City of IF

[Idea master]

Then just stick them in some no-alcohol version of IF. Along with no Fables. Muwhahaha.

[D-Lotus]

Hmmm...the idea of someone's storygame seems a good opportunity to ridiculize someone's storygame.

What about Lebby's FI? You could ridiculize the severity and brutality of his characters. Or maybe Battle On or No Good Deed.

Or you could make it an auction; whoever pays more gets his/her story ridiculized.

[Idea master]

Heck, just put them UP for auction.

[Argonaut]

perhaps an alternate dimension where IF and OF are switched. The people of IF are like the people of OF and vice versa. Actually I don't know what that would mean, what are the people of OF like?

Alternate dimension or not, if they're not in IF they'll need to find a new way to get home since they can't just run to the exorcisor machine :)

[Lilith]

Quote: There's more than one parallel universe I am sure,

Technically, Chinaren's right.. if you believe such things.. there is a theory out there (somewhere, I have no idea where) that every action, decision, or event that occurs will cause a million different parallel universes to be because of all the different outcomes that could have happened.... so therefore, the number of parallel universes are only limited by the amount of different outcomes...

Wow... and I thought time travel made my brain hurt..

[Mastermind]

Lilith wrote: Technically, Chinaren's right.. if you believe such things.. there is a theory out there (somewhere, I have no idea where) that every action, decision, or event that occurs will cause a million different parallel universes to be because of all the different outcomes that could have happened.... so therefore, the number of parallel universes are only limited by the amount of different outcomes...

Yes, I know that, I just thought... I don't remember what I was thinking, but it probably seemed sensible at the time.

[Idea master]

That's actually MY held belief. Thanks much.

Anyway. We can't send him somewhere where there IS no Exorcisor machine, otherwise we can't send him home in time for the Hangover. Might I suggest that wherever we send him, we send him where Evil Homer or whoever started this thing also ended up? It'd make sense. Plus, it had the added bonus of making hero and villain work together.

[Lilith]

Chinaren, a hero? *laughs and guffaws loudly* (What, you think I was just gonna leave that lay on the floor? You know you were all thinking it.. I just am the only one mouthy enough to say it!)

Anyhoot, I think that having Chinaren and Evil Homer have to work together to get back to IF is a great idea!

[Chinaren]

K, poll is up, so throw the switch of voting.

[D-Lotus]

suggestion: A parallel dimension such as another storygame.

[Crunchyfrog]

Hey, would you mind updating your topic title to reflect which chapter you're on please? I've kind of got confused and missed out... :(

[Chinaren]

Sorry Crunchy! I usually do that, missed it this time. :?

[Chinaren]

Chapter 8. An Old Acquaintance.

“I don’t know, but it’s hot.” Arclone waved a hand in front of his face.

“At least they are people here, not Smileys,” Chinaren said, standing up and looking about.

“Although they appear to be somewhat exotic,” Arclone said, pulling the hood over his face a little more.

Chinaren followed his example as he took in their surroundings. The few people walking nearby all wore long robes. Most were black, but some were conveniently gray, and hence the two IFians didn’t stand out too much. Most of the passers-by were hooded, but the ones who weren’t seemed to be dark skinned with long noses. Most were bald and all appeared to have an intense fascination with the floor. It was a wonder they didn’t walk into something.

The buildings, in direct contrast to the citizen’s robes, were a gleaming white and built in a rather strange “T” shape, meaning the upper stories overhung the streets. This in turn meant the narrower alleys were actually more like tunnels. Chinaren kicked at the ground, which appeared to be cooked earth. A small puff of dust was his only reward.

“Are we in our dimension?” Asked his future companion.

“I don’t know, but it’s probably not a good idea to walk up to a passer by and ask that directly,” Chinaren replied. He looked up and saw a sign adorning a blank wall. “Wait. Can you read that?” He pointed.

Arclone looked for a moment, then shrugged. “Looks like one of my modern art attempts on a bad day.”

“But the middle characters, if that’s what they are, don’t they look a little like… ‘Muaddib’ to you?”

The clone looked again. “Perhaps. What’s a ‘Muaddib’ anyway?”

Chinaren smiled. “Not an ‘it’, a who. An old acquaintance in fact. I saved his life in IM’s Idearium mines once, if I remember correctly.”

“I’m sure you do, being the hero you are,” Arclone replied dryly.

Chinaren ignored him. “Come on, if we can find Muddy, as he likes to be known, he can repay my favor and help us find our way home.”

“Assuming this is our dimension, and he’s the guy you know.”

“You have a distinctly pessimistic outlook, you know that?”

“Comes of having no one to talk to except Smileys and nothing to drink but tea for five years,” said Arclone.

“Ah, yes well. No sense dwelling on the past now is there? Or the future even. Whatever. Come on.”

“Where? Where are we going?” The clone waved his hands about.

“Let’s just follow the chanting hey?” Chinaren said.

“What chanting?” Arclone frowned for a moment, concentrating. “Oh, yes, I hear it now. What are they saying?”

“Some Johnny foreigner rubbish no doubt,” said Chinaren. “Hey, you didn’t manage to bring any of that tea with you by any chance?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll have to do with the stuff I took then.”

“If I never see another cup of tea again it will be too soon,” said Arclone, as they ducked into one of the ‘tunnel’ streets. “Hey, there’s another poster with your friend’s name on it.”

Chinaren stopped and examined it. The paint was faded and he couldn’t understand the words, but there was definitely a picture of a yellowish colored road, and the name ‘Muaddib’ again.

“It’s our Muddy anyway,” he said, tapping the picture. “He was always babbling on about the ‘Golden street’ or some such.”

They carried on, passing others who were also moving in the same direction. A little further on and they could hear a bell chiming, and the sound of many people murmuring in low voices.

The alley suddenly opened up into a large square. Black robed people thronged about, all facing the center, which featured a large block of white stone. A ledge surrounding it was manned by fierce looking warriors holding long curved scimitars.

As the two IFians sidled into the square, a figure in a pure white robe climbed up on top of the dais and raised his hands high above his head.

Chinaren nudged Arclone. “It’s him. It’s Muddy, my old mate.”

“Shhh,” Arclone said back, looking about nervously as several bystanders glanced at them. Luckily Muaddib chose that moment to start speaking, and all attention returned to the middle.

“Souirolg THEsnai!” Muaddib said. “Ruo yrotciv si derussa! Het AHA snoitaredef syad era derebmun!”

The crowd cheered.

“What’s he saying?” Hissed Arclone under the cover of the noise.

“I think we’re in THE,” replied Chinaren in the same tone. “The desert city ruled by the Dark Lords. They are in constant war with the AHA Federation. Don’t you ever look in the IFki?”

Arclone shrugged. “Couldn’t be bothered. Anyway, it was a convenient way of you getting to explain where we are.” He fell silent again as Muaddib was speaking once more.

“Ecno AHA sllaf,” Muaddib continued, “ew llahs ecom no ot eht sreveilebnu ni IS, IF dna OF. Enoos ew lliw ekat ruo lufthgir ecalp sa srelur fo eht dlrow!”

The crowd burst out into cheers again, waving their hands and shouting in their heathen language.

“Come on,” said Chinaren. “Let’s go and find his office.”

Arclone nodded, and the pair began to make their way around the square as the speech continued, getting louder and more forceful as it progressed.

“Pretty enthusiastic bunch, these THEians, aren’t they?” Arclone said.

“From the little I know, they are usually only enthusiastic about killing in horrible and bloodthirsty fashion. They’ve been at war with AHA forever. Luckily the desert makes fighting hard, and they generally maintain a status quo, with one side making gains, then losing them again. It’s pretty much a stalemate.”

“And they are ruled by these ‘Dark Lords’ then? They don’t sound too friendly.”

“Oh no. They’re not. Any foreigners caught are usually staked out in the baking sun and fed to the sheep.”

“The sheep? Don’t you mean the lions or something?”

“Where would you get lions in the desert? Come on! Anyway, THE sheep have evolved somewhat,” said Chinaren. “The harsh conditions of the desert environment meant that to survive they have to be able to consume about anything. Being a shepherd in THE is considered a hero’s job. Only the strongest and bravest warriors join that clan.”

“You learn something new everyday,” murmured Arclone. “Wait, I think something is happening.”

They stopped as two guards brought forth a large gong and manhandled it up next to Muaddib, who picked up a large gong hitter thingy*.

Suddenly the whole crowd dropped to the ground, to crouch in a prone position facing the center of the square. Taken by surprise, Chinaren and Arclone remained upright, standing in a sea of black robes.

“Er…” Said Chinaren.

“Sredurtni!” Shouted Muaddib, pointing with the gong hitter. “Llik meht!”

The guards on the podium, expert shepherds all no doubt, shouted and ran forward, treading on the still prone crowd with scant regard for human rights and laundry.

“Oh, this isn’t good,” Arclone said. “Run!”

“No, I’m sure Muaddib will help us,” said Chinaren, but he looked uncertain.

The guards screamed and advanced, waving sharp implements about.

Arclone bit his nails. “Are you sure?” He asked. “I don’t want to be fed to the sheep.”

“Well…”

*Whatever that is called.


>>>>>>

A short chapter then fellow IFians.

What should they do now? Run? Throw themselves upon the mercy of Muddy? Something else? Let’s hear your suggestions please!

<<<<<<

[Crunchyfrog]

gnipyt sdrawkcab si gnihctac no! Retsamaedi si desruc htiw sdrawkcab kaeps ni eht revognah.

i yas yeht dluohs yrt gniklat ot yddum ni sih nwo egaugnal.

Dna llet mih sih rettih si a retaeb. :P

[Lilith]

NMAD TI! I YLLAER ETAH GNIPYT SDRAWKCAB! TOOHYNA, NUR,NUR, NUR! :cool:

[Idea master]

S'it nialp ot em taht uoy deen ot trats gniklat sdrawkcab os taht uoy nac ecinvnoc meht taht uoy era ylerem wen ereh.

Dna t'nod yrt dna dnimer Yddum fo Neranihc. Ll'eh ylekil llik uoy fi uoy od.

[Chinaren]

They are not speaking backwards, they are speaking THEian, which by a remarkable coincidence is the same as IFian, but in reverse.

:? :shock:

[D-Lotus]

I couldn't understand a word of it, China. I think I'm gonna need a translation.

However, thanks to the context clues, I picked up that the adventurers are in trouble again...

Well, it seems obvious to me that they can't run anywhere, or they'd be overtaken by an angry, ubiquituous mob. So they must find some way to appease the sheperd-soldiers long enough to be able to appeal for Muaddib's help.

Ummm...how about dropping a pair of brand-new shears on the floor (or more likely, onto the back of a prostrate THEian) and see if they'll stop to pick them up...

[Mastermind]

I t'nod kniht gnivah Yddum ees Anihc dluow eb a doog aedi, os nur. Tsaf.

Quote: ew llahs ecom no ot eht sreveilebnu
Fi I dnatsrednu siht tcerroc, ti dluohs eb emoc.
Fi I t'ndid, ll'I emalb ytinasni.

[Chinaren]

Mastermind wrote: I t'nod kniht gnivah Yddum ees Anihc dluow eb a doog aedi, os nur. Tsaf.

Quote: ew llahs ecom no ot eht sreveilebnu
Fi I dnatsrednu siht tcerroc, ti dluohs eb emoc.
Fi I t'ndid, ll'I emalb ytinasni.

No, that was correct. He was using the Higher THE dialect.

[Mastermind]

Evigrof em. I saw enasni ta eht tnemom.

[Crunchyfrog]

yekirc, I ma gninnigeb ot daer sdrawkcab yltneulf - ti t'ndid etak gnol... :shock:

[LordoftheNight]

Well, I was going to type backwards, but everyone else is, so I can't really be bothered to anymore.

I think China should push Arclone into the mass, and then run for it. Later on, he can always make a daring rescure attempt. Or not, as the case may be.

Later on, he should attempt to steal one of the THEians clothes, and disguise himself so he can move around the city easily.

[Phang]

Heheh, s'ti ekil Reverse.

Siht ekil erom si Reverse tub.

Ees eht ecnereffid?


Whatever.

I say RUN FOR IT! It's quicker when written in capitals. :cool:

[Crunchyfrog]

Well actually if you want to get into serious linguistics, you could have High THE and Low THE, for example

I tnew ot eht mraf = low THE for 'I went to the farm'.

mraf eht ot tnew I = High THE for 'I went to the farm'

ancient THE...

ot eht mraf I tnew

Stone age THE...

ggguuu.... gggooo.... ggrrraaarrr...

Or maybe they are just getting their mucking words fuddled :?

[Guest]

whatever they said!!! I say It is to bad I'm stuck in an never ending cycle of trying to get back to reality. And it has changed the whole plot of the story. And now you'll have quite a bad time at writeing since I was soposed to end up on an hill. But you can change that with the machine.

... you use your brain china I have nothing to say in this one here.

Only that you now have alot more to write... i know how these time travel stuff works. Strange If I should be back there? Where am I really there should then be two of me. Wait I'm gettingolder and older aint I when I'm going like that through time. You have put me into a time flux continiuom. I'm getting older man...

Great whoopdie doo.... :lol:

[Chinaren]

So, if I read the suggestions correctly, and I'm not sure I do as most of them are in THEian, the options we have so far are:

Try talking to Muddy (In THEian, even though they don't understand it)

Run run run!

Push Arclone into the mass as a distraction.

Any more before I put up a poll? (Please, not backwards, it's giving me a headache).

[The White Blacksmith]

Yrros. Ll'ew yrt ton ot od siht eromyna.

Wander around and pretend to be simple minded. Confuse the shepherd-guards by patting them on the back and mumbling. Works for me.

Nac ew teg kcab ot gniklat ni Reverse won?

[Phang]

The White Blacksmith wrote: Nac ew teg kcab ot gniklat ni Reverse won?

.siht ekil si reversE

The mumbling confused idea sounds awesome, both storygame-wise and for RL. Might just try it.

[Chinaren]

Poll is up then. Flog the dead horse of voting.

[Chinaren]

Chapter 9. Sacrifice.


“They don’t look at all friendly.” Arclone started to back away, bumping into prone THEians as he did so.

“You may be right.” Chinaren’s self preservation instinct was waving its hands about and jumping up and down, trying to get his attention. “But they’re so close now.”

“Llik! Llik!” Cried the oncoming Shepard’s, waving sharpened crooks about.

“I’m not hanging about to see!” Arclone started.

“Wait! Look over there!” Shouted Chinaren, pointing.

“Where!?? What?” Arclone looked about wildly, and hence didn’t see who pushed him over from behind. "Arg! Chinaren!” Arclone thrashed about madly, tangled up in several robed THEians, who were trying to slide away from him without actually moving.

“Dloh!” Shouted a voice from above him.

Arclone peered upwards, into the business end, whichever end that is, of a THEian Sherpard’s crook*.

“Bugger.” He said.

*Much like the traditional tool, but with a razor sharp hook.

>

Chinaren was moving at speed, a cloud of dust marking his progress along the dry streets. “Must escape…” he gasped. “Can’t let… Arclone’s valiant… sacrifice… be in…vain. Oh.”

Down the street, riding large THEian war dogs*, came a troop of mounted warriors, blood red robes billowing about them as they shouted in their savage lingo and gestured right and left.

Chinaren flattened himself against the wall, pressing himself into a shallow doorway as the troops trotted past, crooks sparkling dangerously in the desert sun.

One looked his way, shading his hand against the glare as he did so.

Chinaren gulped as the soldier approached, squinting in an attempt to see more clearly.

Just as he was getting close, the door opened and Chinaren fell through.

“Quick, come inside,” whispered a voice.

The mayor wasted no time arguing, but scrabbled away, whilst his newfound helper closed the door gently.

“What are you doing here?” Asked the man.

“Ingro?” Gasped Chinaren. “Ingrothechundyer? Is that you? I haven’t see you since Thu Oct 05, 2006. What happened to you?”

“I decided to take a break, go walkabout,” said the figure, moving over to a table and sitting down.

Chinaren stood up. “And you ended up here? How come?”

“It’s a long story. I see you are still getting into mischief though.”

“Muaddib is here! He’s preaching or something.”

Ingro nodded. “Yes, he’s a spiritual leader in THE.”

“Those barbarian Shepard’s captured one of my friends. We were running and he… tripped.”

“Tripped eh?”

“Well, he is a clone. Probably some manufacturing flaw.” Chinaren shrugged. “But I feel slightly obligated to get him back.”

“They will have taken him to the Golden Shrine probably,” Ingro said.

“I see. And this shrine is where exactly?”

*If you think the sheep are bad, wait until you see the sheepdogs.

>

A black robed figure wandered through the main doors of the Shrine, indistinguishable from the hundreds of other similarly garbed THEians, with the possible exception of a slight waddling walk.

The robe moved up the main aisle, past a dozen ever larger statues of Muaddib, and towards the auditorium.

Entering the main chamber, the short shape sidled around the wall, taking in the scene.

The Shrine was like nothing Chinaren had ever seen. It was more like a circular amphitheater, with rows upon rows of stone seats overlooking a sandy arena.

Strapped to a stone slab in the middle of this was Arcone, his face showing extreme agony as Muaddib recited all 4,527 verses of the Golden Path Holy writings. Every time it looked like he may lose consciousness, a THEian Shepard poured cold water over his head, reviving him.

“Kill meeee! Kill me noooow!” Screamed the poor clone, as Muaddib started another stanza.

Chinaren winced as Muaddib’s voice rose up through the Shrine, and thanked his foresight at stuffing his ears with wax. Glancing around his eyes alighted upon a familiar looking machine next to Arclone’s slab. If you removed the tin foil and various statues adorning it, you could almost think it was an Exorcisor machine. But what was it doing here?

His answer was not long in coming. Muaddib ended his recital, much to the relief of the sobbing Arclone, and turned to face the waiting crowd.

“Great THEians*,” he cried. “Here is the instrument of our Victory over the heathen AHA scum!” He gestured at the machine as the crowd cheered.

“With this device, created by me alone, and in no way stolen from anywhere else, we can launch a surprise attack into the heart of AHA! Our crack troops will slaughter the barbarians by the thousands!”

More cheering.

“It only remains to provide a sacrifice to ensure our success! And the Gods have heard the call! They have sent this… this Non THEian to us! We will slice him from top to bottom and offer his gooey red insides up as a demonstration of our advanced culture!”

The cheers were deafening this time.

Chinaren looked left and right. Arclone was in dire straights and, possibly more importantly, there appeared to be a working machine that could get him back to IF!

But how to get to it? Oh. And rescue Arclone.

*Translation provided by Chinaren, who is tired of typing backwards.

>>>>>>

Finally another chapter, even if it is rather lackluster. Sorry about that, I want to finish this one off, and I don’t feel overly humorous* just now.

So, a rescue plan is needed! What to do?

*Pretty drunk though.
<<<<<<

[Lilith]

Well, from the looks of it, you need to be very sneaky. Throw a smoke bomb or something to that nature and while the THEians are cornfuzzled, grab Arclone and get to the machine just in the nick of time. Or, release Arclone, tell him to destroy the machine right after Chinaren leaves and then run while the smoke/fog is still obscuring the THEians view. Sorry, that's all I got! ;)

[Chinaren]

Any other suggestions? We are talking about a rare species of Argoclone here! :shock:

[dinranwen]

I'd have to agree with Lily, time afraid. *grins at her over use at puns and looks innocently around the room*

Mass distraction followed by releasing the clone, jumping into the Machine in the nick of time, and instructing the arclone to destroy the machine.

[The White Blacksmith]

If I may suggest adhering to my suggestion for the previous chapter. Ingro can shock them all by speaking in Ifian and dewbating with Muddy while chinaren leaves then walks in mumbling, unstraps Argo and leaves. Doing all this seemingly randomly of course.

And Nerc? Since when did you keep a list of the precise dates people dissapeared?

[Chinaren]

Quote: And Nerc? Since when did you keep a list of the precise dates people dissapeared?

I don't. I just checked when his last post was, to make it authentic. ;)

I have an idea to wrap this one up, which I'll write as soon as RL gives me a chance...

[Player of Fates]

Aha! I'm loving this story, Chinaren, absolutely loving it. Hm, we need to find something distracting that would draw all our primitive foes attention. A large "magical" flash of light from a weird looking torch that happened to be lying around maybe?

Maybe a type of summoning? Is Chinaren fluent in the Arc languge to summon an angel or maybe a demon with the right pentegram? Nah, no time for a pentegram, we need some sort of crazy distraction that will give Chinaren enough time to knock out Muadibb, rescue the clone, and use the machine.

Perhaps Arclone can piss in his pants which would send all THEians in bouts of laughter.

[Mephistopheles]

Is laughter deadly to THEians? like it was to the weasels in that roger rabbit flick? if so, then yeah, arclone can urinate in his torusers, perhaps pass a little gas for added effect, and then Chinaren can just hang back and wait for everyone to be deceased.

[Masterweaver]

I come to the rescue!

It IS an alternate universe...

[Chinaren]

No, this one isn't.

Okay poll is finally up. Mess the pants of voting.