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Chapter 7
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D-Lotus



Joined: 21 Oct 2004
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Location: Hollywood, USA

Posted: Mon Mar 17, 2008 10:34 pm    Post subject: Chapter 7  

The story so far: Robbie is a boy with an overactive imagination. He can talk to the ghost of his dead brother, but his parents are distressed when he reveals this fact to them. His brother's ghost, in order to console Robbie, offers to transport him to a different world where people will appreciate his imagination. Robbie wakes up in a different world, sure enough, but it isn't as wonderful as he expected. There is only barren terrain and faraway industrial towns. Then he notices a large figure approaching, which turns out to be a man he befriends, and who, in place of his name 'Citizen 103', he calls Jack. Robbie and Jack descend towards one of the towns, where they encounter a guard. Fortunately, they distract him and evade him, and then decide to visit Jack's farm. On the journey there, Jack divulges his admiration for his grandfather, who appears to have been a man of some importance. Jack's farm turns out to be a small shack with a tiny plotland. Once Jack gets some papers there, which he uses to prove to a factory boss that he has completed his work for that day, they drive back to town in an old motorcycle. When they approach the factory, they are again confronted by someone, except this time, the woman who confronts them, Citizen 2, seems to be someone powerful. She orders Jack away into the factory and commands Robbie to follow her into a certain room, where Robbie meets Citizen 1, otherwise known as Bill. Bill demonstrates to Robbie that he can create a bird simply by visualizing it, which he does. Robbie is wonder-struck by this strange power and demands to know more, and Bill offers his assistance. Bill helps Robbie control the world around him with his imagination- he even learns how to sprout wings and fly. Bill leads Robbie to a church where he amasses treasures taken from the populace. He explains that this world lost its imagination long ago, and that its people have no capacity of creativeness. That's why Robbie is so important; he does have imagination, and a lot of it. However, Robbie is betrayed; Bill intends to use Robbie's imagination as a source of fuel to run his factory. Bill traps Robbie with handcuffs that limit his ablities, and then Citizen 2 leads him to a strange room which contains a machine. In this room, there is a girl strapped to a machine already, and the machine seems to be devouring her imagination. Fortunately, the machine malfunctions, and Citizen 2 must find someone to fix it. She gives Robbie enough time to think of an escape plan, however, and he manages to reverse the flow of imagination through a hose attached to the valve. He blasts his enemies as they come back, and liberates the girl, Noemie, in the process, although they cannot understand each other because she is French. Jack aids in their escape from the factory after turning traitor to Bill and re-evaluating his grand-father's principles. The kids must decide how to continue their escape. They return to Jack's parked moped and try to drive away from the town; unfortunately, Robbie is not an experienced moped driver, and the kids end up crashing in front of a museum after they are shot at by pinched-nosed Thomas, though neither child is hurt. As Robbie and Noemie run through the museum (a temple of falsities, as it turns out) searching for a tool to rid themselves of Thomas, that very man quickly tracks them down, approaching ever closer...

Chapter 7

Within one's cloak of fear lie inescapable, haunting phantoms forever shrouded, so that wherever one may glance, the phantoms fleetingly reappear from the depths of that ghastly cloak. Everyone would cast away this cloak and be rid of these phantoms, but that the very cloak constitutes our only garment; we are naked and vulnerable without it. Mayhap for mankind the most terrible horror is the total lack of fear, a characteristic which repulses and enthralls us at the same time. Hark back to the instance in which a Japanese man grew so morally outraged by the xenophobic immigration laws passed in turn-of-the century United States, that he protested by committing suicide in front of the American Embassy in Japan, painting the streets red like the rising sun.

What peculiarities exists within this instance, and of other kamikazes, that capture our attention so, eliciting within our soul such incredulous revulsion and simultaneous wonder? To uncover the answer, hark back even further to the epoch before time, when the lack of fear impelled the first man and woman away from idyllic Eden. Owing to pride and disobedience, they imposed upon themselves the loss of innocence and the burden of dread, but also, they banned themselves from Heaven through their paucity of shame and through their fearlessness. Sons of Adam, fear the insane audacity of your forefather and wrap yourselves irretrievably within those cloaks, lest something worse befall you!

Such hereditary fears now clothed Robbie's soul. Fortunately, his instincts of survival kicked in, and as his senses heightened in search of a means of escape, he momentarily ceased to be human; he cast his cloak. Under the spell of this keen perception, he noticed in a faraway corridor a horrendously large anchor hanging by a pulley attached to the wall. He had not chanced to remark upon it before due to its conspicuousness; it was so sizable that he had simply acknowledged it as he would another wall. Yet now, an idea dawned upon him.

The anchor would halt his escape and turn the tables if his plan worked. First pausing to grab both pellets and slingshot from his current room, he subsequently darted over to the pulley and ascertained that he could easily release it. Then he rushed back to Noemie, still holding the teddy bear tight, just as Thomas' forehead and pinched nose rose into view from beyond the stairway.

He prowled into the last floor with his shoulders hunched forward, advancing headfirst, rigid neck like a snake waiting to strike. The museum light shone through his thin hair as he cautiously advanced, an emaciated gun toting scarecrow in a linen shirt sweating profusely. He raised his arched eyebrows and wrinkles burst forth across his brow. He spoke, half susurration.

"C'mon out, children. I ain't gonna hurt you. Don't be frightened. If you do as I say, we can have some nice apple pie. Apples taste so nice..."

Whether she understood or not, Noemie seemed reassured by the tone of his voice; so much so, that she nearly peeked behind the edge of the wall to catch a glimpse of the man. But the boy pulled her back, for he hadn't yet cloaked himself again.

Instead, he made vehement motions for her to load the slingshot. Thomas was standing in the middle of the hallway; he turned his back to them and then Robbie pointed at the direction he wished for Noemie to aim, down the hallway towards the anchor. Silently they moved into open view, and he held the shaft of the slingshot steadily as she attempted to comply with his commands. It took painfully long for her to stretch back the leather thong, so that Thomas began craning his neck around, an inch away from catching sight of...

Zoom! The pellet whistled through the air, a sibilant missile that zipped in between Thomas' spindly legs and then rocketed far into the deep corridor, dully thudding against the anchor. Thomas' jaws snapped and he turned towards the pellet's direction, starting out, crocodile-like, with his sharp nose pointing forwards in concentration. In a matter of seconds he disappeared into the room nearby the colossal anchor and Robbie pursued him assiduously. Reaching the end of the hallway by the anchor, and without pausing for breath, the boy rammed the palms of his hands into the pulley, causing it to release from its safety hold and veer uncontrollably.

The anchor came down with a crash like thunder, nearly crushing Robbie before it teetered diagonally and smashed into the carpet in front of the door, creating a wedge in the floor. It was now embedded into the museum, an unorthodox door block.

Thomas approached the anchor and poked his rifle through a gap created between the anchor and door, searching for the boy, but the boy hid in the shadows as Adam hid among the trees of the garden. Thomas attempted to squeeze himself through the gap, but Robbie swiftly moved out of his hiding place and delivered a sharp kick in the kidneys. Thomas rolled back amid groans and cursing; in any case, even his scare-crow body would not fit through the gap.

"You damn kid," spat Thomas before pausing to reconsider. Once more, his voice honeyed, "Now, why'd you do that? I told you I weren't going to hurt you."

"Oh right, that's why you tried to shoot me, right?" replied Robbie, confident enough behind the anchor's protective frame, "Give me the gun, maybe I'll believe you."

"Sure, kid. Lemme see your hand so I can give it to you." Thomas' voice did not betray his body's tense readiness to pounce.

"No way. First I'm gonna get these cuffs off, then I'm gonna kick your ass, and that dumbass Bill's ass too."

"Good luck to you getting those off." cackled Thomas eerily. Robbie frowned and backed off, arriving by Noemie's side, who had been waiting expectantly for the result of the tensions while still holding on to her teddy bear.

"You ain't going nowhere!" shouted Thomas from afar as they began descending the old-new banister staircase and its cream colored steps. The screaming and roaring followed them to the door downstairs until they quit the museum and the breeze of a cool night air carried away all noise.

They rambled the streets for about a minute, and then Robbie realized they really weren't going anywhere. He looked at Noemie and she reciprocated, her sad little face so full of trust.

"There's something weird about that museum, but I really don't get it." Robbie declared to her uncomprehending, bright eyes. "If I could just get rid of these cuffs, then I could make you a thousand teddy bears. But I can't do that. It's so much like... home." Noemie observed his soliloquy in silence. "Mike, why'd you send me here, you dumb brother? I want to spit fire with my breath, but I don't have control over anything! Nothing! Well, myself, but that doesn't count, anyone can do that. It's not enough."

Noemie trembled in the cold, her hair wildly swaying under the wind's influence.

"Wait, what did that priest say? Something about the marshes... yeah, that guy can help me. But how do I find him. How, Noemie?"

She never answered his question. Instead, they were unexpectedly enveloped in a net and thrown to the ground. Two figures emerged from the shadows and quickly applied some rude form of chloroform to their nose as they were yet struggling with the webs which entangled them. Then everything dissipated into unconsciousness.
*

When Robbie awakened, he was confronted by the same man he had seen in the picture in the museum. It was the same man who had held infant Jack's hand, the same man, only older, and his eyes were less kind-hearted. His hair was white and fading, his chin round and wrinkled, but his body had the ease and grace of a retired boxer.

"Who are you?" he demanded. They were in a dimly lit, damp room, surrounded by a crowd of figures, most of them weathered, sinewy men. Noemie was nowhere in sight.

"I'm just a kid. My name is Robbie." his voice nearly cracked. The old man scrutinized him. The room was so deathly silent that the boy felt oppressed by absence of noise; the silence, nearly tangible, inhabited the whiteness of the walls.

"Where do you come from?"

"California." Robbie composed himself and became alarmed at the same time; if they didn't know who he was, he may not be in danger, but at the same time, any evil fate could befall him at their hands

"I've never heard of such a place." glared the old man.

"Oh, yeah... Jack didn't know either." considered the boy.

"Jack? What are you talking about?" the old man betrayed surprise, and there was murmuring throughout the crowd.

"It's this guy who says 'damn straight' all the time."

"Damn straight!" laughed the old man, slapping his knee, "Well, that's my boy." Then his smile faded and he grew serious and suspicious. "How'd you know his name? What'd you do to him?"

"I... nothing." replied Robbie, but before he could explain himself further, one of the figures in the shadows stepped forward; it was the old ebony priest.

"The boy is telling the truth." he said in his solemn, resonating voice. Robbie thought this would turn the tide in his favor, but instead, the statement was met by awkward silence.

"You have spent a long time around #1, Stephen." said another voice. The priest turned towards Robbie's interviewer in anger.

"How dare you all doubt my work? It has kept us alive for the last fifteen years!"

"Calm down, Stephen." the white-haired man motioned for the priest to rest his complaints. In the ensuing pause, Robbie took his chance to ask a question which he hoped would engage their pride and provoke their sympathy.

"So, um, who are you guys?"

"The Resistance!" cried the entire group of shadows cacophonously. The old man nodded solemnly.

"Resistance to what? Are you guys those rebels I saw in the museum?" Robbie persisted in his tactic of digression.

"Pah! You call that a museum?" cried one female voice as she pushed her way into the circle. She appeared a replica of Edith Piaf, with her small figure, wide forehead, curly mass of black hair, and hunched shoulders. "Everything in that museum is garbage! All lies! We're the ones who try to save this place from becoming a total wasteland. If it weren't for #1, we'd all still live in peace!"

"Bill? I hate that guy!" Robbie searched to exploit the ubiquitous aversion to the common enemy, "I can help you guys! If you'll just free me from these handcuffs, I can-"

He was cut short by the brow-furrowing of the white-haired old man.

"We know very well what you can do." he growled, "It wasn't long ago that our world was seized by this evil."

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Robbie was puzzled.

"And yet, Michael," the old ebony addressed his white counterpart, inadvertently revealing the leader's name, "What if he was sent here for a reason? What God destroys he restores through the same means." His speech reverberated throughout the room thanks to his vocal intensity. Michael remained silent as the room erupted into an uproar and The Resistance began discussing the subject passionately. Robbie rolled his eyes around the room in fright. Then Michael banged his fist against the wall and the room returned to its previous ponderous silence.

"It's worth a try." He glanced at the other faces, "You all know that #1 is younger than all of us, and we don't have much time left to stop him. Our numbers have dwindled over the years, and this may be our only remaining hope. At any moment, we could all be killed; you know that, you've seen it happen. We've got to seize our chance. This is the moment we've waited for."

Slowly, everyone in the room nodded in approval. Michael turned his attention back on Robbie, who was attempting to smile disarmingly.

"Do you want to be part of The Resistance, kid?" he pronounced the words deliberately.

"Totally!" answered Robbie enthusiastically.

"Fine, but I'm not going to risk twenty lives on any brat, do you understand?" Michael grimaced, "First, you've got to prove yourself... with the cuffs on. This is what you're going do..."

Decision Point: What is Robbie's task? How does he 'prove' himself? Note: This is the part of the Hero's journey where the true characteristics of the Hero emerge. For those of you who wanted direction in the story, this is your chance to decide. Think beyond the limits. And most importantly, don't forget the flying donkey! ;)
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Wannabe_Writer
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Posted: Tue Mar 18, 2008 12:04 am    Post subject: Nitpicks  

Nice story so far, D.
Unfortunately it is 2:46 a.m. and I am all jacked up on Mountain Dew, so let me ponder over the decision point ‘til tomorrow. (Erm…later today…)
However, for the time being I do have three nitpicks about this chapter:
1. I thought Tom had a rifle, not a shotgun.
2. At the beginning of the chapter there was a very deep, yet very distracting passage. Chapter Six produced a lot of suspense and it was basically killed with this distraction, or at least put on hold and the effect was reduced…
3. I thought I had three… Don’t you hate it when your short-term memory fails you?

Well, later… Will post my suggestion(s) later.
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Bookwizard
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Posted: Tue Mar 18, 2008 5:03 pm    Post subject:  

Pretty good chapter D, though I think that WW has a point on the suspense thing. You did kill that of a little, also seeing as I can not incorporate this into my decision, am going to put it directly. I believe that Robbie should acquire a more adventures but calm personality, someone whose a bit impatient and eager, but not to much, he should slowly change from a childish personality to a more older one in the course of the story. This will greatly enhance it. As for the test, I think that at first it should be something very simple and disappointing to Robbie, such as taking him into a room and asking him a variety of questions. Then have him end up in a situation in which theses questions help him greatly.
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Wannabe_Writer
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Posted: Tue Mar 18, 2008 7:05 pm    Post subject: Suggestion  

A- I remembered my third nitpick: When Rob said he was going to kick Bill's and and Tom's arses. I don't know, it just seemed a little out-of-character to me. I remember Robbie as an annoying little kid asking a lot of questions, but now he's talking like a pissed-off teenager. LOL He was just through a life and death situation so I guess that could be why he sounded so.."different".
B- I like Bookwiz's suggestion. That direction could let this story give the reader advice. I forgot the word... (I have very bad memory, BTW.) Let me describe it: The story could let the reader... Oh, never mind. Getting my idea across would be a lot easier if I could remember that one word...
C- My suggestion: The Marshes. They keep being mentioned but nothing comes of it. I'll be honest with you, I have no idea what will happen once he gets there. This proves that I am indeed a wannabe. A true writer should have an idea about every angle... Haha, irony! Rob has imagination-sucking shackles on and MY imagination is depleted, when HE clearly imagined a way to lock Tom in that room...
I really can ramble on about nothing, can't I?
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Crunchyfrog
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Posted: Thu Mar 20, 2008 3:46 pm    Post subject:  

Agree about the first two paragraphs, although excellent in themselves, they destroyed the flow of a tense moment.

I say the task is to go back to the church where Bill has amassed the treasures and give them all back to their rightful owners. An impossible task, at least at first look.
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D-Lotus
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Posted: Thu Mar 20, 2008 5:19 pm    Post subject:  

That's funny about the first two paragraphs; I was hoping it would restore tension! I figured that I had killed the tension through the two week stall, and I also thought that by dividing the action scene in two chapters, it had all been thrown off anyway. Furthermore, I was under the impression that the previous chapter hadn't been all that tense...

Well, I'll have to change that at some point in the second draft, wonderful readers, but for now I'll leave it as is.

Good thinking on the DP's- Also let me remind you that Robbie's task doesn't have to necessarily serve a purpose. Much like Hercules' tasks, it can be anything you want, and as pointless as you want, so long as it tests Robbie's courage and ability.
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Bookwizard
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Posted: Thu Mar 20, 2008 6:33 pm    Post subject:  

You do have a point there D, but at this stage in the story, where it seems he has gained a purpose, it may be good for it have a point. And CF I like that idea its intriguing, lets see if I can mix are two ideas together. After his test (which was seemingly pointless to him) he is told to do this job, distribute the treasure. He dose not want to do this, and he is starting to get homesick, and then he figures out that the test somehow greatly helped with this task, but somehow that is not enough for him. He is still miserable, then inspiration hits, and he dose his job with renewed joy, waiting for his next task that he has devised. This could take place over the next one or two chapters, and we will diced what he has come up with when we get to that point.
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D-Lotus
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Posted: Mon Mar 24, 2008 10:54 pm    Post subject:  

Polling!

Happy voting.
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Bookwizard
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Posted: Tue Mar 25, 2008 4:54 pm    Post subject:  

Wow this will be interesting, all the choices greatly effect the future of the story, this is the most important poll yet, just making the people who haven't voted nervous.
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Aponi
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Posted: Wed Mar 26, 2008 7:20 am    Post subject:  

I'm sorry I missed the discussion - I'd have suggested they throw him out in the marsh alone to see if he'd survive... and in order to survive he'd have to kill something giving #1 power... but maybe that would work out better later anyway.

The passage at the beginning was extremely distracting and slightly annoying (sorry). It didn't have the force of the story behind it. It could be tacked on to any story, just about - it wasn't specifically about this one. Dickens got away with it, so did Melville and a hundred other authors a hundred years ago, but for the modern reader it just kills the flow.

I'm glad to see that there is a Resistance - for awhile I thought that absolutely everybody was captured or dead. All these people are going to make lots of interesting complications. Noemie might even have some enemies there she doesn't remember... Anyway, you've got me thinking again. I'll try to do a good crit later.

(off-topic... Wannabe Writer, is there any way you can change your name? Labels have a way of coming true, and, well, you've labeled yourself as someone who doesn't believe you'll make it. It's this simple: A writer writes. If you "wanna be" a writer, write! Call yourself a scribe, a muse, a bard, a scop... anything but a wannabe.)
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Smee
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Posted: Fri Mar 28, 2008 4:02 am    Post subject:  

I meander back into the city again; a dusty traveller trapped on a large circular path seeking out new thrills and sensations but bound to return home for a warm bath and an idearium recharge...

Each time I come back I am faced with the overwhelming quantity of new stories, old stories, still going stories. Which ones to catch up on, to start, to regretfully ignore.

Dani, like most people I think, I've had mixed success with your stories in the past. Your muse is a methuselah trapped in a teenagers body. It produces writing of exquisite detail and subtlety that enriches any reader, yet it is often couched within archaic tedium and rambling prose with often excessive usage of unnecessarily complicated language. Why have one word (syllable) where five will do* ;)

I'm not sure what encouraged me to fill this Friday morning with 7 chapters of your new story. But I did, and I'm glad of it.

Aside from your 'moment' at the beginning of chapter 6, this (as others have commented) is a much more refreshing Dani. Although in many places you curtail your instincts and produce a vivid, and childish view of the world through your protagonist, quite often you take advantage of your third-person perspective to revel in your favoured ways.

Quote: As he hurried out of the room, he glanced at another exposition and it caught his eye, compelling him to return and read it. Wilderness is Waste, or God's architecture? The bible insists we waste not our talents or resources, as in the Parable of the Talents, and yet it menaces that "...if you defile the land, it will vomit you out as it vomited out the nations that were before you" (Leviticus 18:26, 28). Isn't mankind's greatest talent that of conquering the untamed frontier and creating from the wild thorns magnificent structures such as longhouses, castles, and skyscrapers? What jealousy is God's that He may dazzle mankind by His awesome creation but prohibit the exploitation of it? We are but plastic models laid upon the earth to embellish those greens valleys and rivers; a shepherd boy that guides his sheep through those dales He watches as we do an orchestrated school of fish, more so if the shepherd steers men and not cattle. "The land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is mine; with me you are but aliens and tenants" (Leviticus 26:3-4). Don't forget, we are strangers upon the land where we were born; ne'er must we conceive that we can distort the landscape, else we shall be punished by the fury of the all-powerful. Then I forsake this God! If He shall strike me down with thunder, then I shall first build a lightning rod to counter it!

The boy frowned; he couldn't quite understand the meaning of the passage, but the tone alerted him to a presence of rebelliousness and ill-fate.

It probably took atleast three reads before I'd grasped enough of this to be happy and move on. Yet a kid, who you announce is young and petulent enough to rename people on meeting them, feels compelled to read something like that!

I guess that's a success for this story, as I certainly feel my imagination being stretched!

~

These handcuffs are confusing me.

Supposedly shutting off his imagination, but clearly (as mentioned briefly by someone else) he has 'imagined' a multitude of options/plans/escapes/possibilites since then. From dalliances of the moonlight, to imagining himself cutting his hands off and growing them back and complex harpoon-sliding-from-window plans.

The cuffs don't seem to be doing anything more than the physical restraint (which doesn't seem to be hindering him much either).

As a measure to keep control on the story, and not make him all powerful, the cuffs were a good idea. But so far to me, not well implemented.

I think a much more realistic control is simply the required concentration. You already demonstrated, back in the real world, he struggled with concetration. Always distracted by his imagination. This could work against him, when he actually wants some control of what he imagines. As he learns control he could open the way to do more impressive things. But creating a rainbow-bridge when calm and relaxed is much easier than doing anything at all when frightened, or running for your life, in the midst of a fight with a multitude of distractions fighting the required concentration.

I'm not going to vote in this poll. The options don't seem to be what the DP was asking for, so I'll leave that up to you to muddle through in the next chapter and see what comes up then.

Fingers crossed I am still visiting the city by next chapter.

As always...

Happy Writing :)

* I must have had dictionary.com opened atleast a dozen times to check on some words I had no idea of the meaning of. Incidently I think you meant 'daguerreotype'**, rather than darregotype?

** Never heard of that word before. Yet read it your story this morning, and then, out the blue it appears two thirds through the book I'm reading at the moment... White Teeth by Zadie Smith. Weird coincidence.
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D-Lotus
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Posted: Mon Mar 31, 2008 8:15 pm    Post subject:  

What's Robbie's task?
He is asked a variety of questions; the answers to these questions aid him later on.
14% [ 1 ]
He must infiltrate the factory and destroy it.
14% [ 1 ]
Return the treasures in the church to their owners.
71% [ 5 ]

Total Votes : 7
Who Voted: Aponi, bookwizard, Chinaren, Crunchyfrog, D-Lotus, verlius, Zephyr

Return the treasures wins!

Smee- Quote: Yet a kid, who you announce is young and petulent enough to rename people on meeting them, feels compelled to read something like that!

I did say beneath that paragraph that Robbie was attracted to a picture contained within the article. The picture reminded him of his family.

And yes, I did mean darregotype. I encounter this word frequently in my history textbook (though not enough to help me spell it right!), and I forgot this word is unusual to the modern reader.

All of your other doubts and objections are very incisive and true. I'll try to improve on what I can.

Oh, and welcome back! Hope to see you here for the next chapter. :)

Click here to give me more idea for the next chapter.
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Traveller
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Posted: Wed Apr 02, 2008 11:07 pm    Post subject:  

Hey...this is my very first post in this fair city...I just entered today and I am really enjoying this story...I wish I had found it a little earlier as none of the options appeal to me as a reader (I will get back to that in a minute).

I have to beat a dead flying donkey about the first coupke of paragraphs of this chapter...they really seemed to come out of nowhere,,,some really nice prose but I felt it was a distraction to this story not a help.

As for his task I think I would have given him a task that he can't complete right now...something he will need to adventure some more to accomplish and in doing so he actually leads to the resistance's victory...having written that I think it is similar in theme to the first option (The questions)...but its all too late for my opinion anyways so I would have voted for the questions...(but I just don't think it should be questions per se...I think that is what is bothering me...questions are too passive)...Looking forward to Chapter 8...
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Smee
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Posted: Wed Apr 02, 2008 11:14 pm    Post subject:  

Welcome to the City, fair Traveller.

May your stay be a pleasant one.


Happy Storygaming. :)
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CunningFox
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Posted: Wed Apr 09, 2008 10:40 pm    Post subject:  

Ah missed the poll. Would have voted for 3 anyway,
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Bookwizard
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Posted: Wed Apr 16, 2008 8:40 pm    Post subject:  

so, when can we expect the next chapter?
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Traveller
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Posted: Wed Apr 16, 2008 8:55 pm    Post subject:  

Please...please...please give us a new chapter...I really want to see what happens!!
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D-Lotus
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Posted: Thu Apr 17, 2008 4:22 pm    Post subject:  

I'll try to get something up this weekend. Sorry 'bout the wait guys, but I am entering a period of my life that involves many exams and much studying. But thanks for the support! :)
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Chinaren
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Posted: Thu Apr 17, 2008 5:03 pm    Post subject:  

Ah, exams. I'm so happy I don't do those anymore.
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