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KAHZEE come back when you find the book...

#51 User is offline   mysteria13 

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Posted 23 November 2008 - 04:19 PM

View PostGehn, lord of ages, on Nov 19 2008, 07:48 PM, said:

View PostElf, on Nov 18 2008, 07:52 PM, said:

Quote

"Over there? Or over here?"
"Someplace I can't find."


:arianna:

Would you believe that I had completely set up that joke and not noticed it? It took M13 to find it, and I had to immediately put it in :D


Yes, that is true. I felt very accomplished.
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#52 User is offline   Gehn, lord of ages 

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Posted 22 December 2008 - 03:26 PM

Posted Image
Chapter 5

Merry Christmas (just a little bit early)

Officer McTavers turned up the thermostat. He knew he wasn't supposed to, but the emergency responder station was cold and drafty. His wife had sent him with a blanket; but, he wryly smiled, he didn't want to have to tell her he lost it to the police chief in a game of poker. He looked over the row of telephones knowing that only two of the impressive array were still connected. The department wouldn't sell any of the phones, though. Being a typical government operation, they just took the money they needed out of his salary. That probably included the money he was spending on heating too.
One of the phones started ringing, making him set down his coffee and pick up the notepad. "911 Emergency, what's your situation?" The man's voice was shaken, "A tree limb fell in our neighbor's yard and hit my friend real bad."
"What's your address, sir?"
"Oh, uh, 234 General St. He's bleeding real bad."
"An ambulance is on its way, ETA 10 minutes," McTavers said calmly. "Please stay on the line."

---------------------------------------
Having made sure the ambulance and paramedics were sent off, Officer McTavers walked to the whiteboard. -234 Gen. St. Medical. Tree branch fell on man. - Then he returned to his coffee. It was cold. It always did that. He looked up at the clock to see if there was time to brew another cup. 1:02, almost time for his shift to end. He glanced back at the board. Richard had gone through with only a child eating toothpaste. He, meanwhile, had gotten three injuries, one robbery attempt, a fire, and the disappearance of two kids, probably a car accident.
A car drove up to the door and David got out. A few moments later, he walked into the station. "So Big Laddie, what's up?" David looked at the board. "A poison case at 3 and still no reply?"
"I know. It's Grace again. I left her a message on her cell."
"She's a nice person, but she just doesn't remember to follow through." he looked back at the board. "Boy, man, you really got loaded."
"And the fire was at the same time-"
"-hmm, as the ladder injury. I see. So you talk through your nose again? And what's this?"
"Two teens driving home late. Probably a crash or accident."
"Oh man. Too bad."
"Yeah. I have a friend who commutes down that way and he said he'd look for anything, so if you don't get a call by 3 you should probably issue an Amber Alert, just in case."
David nodded.
"The boys' descriptions are in the file. That's about it. Have a good shift."
"Hopefully it will be quieter than yours. Good night."
"Good night."
--------------------------------------
"Hello?"
"Ann? Have you gotten any news?"
"No. You haven't?"
"No. Where could they be?"
"I don't know... I really don't know."
Mrs. Frabuccio sighed and sat down. Both mothers were silent for a moment until Mrs. Saxton began to sniffle quietly. Then she gave a small chuckle which caused Mrs. Frabuccio to immediately try to quiet her, worrying about hysterics. "Shh.. Calm down Julie-"
"No. No. I'm alright, it's just we're sounding like a TV drama... Do you think they're okay?"
"They're resourceful boys, and they're both strong and healthy. And they have some food and I know Paul carries a blanket."
"Thank you. I should be going. Agnes needs to go to school."
"Is she okay?"
"She's taking it... about as well as the rest of us. I've got to go."
"Goodbye."
---------------------------------------
When Officer McTavers arrived at the police station in the afternoon, the chief was waiting for him. "Those two boys who disappeared. We've found nothing."
"You issued an alert?"
"Yes. All we can do. We asked the other local departments and they haven't heard or seen anything. We need you to go to interview the families. You know what to do."
"Yes sir. Chief?"
"Yes?"
"I hate these jobs."
"Everybody does."
----------------------------------------
Break time was quiet. Mitch worked quietly through his homework. Mark and Ansel stood at opposite ends of the room trying to be as inconspicuous as they could. The girls huddled in the center of the class around the table Agnes sat at.
"Are you feeling okay?" asked Laura.
"Sure." Although she wasn't crying, Agnes had a worn look on her face.
"I'm sure the police will find something," added in a concerned Miss Electo.
"And if they don't, I'll find them." Peachie said fiercely standing right behind Agnes. She would have continued if Miss Electo had not shushed her.
"If they find anything, your parents will call you. Turn your cellphone on, just in case. If another teacher tries to take it away, I'll talk to them."
Mitch started and dropped his pencil. He grabbed at instinctively, then stopped himself. Glancing hurriedly upwards, he pulled out his phone and hid it behind his geometry book. Looking at the clock, he bit his lip, and began texting furtively. Mitch hit the send button as the door opened.
"Dang, what are you guys are bunched up for?"
"Late slip?" Marcario handed Miss Electo the green slip and sat down somewhat quickly, perhaps because his phone was vibrating. Before switching it off, he glanced at the message. Bro, Ptr+Paul disapeared last nght.Cum quiet. -M Marcario shot an apologetic wince at his younger brother. He turned around and pulled out a couple of papers, wrote his name on one, and walked to the teacher's desk. Miss Electo looked up from adding his name in the attendance book and took the pieces of paper.
"Here's the Literature essay that was due yesterday, and the questions."
"Oh yes. And you have a test to make up. Do you want to take that tomorrow?"
"Sure."
-----------------------------------------
Officer McTavers knocked on the door of the Saxton house. It was opened by a thin Caucasian man "Are you Mr. Thomas Saxton?"
"Yes I am. Have you found anything?"
Officer McTavers shook his head. "We're working on it. there was a pause. "I'd like to ask you some questions."
Mr. Saxton nodded. "Come right in."
He led Officer McTavers to a good sized, brightly lit family room and motioned him to sit down. "Would you like something to drink?"
"No thank you. I am not thirsty. Please sit down."
Mr. Saxton complied and sat down in a comfortable couch.
"Are you normally at home at this time of day?"
"No. They gave me a few days vacation because of the incident."
"You work at?"
"The power plant."
"Is your wife?"
"She's out feeding the donkeys. Should I-"
"No, it's alright." Officer McTavers pulled out a tape recorder, "Do you mind if I record these? It helps me remember and is more convenient for me than writing notes."
"Sure."
"What is your relationship with your son?"
"I'd say it's a pretty good one."
"Do you know the other boy who went missing?"
"Yes. He and Peter were good friends. He was a good self-controlled man. I never saw him do anything beyond the normal amount of stupidity."
"Neither of them have any mental disorders you know of?"
"Not that I know of."
"Was your son on any medication or showing any signs of acting erratically, irrationally, or suicidal?"
"No, not that I know of."
Mr. Saxton rose as the front door swung open. A woman in worn jeans walked in quickly. "Is there any news?" she asked. Officer McTavers shook his head. "No ma'am. The police department is working on it, and we should get more information soon." Mrs. Saxton nodded and sat down next to her husband.
"Now that you are both here, I have a few more questions to ask you. Was your son in any relationship that could make him act, perhaps rashly?"
"No, not that I know of."
-------------------------------------------
Officer McTavers glanced at the sheet of questions. They had gone through them quickly with no results. "That should be it. Your other child goes to the same school?"
"Yes..."
"I'll probably be asking them some questions too, so I'll get to her there. Well, that's all the questions I have. If you find anything strange, call us. Meanwhile we are looking for them and we should find something soon."
Mr. Saxton rose and shook his hand. "Thank you officer."

End Chapter 5
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#53 User is offline   Elf 

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Posted 22 December 2008 - 07:51 PM

Ooh, you didn't say 'end chapter 5'. More coming? :arianna:
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#54 User is offline   KatrAnna 

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Posted 23 December 2008 - 02:36 AM

Most stories don't cover what happened back home. Very cool!!!
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#55 User is offline   Camoudile 

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Posted 24 December 2008 - 12:47 AM

Hooray! More KAHZEE!!!

And...

Quote

"No. No. I'm alright, it's just we're sounding like a TV drama... Do you think they're okay?"

For the win. Yay for a tasteful amount of self-analysis.
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#56 User is offline   Gehn, lord of ages 

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Posted 25 December 2008 - 08:11 AM

View PostElf, on Dec 22 2008, 05:51 PM, said:

Ooh, you didn't say 'end chapter 5'. More coming? :cheesy:

Oops... fixed now. :hides in bunker:
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#57 User is offline   Gehn, lord of ages 

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Posted 14 February 2009 - 01:06 PM

Posted Image
Chapter 6

Woah, bump and double post. :cheesy:
Mrs. Frabuccio looked out the window as a police car drove up to the house. "Robert?" she called, "There's a police car outside. Go let the officer in."
She was about to rise when a picture in the album caught her eye. Her son looked straight at her, crouching in the tiny Barbie car he had found at the beach. She smiled and subconsciously turned the page and saw him again, four years older, standing for his eighth grade graduation ceremony. In the picture, he was still thin from surgery to his leg. He had fallen from a balcony, and she had... she had thought she had lost him. She closed the album quickly and went to join her husband.
"Have you-?"
"Found anything? No ma'am." The officer gave a wry smile, "You're the fifth person who's asked me that. I've come to ask some questions."
Mr. Frabuccio gestured him to a chair and sat down himself. Mrs. Frabuccio went off to the dining room to find another chair. The police officer pulled out a sheet of notes nervously. "Sorry, I don't usually get this job, but Officer McTavers had to answer a burglary report. I am Officer Wu."
"Thank you for coming, Officer Wu. I am Robert Frabuccio, and this," as Mrs. Frabuccio arrived with the chair, "is my wife Ann."
Officer nodded and glanced at his notes. "Okay, your son was the driver, correct?"
"Yes," said Mr. Frabuccio. "But he may not have been driving," added Mrs. Frabuccio. Officer Wu looked up, "Why?"
"When I called he said the truck ran out of gas. They were going to push it to the next gas station."
"Did he say how far? A distance would help."
"He might have; I don't remember."
Officer Wu frowned, opened and closed his mouth, then finally looked back down at his notes. "What was in the truck when they were driving?"
The Frabuccio's sat in thought. "Well," began Mrs. Frabuccio, "I asked him to pick up some groceries. Bread, cereal, that stuff."
"He always carries a blanket, at least."
"And the boys' backpacks would be there."
They paused to think.
"He carries flashlights and a first aid kit with him."
"Oh, he probably has some food, probably donuts, from the bakesale."
"Some broken pieces of a microwave."
"Some string... a knife."
Officer Wu looked up again. "A knife?"
"Yes, uh, a machete. He sometimes works for the Marcelos in the hills clearing tumbleweed, and he often forgets and leaves it in the back of his truck."
"That's something to note." The Frabuccios were silent, and Officer Wu looked at the next question. "Has he shown any signs of irritability, depression, or anxiety?"
"No"
"Was he on any medication or drugs?"
"No"
"Nothing strange or erratic about his behavior recently?"
"No"
"Any relationships or ex-relationships that could make him act rashly?"
"No"
"Any strange people communicating with him?"
"Not openly, no."
Officer Wu turned the page over.
"How many more questions are there?" Mr. Frabuccio asked.
"Four more pages."
-------------------------------------------------
"Peter?"
Paul walked to the other side of the hut, not wanting to go too far from the staircase. "Peter?"
A faint voice answered back, then louder "Paul? How'd you get up here?"
"Where are you?"
"I heard the elevator break, and you were taking a long time, so I was going to see if you needed help."
"I came up the stairs."
"What?" he called, "I can't hear you."
Paul shook his head, "I CAME UP THE STAIRS. Where are you?"
"I'm right here." Paul could barely see Peter waving his arms from a hut. "Okay, just come back."
"That's what I'm trying to do. I just made a wrong turn somewhere."
Paul waited in the hut for Peter's arrival. Growing swiftly impatient, he looked outside. Peter was walking across a bridge nearby. "What's taking you so long?"
"I can't seem to find my way back. And I'm hungry."
Paul squinted at the bridge. "I think I know where you are. Just go straight then turn right, then right, then right, and then you should just be able to come straight here."
Paul pulled out his phone and took a few pictures of the hut. Peter had still not come, and it was almost noon. Paul looked out, but couldn't see Peter at all. Paul ate a few pieces of bread and waited. "Paul? Paul?"
"Yes?"
"I'm lost. I've tried every path. There is no possible way to get there."
"What if this is like the Old Forest?"
"What?"
"In Lord of the Rings, the one that moves around and changes paths to trap people."
"You mean the Ent people?"
"No, the one in the beginning, near the Hobbit place."
"Well what do I do now?"
"Hyeh, uh, you could come up the stairs. Just use the elevator. Oh wait, I diverted the water. That will make it hard. Oh no, I can fix that. Go to the elevator."
"Okay. If I can find it."
Paul repacked the bag and ran down the stairs.
-----------------------------
Paul waited. "Are you there? Peter? I sent up the elevator." Wondering if Peter had gotten lost again, he ran back up the stairs to look. He was halfway up when he saw someone else on the stairs. Or so he thought. After attempting to stop and nearly breaking his ankle, he looked up and saw nothing. He picked up the bag, which had miraculously landed on the stairs, and rubbed his eyes. Then he heard Peter yelling something. "What?"
"Demasiado!" Paul looked down to see Peter treading water below. "How'd you get there?"
"You ran into me, thank you very much."
"Oh sorry. You okay?"
"Of course, I just fell ten feet into water in some world I can't get out of." Peter grabbed onto the stairs and climbed up. "Well what do we do now?"
"I don't know. There was an elevator at the top of the stairs."
"Well, let's try it."
Peter and Paul climbed up only to find that the elevator did not work. "No mas, no mas."
"Oh yeah. I diverted the water. Oops." Paul ran down to switch the power. Peter sat on the bag and moaned. Then he pulled out some bread and a donut for lunch. He had just started on the donut when Paul came back up. "Does it work?"
"I don't know. You try. I'm eating."
The elevator worked, and, despite Paul's apprehensions, gave a smooth ride. His apprehension of the height was not so allayed. Glancing precariously down, at least in his mind, he called back down. "You finished your bread yet? It looks like there is more up here."
The reply was too faint to hear, so Paul turned back to the elevator. Partially closing its door, he snapped the lever down and jerked out. Peter came up almost instantly. "What's here?"
"Some buildings. They look... better... up here. You know."
"More complete? Less torn apart by rampaging monkeys?"
"Hyeh." Paul looked around, "Well, which way?"
"Let's go this way."
The two teenagers walked toward the lone building. Peter knocked on the door and walked in a little. It was a moderately lavish room with a bed and table. He walked in and looked around. "Chairs?"
Paul followed his gaze. "Or what used to be chairs" he said whistling. He glanced at the bottles lying on the ground. "Drunk?"
"Maybe. It looks like it, I mean, in this place those bottles might be how they store carrot juice, but I don't think so. Would explain a lot of it." Peter turned to look at the bed again. "I don't see anyone. In a way, perhaps that's best. I'm beginning to think I don't want to see someone."
"Why haven't we seen anyone? It's like a model town, nobody in it."
Peter pulled open a drawer, then quickly shut it again. "What's in it?"
"A blue page and some nasty looking chemicals."
Paul looked in anyway and found it as described. He then sat on the bed while Peter searched the drawers beneath it. "You know what, Paul? I'm feeling more paranoid now."
"What?"
Peter held up a large and intimidating looking dagger.
"That could make me paranoid."
"Oh and all the other one had is this." Peter displayed a torn piece of paper, which Paul grabbed and examined.
"Torn. Someone has anger management problems." Paul muttered, "Chuh, Vault Access... and of Myst... ated - maybe created? abated? - in plain view on... Myst, and access can be... easily if the simple... ollowed? First... it's half of a note."
"I figured that out already, Paul. So where's the other half?"
"I don't know. He can't have taken it too far, unless he swallowed it - but why swallow just part of a note?"
"Well do you see anywhere else it could be?" Peter looked around the bed and desk.
"The whole building is wood panels. It could be anywhere. He could have thrown it out to sea."
Peter instinctively glanced at the window. "I think that's everything here. I don't want to stay too long."
"Hyeh. Well, let's go then. There are still other buildings."
Peter walked as far as the door before halting. "Wait. I don't want to go out either. I mean, what if the," he dropped his voice, "the drunk guy. What if he is over there?"
Paul paused. "Get the dagger."
"I have it."
"Okay. Give it to me."
Paul lead the way, cautiously now, back to the other buildings
They made their way towards a larger tree hut with a door.
Paul pushed the door open slowly. "Mowh-gah! yahll byerala!"
Paul flung the knife blindly at the chanting and ran. Due to the weight of the bag, he arrived at the elevator after Peter, who had accidentally or thoughtlessly hit the lever. Paul did not wait to see if he would send it back up.
-------------------------------------------
Paul paced back towards the door, then again to the book on the bed. He peered out the window, trying to get a glimpse of Peter. He looked back at the book. It looked temptingly safe, but how would he hide it? If he wasn't worried about making a noise he would break a window and let it drop. Then there was also Peter to think about. If only - he heard footsteps by the door. At a loss of what to do next, Paul grabbed one of the bottles. It was at least somewhat heavy and easy to throw. "Paul? Are you in there?"
"Peter?"
"Who did you think?"
"Hmm.. let me see... maybe whatever guy was yelling and broke all these chairs."
"Yeah, what happened to him? I mean, its been an hour."
Paul picked up more bottles. "Well, let's check."
-------------------------------------------
Peter cautiously opened the door, only to be greeted by the same chanting. This time the boys stayed long enough to see the three bottles fly through the giant blue head and shatter against the wall. "It's a hologram."
Laughing at his own terror, Paul sank down next to the altar-like table then quickly snapped his hand back as the sharp blads smashed together. "Gah! Who makes things like this!? It's creepy."
"Is there anything here?" Peter was already searching the walls. "No. No hidden books or anything."
"Should we tap the walls?"
"What?" Peter knocked on the wall puzzled.
"I don't know. They always say in police or detective stories that they 'tap the walls'."
Peter shrugged. "I think that is something else." He tentatively rapped his knuckles against the wall. "Well, there's at least one more building."
"Like opening the second door because there wasn't a tiger behind the first." Paul muttered.
------------------------------------------
"Still no books. Just a really dirty room." Peter looked up. "And a pink page."
Paul glanced down and touched the strange machine before him warily. The same frenzied chant they had heard in the temple played.
"Well, this is the sound center." The next two buttons played variations of the chant. "Creepy, creepy..." Paul hit the last button.
The face was different this time; thinner and smoother. "I hope I pushed the right button, my dear brother. What a very interesting device you have here. I'm not erasing anything important, am I? Remember, he is preparing. Take only one page, my dear brother."
"I don't like the sound of 'he is preparing'."
"I don't like the sound of any of it."
"Well yeah."
------------------------------------------
"Well, there doesn't seem to be anything else. So... should we use the book?"
"Well, it can't be - too - worse."
"Wait, let's put it somewhere safe, so it doesn't get rained on or something."
"What if we do want it to get rained on? I mean -"
"-Not if we might have to come here again. How about the windmill? It's pretty safe."
Paul shrugged. "Fine with me. But you take the bag for a change. You're not carrying anything."
"I'm carrying the page we found."
"Yeah, like you can't carry anything else." Paul hefted the bag over Peter's shoulder.
The windmill was not far away. Peter found a dry spot on the ground and pulled out the book. "Well," he said dramatically, "Here goes nothing," and faded away.
Paul, seized by a sudden irrational curiosity, pulled off a shoe and stepped on the page.
He forgot to hold onto his shoe.

End chapter 6
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#58 User is offline   Camoudile 

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Posted 14 February 2009 - 02:42 PM

View PostGehn, lord of ages, on Feb 14 2009, 12:06 PM, said:

"Should we tap the walls?"
"What?" Peter knocked on the wall puzzled.
"I don't know. They always say in police or detective stories that they 'tap the walls'."
Peter shrugged. "I think that is something else." He tentatively rapped his knuckles against the wall. "Well, there's at least one more building."
"Like opening the second door because there wasn't a tiger behind the first." Paul muttered.

More KAHZEE!! Yes!!! And I did feel like I had to point out the tapping the walls/tiger thing is brilliant. You do have a knack for wit, Gloa.

I also see that this chapter has the requisite fanfic-wink-nod to famous Myst quotes, because why else would one use "apprehensions" and "allayed" in the same sentence? Barring, of course, any ridiculous flair for the theatrical *cough* like Atrus has *cough*.

I would write more complimentary words of wisdom, but physics, chemistry, C++, and math homework beckon.
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#59 User is offline   KatrAnna 

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Posted 14 February 2009 - 04:37 PM

He can only carry one page. :cheesy: :D :D
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#60 User is offline   Gehn, lord of ages 

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Posted 16 February 2009 - 11:32 AM

View PostCamoudile, on Feb 14 2009, 12:42 PM, said:

I also see that this chapter has the requisite fanfic-wink-nod to famous Myst quotes, because why else would one use "apprehensions" and "allayed" in the same sentence? Barring, of course, any ridiculous flair for the theatrical *cough* like Atrus has *cough*.

:cheesy: You know, I actually didn't notice that until you mentioned it. Those were just the only words I could think of when I wrote through it.

View PostKatrAnna, on Feb 14 2009, 02:37 PM, said:

He can only carry one page. :D :D :rotflol:

:squee: I was hoping you'd notice that.

Testing...
Click to reveal hidden content
Posted Image
eh, a little big

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#61 User is offline   Allatwan 

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Posted 16 February 2009 - 01:17 PM

WOW! I've been reading the whole thing, out of curiosity, and I think this is AWESOME!!! Are you planning to become a professional writer someday? I love the dialogues, the quotes and the style, lol, it's so realistic it reminds me of some people I know that would react that way...
Keep up the great work! I can't wait for the next chapter, lol.
Shorah!
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#62 User is offline   Camoudile 

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Posted 16 February 2009 - 02:40 PM

View PostGehn, lord of ages, on Feb 16 2009, 10:32 AM, said:

View PostCamoudile, on Feb 14 2009, 12:42 PM, said:

I also see that this chapter has the requisite fanfic-wink-nod to famous Myst quotes, because why else would one use "apprehensions" and "allayed" in the same sentence? Barring, of course, any ridiculous flair for the theatrical *cough* like Atrus has *cough*.

:cheesy: You know, I actually didn't notice that until you mentioned it. Those were just the only words I could think of when I wrote through it.

:D :D :rotflol: :squee: :tomato: :bunny2a: :bunny2a: :tomato: :scared: :scared: :scared:

If it weren't for the fact that no one can be "too much" of a Myst geek, I would say that you've read/listened to Atrus's speech way too many times.

And I agree with Allatwan. You should really consider becoming a professional writer.
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#63 User is offline   Gehn, lord of ages 

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Posted 04 May 2009 - 02:05 PM

View PostCamoudile, on Feb 16 2009, 01:40 PM, said:

If it weren't for the fact that no one can be "too much" of a Myst geek, I would say that you've read/listened to Atrus's speech way too many times.

Yes, that's basically it.

@Allatwan & Camoudile: No, I'm not exactly planning to be a professional writer. Maybe if I could just work with plot and not have to bother with characters (I stole all of these from my friends), setting (which I stole from Myst), and all (like, you know, the writing part). :arianna:

But anyway,
Posted Image
Chapter 7

Peter looked up at the ceiling, still dizzy from linking. "Whoa. Where are we? Some kind of library?"
"Sorry, what about a library? I just heard the last part."
"What took you so long?"
"Um, well I-" Paul looked down. "Demasiado!"
"What?"
"Forgot my shoe."
Peter didn't ask. He started pulling books out of the bookshelf. Paul watched and looked around. "Found anything?"
"There's a lot, but, the books, are just burnt"
"Well that could be a problem."
"... am leaving tomorrow to check on Osmoian Age. Sirrus has suggested that I allow him and his brother to stay. Though the idea unsettles me, I know the boys are growing up rapidly. The hospitality of these creatures is such that I could think of no better place to leave them alone for a short while, so I will consent to their request... Seems to be journals. No..." Peter searched for a word, "...panel teleport books."
"Here are some of those books. They're just static. Static World?"
"Doesn't seem like a place I'd like to go."
"Me neither." Paul stepped towards one to get a better look and slipped. Peter grimaced as he fell against the book and... nothing happened.
"It doesn't work."
"Maybe it is broken. That's why it is all static filled." Paul glanced at the other opposite book. "Wait."
"What?"
"The pages. The one under the holographic machine and in the other room. Remember the pages?"
"They're the same colors. Pink and blue."
Peter pulled out the pink page. "Did you bring the other page?"
"No. I didn't think of it."
Peter looked at the page. "What do I do with it? I mean-" The page seamlessly blended into the book. "... that ... was weird."
"Yeah..."
The book started to crackle more, and Paul opened it back up to the front. "Nothing."
"No, I think I can see something, maybe. There... something in the background. No, no, yes. There it is."
After a lengthy vigil before the screen, the boys decided they could see nothing.
--------------------------------------------
"So what have you figured out?"
Peter looked up from the pile of ashes and paper. "Atrus wrote all these worlds. There's something about 'ages', I think maybe they call them that. His boys seem to be young, but maybe the books are old. Burnt paper gets on everything." Peter raised his ash coated hands. "Is there some running water anywhere here?"
"Yeah. I didn't want to go too far from the door in case there were people around, but this looks like the first place we got... teleported to."
Peter moaned. "We're back to the beginning again."
"Well, we have a that page in the book, and, well, an empty wine bottle."
"Yeah, but-"
"Well, there's still more to this world. Hopefully." Paul tried to lighten Peter's mood. "Maybe there's shoes."
"You can make shoes out of bark and um, oh... hmm..."
"Maybe I could get my cleats. They were in the trunk, well, maybe. I'm not sure. They probably were."
"They're underwater?"
"Uh, yeah. How deep is the water?"
"It shouldn't be too deep - right next to shore. There are probably sharks, or octopi..."
Paul looked up with a shocked expression "Really?"
"Just because everything else is like that."
"Oh, I thought you meant, really..."
Peter rolled his eyes.
"Well, you want to help pull stuff out?"
"Sure. Maybe it will get this burnt paper off me."
-----------------------------------------
"Anything?" Paul sat shivering by the water. He had brought up several small items - included the two now-useless flashlights - before half drowning and completely frightening himself when he accidentally unbalanced the truck.
"Here's your shoes." The waterlogged pair of cleats clattered onto the dock.
"Thanks."
Paul grabbed the cleats and inspected them. "I think I saw something else down there." Peter said as he dove down again.
The ship, it seemed, had been attached to the ocean floor by a system of levers and pumps - Peter did not even try to rationalize it. The force of the truck had bent the ship to one side, exposing a mass of machinery and, by some mischievous quirk of nature, spilling several objects into this tangled web. The blanket Peter was now pulling out was especially entangled. The weight of several other objects had wedged it in between some levers, and it had somehow caught on something when Peter had first tried to pull it out 3 dives ago. With a fresh breath of air, though, Peter attempted again to wrest it out.
----------------------------------------
Paul had cleared out most of the sand when the shoreline erupted. Shouting in surprise, he leaped to his feet. Through the spray, he saw the car tumble into the water as the sunken ship rose out of the water and rolled onto its side.
----------------------------------------
Paul walked back to the shoreline, still stunned at the explosion. He wondered how he'd tell the Saxtons-
"Well"
Paul spun around. "How?"
"What?"
"Well, you're... uh, alive."
"Uh, yeah. Are you-"
"No really. I seriously thought-"
"Okay okay, what happened?"
"The ocean blew up."
Peter glanced at the now peaceful waters. "Are you sure you're okay? I mean, it has - Where'd the ship go?"
"Exactly."
"Exactly what?!"
"The ship blew up, the car fell into the water, and you had to die."
"I had to die why?"
"Because the ship blew up."
"Back to that. What happened?"
"The ship blew up. It's over there now..."
"Where? And how is it anywhere if it blew up?"
"I don't know. I really don't know, Peter... Stop looking at me like that. I'm fine. I'm thinking perfectly sane, other than things just blowing up and...over there - and well, uh. Stupid island. ES MUY MALO!"
---------------------------------------
Paul gulped down the last of the soda.
"Are you feeling better now?" Peter asked cautiously.
"Hyeh."
"Good. Well then. I think we should rest awhile. This whole..."
"Marooning? Entrapment on a strange island? Chaotic whirlwind?"
"...event has been a little stressful."
"Hyeh. Well then, uh, what time is it?"
"5:07"
"Evening?"
"Yes, in the Evening."
"No, evening starts at 6." Paul smirked.
"What does that matter!? It isn't the morning."
"Okay then."
"Well, what do we do now?"
"I don't know. Talk. Crochet."
"Do you know how to crochet?"
"No. Do you?"
"No. Don't you need needle things or something? And string."
Paul rummaged through the soggy flotsam for a few minutes, then sat back. Peter, who had been contemplating the ceiling, broke the silence. "Why-"
And Paul nailed him with a bouncy ball.
"Oohh... where'd you get those?"
"Hyeh, you had the whole bag of them in the car, remember?" Paul laughed as he bounced a handful off his prone friend.
"Gah."
Peter returned fire, but missed Paul entirely. Instead, the balls ricocheted off one of the strange paintings on the wall.
"Uh..."
---------------------------------
Peter walked back down the hallway "I don't see anybody or any books. We'll explore it more later. Now how do we change it back?"
Paul tossed a bouncy ball at the other painting, which reacted just as he had predicted. Peter, seeing the bookshelf stairs start to rise, jumped out just in time.
He glared at Paul. "This. is. so. much. less. stressful."
"Oh, uh sorry? I didn't remember you were... no really, Peter." protested Paul, attempting sincerely, albeit unsuccessfully, to hide his laughter. "So, back to talking."
Peter glared at him.
"What? I'm really sorry, Peter. Okay? Now what do people stranded in a strange world talk about?"
"Um, I don't know."
"Hmm..." Paul thought for awhile. "I wonder how people are reacting back at home?"
"It's been a day or so. They've got to have noticed something."
"Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Well... okay, let me explain. You know in a lot of books there are alternate universes? Well, this is sort of like an alternate universe."
"Really alternate."
"Yes, well, it could be." Paul argued, "So in a lot of stories, when one person switches universe - well, another identical person switches to fill his place."
"You mean the Sirrus and Achenar people."
"Exactly. That's why nobody's here. They're on Earth."
"But they had a father and mother."
"Maybe they killed them. The Atrus dude was concerned about something..."
"Great, so now our homicidal maniac doubles are rampaging through Earth - just great."
"They don't look too much like us, though. Well, maybe if the bearded guy lost some weight, and the other guy dyed his hair... maybe. Still, since we never looked like that, it would be assumed that they aren't forced to look like us, which means they could be totally different. Anyway, we don't know if this is all an alternate universe or not."
"Which just means instead that the maniacs are still somewhere here."
"Well, yeah. You can't have it all, Peter," chided Paul, impersonating his grandmother.
"Yeah, instead I get stuck on a weird island where you teleport through books," Peter noted. "Do you think there even is a way back?"
"There's got to be some way, and even if there isn't, someone's bound to find the book behind us and come here - so we'll have some company."
"Yeah, with our luck it will be some hobo."
"The police will find it in time, and I'm sure they'd figure out something."
"Hmm... what was the last thing you said to your parents?"
"Uh, I don't know. Oh yeah, 'thanks, mom'. Why?"
"I don't know. Always in stories, people say horrible things."
"No," said Paul, catching onto the meaning, "They always say 'I hate you'. No creativity."
"Well, yes. So uncreative horrible. Anyway, why be creative in hating your parents? I mean, well... okay, that sounds weird."
"Hyeh."
--------------------------------
"...Something's not right; I've been monitoring the instruments for several hours now, but have thus far observed no change. It's possible that I've made an error, though I checked my entry against my prenotation and can find no discrepancy. I've not had a rest in nearly three days, so it may be that I'm just not seeing it. If the fault is with my foundational assumptions, however....

Perhaps after a short rest, I will see something."

--------------------------------
"Really?" pressed Paul.
"Really."
"I mean, you and Peachie..."
"What?"
"I mean, you talk together, and..."
"She just talks to all the guys."
Paul, although not at all convinced, changed the subject. "What time is it?"
"6:09"
"What do you think the books are, I mean, scientifically?"
"Um... special."
"But what do they do? How do they get us - here?"
"We don't know where here is, so how are we supposed to guess?"
"I don't know. Surely there's something. Quantum Mechanics or Physics or something."
"I don't know. I haven't taken Physics yet."
"Yeah, but I don't understand half of it. I just go through the tests by sheer memory."
Peter looked at the ceiling. "What if they're drugged?"
"What? Physics tests?"
"No, the books." Peter looked back down at Paul. "They could just put a drug in little microneedles on the book or something, you know, and then just drag us around to the next spot."
"But that's absurd."
"Yeah, but this is all absurd," Peter argued.
"But who would think of little pictures in books? Some old illiterate guy?"
"I don't know. But think- oh wait."
"What?"
"How would they get both of us?"
"Hallucinatory drug? Just spray it out?"
"Maybe. Anyway, these not working books here would be because they ran out of drugs."
"And so there's just people waiting around us to grab us each time? That's... disturbing."
"They could be anywhere. You see, pressing the book would easily be rigged to some kind of radio beacon. Then they could just come whenever signaled, to whichever island the beam came from. If they can build a hologram machine like over there, they can easily build a hologram in the water to make it look like this island is just alone. Or they could set up a bunch of painted screens or something. Those would probably show up in the sunrise, though."
"What's all the writing in the books?"
"I don't know. Something to fill the space - or commentary we're supposed to be able to read or something. Maybe it's some sort of Israeli TV show, dumping people into weird islands to see how they react."
"Well, we just blew up one of their props." Paul muttered.
"And they ruined your truck."
Paul's stomach grumbled. "Okay, I need some dinner."

-
End Chapter 7
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#64 User is offline   KatrAnna 

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Posted 04 May 2009 - 02:25 PM

Kahzee! *pounce* Yay!

I love the image of bouncy balls flying around the library and triggering the pictures. :arianna:
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#65 User is offline   Camoudile 

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Posted 31 May 2009 - 05:50 PM

There should be another chapter of KAHZEE sometime around... now...

Kranky Kamoudile sez: chapter 8 comes NOW. Posted Image
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#66 User is offline   mysteria13 

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Posted 31 May 2009 - 10:24 PM

View PostCamoudile, on May 31 2009, 07:50 PM, said:

There should be another chapter of KAHZEE sometime around... now...

Kranky Kamoudile sez: chapter 8 comes NOW. Posted Image


Hmm...that probably means that I should get cracking on editing said chapter...
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#67 User is offline   Gehn, lord of ages 

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Posted 03 June 2009 - 07:05 PM

Posted Image
Chapter 8

because the Kranky Kamoudile says to post it

"Yep, another book."
The wreck of the boat had caught in the shallow area between the island and the clock tower, after it had floated around the island. It shook ominously as Paul handed out the slightly damaged book.
"It is a ship - it could be a log or something."
"A log doesn't make my skin tingle when I touch it. Okay, I'm getting out now. I don't like the way the boat is tilting."
---------------------------------
"On a scale of one to ten, how close would you say you were to Peter and Paul?"
"Do you mean up or, like, down?"
"Ten being closest, one most distant."
"Probably a five, or a six... or maybe a seven."
"Would you be able to tell if they were acting strange?"
Ansel paused to consider the question. "I think so."
"And were they? Any strange actions, or anything different about them before they disappeared?"
"No, not while in school at least. I didn't see them afterwards," he explained, his normally mellow tone reserved and serious.
"Is there anything you know that would help? Anything about them special? What they did?"
"No, no... not really."
"You're the first person who who hasn't told me an anecdote about rubber bouncy balls."
"Well, yeah. They had their quirks."
Officer McTavers muttered. "Well, that is all I can think of. If you think of anything, please tell us. You can go now."
---------------------------------
Ansel walked out the door. He was directed past the line of students to a side room, formerly a science lab, for those already questioned. There were no chairs in this room as they had been all taken by the waiting students during the first long questioning sessions.
The table had been either too large or too heavy for the students to remove. Peachie and Mitch sat on top of it. Mark paced the room, and Marcario lay on the floor. Ansel looked for a place to sit, eventually leaning cautiously against the wooden bookshelf. Peachie glanced at the clock. "It's 11:00 and they've only gotten through 5 of us. No chance they'll be done by lunch."
"Means no English class." mentioned Marcario.
"Yeah, that's good at least." Peachie turned to the newcomer. "What did he ask you? Same guy, right? Blond hair, green eyes-"
"Yeah, same guy. I think I just got normal questions. You know, 'how long had I known them', stuff about drugs, you know, and, 'On a scale of-"
"Yeah. He asked that to me too."
"He didn't ask me that. He seemed flustered." said Mitch, "He was like 'I hope you don't have any questions.' and I don't think he wrote anything down."
"Did you tell him anything useful?"
"I don't know. I don't think a lot, but maybe still."
"I asked him a bunch of questions." Peachie stated sheepishly, "So that might be why."
"I don't think they have enough money."
"Yeah, he didn't really say anything about what they were doing, other than 'a lot of work' and 'we've got other things we have to track too'."
Everyone nodded vaguely.
Peachie sat back further. "How do you search for people?"
"Well, first of all-" Mark glanced back as the bookshelf snapped and dropped Ansel to the floor. "First of all, I would assume you have to find out where to search and then just look everywhere there."
"How? I mean, on foot?" asked Peachie, "I have some free time on Thursdays."
Ansel looked over from fixing the bookshelf. "You know, there's this remote controlled plane, with cameras on it."
"Yeah" said Mitch, "You could take-"
"The police can probably see more than the plane just looking across open ground. It's the wooded areas that will be the problem."
Mitch grumbled an assent, "Especially if they're short on people."
"How do you search then?" asked Ansel.
"Just work?"
"A grid of some sort, maybe a dog to help." suggested Mark.
"You mean, a search dog?"
"Well, that would be helpful. A regular dog still gets into everything, right? That would be helpful."
"Like hamsters."
Everyone stared at Mitch.
"If hamsters were twice as big and walked on a leash, that would be brilliant."
-------------------------------
Paul stared at the box. "Why would anyone fill a chest with water? And how? It's wooden!"
"Can you reach through the tube?"
"No. Look at it."
"Is that all the chest is for? Water? Almost as strange as the key chained to the-"
"Can't be. It's hidden all the way down here. It has to have something in it." Paul rattled the box. "I can hear something."
"Well, you can stay here and keep rattling the box. I'll go and see if there's anything up the path."
"No, I'll come."
As they walked back, Paul got his first good view of the island. "Yeah. That is definitely a ship. A weird looking one."
Peter thumbed through his growing collection of scribbled notes. "Yet somehow the boat had become gripped by the rock and broken in half... That was from the journal on, let's see, 'The Rocks'. It's called 'The Rocks'."
"That's creative."
-------------------------------
Officer McTavers glanced up at the youngish looking brown haired girl. She was one of those quiet, hard-to-get-information-out-of types. Her blue eyes glanced quickly around the familiar room before cautiously resting on the policeman.
"Please be seated. I am Officer McTavers of the city police department, and you are Agnes Saxton?"
"Yes." Not as stoic as he had thought. Officer McTavers looked quickly for the carefully positioned box of tissues.
"It is close enough."
"Okay, well, I will ask you some questions that may help the search effort. The questions and your responces will be recorded by the audio tape recorder. Are you okay with this?"
"Yes."
"You are the younger sister of Peter Saxton, who is now missing, correct?"
"Yes"
"This might be somewhat personal, but what was your relationship with your brother? You know him well? No major grudges, feuds, misunderstandings?"
"Yeah. We haven't fought since I was like ten."
"You did know the other boy as well?"
"Yeah. Peter's friend. Seemed like a nice person."
"Did you know either of the boys to drink or experiment with drugs - at all?"
"Never."
"Do you think they would have picked anyone else up?"
"No. Well, not someone who isn't missing - I mean, not missing now."
"So only people who you know are still here. Trustable people?"
"I don't know. Yeah. Not shady people."
"Did they ever do strange things, unexplainable things?"
"Not unless you consider dropping mentos into Diet Coke bottles as strange and unexplainable."
"Is there anything you can remember strange about them?"
Agnes had to resist rolling her eyes. Who did this officer think he was? Her brother had just gone missing, and he was asking her if he thought they were strange? "Everyone's strange."
That wasn't much help, especially after every other person telling him that "they had quirks". Officer McTavers decided to change topics. "Here-" he rolled out a map, "I have marked the bowling alley that Peter worked for - they would start from there and not go off to some other spot first?"
"They'd start there."
"Thank you. And here is your house - which they were going to?"
"Yes."
"Yes that is your house or yes they were going there, or both?"
"Both."
"Do you know what route they'd take?"
Agnes paused.
"Did they mention any roads, shortcuts, landmarks? Places they stopped by?"
"Peter came back with Starbucks one time - so maybe that."
"It's something to look into." Officer McTavers said gently "Do you remember anything else?"
"No."
"If you remember anything that might help, please tell us."
-----------------------------
As the path up the rocks had given no more inspiration - other than the disturbing sight of a skeleton through the rickety telescope - the boys again considered the locked box. "Where would you put your keys in this world?"
"You mean where would this Atrus man put his keys. He seems to like random fancy things, like big mechanical trees."
"There are no trees here."
"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Paul thought for a moment then added tentatively, "You know, there are keys right up there..."
"Where?"
"Right up there." said Paul, pointing to the landing.
"Why didn't you tell me that earlier?" asked Peter as he ran up the stairs.
"It didn't do anything. It can't reach the door, and it can't be pulled out."
"So it's just for decoration?" Peter asked sarcastically.
"Well, yeah. I mean..."
Peter took the situation at a glance. "Bring up the chest."
"Huh?"
"The chest. Bring it up."
"Why?"
"You'll see."
"Okay..." Paul said hesitantly, his mind racing to solve this puzzle. He carefully grabbed both sides of the chest. "It's heavy."
"Yes it is."
"Are you going to help?"
"No. Maybe if you had thought of that key earlier."
"I don't get it. What's the key there for?" asked Paul, stalling for time.
"You'll see."
"There are a lot of steps."
"Yes there are."
Paul gave an exaggerated sigh and picked up the chest. It was lighter than he had expected, although still heavy and bulky enough to cause him much frustration as he tried first to carry it in front and then to drag it behind himself. When he had gotten halfway up the stairs, he paused and looked around the building. The floor was made of rough stone, which Paul suddenly decided to irrationally despise. The walls were made of a light gray stone and had obviously been neglected for several years. It was, Paul decided, a completely loathsome place, and one where he would attempt never to return to. Looking despondently at the chest and the still unfinished task it symbolized, Paul began to mentally insult the building.
"Are you going to just sit there the rest of the day?"
"Quiet, young one, you disturb my meditation of disgust."
Peter wisely ignored him and sat down to organize his notes.
"What's that sound?"
"What?" Peter listened for awhile. "Sounds like water."
"Where?"
"I don't know." Peter went back to his notes. "Do you see anything?"
"No. Do You?"
Peter sighed audibly and looked around. Through the entrance he could see the ocean waving rather calmly. The walls also looked fairly normal and dry. "Everything looks pretty normal. Maybe we've just not noticed the sound before."
"I guess so." Paul said uncertainly.
"Or," Peter noted, smiling unnervingly at Paul, "It could be that the water is pouring through the floor."
Paul glanced down to see the water level quickly rising up the stairs. "That's not good."
"Yeah. How about you bring that the rest of the way up?"
"Okay." Paul struggled with the bulky chest, trying to count the steps up, before missing one and slipping. With a sickening crack, something twisted and Paul went down, dropping the chest.
Peter moaned as the chest fell into the water, then stopped in astonishment as it rose back to the surface. "It floats?"
"If we had known that, we could have floated it up instead of carrying it."
Peter glanced back at Paul, who was clutching his right ankle - half leaning on the wall, half balancing on the steps.
"Are you okay?" Peter asked.
"I think I sprained my ankle." Despite the pain, Paul smiled at Peter's exasperation. "It hurts."
"I hate you."
"Really?" Paul asked tentatively.
"No."
"Okay. I was a little, uh-" Paul gestured vaguely at the water, where the chest was slowly tilting to horizontal. As Peter was beginning to ask why Paul was so shocked, it balanced itself, plunging the corner of the chest with the spigot under the water. Peter hesitated only a second before springing into the water to pull out the now rapidly sinking chest, filled with the strange premonition that it was vitally important to the quest they had undertaken.
--------------------------------------------
"A metal detector would work better in that case, but what would do that to a car?" asked Mitch.
"Can you just hold a metal detector out the window of a car and scan the area?"
Mark was noncommittal. "It would probably be too sensitive or not work at all. I mean, it might work."
"We have one. My brother was obsessed with treasure hunting when he was young."
"Well, don't expect anything."
"Shh." interjected Marcario from the floor. "Who was after you, Mark?"
"Huh? Oh, Agnes."
"Well then she's coming now." Marcario whispered.
As everyone drew silent, they could hear a door closing, and then, "...anything of help... tell..." footsteps.
Mitch cleared his throat awkwardly. "So, uh, the geometry homework..."
--------------------------------------------
"It's a battery," cried Peter, suddenly comprehending the strange machine. "I wonder what it powers."
"The books?" Paul suggested.
"I don't think so. They don't have wires or anything."
"They've got to be powered somehow. The Conservation of Energy thing. It's got to take some energy to... do whatever they do."
"Maybe they're chemically powered." Peter suggested, attempting to figure out where the wires were heading.
"The pages. They power them - the static ones are when they run out of fuel."
"I thought the pages were the drugs."
"They can be both."
Peter grunted equivocally.
"Can you charge my phone?" asked Paul suddenly, digging into his pocket. "Here, I'll throw it up to you and-"
"I don't see any plugs of any kind. It's very weird - like a historical replica."
"Oh. Well, is there anything else up there?"
"No, not that I can see. It's a nice view, though."
"I wish I could see it." muttered Paul, leaning heavily on the ladder below the trap door.
"It's not that spectacular. About as nice a view as the telescope. Well, there's nothing more here - time to explore the ship."
Paul hobbled out of the way so Peter could descend down the ladder. "So back to the ship?"
"Yeah. Oh... wait. How are you going to cross the plank?"
"I'll manage." Paul hobbled to the doorway and sat down on the narrow bridge. He slowly scooted across the plank, dousing his feet in the blissfully cool water. When he reached the boat he somewhat gracefully threw himself onto the deck and waited for Peter to cross over. "Help me stand up."
"Why? You can't break things if you just stay like that."
"Because I'll just get up anyway."
"Okay."
Peter went to look at the pump system, leaving Paul to his examinations of the world's firmament. After an impromptu coin toss, he turned the pump to the middle setting and walked back. "Which one?" asked Paul, standing on his own but leaning heavily on the wall by the rock side.
"The center. Anything different?"
"I don't know."
Peter glanced into the cabin. "Still flooded. How about that door?"
Paul glanced over his shoulder. "It might be dry. I don't know. Wasn't the water up to there-" he pointed awkwardly at a damp looking part of the inner wall, "-when we came here last?"
"No," answered Peter, leading the way into the now cleared tunnel. At the end, they found a gray slab with a red button. "Well?" asked Paul.
"Nothing else has blown up yet." argued Peter. "Go ahead."
"You go ahead."
At Peter's tentative touch, the door slid out quickly, revealing a garishly decorated apartment.
"Uh..." said Paul, "What's up with these people?"
Peter ignored him and stepped into the room. Right in front of him was an ornate bed with an overhanging chandelier. Looking to his left he saw a similarly styled writing desk, and to his right he saw a set of drawers. Each was set in an expensive looking wooden alcove with a backdrop of pastorally themed murals. "Who owned this place?"
"Mozart?" suggested Paul, then more practically, "Probably Atrus, or Achenar, or Sirius." He hobbled over to the drawer and examined the various small bottles on top of it. "Drugs, perhaps?"
"I wouldn't be surprised."
Paul picked up one of the bottles and thought a moment. "You know, most drugs start as painkillers, since the-"
"No."
"Okay." Paul set down the bottle and rummaged through the drawers. "Found the page."
"Which one?" asked Peter, glancing up from the letter on the desk.
"Blue. Also some cloth - probably should take it with us."
"What are we going to need cloth for?"
"Is your shirt going to last forever?"
"Oh yeah. But can you make clothing?"
"No, and are we playing the questioning game?" Paul dug through the drawer, "There's got to be some real clothing here somewhere." With a short exclamation, he pulled out a red silk shirt covered with frills.
Peter burst out laughing, then quickly turned serious. "Not wearing that."
"Uh well..." Paul tossed the shirt onto the floor and dug through again. "This, then?" he asked, holding up a lightly frilled shirt and gray uniform vest.
Peter looked skeptical. "Civil war clothing? It's better than the frilly stuff."
"And here," said Paul, digging a little more through the drawer, "is a sash to go with it."
"What's his obsession with red?"
"I don't know. He probably looks terrible in it."
Peter instinctively glanced at the door. "We better be going."
"Hyeh. We can always come back. What's the paper say?" asked Paul, pulling out a couple pairs of pants and vests from the drawer.
"Stuff about taxation and writing." Peter turned, picked up one of the elaborate chairs, and opened the door.
"What's the chair for?" asked Paul, hobbling after him.
"It's for you to sit on."
"Oh, okay."
Peter placed the chair on the center of the deck and began to walk over to the other half of the ship. "Just sit and I'll be back. The other tunnel will probably be open too. I'll find the room's page and come back here."
"Aren't there three settings for the pump? The lighthouse, and each tunnel, right? You'll need to change the setting."
"I thought it was the lighthouse, the tunnels, and the cabin."
"Probably you have to get into the cabin after finding a new control through both rooms."
Peter considered it and went to the pump to change the setting. "Well?"
"Oh, I was wrong. It does empty out the cabin."
"Oh well, it probably goes somewhere anyway." He peered down into the dark interior. "We still have a flashlight, right?"
Paul shuffled through the bag and handed Peter a flashlight. He also pulled out some bouncy balls and started absentmindedly bouncing them on the deck.
"Paul? Is that you making that noise?"
"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Paul tossed the balls into the bag. "Anything down there?"
"It's really strange. I've found one of the teleport books - it came out of a table - and then there's some random scientific looking objects and a big window into nothing. I don't see any pages or notes, so I'm coming back up."

------End Chapter 8

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#68 User is offline   Camoudile 

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Posted 07 June 2009 - 12:01 PM

Question Game: hahahahahahahahahahaha....

And it seems that having better functioning hands and feet than the Stranger is doing them no favors in the puzzle department.

To quote AlexAander: MOAR PL0x?
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#69 User is offline   Zenoc2 

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Posted 16 June 2009 - 09:25 AM

Hey! They're cheating at Myst! :arianna:

Another great chapter. Now, how do Sirrus and Achenar mess things up? :rotflol:
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#70 User is offline   Gehn, lord of ages 

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Posted 27 July 2009 - 12:44 PM

Posted Image
Chapter 9


"Did you find the page?"
"Yep. And it's predictably pink. And the rest of that place is just terrible."
"What? Is it like the other room, all ornate and baroque?"
"No. It's worse. This guy uses a human ribcage as a lamp," said Peter, causing even Paul to shudder.
"And not only that. He has a hologram that turns from a rose into a skull. What's wrong with these people?"
"Was there anything else in the room?"
"Bones. And drugs. Masks. Some more dirty clothing..." Peter pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, "...and this."
"It's the other half of the torn paper."
"Exactly." Peter pulled the other half out of his pocket and fit them together. "I didn't want to do this in the room, because it's just too disturbing, especially when the lights failed for no reason." Finishing his task, he read out the note, "The vault is located in very plain view on the Island of Myst, and access can be achieved very easily if the simple instructions are followed. First, locate each of the Marker Switches on the island. Turn every one of these switches to the "on" position. Then go to the dock and, as a final step, turn the Marker Switch there to the "off" position."
"What?"
"It's about the first place. Instructions on how to open something, maybe another book?"
Peter finished transcribing the note. "Well, whenever you're ready."
Paul flipped open the book to the swirling picture of the library dome.
----------------------------------
"The city newspaper wants to talk to you."
Officer McTavers glanced up from his paperwork. "I can't hope it's about the burglary, right?"
"It's the disappearing kids."
McTavers sighed. "Alright. What's the latest?"
"Same as is up there." answered Chuck Wu, pointing towards the large whiteboard that had been set up to monitor progress in the case. So far it had a couple of phone numbers and the words "more information pending investigation".
"How does the newspaper know about it, anyway?" asked Officer McTavers as he adjusted his uniform.
"We send them a list of police calls and investigation," replied Officer Wu, "and somebody probably keeps track of what doesn't get resolved."
"But, why-"
"You're stalling," added the Chief
"Yep."
----------------------------------
"How come it brought the whole car with me, nearly drowning me, when we came in the first time, but it can't bring a tiny chair?"
"Maybe the chair has some kind of teleport theft protection?" Paul suggested from the floor. The strange book had not compensated for the transition from sitting on the ship to the chairless library, and he had wrenched his ankle in the fall after using it.
"Makes no sense, so it must be true."
Peter looked around the room again. "Okay, what else is there here that looks perfectly normal?"
"That?" asked Paul, pointing towards the grating of what appeared to be a fireplace. "Or that?" a map.
Peter touched the map. "It's like the other paintings? What would it ope-" Peter winced at the sharp noise, but continued to watch the white line as it spun around the map.
"Did it do anything?" asked Paul.
"I really don't know." said Peter in frustration. He turned to the hearth and looked for a button. Finding none, he cautiously felt inside. "Aha."
"What?"
Peter pulled out three crumpled papers. "Looks like two more pages and another note. Catherine, I've left for you a message of utmost importance in our fore-chamber beside the dock. Enter the number of marker switches on this island into the imager to retrieve the message. Yours, Atrus."
"Why did he put the message in a fireplace?"
"Actually, I don't think it's a fireplace," Peter replied, "because it is sealed at the top - there's no place for smoke to go out."
"Then what is it? A super-secret note hiding place that absolutely nobody will notice?"
"Maybe it's meant for holding papers regularly... like a filing cabinet."
"Who puts a filing cabinet on the ground? And in the wall?"
"Who puts pictures in, well, the books... and, yeah. Oh, I think there's some kind of button in here."
"Maybe it is a fireplace after all," theorized Paul, "and that opens up the vents to the chimney."
Peter glanced skeptically at Paul. "Well, I'm at a bad angle to press it from out here," he said, crawling into the recess. "Do Not Touch Anything While I'm in Here, okay?"
Paul nodded soberly, and Peter slipped the rest of the way in. "Okay." He tapped the red button cautiously, then yelled as the entrance into the hearth slid shut.
"Are you okay?" Paul shouted weakly.
"Yeah. I think so. It just surprised me."
"What did it do?"
"I don't think it did anything other than slide the door closed. Is there anything on that side of it? A button, message, anything?"
Paul shifted to look at the door. "No. It's just blank."
"Well," said Peter, examining the inside of the door, "This side seems to be blank too. No wait," - a metallic sound - "that's odd..."
"What?"
"The door dents inward when I press it. It's like a button, a bunch of invisible square buttons." Peter paused to test the rest of the door's surface. "It's a 4, 5.. 6 by 8 grid. Paul, can you reach the books?"
"Uh, yeah. Why?"
"Because I think I know where I saw this. It's in the smaller pile, the second book from the top. Yes, that one," Peter said, peering through the grates in the door. "I think it has some specific pattern for this. Do you see anything? It's a 6 by 8 grid."
Paul flipped through the book. "Each page has a pattern. Which one? Wait, the note. It said to 'enter the number of marker switches on the island'."
"How do I do that? Is this some kind of bizarre number system?"
"No, each page has a bold print number. Maybe we're supposed to enter that number and use that pattern?"
"Do you know how many-"
"Marker switches there are? No."
"Well, I guess we'll have to count."
"I guess so," replied Paul glumly, "I guess we'd have to anyway, because of the other note."
---------------------------------
"We're not saying anything yet."
"Not to be disrespectful or anything, but it's been several days."
Nicholas Hammol was thin and fairly tall. His 14 year record as a journalist was fair but rather lackluster due to, his employers said, lack of ambition.
"Well," said Officer McTavers, "There's a lot of things that could have happened - and the rest of our work hasn't stopped. We still have to patrol, respond to other problems."
"You say that a lot of things could have happened. Would you care to elaborate?"
"There is only speculation."
Mr. Hammol gave no response, forcing Officer McTavers to continue.
"There is a strong possibility of a car accident of some kind. it was late, and dark, and the roads they could have taken are often deserted. Then there's kidnapping, runaways, murder, just about anything is a possibility."
"You say-"
"I say them as possibilities only. We have no suspects for any criminal acts." Aside, he added, "We don't want to be sensationalist."
"This... delay, though... is it caused in any way by the staff reductions?"
Officer McTavers paused to carefully word his response. "'Any way' is a very broad question. Yes, it would be nice to have more police officers, I'm sure it would increase our efficiency in some cases. Our staff is not... crippled, though. We adapt to whatever budgets are practical."
-------------------------------
Peter walked back into the library. "It says 2:40 and 2,2,1. Any ideas?"
"Uh, maybe you have to do something at 2:40?"
"But what?"
"I don't know... 2,1.. whatever it was that it said."
"2,2,1" corrected Peter, "but what in the world does that mean?"
"Maybe it's not a command. The way you described it, it almost sounded maybe like a tombstone or something. Maybe something special happened at 2:40 on the second day of the second month of the first year of something."
"Maybe that's when the tower was built?"
"Hyeh, something like that." said Paul. "It wouldn't hurt to see if it's some code, though. I mean, face it, we don't have any other leads."
"Except for the marker switches."
"Yeah, but other than those. Why not? Is it close to 2:40?"
Peter glanced at Paul's phone, kept in sight just in case a signal ever appeared, then thought better of it. "You realize the one problem with that?"
"A.M. P.M.? You could-"
"No. Time is different here."
"Oh yeah. Well, back to the marker switches, I guess. What does the note say again?"
"Switch them all on. I think I'll do that now, while there's still daylight. Stay out of trouble, okay?"
"Okay."
-------------------------------
So that was 6 markers. Peter walked back to the main path, enjoying the cool ocean breeze. For the first time, he relaxed and looked up at the darkening skies, first up towards the oddly neoclassical library and rocky spire, then down towards the wreck of the ship. "Oh," he said, in a resigned manner, "It's a clock tower. How obvious."
-------------------------------
Paul was staring at the map on the wall. One by one, tiny bullseye patterns had been appearing on its surface. As far as he could tell, they appeared at random intervals in no specific order. Aside from the ominous connotations in his imagination, they were actually quite entertaining. He would guess each time where the next one would appear, and had so far only missed once. "Oh, hi, Peter. What did you find?"
"A clocktower-"
"Oh yeah, I remember seeing that. What-"
"-with a marker switch, and wheels to adjust the time." Peter continued, walking to the bag of supplies. "I turned it to 2:40, but it didn't seem to change anything. I crossed over the boat and walked into the door - maybe it was unlocked because it was 2:40 - and there's some kind of number combination. It starts at 3,3,3, and I'm guessing that's what the 2,2,1 is for. I just can't get it to work." He pulled out his impromptu notebook and began scribbling furiously.
"So you don't just move the numbers?"
"No. I tried. The only way to get the numbers to move is by pulling a lever. One lever spins the first two gears once, and the other spins the second and third gears - I think it's like a Rubik's cube, you have to get it to finally end up as the combination."
Paul went back to watching the map, now mysteriously still, while Peter's writings grew more and more agitated.
"It doesn't work! There's no possible way for it to work. It's mathematically impossible!"
"Have you tried it upside down? I mean 1,1,2?" Paul suggested.
"Yes," Peter snapped.
Paul contemplated the problem for a moment. "Did you try holding the levers?"
"What? No. Why would- ah, I should probably try." Peter dashed back out to test Paul's theory. Moments later, he came back. "It worked, but all it did was rotate a little gear open. It's empty. No book."
"Maybe it's a symbol? There are big gears up next to where the boat used to be. Maybe they did something."
"Maybe," Peter said as he rushed out of the building again.
Just as Paul had guessed, the gears had indeed done "something". The vertical gear was now swung open, revealing a hollow interior just like the model in the clock tower. This one, though, contained a book. Peter almost forgot to flip the nearby marker switch on.
"Yes, yes, yes..." Peter chanted, carefully opening the book, "but still not Earth." Slightly deflated, he picked the book up and ran back to the library.
"It's another book. From the looks of it, a bright building in the middle of an ocean."
"Another island? Why can't one of these lead to some continent."
"Because you're bored of islands?" Peter asked sarcastically as he began pulling supplies out of the bag.
"No, well, yes, but more because maybe we could actually find more books or people or something then."
"At least we won't get lost on an island." Peter retorted, "Rescuers will know where to find us."
"Oh, well, I guess there's that. What are you doing?"
"I'm dividing the supplies." Peter replied. "You can't walk around with your ankle, so you'll have to stay here. I'll go take a look at the Age and come back as soon as I get the linking book back."
"So I'll just-"
"You'll rest here and let your ankle heal." Peter pulled the static filled books from the shelves and set them down next to Paul. "You can put the extra pages in these, but don't link. Well, unless you have to. Oh, and," Peter reached into his pocket. "If you're bored, you can see if you can get my phone working again. Okay? You'll be alright here?"
"Yeah."
-------------------------------
It was only when he arrived at the blindingly sunny island that Peter realized how late it was. Even with the fortlike building looming nearby, all Peter could do was find a somewhat hidden recess to fall asleep in.

- End Chapter 9
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#71 User is offline   Zenoc2 

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Posted 28 July 2009 - 11:55 AM

Cool stuff. But why was the note in the fireplace instead of on the ground outside? Also, I may have misread, but it sounds like they found the red/pink page in Achenar's room, and the blue one in Sirrus's room. :arianna:
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#72 User is offline   Gehn, lord of ages 

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Posted 28 July 2009 - 12:08 PM

View PostZenoc2, on Jul 28 2009, 10:55 AM, said:

Cool stuff. But why was the note in the fireplace instead of on the ground outside?

Also, I may have misread, but it sounds like they found the red/pink page in Achenar's room, and the blue one in Sirrus's room. :rotflol:

You did not misread. :arianna:

The note was in the fireplace because Atrus put it there instead of on the path (perhaps because he didn't want it to get rained on or blown away, or perhaps for some other reason [ominous music]). The pages are also switched on purpose.
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#73 User is offline   Zenoc2 

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Posted 30 July 2009 - 05:25 PM

Um... are we supposed to know why?
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#74 User is offline   Gehn, lord of ages 

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Posted 30 July 2009 - 07:05 PM

View PostZenoc2, on Jul 30 2009, 04:25 PM, said:

Um... are we supposed to know why?

Hmm... perhaps.

View PostZenoc2, on Jun 16 2009, 08:25 AM, said:

...Now, how do Sirrus and Achenar mess things up?...

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#75 User is offline   mysteria13 

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Posted 31 July 2009 - 12:54 AM

View PostZenoc2, on Jun 16 2009, 08:25 AM, said:

...Now, how do Sirrus and Achenar mess things up?...


I bet I know!!! :arianna:

I'm a cheater.
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