.”

Well, you sheepishly answer, it’s not like they were ALL jerks…

“Listen, Stan--I can’t pretend the urge ta’ fight doesn’t come up every now an’ then,” Cliff continues in a more serious tone, “but the way you treated us? It makes it a helluva lot easier.” Another pause. “You’re one of the good ones, doll, an’ I’d be more than happy to tell anyone the same if they asked.”

>CONTD.

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>>5031277
Boris’ goons exchange a few looks as Cliff’s words sink in.

“Yea, that’s right--” Cliff continues with a slight smirk in his voice, “If anyone WAS listening, they could definitely send a person or two to the ole’ RINKY-DINK ROLLER RINK on the east side of town. Unarmed, of course. My guys would be happy ta’ chat wit’ someone who has flesh for a change.”

Boris motions for one of the GOOD BOY GOONS to write down the details, prompting the rent-a-cop to dive into one of the trucks.

“I’m sure they’d love to see where we’re all holed up… Then again, those GOOD BOY squares know a thing or two about secret bases, don’t they? ROLLER RINK will be fine, Sta-err, would be fine. If people were listenin’, that is.”

Sounds good, you state, making sure that the rest of your listeners can hear. So just to summarize here: he doesn’t think you’re in cahoots with the big guy?

“Not in the least.” Cliff says, voice practically OOZING confidence. “The real question is, Stan, is if these uh… fictional naysayers were listening in right now, well…”

You turn the volume up a little bit before adding a ‘well?’ of your own.

“Well... do you trust them?”

You blink a few times as a quiet murmur travels through Boris’ group. Do you trust them? HELL NO!

“In that case,” Cliff sighs, “I’d personally be a little less-concerned about what they think.” Another puff break. “That said, I’ll keep that in mind in case my guys run into anyone at the ROLLER RINK. Safety first, right?”

You bet, you reply, countering Boris’ smug grin with a raspberry. Thanks, Cliff--you needed that!

“Any time.” The greaser replies. “One more thing, kid--if ya’ see anyone on the road, tell ‘em to steer clear of the skeletons in the HOT RODS-- heard those guys don’t like squares with itchy trigger fingers.”

Raising an eyebrow Boris’ way, you nod--you’ll pass it along.

“Atta’ girl.” Cliff says with a sigh. “In that case, I’m gonna sign off for now--lots ta’ do and never enough time ta’ do it, dig?”

You dig. Talk soon, then?

“Sure, sis--you know how ta’ reach me.”

With that, the radio goes dead leaving you still held at gunpoint on the beach. Great.

>CONTD.

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>>5031278
Stowing your RADIO back into your pocket, you look expectantly at your fellow Evening Sanitation Coordinator. WELL?

“Well?” He replies, still twisting his mop around.

You plant your hands on your hips as a renewed frown appears on your face. Doesn’t he have a meeting to get to? You’re tired, damn it, and they all heard what Cliff said!

“We heard what a thrall said,” Curt interjects, “and it proved nothing.”

“I dunno, Curt,” Bea says with a shrug, “he seemed pretty nice on the radio… And he said he was gonna send some people to meet us, right?”

“He did…” Curt nods as a scowl forms behind his lenses. “In a TRAP, you buffoon.”

“Ooohhh…” Bea exhales, eyes widening behind her mask in recognition. Before the two can continue, Boris steps in once again!

“Whether it’s a trap or not, we all stand to learn something, yea?” He asks, earning a few nods from his entourage. “We’ll play ball--the MVPs will stay far away, of course, but we can try to play nice, right?”

“You’re making a mistake, Ponderosa.” Curt growls as his scowl shifts in your direction. “We could be letting the lich’s agent walk free…”

“Then we’ll track her down again--we know where she hangs out!” Boris laughs, taking the opportunity to slap the mage on the back! “Besides, you really wanna talk about it here?”

As the two look your way, the occultist relents with a sigh of defeat.

“... Very well. I don’t see the point in trying to change your mind.”

“That’s the spirit!” Boris chuckles, playfully shaking Curt by the shoulder! “In that case, we’ll table the discussion for now, bumblebee--I’m right there with ya’ in TIREDSVILLE.”

He can move then, you snarl, you meant what you said earlier about not trusting him!

“You wound me!” Boris shouts in mock surprise! “Just kidding, Stannie--I know deep down you love hangin’ out with us!”

The familiar taste of stomach acid and bile burns the back of your throat as you struggle to avoid processing what he just said--crap, you’ve gotta think of something… ANYTHING else, and fast! How do you shift gears?

>WHY ARE HE AND HIS FAN CLUB HERE ANYWAYS?
>ASK ABOUT MENDOZA. HE WAS YOURS, DAMN IT!
>TELL HIM AND HIS CHEERLEADERS TO TAKE A HIKE--YOU’RE TIRED!
>WRITE-IN!

>>5031282
That's all for tonight, folks--got a big day tomorrow and today was pretty busy! I'll check back in around MONDAY 6-7PM PST! Thanks again for playing and good luck on Monday!

>>5031282
>ASK ABOUT MENDOZA. HE WAS YOURS, DAMN IT!
We absolutely dumpstered that skeleton, he can try and take credit for the fact he almost bungled our precision operation. We smashed him through three floors with a manatee after poisoning his goons, sunk his ship with his own demon. And beat him in one shot with his own cannonball.

>>5031282
>>WHY ARE HE AND HIS FAN CLUB HERE ANYWAYS?

>>5031282
>>WHY ARE HE AND HIS FAN CLUB HERE ANYWAYS?

>>5031282
>ASK ABOUT MENDOZA. HE WAS YOURS, DAMN IT!
He and his fan club are here to make our life not worth living, as always, duh.

>>5031282
>ASK ABOUT MENDOZA. HE WAS YOURS, DAMN IT!

>>5031290
>>ASK ABOUT MENDOZA. HE WAS YOURS, DAMN IT!
Fuckin' this.

>>5031282
>ASK ABOUT MENDOZA. HE WAS YOURS, DAMN IT!

>>5031290
>>5031326
>>5031342
>>5031441
>>5031630
>CONFRONT THE KILLSNATCHER!

>>5031298
>>5031309
>WHY ARE THEY HERE?

Writing!

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Scrambling to find anything that can distract you from the implication that you and Boris could EVER become friends, your eyes settle on something you had nearly forgotten about--namely the chipped, sand-flecked remains of EX-CAPTAIN MENDOZA’S skull. Well… that and the TELESCOPING MOP currently poking through the top. Following it back up to its master with your eyes, you feel a renewed blend of hate, disgust, and annoyance ignite in your chest--the emotional cocktail that only BORIS-FRIGGIN’-PONDEROSA can trigger!

“Something wrong, Stannie?” He asks as if he were discussing the weather. Gritting your teeth, you hiss a response through the cracks--what’s the deal with the SKULL, Boris?

The janitor looks down at the end of the mop as if he stepped in dog crap. “Oh, that?”

YES, you growl, THAT.

“Not bad, huh?” Boris replies as he runs a hand through his golden locks! “Yea, I guess we do owe ya’ an explanation of why we’re here…”

No, you interject, no he DOESN’T! You know he and his cheerleaders are here to make your life MISERABLE, but what you don’t know is why he’s trying to take the credit for YOUR kill!

“You lost me, kid.” Boris mutters, scanning the crowd around him with a sheepish grin. “It went like this, see? Bea and I had just returned from dropping off an extra-spicy pizza-pie at that ship over there...” Pausing to point out the smoking wreck slowly sinking into the pacific, the janitor continues. “Musta’ barely shook the sand outta’ our shoes before we noticed something rolling out of the water! Something that looked pretty similar to that PIRATE CAPTAIN we’ve been hunting!”

“So what, you just smashed him?” Sybil asks as she risks stepping closer to you and Talbot. “Did it ever occur to you that he might have valuable information?”

“It DID,” Curt interjects, “as did the fact that were he to find another suitable body or escape into the sea, our mission here would have been for naught!”

“Didn’t matter anywho,” Boris adds with an embarrassed shrug, “the minute I saw a skull rolling across the beach, I gave it the ole’ BORIS BASH! Didn’t even realize it was the captain until uh… Until he wasn’t...”

“At least that’s one more down, right?” Bea asks in a cheery voice! “GO TEAM!”

If this bitch hugs you right now, you’re gonna flip.

>CONTD.

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>>5032058
Taking a few preemptive steps away from the exosuited amazon, a thought blows through your head like a tumbleweed in a ghost town--hold the damn phone, you snap, why the heck is he going after LIEUTENANTS now? Wasn’t he too busy signing autographs or something?

“I mean… I WAS.” Boris laughs, fishing a weathered pen out from one of his breast pockets! “But I gotta say, Stan--hearing you talk about all of those bad guys you walloped? Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little inspired!”

Inspired to kill the guy you spent the last hour scrapping with!? The guy you could only reach through some stupid mermaid sidequest!? The guy whose ship you trashed with help from his own demon!? The guy whose hat you currently have in your back pocket?! The guy whose men you reduced to a bubbling slurry with tainted grog?

“Actually I did that o-”

Delivering a spin-kick to Talbot’s stomach, you continue your list: the guy who you took out with his own stupid cannon ball arm!? THAT GUY?!!?

“Haha, yep!” Boris confirms with a daring smile! “Shame Curt didn’t detect you guys on the boat--If what you say is true, we make one hell of a team, Bumblebee!”

No, you huff, trying and failing to stop your body from shaking with rage, you don’t. Boris is worse than a monster at this point… He’s a… dare you say it?

A KILL-STEALER!

All of the beachgoers recoil in shock as your words echo across the coast! Raising his eyebrow in confusion, Boris’ perpetual grin lowers by about half an inch.

“Okay, Stan, I can see that you’re a little upset-”

A LITTLE?! you shout incredulously! He’s been out to get you since day-friggin-one, and now that you’re cleaning this mess up he has to stick his nose in here too!?

“Stan, please--” Art whines as the tension increases exponentially.

“He totally almost blew us up, too.” Talbot growls, earning a resigned groan from the guard. “And called us BAD GUYS!”

Stomping forward until you’re directly under his chin, you jab one of your fingers into his chest--this has been a long time coming, buster--you schooled him in karaoke, you toasted him in that dumb race of his, and now…

“Now?” Boris asks in a bemused tone.

Now YOU’RE gonna choose the game! How do you SETTLE THIS?!

>BEACH SUMO!
>ROCK PAPER SCISSORS SLAP!
>SWIMMING CONTEST!
>JUST SOCK THE SUNNOVABITCH!
>WRITE-IN!

>>5032059
>JUST SOCK THE SUNNOVABITCH!

>>5032059
>>JUST SOCK THE SUNNOVABITCH!

>>5032059
>SWIMMING CONTEST!
Men. We have sea legs

>>5032063
>>5032066
>SOCK'EM!

>>5032091
>SWIIIIIM!

It's been a long time coming, hasn't it? Looks like we're sluggin' the guy!

ROLL ME 1d100 TO TAG BORIS--I'LL TAKE THE BEST OF 3 ROLLS!

Don't forget to include anything you wanna SAY or DO, too--anywhere you wanna aim in particular?

Rolled 98 (1d100)

>>5032099

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-HtNaVFpw4Q
Feral racoon screeching

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>>5032103
Jesus christ. Do I even wait for more rolls?

Rolled 95 (1d100)

>>5032099
Deck him in his stupid face, leave it crooked and pointing to the moon.
GET UP QB, BEFORE I PUNT YOU FIFTY FUCKING YARDS!
FIGHT BACK IF YOU ARE NOT A GODDAMN SISSY

Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>5032099

rollin again since we basically won

>>5032117
That you did... That you did...

>>5032103
>>5032111
>>5032117
>HIGHEST ROLL: 98!!!

Writing the last update of the night!

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Do you even need to ask yourself at this point? Time slows to a crawl as your answer curls itself into a fist clenched tightly at your side. Drawing your fist back, an imaginary target appears on your target--his grinning face looming over you like some kind of marionette.

Someone says something, but the angry static buzzing in your ears drowns it out… This sonnovabitch has been hiding behind social graces for too long--time to finally give him his medicine!

If Boris registers what’s going on, he doesn’t show it. Sure as a train traveling between two stations, your fist leaves your side and reaches its final destination with the most satisfying ‘THWAK’ your ears have ever heard. You’d probably be crying right now if you weren’t worried about Art and Talbot’s reactions.

Shit, you’re crying. Tears of joy, mind, but tears nonetheless.

Boris grins all the way down to the sand--his expression unchanging save for a slight raise of his eyebrow. By the time he hits the ground, every weapon owned by his fan club is aimed your way--their wielder’s faces forming a mosaic of shock, anger, and confusion!

“Holy SHIT, Stan.”

You let Ly’s statement hang in the air as you loom above Boris’ prone form. The big man himself watches you from below with a smile that seems forced, even from him.

“Well…” He sighs, “Guess I deserved that.”

All you can do is blink in response. Something’s wrong, you think, something else was supposed to happen here! When he and his squad fail to retaliate, you can’t help but shiver a bit--does he need a reminder or something!? What the hell’s going on!? GET UP, QB! You shout, fishing for a reaction! BEFORE I PUNT YOU FIFTY YARDS!

“Nice hit, Bumblebee,” Boris mutters, swishing around his glowing red cheek like savoring a fine wine. “Shame you couldn’t use that on the ole’ captain, huh?”

Everything in your body tells you to shut him up--stomp on his face, kick sand in his eyes, do SOMETHING, but nothing responds save for your voice. FIGHT BACK, you roar! FIGHT BACK, YOU GODDAMN SISSY!

>CONTD.

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>>5032198
As the first of the fans to regain her composure, Bea wordlessly helps the downed janitor back onto his feet. While she brushes the sand off of his back, Boris stretches his bruised jaw a few times before giving you a new, if not slightly tarnished, grin.

“Well, well, well…” He muses under his breath, “Didn’t think you had it in you, Bumblebee. Takes a lotta guts to sucker punch a guy.”

Raising your fists as a challenge, you feel your heart sink into your stomach as your coworker turns and heads for the trucks instead.

“Maybe next time, Stannie--we have a few more LIEUTENANTS to take down, after all.” Subconsciously dashing after him, you feel several hands clasp your shoulders! Art, Syb, Ed, Tucker, and even Talbot shake their heads at you as Boris’ crew cautiously retreats into the trucks.

“Don’t start slacking again, Stan--” Boris adds, stopping short of the van he raced you in, “I’m in the race now…”

Leaving you with one last wink, Boris disappears into the van just as your LASER EYE glows with energy! Before you can fry him, however, your teammates manage to wrestle you to the sand!

“STAN!” Art shouts, dodging handfuls of sand and frantic kicks, “It’s not worth it, damn it! Not right now!”

“Just breathe!” Eddie adds! Struggling against your captors, you manage to chuck a sandy cigarette butt at the motorcade before it disappears into the distance leaving you alone with your thoughts and teammates. Huffing like you just ran a marathon, you slowly stop fighting against your pals and return to something resembling normalcy. Loosening his grip, Art nods to the others once it’s clear that you aren’t gonna bite him or something. Bending down to help you up, you motion for your crew to stop as you continue to lie in the cold sand. They relent.

“So…” Eddie remarks as he looks around the group, “that uh… That could have been worse.”

“Aye.” Andre replies, neither he or his mates moving from their designated spot.

“We all agree that was an amazing punch though, right?” Mitzi asks, earning a round of affirmatives from the group.

“Hate to ruin the moment,” Art says, digging divots in the sand with his boot, “but should we be worried about those guys thinking we’re uh… SKELETON SLEEPER AGENTS, or something?”

“Our performance so far has been exemplary.” Sybil replies as she idly runs a hand through her hair. “If GOOD BOY can’t recognize that then we’ll make do without them.”

“And here I was thinkin’ that guy was cool…” Talbot remarks, earning a fistful of sand to the face! “HEY!”

THE ANTICHRIST isn’t cool, T, you mutter in a weary tone.

“You know what?” Talbot replies, looking in the direction the trucks went, “You’re probably right.”

You can’t help but smile a bit at that. Score.

>CONTD.

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>>5032200
Fatigue’s invisible hands tug on your weary bones all the way back to the van. You almost consider asking Talbot to carry you like the ‘Good Ole’ Days’, but that thought dies quickly.

“Not a spot on her!” Eddie proclaims as he reintroduces everyone to the van! “... Probably.”

“Those jerks didn’t take anything, did they?” Art asks as he performs a quick vehicle inspection.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” Tucker replies, exchanging glances with Kiki. “If I had to guess I’d say they were just being theatrical.”

Yea, you snort, they’re a riot. As you lead the charge towards the van, you hear a quiet ‘ahem’ from behind you. Oh. Right.

“Eet eez not zee best time, of course,” Andre mutters as he drums his phalanges against his cutlass, “But zee mateys an’ I will be departin’ to gather up zee others.”

“Are you certain?” Syb asks, raising an eyebrow with concern. “Those goons might be looking for some kind of retribution…”

“Ahh, we can ‘andle ourselves!” Andre laughs, earning a similar response from what few skeleton pirates follow him. “But erm… Eef eet eez not too much to ask, well…”

You wanna know where the others are going, huh? The pirate nods meekly.

“Not so fast, Stan--we don’t want these guys leading the others to Cliff’s place.” Art warns, earning a frown from you. You know that, moron--but these guys still need a place to stay!

“Eet will still take some time to round up zee others…” Andre adds as he looks out to the sea, “but once we be gathered again eet weel be nice to ‘ave a ‘ome port, as eet were…”

“Just find some greasers then!” Talbot groans, trying to rub the drowsiness from his eyes in vain! “They can probably give you guys the tour!”

“Speaking of,” Art adds, “Where exactly are we going?”

“I’m a bit worried about heading back to THE LODGE, especially with those disappearances they’ve been having…” Tucker adds. “But it probably isn’t safe to wander the streets too late either…”

Fighting the aches and pains the day has bestowed upon you, you try to come up with not one, but TWO whole solutions simultaneously! DAMN, YOU’RE GOOD!

WHERE SHOULD ANDRE AND THE OTHER PIRATES HEAD AFTER REGROUPING?
>THE DRIVE-IN!
>THE NEAREST GREASERS THEY FIND!
>STAY ON THE COAST!
>WRITE-IN!

WHERE SHOULD YOU SPEND THE NIGHT?
>THE LODGE!
>JUST SLEEP IN THE VAN!
>FIND SOMETHING ALONG THE COAST!
>NO TIME TO REST--YOU GOTTA FOCUS ON THE NEXT LIEUTENANT!
>WRITE-IN!

That's it for tonight, folks--should have some more ready to go TUESDAY AROUND 6-7PM PST! Thanks again for playing--always eager to see what sort of hijinks you can come up with.

>>5032202
> Call up Cliff to arrange a meeting spot

>FIND SOMETHING ALONG THE COAST!

>>5032205
>> Call up Cliff to arrange a meeting spot
>>FIND SOMETHING ALONG THE COAST!

>>5032202
> Call up Cliff to arrange a meeting spot
>FIND SOMETHING ALONG THE COAST!

>>5032202
>Call up Haul-man Paulo to arrange a meeting spot
I wanna spend some pongos, I wonder how well those rollerskates go with our Fencer Femur.
>NO TIME TO REST--YOU GOTTA FOCUS ON THE NEXT LIEUTENANT!
Boris is out there now and we are NOT letting him kill another lieutenant. Thats right, we are speedrunning this shit. Everyone sleeps on the van while we drive to Joplin to find the cowboy.

>>5032202
>STAY ON THE COAST!

>NO TIME TO REST--YOU GOTTA FOCUS ON THE NEXT LIEUTENANT!
can we give those skellies a radio or something and send them on recon for the sea bitch, I mean witch?

>>5032202
>>Call you Cliff to arrange a meeting spot.
>>Ask if anyone has any preferences as far as keep going or take a rest.

>>5032570
You certainly can--it probably won't work in the water, but the coast oughta work!

FOR ANDRE AND THE GANG:
>>5032205
>>5032215
>>5032216
>>5032757
>CALL CLIFF TO ARRANGE ANOTHER MEETING

>>5032257
>CALL HAULIE-FRIGGIN'-PAULIE!

>>5032570
>STAY ON THE COAST!

WHERE TO CRASH FOR THE NIGHT?
>>5032205
>>5032215
>>5032216
>SOMETHING ON THE COAST!

>>5032257
>>5032570
>SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK

>>5032757
>ACTUALLY ASK YOUR CRONIES FOR THEIR OPINION FOR ONCE, JEEZ

Looks like Calling Cliff and Finding a Beachside Bunkhouse wins it! Writing!

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Fighting against the wicked forces of TIREDNESS, you scan the area for any sign of any more red-headphoned SHITBIRDS before retrieving whipping out your radio one more time!

“Stan,” Art whines, “where are we goiii-”

He’s going ass-over-elbows off the cliff if he keeps that crap up, you snap! Now shut it--mommy’s gotta make a CALL! Throwing his hands up in resignation, Art joins Eddie and Talbot as they take turns kicking sand at each other while you probe the line for any sign of Cliff. CLIFF, you growl into the receiver, COME IN!

“You’ve got some explainin’ ta’ do, kid.” Replies a clearly irritated greaser on the other line! “What the hell did I just get my boys into back there?”

Well, you reply, trying and failing to ignore how miffed he sounds, it’s a long story, bu-

“Then tell me the short one.” He interrupts, knocking you off-balance! “Some of the guys are already headed to the meetin’ place and I want them to know what to expect.”

Short version. Gotcha. Taking a deep breath, you recount the night’s escapades in a still long, yet somewhat shorter, story than you planned on telling. When you finish with the events that took place on the beach, you can’t help but notice that the skeleton on the other end of the radio isn’t clapping. Like… At ALL.

“God damn…” Is all you hear, followed by the angriest cigarette puff you’ve ever heard. “Lemme get this straight, Stan--I told you to send those creeps AWAY from us. The creeps you said that you specifically don’t trust.”

Spotting Kiki lingering next to you holding out a juice box, you politely wave her away before answering in a wavering tone--well of course it sounds bad when he says it like THAT!

“Cripes, Stan…” Cliff groans, no doubt massaging his skinless temples. “I already took a chance with those pirates you sent over… Do you understand what happens if the big guy finds out what we’re doin’? I’m startin’ to think that you don’t.”

Then he can EXPLAIN IT, you fire back! He needed people, right? You’re finding them!

“Not if they’re gonna get us all killed again, Stan!” Cliff retorts, causing an uncomfortable silence to fall over both of you. “... Look, I appreciate what you’re doin’. Really. But-”

But?

“... But maybe I’m just getting paranoid.” Cliff sighs. “And maybe a meetin’ with these guys was inevitable. I dunno, kid...”

He’ll be fine, you say in an attempt to reassure him! He’s pretty smart--he can handle it!

“Maybe.” Cliff says with a faint laugh in his voice. “Can never say no to you, can I? I’ll tell the meeting guys to show up a little late, then--that’ll show those GOOD BOY creeps. No offense to Art, mind.”

Great, you giggle! Speaking of meetings…

>CONTD.

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>>5033024
Andre’s whiskers rise a bit as you approach his group radio in hand.

“Well?” He asks, barely containing his anticipation. Well, you answer, shoving your radio into his bony hands, he just got a direct line to one of your best pals!

“And one who could also use a couple of crazy bastards like you.” The radio adds, prompting Andre to bring it to where his ear used to be. “Andre, right? Stan tells me your guys are looking for a place to hole up.”

“Err, aye,” Andre replies, fumbling with the strange device. “Once we finish combing zee beaches for our mateys, zat ees…”

“So I heard.” Cliff responds. “We’ve got a place, but we can’t bring you in yet… That said, I’ve already heard a lot about you from your brot-”

“ZAT IMBECILE EES AS MUCH A PIRATE AS I AM A STURGEON!” Andre shrieks into the radio, earning the attention of everyone meandering next to the van. “Whatever ee tells you ees nothing more zan-”

“Bullshit.” Cliff interjects, smiling through his words. “I hate the guy, so I can already tell you and I are gonna be pals.”

The pirate struggles to come up with a response. “I… err… You do?”

“Tell you what: finish rounding up your boys and give me a call once you’re ready to move--with luck Stan’s coworkers won’t be sniffing around as much by the time you’re done. We’ll talk then, dig?”

“Aye,” Andre responds, taking the cue from your nodding and smiling, “I erm… I dig.”

“Great.” Cliff sighs. “Andre, Stan, all the rest--we’ll chat soon. Very soon if this deal goes bust.”

Giving Cliff a cheery ‘byyyyee~’, you push Andre’s hand away as he tries to give you the radio back. What’s he doing? That’s his now!

>CONTD.

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>>5033026
“R-really?” The pirate asks, unsure of how to respond to the gesture. “Errr, eet be appreciated, mademoiselle.”

He can call you Stan, you reply, planting your hands on your hips. And it’s the least you can do after he pretty much delivered Mendoza to you on a silver platter.

“Aye, t’was quite a caper indeed, non?” He asks in a wistful tone. “Per’aps zere ees more to life zan looting an’ plunder…”

“So how do you plan to rally the other pirates under your banner?” Syb asks with a look of concern. “Are there any procedures for electing a new captain?”

“Aye,” Andre nods before drawing his cutlass, “I kill anyone who disagrees. It be workin’ well for ages now!”

“Right.” Syb replies, visibly deflating. “Well then, we shouldn’t keep you!”

“Don’t theenk of eet as a ‘goodbye’,” the pirate explains, “theek of eet as a ‘until next time!’” Sheathing his sword in its scabbard, the pirate extends his hand in your direction one last time. “Eet was a pleasure, Stan.”

You take his hand in yours and give it a good shake--yea, you reply, it kinda was! Minus the freaky fish girls, the horrifying demon, and the ship almost blowing up with you on it.

“Ta’ be honest it was actually kinda cruddy.” Ly adds, but you don’t bother relaying his words. Joining your pals in the van, you give the pirates one last wave before they shrink into specks along the coastal road. Until next time…

“Nice going, dummy,” Talbot chides from next to you, “you just gave him your radio.”

Yea, you snarl, and now he’s gonna grab you ANOTHER ONE! Snapping your fingers at him impatiently, you grin a bit as your bodyguard begrudgingly starts rooting through the van’s supplies for a replacement radio. Good boy!

“Don’t call me that.”

>CONTD.

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>>5033028
Armed with a replacement radio, your next challenge comes in the form of Art whining again.

“Seriously, Stan,” the guard moans from the driver’s seat, “If I have to drive any longer I’m plunging us all into the goddamn ocean.”

“NO!” Eddie shrieks! “Think of what the water’ll do to RIP!”

You and the rest of the Back of the Van Bunch follow Ed’s shaking finger over to the somehow still-pristine RIP KORD CARDBOARD CUTOUT. You’re really gonna have to find a place to set that thing up, huh?

“Speaking of setting up,” Mitzi adds, putting her sand-caked boots up on a stack of boxes, “I’m with Art on this one--escaping from mermaids and running into Boris and the others is more than enough excitement for one day…”

“There’s bound to be some shelter along this road,” Tucker shrugs. “Not to mention the sun should be rising in a few hours.”

“Well someone keep their eyes out.” Art growls as he rubs his eyes. “I can barely keep my eyes on the road…”

“Why the hell did you decide to drive, then?” Eddie asks, angrily crossing his arms. “I’ve still got some left in me!”

“Because I called dibs.”Art replies matter-of-factly. “Now help me find a place to park this deathtrap.”

Clambering through the ex-viewport dividing the front and back of the van, you, Sybil, Eddie, and Ly all scan the road for anything promising.

After several arguments and missed turns, you finally agree to spend the night at:

>THE SEASHELL MOTEL! SMALL, BUT CHARMING!
>A RITZY-LOOKING BEACH HOUSE!
>A BEACH-SIDE CAMPGROUND HIDDEN BEHIND SEVERAL SMALL ROADS!
>WRITE-IN!

That's all for tonight, folks--got home late and I'm pretty wiped. Apologies if the quality's been slipping lately--hopefully it's only a temporary thing!

I should be back around WEDNESDAY 6-7PM PST! Hope to see you next time!

>>5033029
>>A BEACH-SIDE CAMPGROUND HIDDEN BEHIND SEVERAL SMALL ROADS!

>>5033029
>>A BEACH-SIDE CAMPGROUND HIDDEN BEHIND SEVERAL SMALL ROADS!

>>5033029
>A BEACH-SIDE CAMPGROUND HIDDEN BEHIND SEVERAL SMALL ROADS!

>>5033029
>THE SEASHELL MOTEL! SMALL, BUT CHARMING!

>>5033036
>>5033043
>>5033111
>CAMPSIIIIIITE

>>5033429
>AN ACTUAL MOTEEEELLLL

Writing!

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A few minutes later you find yourselves rocking back and forth along a pitch-black dirt road that serpentines into the cliffs above the coast.

“Are you SURE this is the right way?” Art asks for the fifth time in a row! Yes, DORK, you reply as you pause to kick the back of his seat, there was like… three signs back there with tents on them! It’s gotta be!

“Hate to be a wet blanket, but do we HAVE tents?” Tucker asks, causing a hush to fall over the van. “... Yea, I probably should have spoken up earlier, huh?”

“Well I’m not turning around NOW…” Art remarks as the van skids around another hairpin turn! “Especially when-”

Your driver cuts himself off as he SLAMS on the breaks, sending you and the others tumbling around the back of the van like tennis balls! Shoving Talbot and Mitzi off of you, you crawl over to Art’s side and flick the side of his head--what’s his deal!? The guard shoots you a sideways look before pointing at the rusty chain blocking the path further in.

“That.”

Peering closer, your irritation is swiftly downgraded to ‘MILD IRRITATION’ when you spot a weathered old sign hanging from the barrier--’Angel’s View Campground: Cabins Available!’

“Huh.” Mitz remarks, poking her head out from behind you. “Cabins could work.”

“Yes they COULD.” Art agrees before turning your way. “You uh… You mind getting the chain, Stan?”

Your answer comes in the form of an incredulous ‘AWWWWW!’ Is he SERIOUS, you shout, raising your hands in disbelief! What if there’s a MOUNTAIN LION out there or something?

“I think you can handle a MOUNTAIN LION, Stan.” Art groans, clearly sensing another argument in the near future. Before you can press the issue, the chain falls to the dirt with a faint rattle! Eyes wide with horror, you and the others press your faces against the windshield as a tall figure emerges from the shadowy road!

“Hey, Stan.”

“Okay, how the hell did HE get here?” Talbot asks as a familiar pizza delivery man waves you through.

That’s just his THING!

>CONTD.

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>>5033847
“So the cabins are good?” Art asks as he takes the van further down the road.

“Yep.” Gus replies, hanging off the side of the driver’s door. “Nothing fancy, but they’ve got electricity and stuff. Hot water, too.”

“Hell. Yes.” Eddie hisses as he pumps his fist in the air. “This sea water’s killin’ me!”

“It’s just water, dude.” Mitzi laughs, running a hand through her still slightly-damp hair. “Aside from all the poop, it’s actually pretty good for ya’.”

“And no SLASHERS, right?” Tucker asks, earning a round of annoyed looks. “... I jinxed it, didn’t I?’

“The only one gettin’ slashed is THEM!” Talbot boasts, puffing out his chest! “If… y’know, there actually IS a slasher.”

“We’re here.”

Following Gus’ laconic gaze inland, you spy a handful of quaint little cabins along the cliffside that remind you of that playhouse your dad made you when you were a kid. You spent more time burrowing under it, of course, but looking back it looked really cute!

“And there doesn’t seem to be any tenants around, either…” Sybil remarks as she strokes her pale chin. “Perks of visiting during off-season, it would seem.”

“Those are the deluxe ones.” Gus reports, still hanging onto the side of the van like a champ. “Kitchenettes, two bunk beds in their own room, one pull-out couch, and a bedroom in the back.”

“Sheesh, man, you ever think of becoming a realtor?” Eddie chuckles, earning a blank stare from the delivery man. “Erm… So where’s everyone sleepin’?”

“If my math is right,” Tucker muses to himself, “We could probably get eight people into one cabin if people were willing to share the bigger beds.” FAT CHANCE!

“Don’t be rude, Stan.” Ly barks, earning a sneer from you.

“We could always do the classic ‘BOYS IN ONE CABIN, GIRLS IN THE OTHER.’” Mitzi suggests. “If something happens we can just holler, right?”

“Sure,” Talbot nods, “but what about that LAST cabin? Feels wrong just wasting it…”

You frown. If he wants to lurk in his own cabin like a gargoyle, then he can do it! Your bodyguard replies with a smug grin. “Don’t be pissed because YOU didn’t think of it first! Dibs, by the way!”

DAMN, HE’S GOOD!

“Alright,” Art mutters as he leans against the steering wheel, “let’s just choose something quickly, okay? I could probably pass out right here.”

Leaving the van next to Gus’ DELIVERY BIKE, you eventually come to a shaky agreement:

>DIVIDE EVERYONE UP INTO CABINS: STAN, ART, SYBIL, MITZI, TUCKER, EDDIE, KIKI, GUS, TALBOT

>CABIN 1 (2 BEDS, 4 BUNKS, 8 SPOTS TOTAL)

>CABIN 2 (2 BEDS, 4 BUNKS, 8 SPOTS TOTAL)

>CABIN 3 (2 BEDS, 4 BUNKS, 8 SPOTS TOTAL)
-TALBOT CALLED DIBS, BUT HE MIGHT MOVE

>>5033849
>CABIN 1, STAN AND MITZI
>CABIN 2, EVERYONE ELSE BUT TALBOT
>CABIN LAM3, GUESS WHO

Getting late on my end and I'm not on my usual rig, so I'll check back in on THURSDAY around 6-7PM PST! Divide and conquer, folks.... Divide and CONQUER

>>5033849
>CABIN 1: Stan, Mitzi, Kiki
>CABIN 2: Tucker, Eddie, Gus, Talbot
>CABIN 3: Art, Sybil.

>>5033994
I'll accept this if we move Gus to 3, make sure they actually sleep.

>>5034007
That's defeating the purpose

>>5033994
>>5033849

Support

>>5033887
>GALS, GUYS, AND TALBOT

>>5033994
>>5034655
>GALS, GUYS, AND THE HAPPY COUPLE

Looks like we're throwing Syb and Art a bone! Writing!

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Relaying your decisions to the others earns you the usual surprised responses.

“See? Even Stan thought my idea was neat.” Mitzi gloats before giving Art and Syb a sly glance. “Enjoy that cabin, lovebirds…”

“B-b-but… Are you s-sure?!” Syb stammers while Art stands like a statue at her side. “Really, Stan--there’s more than enough room in two cabi-”

“Come on, Syb, don’t you get it!?” Talbot growls, causing a fresh wave of anger to well up in your chest! “It’s obvious why she put you two together!”

“W-w-whatever do you mean, Talbot?” Art replies, face dripping with even more sweat than usual! Sensing disaster looming in the not-so-distant future, you move to wring your bodyguard’s stupid neck before he can spill the beans!

“You were pretty much passed out earlier on the boat, right?” Talbot asks the Goth, causing you to freeze in mid-air. “So naturally Stan thought you could use the quieter cabin!”

“O-oh yes…” Syb whispers with a confused nod. “That uh… That’s true, Stan.”

“And there’s no way anyone’s creeping up on ya’ with Artie around!” Talbot continues, giving the security goon a playful jab to the shoulder! “Besides, the guys and I might stay up and drink a bit, so you’re both better off with a quieter area to get your magical uh… vigor… back, right?”

“Oooooh,” Art replies as the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “Yea, that’s right! Man, Stan, you uh… You’re a TRUE PAL for thinking of all that!”

You sheepishly scratch the back of your head as you glance between the couple and Talbot. Y-yea, you stammer, Talbot totally saw through you… Heh heh!

“Hold on,” Eddie interjects as Talbot and Gus each heft a beer crate onto their shoulders, “Didn’t you say you wanted that cabin, T? I thought you’d be madder.”

“Yea, well…” T replies, idly thumbing his bowtie, “T-that’s okay… Besides, you guys are gonna need me in case something scary shows up!”

“Our hero...” Tucker laughs before nudging Ed in the direction of the DUDE CABIN. “What time are we waking up, Stan?”

The question puts a frown on your face--you could say sunrise, but that would be a damned lie… Instead you opt for ‘whenever everyone’s up!’ earning a round of tired, albeit grinning faces! Or, you add, whenever something terrible happens!

The smiles quickly dissipate.

>CONTD.

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>>5034776
“Don’t party too hard, okay?” Mitzi asks, giving Gus a playful nudge on the elbow on the way to the GIRL’S CABIN. “Otherwise we’ll have to come join.”

“Oh no.” Gus replies with his trademark ‘centimeter of a smile’. Helping Kiki lift a few CLEARWATER DAM BLANKETS AND PILLOWS from the back of the van, you feel a familiar rattling inside of your head. What NOW, Ly?

“Ain’tcha forgettin’ somethin’?” He asks, pointing your head towards Talbot’s increasingly-distant form. You give your bones a halfhearted groan before scampering over to your bodyguard.

“Huh?” He asks, sensing your approach before you can reach his side. “Alright, fine, you can drink a beer or two-”

Ignoring his sad attempt at humor, you give the tracksuit-wearing hellion a quick, but clear ‘thanks’ before scurrying to the safety of your cabin.

“Just in time,” Mitzi smirks, removing her helmet and shaking out her hair as you scramble in through the door, “a moment later and I woulda’ locked you out there.”

Watching Kiki stifle a laugh, you roll your eyes at the two of them. Yea, yea, you scoff, as if a door would stop you. Landing with a thud on the nearby couch, you let yourself sink into the plush cushions as you take in all the sights!

Not too far from the couch sits a rectangular wooden dining table: the kind that looks like it was just chopped off of a tree, minus the splinters and ticks! Surrounded by a handful of rustic wood chairs, the table sits not too far from a quaint kitchenette stocked with all the essentials: a sink, a microwave, and a squat refrigerator next to an equal-sized pantry.

Past the table sits two doors--both of which lie slightly ajar. Peeking through the leftmost portal are two bunk beds: all four beds clad in the bare minimum plaid sheets and a plastic case around each mattress. Guess that’s one place to spend the night…

Off to the right sits what you assume to be the one bathroom in the place along with the only shower. Small and plain, sure, but quite the luxury given that you’re in a campground!

“Main bedroom’s through there.” Mitzi reports, pointing a gloved hand down the short hall behind you. “You wanna borrow the shower first, Stan? You saw a lot more action that Keek and I did today.”

The Keek in question interrupts Mitzi by turning and whispering something in her ear. Nodding in response, the guard directs her attention back your way. “Kiki thinks we oughta figure out the sleeping sitch first.” A sly grin creeps across Mitzi’s face. “Dibs on the main bed. Ask nicely, Stan, and I might just share it with ya.” Ignoring her wink and Kiki’s muffled stifled laugh, you ponder your next move...

>CONTD.

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>>5034779
What say you?!

>TAKE THE ROLLOUT COUCH--YOU PRACTICALLY LIVED ON SYB’S!
>DOUBLE-DOWN! TELL HER THAT’S A DANDY IDEA!
>LET KIKI CHOOSE FIRST--SHE’S BEEN WORKING HARD TOO!
>FIGHT FOR THE MAIN BED!
>JUST TAKE A BUNK!
>ACTUALLY, YOU WERE PLANNING ON HITTING UP THE BOY’S CABIN FOR A BIT!
>WRITE-IN!

>>5034780
>>DOUBLE-DOWN! TELL HER THAT’S A DANDY IDEA!

>>5034780
>JUST TAKE A BUNK!
We're not some BED-DEPENDENT WEAKILNG, are we?

>>5034779

>Just take a bunk!

BED FORT BED FORT BED FORT

>>5034780
>LET KIKI CHOOSE FIRST--SHE’S BEEN WORKING HARD TOO!

>>5034780
>Move all the blankets and pillows to one room and have a slumber party.

Stan probably didn't get a lot of those as a kid.

>>5034782
>PARRY!

>>5034836
>>5034878
>BAG A BUNK!

>>5034880
>OH YEA I GUESS KIKI SHOULD GET A SAY IN IT HUH

>>5035385
>WHOLESOME AS FUCK OPTION

Looks like we're gonna be grabbin' a bunk, but who knows... A bed fort might be in the works! Writing!

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You swiftly decline Mitz’ offer with a wave of your hand. Fun as it sounds, you’re not exactly a ‘share-the-bed’ kind of gal--last time you tried that at Syb’s place you nearly took her arm off in your sleep when she tried to retrieve some of the covers… It’s just safer for everyone if you quarantine, really!

“Sweet,” the guard replies grinning ear to ear, “guess you and Keek are fighting for the couch, then!”

Ignoring the frighteningly-convincing combat stance Kiki drops into, you jab a finger in the direction of the bunk beds. Besides, you explain, the real prizes are sitting over there, chumps! Shifting her gaze between you and the jungle of beds waiting in the room beyond, Mitzi concludes by giving you a sympathetic look.

“I mean… you definitely have the pick of the litter…”

And you thought she was one of the COOL ones! Shaking your head at her in disappointment, you ask Mitzi a simple, but pointed question: has she ever heard of a BED FORT before? Recognition pools in the security goon’s eyes, followed by excitement.

“Oh yes.” She mutters under her breath, “HELL yes. I knew I liked you for a reason.”

Proudly planting yourself in the doorframe, you give the other girls a smug grin--this, you explain, is why you’re running this circus!

“Any chance we uh… We can join?” Mitzi adds as she and Kiki watch in jealousy!

MAYBE.

Now that THAT’S settled, you add as you survey the land that will soon become the Queendom of STANIA, you’ve gotta figure out what your plans are for the rest of the night…or at least for right now!

“I figure we can do ONE OR TWO THINGS before passin’ out!” Ly suggests. In that case…

>TAKE A SHOWER! WASH OFF THAT CRAPPY SEA WATER!
>CHECK ON THE BOY’S CABIN! MAYBE GRAB A BEER!
>CHAT UP MITZ AND/OR KIKI!
>BUILD YOUR KINGDOM!
>EXPLORE THE CAMPGROUND A LIL’ BIT!
>JUST PASS THE HELL OUT!
>WRITE-IN!

>>5035471

>BUILD YOUR KINGDOM!
>EXPLORE THE CAMPGROUND A LIL’ BIT!

>>5035471
>>TAKE A SHOWER! WASH OFF THAT CRAPPY SEA WATER!
>CHAT UP MITZ AND/OR KIKI!

>>5035471
>BUILD YOUR KINGDOM!
>CHAT UP MITZ AND/OR KIKI!

>>5035491
>>5035539
>>5035571
>BUILD YOUR KINGDOM: 2
>EXPLORE CAMPGROUND: 1
>TAKE A SHOWER: 1
>CHAT UP MITZ/KIKI: 2

Looks like we're chatting whilst building! Writing!

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In that case, you reply as you plant your hands on your hips in determination, you’d better get this show started! Snapping your fingers a few times, Kiki and Mitzi eventually get the hint and peer over your stout shoulders.

“We makin’ this happen, then?” Mitzi asks with interest. You bet you are, you answer as you face them both with a grin! First thing’s first: can’t make a proper BED FORT without the right stuff!

Your words barely leave your mouth before Kiki returns with a stack of CLEARWATER DAM SHEETS, BLANKETS, PILLOWS, AND TOWELS teetering in her hands. Looking at you expectantly, the film student eagerly dumps them all in the center of the room when you give her a thumb’s up. Divvying up the materials into stacks, Kiki presents them all with an exaggerated ‘ta-da’ gesture before hopping onto one of the bottom bunks.

“Haven’t made one of these in ages!” Mitzi gushes, her usual aloofness deserting her. “Just like camp, huh Stan?” Before you can answer, the security goon cuts herself off with a startled look! “I mean… you’ve been to camp, right? It feels like that, right Keek?”

Seeing the panic on the guard’s face, Kiki responds with a hasty series of nods. What the hell’s their deal?

“No big deal, Stan--just gettin’ nostalgic…” Mitzi replies in a measured tone. Before you can dig deeper, she’s already crouched beside the beginnings of your kingdom! “So where do we start? I’m partial to the ‘DAM COMFY’ sheets, myself, but…”

The first step, you interrupt, is moving those bad boys closer together! Following your finger, Kiki and Mitzi watch as you draw a line between the two bunk beds and exchange a smile.

“Riiiight: forgot we won’t have to tidy up or check out in the morning.” Mitzi remarks, grabbing the side of the nearest bed. “Sometimes this whole SKELETON THING isn’t so bad, huh?”

You shrug--it has its moments! With Kiki taking position at the other bed, the two of them push the beds together just as you hear the sound of laughter next door--guess the guys are staying up for a little longer…

You quietly shake your fist in the direction of their cabin. If those jerks drink all the beer...
>CONTD.

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>>5035615
“I'm more worried about Art and Syb, to be honest.” Mitzi replies as she finishes pushing the bunk bed. “If we can hear the guys from here, well…” She pauses, biting her lip in thought, “...let’s just hope those two keep it down, yea?”

Your heart skips a few beats as the guard's implication slowly dawns on you. You just wanted to be nice and give them some time to chat, dang it! She… She doesn’t think that-

“That what? Those goofballs are gonna stay up all night talking and keep the poor guys awake?” Mitzi answers with a wry grin. “Why? What did you think I was talking about, Stan?”

Sinking further into the doorway to hide the growing heat in your cheeks, you respond with a curt shrug--you uh… never mind.

“Can do.” Mitzi replies, sharing a knowing glance with Kiki as they each pick up a few pieces of bedding each. “Cute kids, though. You shoulda’ heard how Art was fussing over Syb when you guys went to the ship--dude probably would have swam after ya’ if Ed and Tucker hadn’t started talking about Japanese flicks...”

That earns a chuckle from you. Art and the others might be shameless dorks, but they have their moments!

“That they do…” Mitzi agrees. “Anyways, we putting this thing together tonight or what? I'm still gunning for that shower, Parble.”

With a weary ‘yeah, yeah…’ you begin showing these punks how a BED FORT is done! You had a lot of practice on your own as a kid, so in between placing sheets under strategically-laid pillows and layering blankets, you opt to use the opportunity to interrogate your laborers.

What’s the topic, foreman? CHOOSE 1-2 TOPICS!
>ASK KIKI TO SHARE MORE ABOUT HERSELF! THE RHYMING THING MAKES IT TOUGH, BUT…
>YOU NEVER ASKED MITZ ABOUT HER FAMILY!
>WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT CAMP EARLIER?
>WHAT DO THEY THINK ABOUT THE REST OF THE GANG?
>HOW ARE THINGS GOING?
>WRITE-IN!

>>5035616
>>ASK KIKI TO SHARE MORE ABOUT HERSELF! THE RHYMING THING MAKES IT TOUGH, BUT…

Gonna leave it here for tonight, all--should check back in around 11-12PM PST SATURDAY!

... You know what? Since I'll be more well-rested around then, go ahead and choose 3 topics if you want--quality pillow forts take time, after all!

Hope to see you then!

>>5035616
>WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT CAMP EARLIER?

>>5035616
>>WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT CAMP EARLIER?

>>5035617
>ASK MORE ABOUT KIKI!

>>5035647
>>5035669
>WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT CAMP?

Starting a little early today, but it looks like we have our two topics! Writing!

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A satisfied grin forms on your face as you drape some more sheets across the gap between bunks. Yes, you mutter to no one in particular, that will do nicely…

With construction clearly going smoothly, you turn your attention to the shaggy-haired student next to you as she places a few strategic pillow palisades. Come to think of it, how much do you really know about Kiki anyways? You know she has that thing where she has to rhyme every sentence, but...

“Well for starters, her folks own a Japanese restaurant on the West side of town.” Mitzi answers, earning an enthusiastic nod from Kiki. “Pretty sure it was called UMAI or something, right, Keek?”

The student nods as you send an impressed stare Mitzi’s way. How the heck did she know that? Is she really a mind-reader?

“Yep!” She replies before staring daggers through you. “... Nah, not really--I just like giving Ed a hard time. I just asked her back when we went shopping at THE LODGE!” The two share a knowing laugh while a frown forms on your face--no one ever tells you anything, do they?!

“Eh, don’t be upset.” Mitz sighs, “Keek here just doesn’t like talking much, y’know? She’s a woman of ACTION!”

Said woman of ACTION flexes her non-existent biceps to drive the point home. Speaking of, you add in a quizzical tone, how the heck can she whip around that machine gun anyways? She’s smaller than you, but she carries it like a twig!

“I’ll put that answer on the dockets once you explain how you stuff those pockets!” Kiki counters, jabbing an accusatory finger at your pants! Touché…

Scrambling to change the subject, you opt to ask about her family--does she uh… Does she know where they are? Though her eyes are covered in bangs, you can already tell that wasn’t the best question to ask… Kiki looks at you with pursed lips and slowly shrugs her shoulders.

“Yep…” Mitzi sighs, patting the girl on the shoulder, “lots of that going around lately, huh?”

“It matters not and come what may, we’ll do our best to save the day!” The student rhymes, giving you a shaky, but genuine, thumbs up! Guess there’s gonna be a lot of people to track down once all of this crap is over…

“Errr, here’s a question I’ve had, Keek:” Mitzi adds, clumsily changing the subject, “Why uh… What made you want to do film school anyways?”

Recovering almost immediately, the camera girl pantomimes a series of horror movie staples--a vampire skulking behind a cape, a zombie staggering on a limp leg, and finally a werewolf howling at the moon!

“... You’re another horror movie geek, aren’cha.” Mitzi adds flatly, earning an emphatic nod from the pantomimer. “Great.”

>CONTD.

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>>5036141
Rolling her eyes at the presence of yet ANOTHER dork, Mitzi’s face lights up as another question comes to mind!

“Say, Keek…” She purrs, nudging the student in the ribs, “Is that why you and Tuck are so friendly?” Sensing her meaning, Kiki responds with a sheepish grin and a few shakes of her head, followed by a specific series of pantomimes: a finger pointed to each of you, an X, another finger pointed towards the BOY’S CABIN, then finally two thumb’s up. Yea, moron, you growl, you know that Tucker’s hanging out with the guys!

“I uh… I don’t think that was what she meant, Stan.” Mitz replies, stifling a knowing chuckle. Whatever!

“Speaking of boys,” Mitzi segues, “How’s it feel getting to know the real Talbot?” She asks, putting a smug grin on Kiki’s face as well. “Everything you’ve ever dreamed of?”

Feeling beads of sweat form on your forehead, you do what any mature adult would do in this situation--DEFLECT! Chucking a few more sheets into the fort, you point an accusing finger in the direction of the security goon--she mentioned camp earlier, right? What the heck was that about!?

“URK!” Mitzi’s face contorts as if you had just punched her. Again. “That uh… What about it? I said making this fort was like being back at camp or something!” Nuh uh, you growl, you don’t buy it! Crossing your arms and tapping a foot on the wood floor, you stare at the security guard until she breaks with a theatrical groan!

“DAMN IT, FINE!” She shouts, stomping her foot on the floor in defeat! “I didn’t… I didn’t want to bring it up, but you were truthful with me after that whole lab fiasco…” Staring at the floor for a while, Mitzi takes a deep breath before looking you in the eyes with a serious expression. “Stan… You uh… You went to camp around here, right? Once upon a time?”

You bite your lip as you contemplate her question--sure you did! It was right around when Sue broke up with whatever slut he was dating at the time… You must have been in Middle School or something! What was the name again…

“WAMPANOAG, right?”

No, you mutter, it was something else.

“No it wasn’t.” Ly corrects. Is he still here!? This is GAL TIME, prick!

“Not like I've got much of a choice…” He grumbles.

Go possess a rat or something, then! Sheesh!

"I don't wanna."

>CONTD.

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>>5036148
The name hits you like a truck. Yes, you whisper with a snap of your fingers, that was it! There was a lake, archery, and there were cabins kinda like this only they were made to fit a billion kids and smelled like mold!

“And you could always tell it was morning by the smell of burning trash in the incinerator and food cooking in the canteen.” Mitzi adds with a wistful smile on her face. “That and Counselor Conklin tuning his guitar every damn morning…”

You nod--how the hell was it always so loud? Aren’t walls supposed to block-

Wait a minute… Confusion wells up in your head like a burst sewer pipe as you review the facts--how the heck did Mitzi know about that? Are there seriously multiple Counselor Conklins?! You KNEW he was mass-produced! That-

“Relax, detective,” Mitzi interrupts in a soft voice, “there’s only one Conklin and only one camp. We just happened to uh…” She pauses, brushing a few bangs from her face, “we went to the same one.”

Memories come flickering back like candles in the dark--off-tune campfire songs, the sound of paddles dipping into lake water, the sting of dry, brisk mornings on your face peeking out of your bunk bed’s covers…

And a girl... One with cinnamon-colored hair and a tomboyish laugh. One that you promised a tour of the boardwalk to on a bittersweet morning in front of the bus taking you home.

SHIT.

“Yep.” Mitzi sighs, averting her misty eyes. “Shit.”

>CONTD.

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>>5036150
You struggle to come up with the right words for the situation--should you apologize? Ask her how she’s doing? Crap, how do you even tackle this? It’s like finding out you have a long-lost sister or something!

“It’s fine, Stan,” Mitzi interrupts as she hops onto one of the bottom bunks, “It made a lot more sense once we learned about your uh… Memory issues.”

You frown at that. It doesn’t change the fact that you cut her off, damn it! Imagine what your life would be like if you had THREE friends! Mitzi coulda’ taken you on pool dates, or something! You could have ABS!

“Well,” the guard replies with a mixture of amusement and discomfort on her face, “there’s more.”

You and Kiki hop into the bunk with her. Part of you doesn’t want to know, but you’ve already ripped one bandage off… Taking a deep breath, you motion for her to continue. What else did you forget?

“A lot, unfortunately.” Mitzi answers in an apologetic tone. “Truth is, I met you again a few times at work, too--cross-department events, trainings, the Christmas Party-”

That last example stabs into your chest with an icy blade. What did she say?

“Oh, er…” The guard mumbles, “The CHRISTMAS PARTY. You know, the one where-”

You KNOW what happened, you snap in a tone that makes her recoil a bit! What does she remember?!

“I… I mean, I definitely had a drink or two that night, bu-”

You feel a fire rise behind your eyes as you clasp your hands on her shoulders--what does she REMEMBER?! Confusion mixes with worry on the guard’s face as she struggles to put words together.

“Y-you were… You were wearing that REINDEER ONESIE…” She stammers as you feel your heart thump in your chest like a timpani! “A-and I was wearing that SANTA DRESS and chewing PEACH GUM... I had a few drinks and thought I’d try to uh… introduce myself agai-”

You dig your hands in deeper--you don’t care about that, damn it! What about the accident that happened?! What about the GIRL you hurt?!

“I… I don’t know, Stan.” She replies in an uncharacteristically-quiet tone. “We talked for a while and you seemed… You seemed off to me.” Sensing something in your expression change, Mitzi quickly changes tack. “B-but not like OFF off! You just looked like you had a few drinks, which… Which you did...”

You find yourself unconsciously grinding your teeth together… you wish it was just a few drinks…

“Stan…” Mitzi mutters, bringing you back to the present, “You’re uh… You’re starting to hurt my shoulders, sweetheart…”

Removing your hands from the girl’s shoulders, you scoot as far away on the mattress as the bunk will allow as a cold breeze chills you to the bone.

So it wasn’t a bad dream, was it?

>CONTD.

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>>5036157
“‘fraid not.” Mitzi answers as she and Kiki watch you with concern. “But Stan… It’s not… It’s not as clear-cut as you think.”

You let out a long breath before looking her way again. What the hell is that supposed to mean? You saw video footage of what you did--how much more clear-cut can it get than that?!

“Look, I wasn’t there when it happened.” Mitzi retorts with confidence returning to her voice, “ And I dunno, maybe the footage was edited, or something! I know what I saw: we talked for a while by the punch bowl, then moved over to one of the Christmas Trees.” The guard pauses to take a deep breath. “You had more than a few drinks before you left for the bathroom. I… might have coaxed you into getting a few more than you needed.”

You blink. So what, she’s saying you were just drunk? That doesn’t exc-

“I’m only telling you what I know, Stan!” Mitzi interrupts with her hands clenched at her side. “You left to go to the bathroom and I never saw you again that night--I assumed you had just had too much and Irish Goodbye-d me again, but once we found Blumenkrantz, well…”

The guard looks at you with sympathetic eyes. “I… I’m sorry, Stan. I shouldn’t have let you run off like that.” Her gaze shifts downward. “I really screwed up, huh?”

Words fail you for a moment. How the heck is it her fault? You’re the one who… She… It’s not her fault, okay?!

“Come on, Stan…” She mutters, “I must have reintroduced myself at least seven times by that point--I should have known not to let you run away again… Anyways… A few days later we all got a memo instructing us not to talk about it.” Mitzi continues, still looking downward. “So I figured that was for the best--part of me wanted to track you down and talk, but the next time I did see you, well…” Her voice trails off a bit. “You didn’t even recognize me.”

Venturing another look your way, the guard sees something in your face and frantically runs damage control! “B-but now I KNOW! I know you didn’t mean it, Stan--I know now that you weren’t trying to play with my emotions or… I mean, that… You weren’t… You...UGH!” Mitzi abandons her attempt at explaining and buries her face in her hands. “You know I’m not good at speaking, Stan, but… but I know you didn’t hurt anyone… you aren’t a bad person… I know it…”

Wrapping her arm around Mitzi’s shoulder, Kiki glances between the two of you unsure of what to say or do.

You can relate… how did a friggin’ pillow fort devolve into this? Moreover, how do you respond?

>HUG MITZI--IF YOU HAD KNOWN…
>WHAT WAS SHE SAYING ABOUT VIDEO EDITING?
>DISTRACT HER! ASK HER MORE ABOUT CAMP!
>WHAT WERE THE TWO OF YOU TALKING ABOUT AT THE PARTY?
>WRITE-IN!

>>5036162
>WHAT WAS SHE SAYING ABOUT VIDEO EDITING?

>>5036162
>HUG MITZI--IF YOU HAD KNOWN…

>>5036162
>>HUG MITZI--IF YOU HAD KNOWN…

>>5036162
>HUG MITZI--IF YOU HAD KNOWN…

>5036162
>HUG MITZI--IF YOU HAD KNOWN…

>>5036186
>EDITING, YOU SAY?

>>5036191
>>5036312
>>5036326
>>5036339
>HUG!

I might just pop both of the options in just to be fair--writing!

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>>5036375
You respond in the only way that seems natural, really--scooting closer on the mattress, you bring both of the girls in for a group hug. Screw it, right?

“I… I’m sorry, guys…” Mitzi sobs, sniffing in vain against a fresh supply of tears running down her cheeks. “I… I totally ruined the BED FORT…”

You and Kiki frown (though it’s hard to tell with the latter given the bangs). That’s not true and she knows it! Smiling as you chastise her, Mitzi frees an arm to wipe away the tears. “I would have… I would have told you earlier, Stan, but…” More sobs. “But I’ve been selfish...”

Is she kidding? She abandoned her cushy desk job to almost die on a daily basis--if that ain’t selfless you don’t know WHAT is!

“Yea… That was… that was a pretty dumb idea…” She replies, punctuating the sentence with an embarrassed giggle. “But I mean it, Stan--I didn’t want to tell you because I was having so much fun getting to know you again…” Kiki reaches into her pocket and offers the guard a napkin which she gratefully takes. “I didn’t want to ruin it…”

You pull away a bit from the hug so you can look the girl in the eyes. You might not be sure of a few things: aliens, an afterlife, whether or not France actually exists, but if there’s one thing you’re certain of, it’s that you’re NOT gonna forget anything again! Especially if it’s about a FRIEND!

“France…” She sniffles, mouth curling into a smile, “France IS real, Stan…”

You’ll believe it when you see it! Leaning deeping into the hug, you relish the warm feeling for a moment--despite it all, if there’s any, ANY chance at all that you didn’t harm that girl at the Christmas Party, well… you’ll take it.

“No way in hell, Stan.” Mitzi replies with confidence. “You might be able to kick a skeleton’s ass, but there’s no way you would harm a person like that. No way.”

The name BORIS pops into your head, but you opt not to say it out loud. You gotta say, though, this hugging stuff is ni-

Your moment is cut short by the sound of a door crashing open followed by the boom of a familiar and very-tipsy voice!

“GIIIIIRLS!” Roars Talbot, carrying a pack of brews in each arm, “COME OVER AND PAR-”

Seeing you three locked in a warm, albeit very close embrace, your fellow janitor’s eyes bug out in embarrassment.

“Oh.”

Quietly placing three beers on the dining table, Talbot backpedals out the way he came and gingerly pulls the door shut with his foot. With a muffled ‘’scuse me’, you hear him scamper back across the way to his designated cabin.

“Well…” Mitzi remarks as the three of you listen to him go, “Don’t know about you guys, but I could use a drink.”

Amen to that!

>CONTD.

File: videdit.jpg (39 KB, 396x499)

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>>5036438
So, you begin as the three of you crack your respective beers in your newly-constructed and certifiably dope-as-hell BED FORT, is everyone good?

“I’m okay, but you’re sweet to check--I’ll feel even better in just a sec!” Raising her drink to the two of you, Kiki promptly shotguns her beer and crushes the empty can against her head before letting it tumble to the floor. That’s how you get ANTS, damn it! Motivated by your death glare, Kiki swiftly picks the beverage container back up and deposits it in a wastebasket next to the fridge.

“It uh… it feels good to get that stuff off my chest.” Mitzi adds, taking some hearty swigs from her can. “Though to be honest, I’m surprised it came up now...”

Giving a nod of approval to Kiki, you raise an eyebrow as you take a sip of your own drink. Why’s that, exactly?

“I erm… I might have snuck an old PEACH GUM wrapper into your belongings back when I ‘interrogated’ you back at THE LODGE…” Mitzi explains. Wait a minute… that was HERS?!

“I dunno!” She fires back before taking another sip! “I thought it would jog your memory and get you to trust me or something! It was stupid!” Letting out a content sigh, the guard leans back in her chair and wipes the few remaining tears clinging to her eyelashes onto her armored sleeve.

“If there’s one thing we’re good at, it’s doing stupid stuff…”

She can speak for herself! Finishing your drink, your mind wanders back into the conversation you were having before--she mentioned that video footage could be edited, right? Mitzi looks at you like you just sprouted butterfly wings. “Well… yea. Security folks do it all the time--it’s all recorded, right? That means you could always doctor it a bit and boom: no more video evidence.”

You feel your heart lift a few inches in your chest--so there IS a chance you didn’t do it!

“Exactly.” Mitzi replies before chugging the rest of her beer. “And even if you did do it, which you DIDN’T, you’re already trying to make amends, right?”

You shrug--maybe? You can’t exactly give that Christy girl a ‘Sorry I Maybe Crushed Your Throat’ card, can you?

“Never saw that one at the stores, nope.” Mitzi shrugs. “You’ll get there, though, Stan… we wouldn’t be tagging along if we thought otherwise.”

Kiki’s nod is interrupted by a drawn-out yawn… right, it’s LATE, isn’t it?

“Probably almost dawn..” Mitzi muses as she tosses her can into the wastebasket. DAMN, SHE’S GOOD! “In that case, I’m gonna grab a quick shower before passin’ out--last chance to grab it first, ladies.”

Kiki shakes her head as she scuttles up one of the ladders into the top bunk. Guess not!

>CONTD.

>>5036440
You really shouldn’t be the last person to wake up, but that beer and your chat did give you a little more energy…

What, if anything, do you do before PASSING OUT?

>TAKE A SHOWER.
>GET SOME AIR FOR A FEW MINUTES! MAYBE SOMEONE ELSE IS AWAKE!
>CHAT SOME MORE WITH MITZI NOW THAT KIKI’S GOING TO BED…
>WRITE-IN!

>>5036441
>>TAKE A SHOWER.

>>5036441
>TAKE A SHOWER.
>Ask Ly if he thinks there's a chance we didn't do it.

I'm interested what our own bones has to say about the matter.

>>5036460
>>5036471
>SHOWER + A LYTTLE CONVERSATION!

WRITING!

File: campbath.jpg (98 KB, 1100x500)

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Actually, you interject, you wouldn’t mind a quick shower before hitting the sack! Examining you from top to bottom, Mitzi ultimately relents with an exasperated sigh.

“Fine… guess I deserved that.” She groans with a wink at the end. “Probably for the best, too--you smell like-” The rent-a-cop leans in to take a whiff, then returns with a perplexed look on her face. “Cinnamon. And sugar. Cinnamon sugar.” Mulling over the new info in her head for a moment, she finally concludes with a thumb’s up. “Not sure how or why, but I dig it. Might wanna grab a shower anyways.”

Pleasant aroma aside, you could still do with a scrub after escaping fish jail and defeating a pirate captain. Taking your apparently old friend up on her offer, you carefully hop off of the bottom bunk and quietly creep to the bathroom to avoid disturbing Kiki.

“Don’t take too long, yea?” Mitz asks as you move to shut the door. With a hasty ‘yea, yea’ you shut the door and lock it behind you hoping that it’ll muffle the sound somewhat. Before you can even ask, Ly pops out of your body in his ASTRAL FORM and phases through the wall!

“Just lemme know when you’re done, cupcake.”

Actually, you begin as you fumble with the shower knobs, you did have a bone to pick with him… Poking his spectral head through the wall, Ly raises a non-existent eyebrow your way. “Really?”

Yes, you nod, really.

“Nah, I meant ‘did you REALLY just make that joke?’”

You cock your head to the side. What joke? As Ly groans in frustration, you opt to continue explaining yourself--can he just, like… chill outside until you close the shower curtain? You wanna talk.

“Sure thing, kiddo.” He replies, phasing back through the wall of the bathroom as you unbutton your jeans. “Just uh… Try ta’ whisper, yea? These walls must be made outta’ balsa wood or somethin’.”

You let your clothes fall to the floor in a nearly-dry heap… Barring visiting a laundromat or heading back to that sweet VIP BUNKER of yours, it seems like you’ll have to wear these for a little while longer. As the water in the shower gradually begins steaming, you clutch your sides and hop from toe to toe in a vain attempt to keep warm. No wonder people don’t camp around this time of year!

Unable to brave the brisk air even inside of the cabin any longer, you deftly hop into the tub basin and let out a sigh of relief as a cascade of hot water heats up your body. Thankfully the camp owners saw fit to leave some basic toiletries in the bathroom, so as you pull the shower curtain closed and start lathering body wash, you whisper for Ly to head back in!

“Here I come…” Ly mutters as he slowly dips through the wall. “Dis’ better not be some kinda’ prank, Stan.”

Darn it! That would have been kinda funny!

>CONTD.

File: stanshower2.png (515 KB, 800x700)

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>>5036631
“So what’s up, kid?” Ly asks as he takes a seat on the toilet. What isn’t up?

“Ain’t dat’ da truth…” your skeleton replies, idly looking around what little space there is inside the bathroom. “I know I’m preachin’ to da’ choir here, but dat’ Boris guy is outta’ line!”

Hearing his name sends a deathly chill coursing through your body. Could he not say that name when you’re naked, please? Or ever?

“Right, sorry.” Ly hastily apologizes. “Still, I’m worried dat’ his pal Curt could hear me… Do you think he can hear me, Stan?”

You blink as you squeeze some more body wash into your hand… Crap, you totally forgot about that! If Syb can hear Ly then Curt can totally do it too, right?!

“It’s fine,” Ly whispers, “I figure he an’ his goons probably knew a long time ago. Da’ less time we spend around them da’ better, right?”

He can say that again, you mutter. Rubbing some shampoo into your gummy hair, the question you were going to ask pops into your head--given all Ly’s seen, does he think there’s a chance that, well, you did that thing at the CHRISTMAS PARTY?

Your skeleton shifts a bit in his seat. “You want my honest opinion? I wouldn’t rule it out.” Sensing how you seize up at his words, your skeleton immediately shifts into damage control! “Dat is to say I don’t think it’s IMPOSSIBLE. Anyone can hurt someone if they put their mind to it, right?”

That’s the problem, you groan. You DIDN’T put your mind to it. Hell, even with what Mitz said about editing videos and Syb’s perspective you still can’t fully remember that night!

“Not sure if it makes ya’ feel better or not, kid, but neither do I.” Ly sighs. “I talked ta’ BRAIN about it, but he’s got nothin’... It’s like someone took da’ film reel and cut da’ parts out, ya’ know?”

The question is, you continue, what if it happens again? What’s stopping you from waking up an hour from now in nothing but a bath towel, an empty head, and hands covered in blood? Is there a reason you haven’t had another fluke state yet?

“It’s not much comfort, cupcake, but we’ve done checks all around da’ clock--aside from da’ usual weight problems, mental quirks, and sexual frustration, all da’ charts are in da’ green!”

Well that’s a relief, you huff, letting foamy water drop from your head like a waterfall. So for all you know you’re basically a ticking time bomb!

“We’ve been fine so far, Stan.” Ly retorts in a measured tone. “An’ we’ve got da’ enemy on da’ run. One fight at a time, yea?”

>CONTD.

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>>5036634
You swish some shower water around in your mouth before spitting it into the drain. Yea, you guess.

“In dat’ case,” Ly replies as he rises to his bony feet, “let’s rest up for da’ next one. Don’t wanna keep Mitz waiting, right?”

As if on cue, you hear a few faint knocks on the bathroom door.

“Hey uh, Stan? You fall asleep in there or what?”

Mitzi. How do you respond?
>JUST ABOUT DONE! (GO TO BED.)
>A FEW MORE MINUTES! (ASK LY ONE MORE THING: WRITE-IN)
>LET HER IN! WHAT A PRANK!
>WRITE-IN!

>>5036638
>>JUST ABOUT DONE! (GO TO BED.)

>>5036638
>LET HER IN! WHAT A PRANK!

Getting pretty tired on my end, so I'll check back in around 11-12PM PST ON SUNDAY! Should be back on the road in the next update--hope to see you then!

>>5036638
>JUST ABOUT DONE! (GO TO BED.)

>>5036638
>JUST ABOUT DONE! (GO TO BED.)

>>5036641
>>5036773
>>5036776
>BEDDER GO TO SLEEP!

>>5036721
>YOU ALWAYS WERE A KIDDER, STAN!

Looks like we're dragging our sorry carcass to bed. Writing!

File: mitziwink.png (93 KB, 300x400)

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Yea, no--the only shenanigans you’re in the mood for right now involve BEDS and SLEEPING IN THEM. Peeking through the curtain to tell Mitzi that no, you’re unfortunately still awake and yes, you’ll be done in a jiffy, you brace yourself for the coming winter as you twist the shower knobs into the off position!

Poking out of the shower to grab one of the towels hanging on the nearby rack, you retreat to the still somewhat warm interior of the shower to dry off. It’s a good thing you’re rockin’ the short-haired look--without a hair dryer you’re forced to dry off the old-fashioned way. Once you feel sufficiently dry, you gather up your clothes save for your shirt, underwear, and socks which you don immediately. Satisfied for now, you carry your remaining garments to the door and open it only to find Mitzi waiting in a black tank top, dogtag, and a pair of purple undergarments that show off some particularly shapely thighs. Yow!

“Yo~” she murmurs as she gives you a tired smile. “Took ya’ long enough.” Moving to the side of the doorway, you gesture for her to enter--it’s all hers! Before she goes in, however, the rent-a-cop swoops in and pulls you into a warm embrace!

“I know you’re tired, Stan, but…” Mitzi pauses to look you in the eyes, “Er… thanks. For everything.”

Pulling her in closer to you, you give your pal a few pats on the back. Yea, yea… if she keeps this up you’re both gonna freeze to death…

“I’d keep you warm.” She replies with a wink. “Just kidding. Seeya in the morning, boss.”

Pushing past you into the bathroom, the guard raises an eyebrow your way as she makes to close the door. “Huh. You still smell like cinnamon.”

Quietly shutting the door in your face, the sound of the water running again tells you that it’s time to hit the proverbial ‘hay’. Aided by all the hours you’ve spent playing FRIGID BLADES, you stealthily creep across the cabin’s wooden floor into the bunk bed room and quietly slither into one of the open bottom bunks. You scarcely have time to whisper a polite ‘good-’ to Ly before the sandman knocks you out with a haymaker and sends you on a one-way trip to SNOOZEVILLE.

Goodbye reality…
Hello DREAM WO-

NO! NO, damn it, you’re too tired for dreams and insightful memories! YOU SLEEP. THAT’S IT!

>CONTD.

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>>5036987
The good news is that your sleep is, for the most part, refreshing and uninterrupted.

The bad news is that by the time the light of the midday sun is peeking in through the blinds, every inch of your body is telling you that no, you didn’t get nearly enough sleep! Covering your face with your drool-stained pillow, you let out a defeated groan when it doesn’t help--you’re still awake!

“Cripes, Stan, you tryin’ ta’ smother yourself?” Ly asks as you try and fail to do just that. If it lets you sleep a little longer, then yes! Yes you are!

You spend a few more minutes tossing and turning in bed, but no dice--even with the blinds closed, the rest of the world is already up and about outside: the sun is shining, the waves are crashing, and you can even smell the telltale scents of breakfast being made outside by your noisy friends! Snarling at their blatant disregard for your comfort, you scuttle out of bed and peek through the blinds to see what’s going o-AAAAUGH, TOO BRIGHT!

“Looks like everybody’s up.” Ly remarks as you blindly stumble back into bed. “Even Mitz.”

How? HOW?! She went to bed after you--it doesn’t make sense! Flopping back onto your bed, you lie face-down like a corpse for a few minutes counting muffled sheep into the mattress.

“You uh… You getting up, cupcake?” Ly asks, clearly already knowing the answer.

In case you were wondering, the answer is NO.

“Better start thinkin’ of it,” Ly adds like a parent trying to get their kid out of bed. “If they get bored enough, one of ‘em might just come wake ya’ up.”

Sounds great, you mutter as you dig deeper into what little bedding you have. You still don’t have pants on, so if they do come in you’ll totally sue their ass. And kick it.

“Suit yourself.” Ly sighs before phasing through the window in ASTRAL FORM. “I’m gonna try ta’ mingle.”

And YOU’RE gonna try to sleep, damn it! You said ‘when everyone wakes up’, right? Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to you? Flipping the bird at the window and, by extension, your friends, breakfast, and the world in general, you ultimately decide to:

>TRY TO SLEEP A LITTLE LONGER! SOMEONE BETTER NOT COME IN, DAMN IT!
>WAKE UP! IT’LL TAKE SOME DOING, BUT…
>HAVE LY TELL SOMEONE TO GIVE YOU BREAKFAST IN BED! (WHO?)
>WRITE-IN!

>>5036990
>>WAKE UP! IT’LL TAKE SOME DOING, BUT…

>>5036990
>HAVE LY TELL SOMEONE TO GIVE YOU BREAKFAST IN BED! (WHO?)
tactical Sybil strike time

>>5036990
>WAKE UP! IT’LL TAKE SOME DOING, BUT…

>>5037013
>>5037056
>WAKE UP! GRAB A BRUSH AND PUT A LITTLE MAKEUP!

>>5037047
>TACTICAL SYB

Looks like we're trying to WAKE UP! Those are some comfy covers, though, so do me a favor and ROLL 1d100-15 TO GET OUTTA BED! I'LL TAKE THE BEST OF 3 ROLLS!

Rolled 25 - 15 (1d100 - 15)

>>5037097

Rolled 45 - 15 (1d100 - 15)

>>5037097

Rolled 30 - 15 (1d100 - 15)

>>5037098

>>5037098
>>5037119
>>5037120
>HIGHEST ROLL: 35!

It's tough, isn't it? Writing!

File: sybcheerful.png (92 KB, 387x500)

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Wake up, of course! If you act like you’re getting up to go to work it’ll be a cinch--you’re not even hungover this time!

Taking a deep breath, you work through your tried-and-true steps to getting out of bed for work starting with STEP 1:

Wailing like a banshee, you mash your fists and feet against the mattress in protest--no… NO! You don’t WANT to go to work, damn it!

Satisfied with your performance, you proceed to STEP 2:

… and stuff your head underneath your pillow again. Just FIVE MORE MINUTES, you swe-

A door slamming open rouses you from the fresh layer of drool your face is currently occupying. Blinking the sleep from your eyes with a heavy yawn, you feel your heart jump-start in your chest when a heavy boot kicks the door to the room open! Your vision still blurry, you retreat under the covers as you shout ‘PERVERT!’

“GoOOoOOoooOoOd Morning, Stan~!” chirps a cheerful Sybil! “You aren’t planning on sleeping all day, are you?!”

Scared and confused, you refuse to budge from your blanketed refuge. No, you mumble, you were aiming for all year.

“On a BEE-YUTIFUL day like this!?” The Goth asks as she trots over to the window! “Come on, Stan, surely you wouldn’t dream of depriving the day of your presence! Up and attem’, girl!”

Sensing her intentions, you pounce from your covers in a vain attempt to interrupt Syb, but you’re too late--tugging on a string by the window, your pal giggles to herself as a burning light pierces the room and your blankets! Oh no, you screech, Talbot’s finally lost it! He’s blasting you all!

Clutching your eyes in pain, you lose your balance and tumble off the edge of the bed onto the cold wood floor! Writhing like a vampire, you swat at the sound of boots approaching you--leave me!

“I could never!” Sybil replies as she flicks the light on as well! “Did you shower last night, Stan? You smell like cinnamon!”

Yea, you grumble, you’ve been getting that a lot. Snatching up your pants from the floor, you begrudgingly pull them back on while Syb hums a happy tune to herself in the doorway. She’s having a good day, isn’t she?

“Wha? Oh… Yes!” She stammers in an absentminded tone. “It was a lovely night!”

You respond with a noncommittal grunt as you put your bra back on underneath your shirt. Sounds like she got a lot more sleep than you did!

“Sleep? Y-yes, of course!” She replies, brushing a few messy locks of hair out of her face with a grin. “I certainly got some!”

Lacing up your shoes and placing your hat back on your head, you look at your pal expectantly--so, you sigh, did she come in to give you breakfast in bed, or something?

“Hm?” Syb asks. “No.”

Then why the hell is she HERE?!

>CONTD.

File: stantired2.png (319 KB, 800x650)

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>>5037235
“Well well,” Syb laughs to herself, “Someone’s crabby today!”

Spoiler alert, you growl, it’s you!

“I gathered.” Syb retorts. “And I’m here because, well… Do I need a reason to check in on my BEST friend?”

No, you sigh, but you had hoped she would bring along some coffee, at least. The Goth gives you an apologetic grin. “Sorry… Mitzi made a pot about an hour ago--not sure if there’s much left…”

As she delivers the sad news, Sybil’s eyes bug out as she remembers something else! “RIGHT, that’s what I was going to tell you! Gus saved some eggs for you, but they might be a bit cold at this point…”

Reeling from all of the good news, you defy your protesting body and rise to your feet--no sense in going back to bed now! Did Ly check in with her at all this morning?

“Who?”

LY!

“Oh right! He told me he would be doing some reconnaissance of the immediate area until you woke up. I’m sure he’ll come find you in a bit.”

Man, you groan, even your skeleton woke up before you… scratching the back of your head, you ponder your next move--one that doesn’t involve heading back to bed.

>ASK SYB WHAT THE OTHERS ARE DOING!
>ASK SYB ABOUT HER NIGHT!
>HEAD OUTSIDE!
>CHECK IN WITH LY!
>WRITE-IN!

>>5037237
>HEAD OUTSIDE!
Lets be real honest, we have a good enough idea of what Syb did last night. And the others are probably just getting food or doing something wildly irresponsible and/or fun

>>5037237
>>ASK SYB ABOUT HER NIGHT!
>>HEAD OUTSIDE!

Bust Syb’s chops for pulling us out of out sweet dreams

>>5037237
>>ASK SYB ABOUT HER NIGHT!

>>5037240
>>5037247
>>5037256
>HEAD OUTSIDE!

Writing!

File: deadtree.jpg (128 KB, 800x600)

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Having had your fill of Syb’s chipper attitude, you opt to head outside and see what the others are doing--if you stick around her any longer she’s gonna give you diabetes or something! Giving your pal a diplomatic pat on the shoulder, you don your COOL SHADES as you make your way outside into the crisp seaside sun!

“OW! Close, but no cigar, losers! Ha ha ha!”

As your eyes adjust to the sunlight, you get an eyeful of what your pals have been up to while you slept: Gus, Kiki, and Tucker sit chatting around an extinguished fire pit, each still enjoying a steaming cup of coffee from the coffee maker sitting in the open back of the van. Noticing your approach, Tucker gives you a friendly wave as he takes another sip of joe!

“DAMN IT!”

And then there’s the others. Ed, Art, and Mitzi all stand like soldiers in a firing line tossing rocks at Talbot--the janitor in question lazily swinging from a dead tree on the edge of the sea cliff from a metallic tentacle extending from his hand. Scoring a hit on your bodyguard’s chest, Mitzi turns around to find more rocks and notices your arrival!

“Mornin’, Stan!” She shouts, earning a similar greeting from the rest of the idiots. “Check it out! We’re doing something wildly irresponsible and/or fun!”

“I’m going with ‘irresponsible!’ Art shouts, his face turning a shade redder upon seeing Syb follow you out of the cabin.

“And I’m going with ‘FUN!’” Eddie laughs, chucking a rock between Talbot’s eyes! Though his face shimmers with metallic goo upon impact, the hit still earns an annoyed snarl from the tracksuit-wearing troublemaker as the tree quakes under his weight!

“DAMN IT, I said no face sh-oh, Stan! Hey.”

Ignoring the look Talbot gives you, you feel a hand grip yours as Syb gives you another warm smile!

“Shall we go grab your food, Stan? There’s more than enough time for breakfast!”

You send an uncertain glance over to the pals on the cliff--isn’t she worried about them?

“Yes,” she giggles, “but I don’t care~”

As you contemplate your next action, you feel a familiar presence take root inside of your body. Puberty?

“Close, but no cigar, cupcake.” Ly chuckles as he settles back in. “Surprised you haven’t asked Syb about her night yet.”

Come on, man--you’re not bright, but you’re not stupid! One look at her and Art and it’s clear as day!

“... Meaning?”

What a maroon--hasn’t Ly ever seen two people get a lot of sleep before?

“No,” your skeleton replies, stifling something in his voice, “I suppose I haven’t…”

In any case, what’s the first step here?
>GET YOUR COLD BREAKFAST AND COFFEE!
>JOIN THE MORONS!
>ASSEMBLE THE TEAM! TIME TO PLAN THE NEXT MOVE!
>WRITE-IN!

>>5037407
>>JOIN THE MORONS!
I'm all for stoning Talbot.

>>5037407
>JOIN THE MORONS!

>>5037407
>JOIN THE MORONS!
We go where we know we must.

>>5037419
>>5037422
>>5037468
>JOIN YOUR PEO-ERR, THE MORONS!

Writing!

File: targan.png (91 KB, 330x244)

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Gently removing your hand from Syb’s fiendish clutches, you automatically head towards the spectacle along the cliff with renewed energy in your steps!

“Stan!” Syb calls from behind you, “What about breakfast?”

You can have that any time, you shout, as your walk turns into a jog! This, on the other hand… this opportunity only comes once in a lifetime! Leaving your purple-haired pal in the lurch, you scamper over to the rest of the misfits like a puppy meeting a new playmate!

“There she is!” Eddie chuckles as he picks up a handful of pebbles!

“Knew you couldn’t resist.” Talbot adds, moving his stupid red eyebrows up and down at you.

“You playing, Stan?” Mitzi asks, holding out a rock for you to grab. “Pretty sure you can guess how to play.”

First thing’s first, you say as you watch Talbot swing back and forth like TARGAN THE GORILLA MAN, since when could he swing around like that?

“Since last night.” Talbot answers, grinning like a moron.

“Crazy bastard bet that he could swing from…” Eddie begins, words trailing off at the end, “actually, the less we talk about last night the better, right?”

“RIGHT.” Talbot nods as he resumes his swinging.

“Anyways,” Art interjects, face returning to its usual pale and sweaty pallor, “We found a much sturdier tree, so T’s offering to buy a drink to anyone who can nail him.”

That earns a raised eyebrow from you. There was a less-sturdy tree?

“Yep,” Ed answers, pointing a finger down the cliffside. “Deathtrap snapped like a twig and fell down the cliff the minute T hopped on it. This one’s much stronger, though!”

You shrug--you believe him!

“So,” Mitzi reiterates, “fancy having Mr. Swing King over there buy you a drink? Or five?”

“I’m good for it!” Talbot adds as he picks up speed! “... I WILL be after all this is over!”

What say you?
>GIMME A ROCK, SISTER!
>I’LL JUST WATCH FOR NOW!
>HOW ABOUT WE SWEETEN THE DEAL A LITTLE BIT?
>CUT THIS CRAP OUT--WE GOTTA TALK STRATEGY WITH THE OTHERS!
>WRITE-IN!

>>5037507
>>HOW ABOUT WE SWEETEN THE DEAL A LITTLE BIT?
We accept payment in PONGOS, ITEMS, BONE-USES and favors.

>>5037507
>>HOW ABOUT WE SWEETEN THE DEAL A LITTLE BIT?

>>5037514
>>5037526
>THE ART OF THE DEAL!

Writing!

File: deal.jpg (38 KB, 350x233)

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As you reach for the rock in Mitzi’s hand, a thought pops into your head and freezes your arm in place! Drinks are good, yes, but here’s the thing: once all of this blows over and you’re crowned QUEEN OF HEROES, you’ll never have to pay for a drink again! EVER!

“Countin’ those chickens before they hatch, ey cupc-”

EVER! Recoiling from Mitzi’s offering, a devious smile forms on your face as you jab a finger at your fellow Evening Sanitation Coordinator! How about we sweeten-

Okay, can he stop swinging for a second? It’s hard to talk to him when he’s doing that.

“What’s wrong?” Talbot laughs, still swinging from side to side, “Too FAST for ya?”

“Do you think a drop from this height could kill him?” Ed asks, earning a noncommittal shrug from Art.

You can worry about that later, damn it! You were gonna sweeten the deal a little bit!

“Oh yea?” Talbot asks, interest clearly piqued. “How?”

Turning to your pals, you ask them how hard it’s been to hit Talbot.

“Not especially...” Art shrugs. “He’s been changing up his speed a bit, but it’s doable.”

In that case, you chuckle to yourself, what if you said that you could nail him… THREE TIMES IN A ROW?

“PSSH,” Talbot scoffs, “You’re good, but not THREE HITS good!”

Your eyes narrow. That scared, huh?

“SCARED?!?” Talbot growls, nearly losing his grip on the tree, “No way! You’re on, Parble--you wanna try to hit me three times in a row? I’ll be happy to win that bet for you!”

Slowing down a bit, your bodyguard looks at you expectantly. “So what are you wagering, anyways?”

You’ll acceptplenty of stuff, you reply, puffing out your chest! PONGOS, BONE-USES, ITEMS, FAVORS-

“I asked what you’re going to WAGER.” Talbot repeats! “You know… the stuff I win?”

PONGOS, BONE-USES-

“Stuff you can actually give me, please.” Groans your bodyguard as he resumes swinging. “And none of that I.O.U crap!”

In that case, you huff, IF HE WINS...

>YOU’LL GIVE HIM ALL OF YOUR PONGOS!
>YOU’LL WAGER AN ITEM (WHICH ONE/S)?
>YOU’LL BE NICE TO HIM FOR A WHOLE DAY!
>WRITE-IN!

And if YOU win…

>HE’LL FIND YOU SOME PONGOS! LOTS!
>HE’LL FIND YOU AN ITEM (WHAT?)
>HE HAS TO BE NICE TO YOU FOR A WHOLE DAY!
>WRITE-IN!

Gonna call it here tonight--should be back again MONDAY AROUND 6-7PM PST! Thanks again for playing and hope the start of your week isn't terrible!

File: Spoiler Image (27 KB, 320x582)

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>>5037548
>>WRITE-IN!

Pic related.

>>5037561
>>5037548

Just kidding.
Here’s my real vote:
>Our wager: Our prized beaver plush from the general fight (we have that still, right?)
>Talbot’s wager: Pongo slavery

>>5037548
>YOU’LL WAGER AN ITEM (WHICH ONE/S)?Mermaid Smut! It's what I would ask for.
>HE’LL FIND YOU SOME PONGOS! LOTS!

>>5037564
You certainly DO still have the BEAVER PLUSH along with ALLIE THE ALLIGATOR and that STAN DOLL you got from SANDY THE VENT URCHIN you met in the bunker!

I'm assuming PONGO SLAVERY means the poor guy has to scrounge up Pongos for your nefarious deeds?

Sorry for the double-post, but now that I look at it you also have a MERMAID PLUSH as well! Eerie!

>>5037548
I want to say we wager the Stan doll, since I think it would be cute if Talbot had it. I'll leave Talbot's wager up to him because I'm interested in seeing what he comes up with.

>You'll wager the Stan Doll!

>>5037548
>>YOU’LL WAGER AN ITEM (WHICH ONE/S)?
Mermaid Smut!
>HE’LL FIND YOU SOME PONGOS! LOTS!

>>5037561
L-lewd...

>>5037564
>>5037566
>>5038051
>>5038067
>STAN WAGER: MERMAID SMUT!
>TALBOT WAGER: FINDING YOU A FUCKTON OF PONGOS

Writing!

File: rocks.jpg (14 KB, 275x183)

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“... something TODAY?” Talbot groans as he and your fellow stone-throwers glare at you impatiently. “If you’re too scared to bet, then just-”

You’re only scared of two things, you fire back as you fish around in your pants pockets--JACK, and SHIT!

“... What did this Jack guy do to you?” Eddie asks, earning a few nods from the others. No, damn it, you huff, you meant that you’re scared of Jack Shi- you know what? Forget it! Your genius is wasted on you people!

“It’s a shame, alright.” Art mutters. HEY!

Just as you’re about to totally put Art and Talbot in their respective places, A.K.A THE TRASH, your hand brushes against something you almost forgot you had… or maybe wanted to forget. Pupils reduced to pinpricks, your pulse quickens as you run your hand along the smooth, leathery side and know immediately what you’ve found: an eldritch tome of unspeakably horrific lewdness forged from the depraved minds of a people accustomed only to inflicting and receiving pain! An icy finger runs down your spine at the mere thought of what you gazed upon before--to look upon it again would no doubt deal your fragile psyche a blow from which it would never recover!

Whipping it out like a debit card, you shake the tome in Talbot’s direction. Would he be interested in some MERMAID SMUT?

“Yea, sure.”

Excellent, you cackle, cautiously returning the book to your inventory as if handling a live bomb. Not that he’s gonna win it, that is!

“The only thing that’s gonna be won here,” Talbot boasts, still swinging despite the poor tree’s protests, “is the uh… the thing that you don’t… you… your thing. By me.”Satisfied with that travesty of a sentence, the Evening Sanitation Coordinator gives you an impatient look. “So there’s no way it’s gonna happen, but what do you want if you win?”

The janitor swings back and forth a few times as he contemplates something appropriate.

“... Girls like monster trucks, right?”

You do, but that’s not the point! Hiding your excitement, you propose an alternative option: PONGOS. Lots of ‘em!

“How many is ‘lots’?” Talbot asks, raising an eyebrow in mild concern.

LOTS.

Contemplating your terms for a little over a second, the janitor shrugs. “Fine. You aren’t gonna win anyways.”

That remains to be seen, you chuckle! Shaking hands in agreement, you take your position next to Mitzi as Talbot starts swinging again--when do you start?

“Whenever.” Art grunts, “Just say something like ‘here goes’ first or T’ll get all pissy about it.”

“Less flirting, more THROWING!” Your target shouts! Taking your rocks in hand, you prepare to let loose! Go team!

ROLL 3d100 TO SCORE 3 HITS! I’LL TAKE THE BEST OF 3 ROLLS!

Rolled 34, 57, 88 = 179 (3d100)

>>5038282

Rolled 96, 71, 14 = 181 (3d100)

>>5038282
Feel trepidation, from lapidation.

Rolled 100, 29, 93 = 222 (3d100)

>>5038282

>>5038304
>Talbot falls off a cliff a second time
Amazing

>>5038284
>>5038286
>>5038304
>ROLL 1: 100!!!!!!!!!!
>ROLL 2: 71
>ROLL 3: 93

You guys are mean, you know that?

Writing!

>>5038321
Don't blame the player, blame the game. It's a doggie-eat-doggie-bone world out there.

File: dabdab.gif (136 KB, 250x203)

136 KB GIF

>>5038304
>>5038321

You wanted the crits, I brought the crits.

Guess Talbot's gonna go back to being a big fat skeleton again.

File: youregonnacarrythat.png (2.09 MB, 1500x975)

2.09 MB PNG

You start things off with a slow, deep breath… no need to rush, after all--who knows when you’ll get a chance like this again?

“Whenever you’re ready, princes-OOF”

Your first rock launches from your hand like a fighter jet and smacks the dangling dork square in the stomach! Recoiling more from surprise than pain, Talbot grinds his teeth and concentrates more on his swinging as your spectators let out a cheer!

“Alright, alright, guess beginner’s luck is alive and we-GNRK!”

The next one clocks him on his hip, sending the janitor into a frenzied spin! Rather than steady himself, Talbot lets out a hearty laugh as Mitzi hands you your final rock!

“Not bad!” Talbot remarks, spinning on his tentacle arm like a whirling dervish! “But you’ve dug your own grave, Stan! NO ONE can lay a finger on me now!” Before you can chuck your last stone, Talbot transforms into a blur as he spins and swings around the tree like some kind of cat toy gone haywire!

“He’s right!” Art shouts! “At that speed it’s practically impossible!”

“C-careful, Stan!” Eddie mutters with a flabbergasted look on his face! “H-he’s FAST!”

“YOU’D BETTER BELIEVE IT!” Talbot roars! “YOU’RE GOOD AT FIGHTING DUSTY OLE’ BONES, BUT I’M A GODDAMNED LEGE-THOK”

A hush falls over the cliffside as your final rock meets its mark--which also happens to be Talbot’s smug face. Behind the metallic goo protecting him from harm lies a look of confusion and pain, one that only intensifies as he lazily swings backwards above the sea cliff.

“Holy SHIT!” Mitzi hisses, eyes wide as she processes what she just saw.

“Indeed…” Syb mutters as she and the other fire-goers approach to watch. As your winning rock rolls to your feet coated in a thin layer of GOODBOYNIUM, the moment is cut short by the sound of something large wrenching free of the ground!

“Um… Guys?”

Following Tucker’s finger, you watch as the tree finally has enough of Talbot’s antics and uproots itself from its cliffside perch! Before anyone can do anything, he and the tree both tumble into the sea!

https://youtu.be/MUL5w91dzbo

Watching your bodyguard land with a splash, you bashfully snatch the rock up off the ground and stuff it into your inventory--at least you have this GOOEY ROCK to always remember him by!

“He died doing what he loved:” Art sighs, shaking his head, “doing stupid things.”

One thing’s for sure, you sigh as you watch the waves crash against the cliff, you TOTALLY won that bet. Shame he was too much of a coward to uphold his end of-

“I’M NOT DEAD, ASSHOLES!”

As if on cue, a red-haired man bursts from the foamy waves spewing seawater and kelp! Well darn!

“AND I FOUND SOMETHING!”

A sigh escapes from your mouth as you cross your arms--guess coffee’s gonna have to wait.

>CONTD.

File: treasuuuuureee.jpg (1.62 MB, 1400x1400)

1.62 MB JPG

>>5038382
A TREASURE CHEST.

“Yep!” Talbot replies as he half-stumbles, half-leads the charge down the cliff towards his landing zone. “Never woulda’ noticed if I hadn’t strategically fallen on it!”

“Is that what we’re calling that?” Mitzi asks as she, you, Eddie, and Gus all follow close behind!

“Nevermind that--what do you think’s inside?” Eddie asks as your entourage reaches the base of the cliff. “Treasure?”

“Maybe...” Gus replies mid-jog. “Cursed treasure.”

You scowl at the delivery man as you hurdle over a pile of kelp. Can he not? If they keep dangling this stuff in front of fate like treats, eventually it’s gonna snap one up!

“He might have a point though, Stan…” Eddie remarks, “if I was gonna bury treasure, I’d probably curse it just to be sa-”

ZIP IT!

“Hurry up!” Talbot shouts as he wades into the surf up ahead! Grasping something underwater, the janitor motions for everyone to join him as you spot the corner of what appears to be some kind of metallic box bigger than you! Taking your places around the treasure, you and the others heave with all your might until it comes loose from the silt below!

As you carry it over to drier land, you get a good look at your plunder--on the outside it looks like an ordinary treasure chest-well, about as ordinary as a treasure chest can be: barnacle-covered wooden planks, a rusty metal frame, and a shape large enough to carry, well, anything!

If that’s the case, though, then why does it feel so off to you?

“I’ll tell ya why:” Ly answers, popping out of your body to get a closer look, “Dis’ thing might look shoddy, but it’s protected.”

That earns a frown from you. Protected from what?

“Are you gonna help pull or are you just gonna RIDE it?!” Talbot growls! If he shouts at you like that again, you growl back, you’re gonna dunk him in the water PERMANENTLY!

“Magic.” Ly continues. “I can’t see what’s inside!”

Before you can contemplate his words, you and the chest drop to the damp sand as the others let go! Hastily cleaning yourself off, you regain your footing and give the box one more once-over… yes, you mutter to yourself, this could be good!

“Then what are we waiting for?” Talbot asks eagerly! “Let’s crack this guy open!”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Syb or someth-”

Too late, Eddie. Goaded by Talbot’s infectious enthusiasm, you and him both take a spot at the locking mechanism and break it open revealing…

>SOME KIND OF CLOAK! IT’S WATERY FABRIC CALMS YOU AS YOU RUN YOUR FINGERS ACROSS IT!
>A SEASHELL BARRETTE! IF YOU LISTEN CLOSE YOU SWEAR YOU CAN HEAR A BEAUTIFUL VOICE FROM INSIDE!
>A MECHANICAL DOOHICKY IN THE SHAPE OF A HANDGUN THAT ARCS WITH ELECTRICITY!
>A SMALL VIAL OF MILKY GREEN FLUID THAT MAKES YOUR BONES TINGLE JUST LOOKING AT IT!

>>5038384
That's all for tonight, folks--didn't kill Talbot just yet! Sorry for the short updates--got pretty tired all of a sudden!

I should be back TUESDAY AROUND 6-7PM PST!

The IMGUR and PASTEBIN have both been updated, so feel free to check those out too! I swear I'll get those character bios done eventually!

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5038384

>1 = SOME KIND OF CLOAK! IT’S WATERY FABRIC CALMS YOU AS YOU RUN YOUR FINGERS ACROSS IT!
>2 = A SMALL VIAL OF MILKY GREEN FLUID THAT MAKES YOUR BONES TINGLE JUST LOOKING AT IT!

>>5038384
>SOME KIND OF CLOAK! IT’S WATERY FABRIC CALMS YOU AS YOU RUN YOUR FINGERS ACROSS IT!

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5038384
>SOME KIND OF CLOAK! IT’S WATERY FABRIC CALMS YOU AS YOU RUN YOUR FINGERS ACROSS IT!
>A SEASHELL BARRETTE! IF YOU LISTEN CLOSE YOU SWEAR YOU CAN HEAR A BEAUTIFUL VOICE FROM INSIDE!

>>5038384
>A SMALL VIAL OF MILKY GREEN FLUID THAT MAKES YOUR BONES TINGLE JUST LOOKING AT IT!

>>5038384
>A MECHANICAL DOOHICKY IN THE SHAPE OF A HANDGUN THAT ARCS WITH ELECTRICITY!

>>5038384
>SOME KIND OF CLOAK! IT’S WATERY FABRIC CALMS YOU AS YOU RUN YOUR FINGERS ACROSS IT!

>>5038384
>SOME KIND OF CLOAK! IT’S WATERY FABRIC CALMS YOU AS YOU RUN YOUR FINGERS ACROSS IT!

>>5038390
>>5038391
>>5038443
>>5038547
>>5038572
>THE CLOOOOAAAKKK

>>5038455
>BONE MILK, PROBABLY

>>5038490
>THE DOOHICKY

Looks like we're stoked on the cloak! Writing!

File: cloak.gif (11 KB, 173x185)

11 KB GIF

… some kind of… table cloth? Sharing a confused glance with your fellow treasure hunters, you cautiously snatch the linens from Davy Jones’ locker and hold them up to the apocalyptic morning sun!

“What the hell is that supposed to be?” Talbot asks, wringing the seawater from his tracksuit. “Curtains?”

“It sure is pretty...” Eddie remarks as the blood-red sun reflects off of the object’s gossamer material! Running your hand along its silky length, you can’t help but agree--billowing in the sea breeze with hints of cyan and aquamarine, the sheet almost resembles the waves currently lapping at your feet!

“Can’t believe I almost died for a friggin’ tablecloth...” Talbot scoffs as he gives the chest a solid kick. “I guess we could turn it into a cool flag or something…”

“Pretty sure it’s a cloak.” Before you can debate him, Gus approaches your side and pulls back one of the folds in the fabric revealing a head-sized hole and hood near the edge! Oh snap, he’s right!

“Could be useful if you get back into that nerd crap you played in the park, huh?” Mitzi remarks, sending Talbot into ALERT MODE!

“... She played what?”

“What was it again, Stan?” Mitzi asks as she rubs her chin in thought. “Something with blades, ri-”

Clasping your hand over her mouth, you lean in close to the surprised cop and whisper a few hasty words into her ear: ix-nay on the ARP-lay!

“This is America, you know.” Talbot grunts. “You guys can speak ENGLISH.”

And he can shut up, you growl, but that’s never stopped him before! Letting the garment unfurl in your hands, excitement builds in your chest as a crazy idea worms its way into your head--one that compels you to put the cloak on!

“Wait, Stan, it’s probably mag-”

Ly’s been with you since, well, forever, so really it’s his fault for not knowing to warn you sooner. Slipping your head into the hood, you pull the cloak tighter and let it blow dramatically in the wind with a cocky smile on your face.

Hell yea.

ROLL 1d100+10 FOR ABSOLUTELY NO REASON, HONEST! I’LL TAKE THE BEST OF 3 ROLLS!

Rolled 65 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>5039090

Rolled 26 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>5039090