City of IF

[D-Lotus]

Welcome, this is an experimental storygame that will be based around our city's fine Quifs. The author (me), will follow the guidelines of a Quif, but you the readers and participants will decide the outcome of this Quif, and whether the hero survives it. Here's how it works*:

1. You choose which QuIF you'd like to embark upon. I have chosen three that I found particularly amusing to narrow the options down, but its up to you to decide which of these three you like best. Make a fuss about it, I don't care, only remember that they are all equally random, so don't try to find any logic in them yet.

Here they are:

A.
The Quif

First, sneak into the harems of the Royal Palace, and choose which valuable item you will take with you: the Mallet of PollDoom, a very mean snapping turtle, or a really great workout plan.

Then, sail a ship across the Fanta Sea and up the River of We the People, where you must fight past the sleepwalking bodies of the very tired heroes who have failed this quif in the past.

Then far in the distance you will see a fetid swamp known as the Swamp of Thing, where finally, you will find Bertha, a wise and powerful whale who dwells on land. Prove that you are the greatest singer in the land by beating her in a singing contest.

Distance: 52 Iflongs Fame/possibilities: 18

B.
The Quif

Late at night, lie in the gutters of the Muad-dib District, and one of three figures there will give you one of three items: a page of inspiring battle-song sheet music, a 16-ton weight (on wheels), or a quadruple-espresso double decker hyper cappucino.

Travel to the Plains of Television. There you must resist the charms of the Lady of In, who entrances those of weak will.

Then take the path to the sky-cliffs of Aha, the ancient dwelling-place of the dread Mal-fait, winner of the Tournament of Death and Champion of the City of OF. He is a fugitive from the City. You must bring him back for trial.

Distance: 68 Iflongs Fame/possibilities: 13

C.
The Quif

By doing this quif, you will also set Chinaren free, and gain an additional 14 fame.

First, go to the IF Technical Institute, and seek out the twelfth desk on the fifteenth floor of the Library of Fabulous Tales, and choose which valuable item you will take with you: a page of inspiring battle-song sheet music, the Royal Crown of IF, stolen from Key’s head while he slept, or a suit of strong but rapidly-rusting armor.

Travel past the Bananalands, the home of Bob and his many Apedog relatives, and to the Great Trees of Today. At your journey’s end you must fight the legendary Aha Monster.

After that, seek out a small village called Late. This is the home of the enchantress Esmerelda of the Sotto Voice, whose magical voice can entrance or entrap. She desires the Crown more than anything. Give it to her and her predations will cease.

Distance: 26 Iflongs Fame/possibilities: 11

2. Next, we will all decide our character traits. As you know, there is (Strength, Endurance), (Dexterity, Intelligence), (Willpower, and Charm). I have separated these six traits into three different pairs, as you should be able to tell be the different colors. You must choose one pair that you are great at, another that you totally suck at, and the remaining pair of traits you will be average at.

3. Let the storygaming begin!

* as I said, this is experimental, so it's liable to be changing all the time.

[Key]

I voted for Bertha. Out-singing a whale seems especially difficult and heroic.

:-)

[Crunchyfrog]

Mal-fait! I want to know more about this geezer. :grin:

[The Meaning Of Fear]

C, because I really want to see what C'ren's reaction upon being rescued is!

But now I've just realised I put it into a more tangled up tie...

Would someone like to break it for D?

[Chinaren]

D-Lotus should rescue me, after all he owes me one for saving him that time in the mines.

:D

[Phantomfan]

I like b!
It'd be interesting to see the trial, if it indeed came to that.

[Alegria]

Oh crap, I wanted to sing to Bertha so I tied it up again.

Sorry.

[D-Lotus]

Chinaren wrote: D-Lotus should rescue me, after all he owes me one for saving him that time in the mines.

:D

Hmm, I don't seem to follow. Was this in one of your storygames? I hope you didn't completely defile my character again. What was it last time, an effeminate elf? :D

In any case, it wouldn't be me saving you. It would be a new character; maybe an amalgamation of all the IF personas. I'll figure something out, but it won't be me.

Quote: Oh crap, I wanted to sing to Bertha so I tied it up again.

Sorry.

Don't worry, that's what polls are for. They all start with a tie before they are finally resolved. And I knew that this would be a close poll, since all of the Quifs are so juicy in their own way.

Btw, I've decided that once this poll ends (give it another day or two), I'll start writing the chapter. Meanwhile I write it, so's you'll have something to do, I'll set up another poll where you can select the character traits (step 2). This will affect the character's personality.

[Kalanna Rai]

I happen to have a grudge against Mal-Fait...he killed one of my pets...and all I got was his stupid sword...

[LordoftheNight]

What's this 'you got his sword' stuff? All that happened was he stuck it so far into your dragons throat that it wouldn't come out, then dropped your dragon down a giant pit.

I think we should go for rescuing C'ren - it's worth the most fame in total, which is obviously the important bit. And makes it more IFy afterall.

[Kalanna Rai]

*laughs at Lordy*

Bought it at a discount when C'ren remodled the Arena. He just couldn't leave all those carcasses rotting in the pit forever. It was scaring off customers.

You know C'ren...nothing he won't sell.

[Chinaren]

I believe I'm being abused here... but I'm not sure how. :?

[The Powers That Be]

I vote for A. There's something very poignant about those poor sleepwalking heroes, still fighting on despite their failures.

[DeadManWalking]

C's pulling ahead.

I too wish to see Chinaren rescued.

Of course, rescued is relative.

We could always keep him around as our pet/housekeeper, as long as we nailed everything down.

Although he'd prolly sell the nails for iron as well as everything else...

[D-Lotus]

The poll is closed. Thank you all who participated. :D

What Quif shall we embark on?
A.
30% [ 4 ]
B.
23% [ 3 ]
C.
46% [ 6 ]

Total Votes : 13
Who Voted: Alegria, Chinaren, Crunchyfrog, DeadManWalking, ethereal_fauna, Kalanna Rai, Key, LordoftheNight, Phantomfan, scissorkitty, sir wax, The Meaning Of Fear, The Powers That Be

Well, it wasn't really a majority win, but that's democracy anyway. ;)

Now I'll begin to write the first chapter and meanwhile, here's the character trait poll, as promised. These traits will affect the story in the following chapters (not including the first). I am aware that I didn't include all of the choices possible in the poll, but I did this for simplicity's sake. It wouldn't be practical to have six different options on the poll.

[The Meaning Of Fear]

Strength! En-duh-rance!

And hooray, C won.

::EDIT::

Ah!

Saw Rai's post (below) and did a facepalm. Completely forgot.

[Kalanna Rai]

We're going up against a Siren people...voice that can entrance or entrap? Gonna need the Willpower...really.

[The White Blacksmith]

I F5 Rai. And charm's always good to have - most of the random encounters on the journey seem to be charm -related.

Should we also be deciding on the item we get, or will that be a poll in the actual sg?

[LordoftheNight]

Intelligence should be fine to get past Siren though - everyone who knows anything knows Sirensong can be blocked with wax.

[Guest]

I picked the last vote. It is better. :D

[Bookwizard]

Who needs the powers of strength when you can have to powers of willpower and skip the physical part and just control people with you mind (willpower, charm) for me. :D

[Alegria]

I voted for the 2 things I really don't have:

Willpower and charm!

[DeadManWalking]

while it is true intelligence would be good, that choice is coupled with awful willpower.

Thus, we should give our character more willpower and charm, allowing him/her to be either so charismatic or persistent that he/she can convince/pester people into doing his/her job for him/her.

[D-Lotus]

The Quif Storygame

1.

In my life I've slain dragons, raced against a semi-divine goat through the jagged mountaintops, shot an arrow through a spider's cobweb with such precision that not a single strand was damaged, and even fearlessly bathed in the bitter poison arsenic without surrendering to its effects. And despite all of these heroics, every Quif feels like the first.


To begin my story, let me recount the circumstances of my birth, so that maybe you can understand why I feel that destiny plays hide and seek with me. A month before I was to be due, my parents took sail with my adolescent sister towards a neighboring city on the other side of a strait in a boat my father had built and on which he had invested a great deal of time and wealth. They intended to visit cataracts deep within the jungle whose waters were rumored to contain numerous faculties, the most prominent of which would shower abundant blessings upon an unborn child. Their expedition proved successful, and they loaded their boat with many gifts of pottery, jewelry and wine for their friends, deliberating already upon their joyous return. The balmy sun and smooth sailing of the days that followed did not augur that such an auspicious occasion would be thwarted.


On the third day of their voyage home, however, a dark and violent storm erupted in the skies, and the boat, though bravely manned, finally succumbed to the assault of the heaving waves and the thrashing rain. Fortunately, when the storm abated, a fisherman’s boat crossed the ship-wreck and was able to rescue my sister and my mother from the cold clutches of the sea. My mother was very sick and in need of immediate attention, but sadly the tiny fishing boat did not contain a physician among its small crew. In spite of the fisherman’s best efforts, he was not able to reach shore in time to seek a doctor’s expertise and my mother’s life was lost. Left to grieve alone in the cabin with the corpse, my sister made the momentous decision to save the life of the fetus inside the shriveling womb. Ignoring her own weariness, she tore open the womb with her bare hands and freed me from my drowned mother’s corpse. I know what you’re thinking: what a romantic tale!


Now perhaps you understand why I became a Quiffer or why it is that I am always seeking adventure. It feels as if my birth was never really a beginning, just as it feels as though the Quifs will never end; it’ll always be one after another. You can call it a Ulysses complex if you like, because the truth is that I’m always searching for quest, and my thirst can never be quenched. Mind you, I don’t have contests of wit with supernatural trees or risk my life nearly everyday because I enjoy the fame or because I want to assert my ego. No, it cannot be denied-- I do it for the possibilities.

*

The tale I will narrate is perhaps not the most salient among all of my adventures for its greatness or scope, but that is only because I hold all of my escapades in my heart with equal tenderness. On the other hand, it does not embody a ‘typical’ Quif, since not a single Quif warrants anything conventional or predictable. And yet this Quif particularly dwells in my mind as the paragon of my struggle, the quintessence of my experience as a Quiffer.


Every Quif begins in the same way, with the Well of Infinite Possibility. Now, some claim that the Well has manifested itself to them in a variety of ways, and I’ve heard it all, from burning bushes to screeching squirrels. Some describe a feeling of haziness and murky cloudiness, but usually those ones were cradling a bottle of Old Stoat in their arms. The truth is that the Well doesn’t exist anywhere in the City of IF, although that doesn’t make it any less real. Sometimes what we don’t see is more real than anything tangible. With the Well, you’ve got to believe it’ll be there when you are ready to embark on a new Quif, otherwise it‘ll never show up. Even so, there are times when your heart and mind will be clear and ready, and still the Well will not appear. The Well doesn’t choose everybody for a quest, and when it does so, it acts carefully.


Usually I find the Well in a quiet glen in the Fantasy forest, where it’s mystical, calm, and the sunlight filters through the copses of trees pleasantly. One day as I dozed and meditated under an Elm, I heard an unusual musical gurgling in the stream nearby, and at length moved closer to explore the sound, aware that receptiveness towards these hints of nature was vital to locating the Well. By the stream, indeed, I sighted an old stone well wrapped in moss and I immediately recognized it as the Well of Infinite Possibility, although I had never before sighted it in that form. I walked across the cool, sparkling stream barefoot and leaned over the edge of the Well in order to peer at its swirling surface and then deeper into its unfathomable depths. I had often wondered what it would be like to jump inside that infinite profundity and be completely submerged by an immensity of cold darkness, in the same way as my father was swallowed by the sea, but I never had the resolve to try it. Someday, when my time comes, I will make that jump into the abyss.


For now I content myself with the images that appear on the Well's surface and communicate the general structure and goals of the Quif. First I saw the towering spires of the IF Technical Institute, and then a plaque that read Floor 15 Desk 12. This image faded away and I was shown the Banana lands, with their jungle trees and hordes of Ape dogs swinging through their sturdy branches. This image too, disappeared, and it was replaced by one of a lovely village in a verdant and sloping valley. Throughout it all, the fuzzy picture of a furry, orange creature kept flashing and intermingling with the other images. Finally, the visage of a beautiful woman materialized and she opened her mouth as if to sing, but no voice or sound emanated from the Well. Instead, the image of her crimson lips and the blackness of her cavernous mouth grew enormous until the Well’s waters turned dark and churned wildly. The darkness surrounded me and I began to feel faint, and at last when I awoke from my dizziness the Well was no longer there. The only witnesses that remained to what had occurred were the birds chirping in the trees and the burning images in my mind which I knew would accompany me throughout my Quif.


At the edge of the forest I was surprised to find a pretty young girl with a keen gaze and sharp blue eyes resting on a tree stump and waiting for me together with her grey pony. She was combing her long golden hair, but she perked up when she saw me coming. I approached her and even greeted her civilly but immediately she returned to the old subject.

“I know you’ve been to the Well today, Ernest. I can tell by the way you look at me, all guilty-like.” she commenced, without allowing me a moment to steer the conversation in any other direction.


“Miranda, I look at you because you are very pretty, and that is all. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to gather my equipment.” Perhaps I was a bit gruff, but I was trying to bring cloture to an argument which had repeated itself numerous times before. I began to walk away from her, and that set her back momentarily, but she sprung on her pony with impressive alacrity and caught up in order to continue nagging me. I swear I’m going to marry that girl someday.


“I want to go on a Quif with you, Ernest. You promised we’d go together, like when you went with your sister!” she appealed, her voice bordering shrill frustration.


“I didn’t say when. You are too young. Besides, my sister was a strong woman.” I responded with some irritation.


“I‘m old enough, Ernest! It has to be now... or else... or else...” her lips trembled.


“Or else what?” I asked, smirking. She regarded me pleadingly, but I stood my ground, and her eyebrows furrowed like whips ready to lash out at me.


“Hmmph.” she snorted, and she turned the pony around and galloped off, kicking a dust cloud into my face.

*

The IF Technical Institute consists of two shiny, glossy buildings of tremendous altitude that reside in the middle of the tourist section in the city. It serves three main functions: firstly, it towers like a beacon for those incessantly flashing tourist cameras and represents a point of great architectural interest for all visitors. Secondly, the Institute overshadows that shabby and poorly lit IFQuirer building, rumored to be going out of business due to lack of news, and mercifully removes it from the backdrop of what is otherwise a very scenic and attractive location. Thirdly, the Institute is the abode of scholars and poets who assiduously study the nature of language and ideas and who have gathered within the Institute’s walls the greatest assortment of story games known to any race, otherwise known as the Library of Fabulous Tales.


I took the elevator to the fifteenth floor, as the Well had advised me to do, and yawned as the elevator climbed up steadily but painstakingly slow. The elevator music was rather dull, until it transitioned to one of the classic IF-tunes, “Mr. That Be Pops the Stoat”. I contemplated the majestic and turbulent IFOF river from my ascending position through the only transparent glass pane in the elevator. The view was slightly obstructed by a flyer, hastily taped onto the pane, containing Chinaren’s likeness, with the label ‘Missing’ written all over his hideous orange face. Into what sort of trouble could the city’s pre-eminent magnate have fallen into now? Perhaps he had tried to pay Muaddib’s girls at the ‘Blue Shellfish’ with banana kibble again.


At last I emerged into an expansive room cluttered with books and papers in apparent disarray. I ducked as a baby dragon swooped overhead and burst out its fiery breath onto a stack of documents. A very distressed scholar in an indigo blouse bearing the name tag “scissor kitty” chased after it with arms outstretched in a futile attempt to rein in the red-scaled menace. I progressed through the crumbling bookcases and guided myself by the plaques which periodically gave notice of the desk number until I arrived at Desk 12.


Desk 12 was the most singularly disturbing desk in the entire floor because it was an island of immaculate perfection within an ocean of disorder. Everything within that particular section was meticulously organized, numbered, stacked, and in mint conditions, whereas in all the other sections, tidiness and symmetry had completely abandoned the vicinity. I understood the reason for this as soon as I crossed words with the receptionist, an uncompromising, sour-faced fool.


“Department of Interesting Items. Whaddaya need?” he spat, regarding me suspiciously from behind his thick lenses.


“I’m not quite sure yet.” I answered coolly. “Maybe I’ll just take a look around until I find what I need.”


“I’ll be watching you.” he said, laying his sausage-like fingers on his protruding belly and leaning back with his eye trained on me as if to signal his intent. His name tag read “Sanxo”.


I breathed in deep and ambled around the shelves of books, waiting for something to occur. The first couple of times around the shelves I noticed nothing interesting, until I came upon a book with a red cover that was inexplicably protruding from its shelf. Before drawing the book out from amongst its companions, I glanced at the receptionist and made sure that he was obsessively sharpening his pencils. As I opened the book and carefully leafed through it, my olfactory senses were invaded by an ancient, musty, and pungent smell. The tome was written by a certain departed and respected IFian, Mordok. It was an item reference guide, basically a long list of items and their location, and there were three pages that were earmarked.


The first page gave details of an inspiring battle-song sheet originally written by Smee about the time before Warcrack; its location was the City Auditorium, where the popular fat fairy, Ethereal Fauna, was scheduled to sing opera tonight. The second ear-marked page described the Royal Crown of IF; it belonged, of course, on King Key’s glorious head. It could also be temporarily perched upon the lovely head of one of the benevolent monarch’s countless female companions. The third item was a suit of strong but rapidly-rusting armor; its location was in the stasis hall, where an exhibition of Phang’s Art had already provoked much positive criticism and quite a few panic attacks. Somehow I knew that I was supposed to acquire one of these items...

Well, there you have it folks. Which item would you like? The character trait poll looks very much settled, so I'll drop that one soon, but l'll give it another day just in case. Then we can have the item poll. :D

[The Meaning Of Fear]

Quote: Ignoring her own weariness, she tore open the womb with her bare hands and freed me from my drowned mother’s corpse.

This is one amazing sister.

I really like this... It's amusing beyond what I can describe with words, and it's very well written. In fact, so good, that it drove me to go try another Quif.

I failed and was captured. :lol:

The battle-song seems a bit of a strange item. A song both written and sung by WarCrack sufferers, about WarCrack Sufferers. On the other hand, taking the crown and giving it to Esmeralda might not be a good idea; who knows what she might do with it, or the weird sticky stuff that's clinging to the side...

[ethereal_fauna]

Trust me, Warcrack ballads have some powerful mojo. :whist:

[DeadManWalking]

take the song.

If you sing it loud enough, perhaps it will drown out hers and allow you to be free of her entrancement.

[Kalanna Rai]

Yes...a witty and charming guy should be able to sing a nice epic ballad.

[Alegria]

I'd take the crown, personally. I like shiny things.

Unfortunately, I am supposed to be acting like this character, and I see him as more of a song sort of guy...

So song it is.

[D-Lotus]

Ok, the character trait poll is closed. Thank-you all who participated. Here are the results:

Here are your choices for character traits:
Great--> (Strength, Endurance); Awful--> (Dexterity, Intelligence)
16% [ 2 ]
Great--> (Dexterity, Intelligence); Awful--> (Willpower, Charm)
25% [ 3 ]
Great--> (Willpower, Charm); Awful--> (Strength, Endurance)
58% [ 7 ]

Total Votes : 12
Who Voted: Alegria, Bookwizard, Christalnightshade, Crunchyfrog, DeadManWalking, ethereal_fauna, Kalanna Rai, Key, LordoftheNight, Phantomfan, The Meaning Of Fear, The White Blacksmith

Well this time it was a majority! :D It looks like people put a lot of value on charm and willpower, so we'll see that reflected in the character, Ernest.

The next poll will be the item poll, to decide which item Ernest takes on his quest (maybe take a look at the quest description to decide which will be the most useful?). But before that, I will give one or two days for discussion, so that everyone gets a chance to express their opinion, argument, or criticism.

[The White Blacksmith]

I say the suit of armour. It sounds like it'd increase endurance, or strength, which are the qualities he's lacking in. For the random encounters, he'll need to increase his skills.

Besides we chose awesome charm and willpower, which should get him through the main Quif no problem.

My favourite bit was 'Sanxo.' Why didn't you put his speech into Saxonish, though? And I'm not sure if you meant to say 'think glasses' rather than 'thick glasses' or 'thinking glasses'.

[Crunchyfrog]

I'd say the song. It seems to be in character with the guy.

:)

[Alegria]

Yay, first vote!

[D-Lotus]

The item poll has been posted! Vote away. :D

The White Blacksmith wrote: My favourite bit was 'Sanxo.' Why didn't you put his speech into Saxonish, though? And I'm not sure if you meant to say 'think glasses' rather than 'thick glasses' or 'thinking glasses'.

You're right, I meant to say 'thick glasses'. Thanks for spotting that. About Sanxo, however, it wasn't actually a reference to our dear friend saxon215. It was a reference to Don Quijote's Sancho Panza, though I distorted his name slightly; the reasons for this reference shall be revealed throughout the story. Now that the idea is born through equivocation, though, I don't see why I can't incorporate some of saxon's peculiarities into the character. Look for it in the next chapter, as Sanxo is bound to return. ;)

[The Meaning Of Fear]

Battle song is currently in the lead.

Will the words "Leeroy Jenkins" be in the song, by any chance?

[D-Lotus]

Thank-you for your votes; the week is over and the polls are closed! :D Here are the results:

Which valuable item will you take with you?
A page of inspiring battle-song sheet music
87% [ 7 ]
The Royal Crown of IF, stolen from Key's head while he slept
0% [ 0 ]
A suit of strong but rapidly rusting armor
12% [ 1 ]

Total Votes : 8
Who Voted: Alegria, Crunchyfrog, DeadManWalking, ethereal_fauna, Key, Meranos, The Meaning Of Fear, The White Blacksmith

Well, it was quite a landslide. I guess you guys are like-minded in your insanity. ;)
Our charming hero will be assisted by a battle song sheet music in his quest...
New chapter coming up ASAP!

Quote: Will the words "Leeroy Jenkins" be in the song, by any chance?

If that were to happen, it would, indeed, be solely by chance. ;) I can't promise I'll include the actual lyrics of the song, but everything is possible on a Quif.

[D-Lotus]

The Quif Storygame

2.

Under circumstances such as these, in which a crucial choice between three items must be made, patience and wisdom are indispensable qualities. I knew that concentrating on the specific properties of these items would provide me with the insight I needed to make an apt decision, so I began to scan scrupulously the yellowing pages of the ancient tome. I had barely any time to read on the first item, the battle-song sheet, when I felt a heavy hand and pudgy, greasy fingers on my shoulder. I swiveled, nearly reaching for a dagger that I always keep in my belt, only to face the hefty receptionist, who had stealthily stolen up to me (a surprising feat, considering his proportions).

"Let me help you," he growled, "Do you wanna check the bloody book out, or not?"

My eyes were momentarily blinded by the sheen of his silver watch, which was clearly the only article of monetary significance on his person and for that reason the object of his affections. He had probably spent the entire morning polishing until it had attained its current silvery gleam. I decided to humor this uncontrollably obsessive buffoon.

"Yes, I'd like to check out the book, my dear friend..." I squinted in order to read his name tag again, "...Sanxo." And I even smiled.

He brusquely snatched the book from my hands and tucked it under his armpit before marching heavily back to his desk. He pretended to skim through some documents and then he put on a decent show of verifying some important piece of information, but at last he regarded me mockingly, his amusement quite visible as a result of his twitching eyebrow.

"You can't have the book." he smirked, once again drumming his bloated fingers on his bulging stomach.

"What do you mean?" I demanded. I felt like plucking his ridiculous goatee.

"It's been reserved for someone. Now if you got a problem, you get your be-hind outta here."

He leaned over and with evident gusto shoved a paper into my hand. He was not lying, despite his elaborate affectation, for in my hands I held a document which stated with absolute transparency that the book in question was to be reserved for a gentleman of the name Lord of the Night. Even though it gave me the shivers, the name was completely unfamiliar to me, and seeing as I would gain no further information from the uncouth receptionist, I made ready to leave the Institute.

"I'll be watching you, you damn snoop!" shrieked Sanxo as I departed leisurely.

*

I decided that I would check on the battle song sheet music in the City Auditorium first and take advantage of the fat fairy's opera by inviting Miranda along with me. She accepted my consolation gift, even though she had been quite upset and had cried throughout the entire afternoon after I had refused her assistance. Ironically, by accompanying me tonight she would be part of the Quif she so longed to experience, regardless of whether she was conscious of it or not.

I dressed up in my old tuxedo, the one I had purchased for the occasion of Chinaren's inauguration into office some years ago. I had been invited to a magnificent party which was to take place after the oath, but of course I found out at the entrance of the mayoral mansion that one was obliged to pay an exorbitant fee in exchange for admission into the revelry. In spite of whatever corrupt dealings he was involved in, it can at least be said that during Cren's office, the City of IF Treasury swelled to the point of being ready to burst.

It was a sultry night, but the air was agreeably warm and not really oppressive, so I promenaded with Miranda to the City Auditorium, intending to take a look at the battle-song sheet, and incidentally, to listen to Ethereal Fauna's melodious singing. The City Auditorium is an edifice capable of containing the entire IF population, as it has in the past, and legend rumors that the Auditorium can expand in order to fit any number of citizenry.

The most distinctive features of the Auditorium are its minarets and domed towers, along with its decorative arabesque, which serve primarily as an ornamental arrangement intended to embellish the building. Inside the Auditorium there is an immense garden with a fountain in its center and different species of plants growing in feral splendor around the sparkling water. A veranda runs along the periphery of the garden, and the open pillars of its gallery converge in an onion-like cusp at the ceiling, where multiple bright colored patterns are interlaced.

We strolled through the entrance after paying our ticket and entered the main hall, which was in a condition of excited fuss. Citizens everywhere chattered over the din, raising their pitch in order to be heard. The room sloped lower and lower and became more and more crowded as we approached the stage. Miranda, by the way, was sporting a charming blue dress that matched her eyes. She nudged my elbow and pointed at a man with antennas swaying over his bald head and dressed in a robe of black and white stripes, which made him look a bit like a zebra.

"It's Bob McBobsky, I've seen him on IF TV." she whispered.

We approached him and he swiftly noticed us advancing. He was holding a drink in his hands and sipping carefully.

"Hello, Mr. McBobsky." Miranda almost squeaked.

"Hello, young lady. How may I be of service?" Bob offered politely in his baritone voice. Reinforced by this warm reception, Miranda seemed to regain her composure.

"I'm a big fan of your news anchorage. I was wondering if you could sign me an autograph."

"Of course." He pulled out a pen and note pad from his robe and began scribbling. "What is your name?"

But before Miranda could answer, a strange couple arrived in their midst. The man was dressed in a seedy tweed jacket and had red skin and three eyes, whereas the woman was a platinum blond donning an enticing scarlet evening gown. They appeared to be agitated and somewhat out of breath, as if they had just undergone an argument and then decided to rush over. The man, in fact, was holding his companion's wrist forcibly and seemed to have dragged her to this point against her will. I later remembered her to be Whisper the White, an IFian bombshell who had experienced a premature retirement after she became impregnated by a co-worker.

"Bob, what a coincidence to see you here." the newcomer smiled skittishly, feigning surprise. "It's been a while since we worked together in Arena, hasn't it?"

"Bub... yes, quite a while." McBobsky shrunk away from the newcomer's handshake. "How's the kid doing?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, you see." Bub glanced at Miranda and me anxiously. "Ever since Whisper lost her job, and I..."

At that point Whisper interjected.

"He's been drinking his pay off, and he can't even please a woman properly." she sneered.

"Be quite, you slut." Bub glared at her. She snorted derisively and crossed her arms impatiently as Bub continued with his pleading speech.

"Well, let's just say we've run into some financial troubles and that we're in desperate need of some help from our old chum." He wrung his hands and smiled hopefully.

"Ah, I see." McBobsky looked uncomfortable and hastily finished Miranda's autograph without including her name in it. I tugged on Miranda's waist and we hurriedly took our leave just as Bub was throwing himself on his knees and trying to kiss McBobsky's hand, who did very little to hide his disgust. The last thing I heard as we slipped away unnoticed was Whisper screeching, “Maybe I’d like to with a real man, like Mr. McBobsky!”

The lights dimmed, suddenly the entire Auditorium hushed, and everybody returned to their seats. A spotlight appeared on stage and from behind the curtain appeared the fat fairy herself. Ethereal Fauna was garbed in a loose pink frock, and her wings, miniscule in proportion to the rest of her body, sparkled with glitter. The soles of her slippers were padded, but still she made the floorboards creak as she moved. She held a wand aloft in her pudgy hand and waved it around without much grace before fluttering her wings in her traditional attempt at flying. Her pink frock quivered slightly and her feet levitated over the stage, but soon the exertion of carrying her own mass wore down her frail wings and she landed with a dull thud. Then began the real show.

The orchestra began playing and Ethereal Fauna’s voiced rolled through the Auditorium with enough power and resonance to make Bertha the singing whale proud. The cadence and rhythm of her voice pervaded every inch of air and swathed the listeners in a music so rich and dense that it seemed almost tangible. Miranda was mesmerized by the singing diva, as was everybody else, so I surreptitiously crept my way towards the exit.

My real objective that night was the battle-song sheet, which I knew was kept within the office of the Auditorium’s director. Mordok had explained in his book (the one I found in the Technical Institute) that on one of his visits to the Auditorium he had been invited by the director, Mr. Powers, into his office. Mr. Powers had wanted Mordok, a recognized scribe, to examine the battle-song in person for the purpose of historical authentication. When Mordok had finished examining the battle-song, which was framed and hung upon the wall, he conceded that it was indeed of ancient origins; usually Mordok didn’t use the term ‘ancient’ frivolously, as he used to be considerably sensitive about his age.

The director’s office was located beyond the garden, for he was inclined to stroll through its blooming trees and bushes. From the other side of the garden I scrutinized the area and espied two yawning sentinels playing cards on a veranda table they had dragged over in front of the door of the director’s office. They were guarding the door, but they appeared to be profoundly involved in their game. I wondered what in the devil's name they could be doing guarding a room which in most circumstances was left unlocked, until I noticed that they were wearing uniforms from Chinaren corp. But why would Cren be entangled in protecting such a relic, unless it was worth something? Did it have anything to do with his disappearance?

The only weapon I had thought prudent to hide within my tuxedo was my faithful dagger, but even that could be enough to take on the two sentinels. Cren’s wages were notoriously inadequate, and the slender, famished figures of these two guards seemed to corroborate to that theory. On the other hand, the garden offered a plethora of hiding spots from where to create a distraction or any other sort of trickery. I examined the haggard faces of the two men, languidly tossing cards on the table, and figured that in their malnourished, exhausted state they might also be susceptible to the influence of a commanding figure, a semblance of which I might be able to act out.

I was interrupted in the midst of these speculations by approaching footsteps and tired panting. My stomach lurched as I identified Sanxo's rotund figure emerging from around the corner...

There you have the second installment. The DP is complex, as there is an immediate, oncoming danger/friend? (Sanxo's appearance) coupled with the attempt to get past the guards. If there is concensus as to how to deal with Sanxo's appearance, then I will probably not include it in the poll.

[ethereal_fauna]

*flutter* See I can too fly! *bounce*

Hmmmm seems rather suspicious Sanxo would show up right about now. Wonder if he's keeping an eye on you? Or maybe it's just coincidence. :cool:

How good might our animal impersonation skills be? In order to eliminate both guards and Sanxo, make the terrifying mating growl of the elusive apedog-crusher? Nah, that wouldn't work...

We can surely impersonate School Marm. If anyone can make the guards and Sanxo feel like naughty children and run away, it'll be her!

[Alegria]

I say you show as much strength as possible and get the guards to let you in.

About Sanxo, well why don't we try to distract him with the possibility of sitting through the long Opera with the beautiful Miranda? It's cruel, I know, but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.

[DeadManWalking]

I like Leggie's suggestion.

Go with that.

Nice chappie btw!