STORYTELLERS a forum game *Clarkman wins*

[Hulohot]

That was strawberry floating incredible

[Clarkman]

Quoting to bump from the bottom of the page

Day Two - Conclusion

Hulohot approaches the grand, oak doors of the Great Library and confidently lifts the door knocker. He raps down on the wood twice, three times, then twice more in quick succession.

A stirring can be heard inside. A voice comes from behind the door.

“The secret knock is a sign of power,
Who dares to disturb us at this late hour?”

“Baron, it’s me, Hulohot, you old fool. Open the door and let me in.”

The door opens an inch, exposing a shadowed face. It is the keeper of the library, The Baron of Rhymes. Upon seeing the familiar face of his old friend, he opens the door, smiling, pulling Hulohot inside by the hand.

“It has been some time since I shook this hand,
how is your child, your wife, your land?”

“The kingdom of GRcade is suffering, Baron. Our membership is falling, and Lagamorph still posts in the Pics and Gifs thread. But there is hope - a long forgotten thread was bumped last week by the divine bots. There was ancient text, talking of the fabled GRail. We have ventured forth to find the GRail and unite the forum once more.”

“The GRail?” says the Baron, his face suddenly drained of colour.

“You know of the GRail? You must help me old friend!”

“Be careful, friend, of this grave quest,
the GRail is bound by rules and tests.”

“There was another man who spoke of rules – he murdered one of our party in cold blood and froze another. He said he was part of an organisation called RELIC. You must come with us to help on our journey!”

“No, no,” says the Baron, taking a step back into the library. “I have the wisdom only of books and tales,
The legends of Grailtopia and those who failed.
The one you met, the wandering knight,
The was a Mod, that devil blight.
They seek only to derail and and ban,
To quiet every daring man.
You poor shot friend – an IP block,
Your frozen friend – a classic lock.
RELIC stands for
To challenge Mods is not in vogue,
But there’s one who can – the Mod of Rogue!
He is a traitor and a sneak,
But holds the keys for what you seek.
The Rogue will help you pass the test,
For he knows their ways by far the best.
You’ll find him at the Inn of Nood,
Across the lake – they serve good food!
Just greet him with a humble rhyme,
He’ll know I sent you, and spare you time.”

“Thank you, old friend,” says Hulohot. “A thousand thanks! May I bring my party inside?”

“Libraries are public, and I’m not controlling!
Stick around, and we’ll go bowling.”

-----------

By the lake, Somebody Else’s Problem walks the shoreline. A distance away, he sees a moored rowboat bobbing on the wake, tied loosely to a pole in the ground. The vessel is painted in Red and Yellow stripes. Up close, Somebody Else’s Problem can read a name painted on the hull: the SS Puyol.

There is no sign of human life for as far as Somebody Else’s Problem can see. He approaches the boat and begins to untangle the ship from its harness.

But as he fights with the rope, the water stirs. A figure rises from the depths – in a full Barcelona kit, holding a pint of Larger in one hand, and a sword in the other.

“What the Strawberry Float do you think you’re doing with my boat, you tool? I’m Dblock of the Lake. I could toast you right here just for touching my property.”

“I mean no harm, great spirit,” Somebody Else’s Problem says, cowering. “I wish only safe passage for my party. We are headed west, towards Grailtopia.”

“Yeah, I hear that. But champions like me don’t let Stawberry Floaters float without a toll. I don’t put up with it from those RELIC losers and I won’t put up with it from you.”

“What does RELIC stand for, spirit?”

“They’re the Regulatory Enforcers of Lawful Imposed Control – the Mods. Wastemen. And you look like one of them.”

“I assure you I am not. What are your demands, spirit?”

“I demand that you get Christen Eriksen to sign for Barcelona in the Summer Transfer Window. Either than or human sacrifice. It’s all good, bruv.”

“But spirit, Daniel Levy will never let the Dane go!”

“Then your choice is made, innit. For the good of the team and that.”

“Do I have your word spirit, that my sacrifice will ensure the safety of my comrades.”

“I swear on Messi’s left foot. Now step forth into my domain. I’m going to pick the flesh from your batty little bones.”

[Hulohot]

You sir are a wizard and a scholar with your words!

[SEP]

I have strongly mixed emotions. Firstly, that was fantastic, and I really miss The Baron of Rhymes. Secondly, damn, killed by Dblock, how undignified.

[mic]

that was amazing!

And a close call for me...

[Herdanos]

Excellent stuff Clarkman. Very pleased to see the return of the Baron of Rhymes

If I may, I'd like to "run" for storyteller tomorrow.
(Though a high standard has been set!)
I think I've got a good idea, that ties in really well with what's gone before.

I can promise that I'll try to maintain the quality of previous installments...

[OrangeRKN]

That was fantastic Someone needs to break down all the memes and references, I picked up on a good few but I'm definitely missing a lot.

It's good to know who our enemy are anyway, thanks to Hulohot and the Baron. We've got to get to the GRail before RELIC, which I guess means finding Rogue at the Inn of Nood! This is already going better than I had hoped.

It's gonna be interesting how this gets followed up. Over to the audience to select our next storyteller!

[That]

Clarkman that was great!

+1 for Dan to have a go at storytelling.

[Jenuall]

Fantastic stuff!

orsonnewellesclapping.gif

[Clarkman]

Thanks everyone. It was fun to put together. I was given some great lore to build upon.

That was fantastic Someone needs to break down all the memes and references, I picked up on a good few but I'm definitely missing a lot.

Happy to - it was fairly dense.

1. Strawberry float - everyone knows this, right?
2. 'There are no wolves' stems from a DML edition of AYAW where there were no wolves and we were just voting to kill each other
3. Goosberry fool - again, everyone knows this?
4. RIP in peace
5. 7 is better than an 8 in EDGE according to HSH
6. What goes on toast, stays on toast
7. Captain Scotty was created in memory of Scotticus Eroticus who sadly died last year.
8. The Baron of Rhymes was a shortlived forum alt-account who was mostly active during forum games, and posted mostly in rhyming couplets. He was a strawberry floating treasure
9. Don't Post Lagamorph
10. The Rogue Mod was long running joke, blamed for random bannings and thread lockings, which culminated in two members (Nood and Goat) breaking into the mod room using PeterCrisp's password and wreaking minor havoc for an evening.
11. The Inn of Nood is a reference to the aforementioned banned forumite
12. 'Stick around and we'll go bowling' is our standard greeting for new members
13. Dblock - speaks for itself - crazed Barca fan and self proclaimed badman
14. Larger - as in the drink, larger

[OrangeRKN]

You definitely packed them in

I wish I had been around to see this Baron, sounds great

[mic]

I got most of those

+1 for Dan. You’ve got some BIG shoes to fill...

[Clarkman]

+1 for Dan. Looking forward to your scenario!

There's at least one player who isn't posting in the thread currently, so it seems fair to delegate the roles to the inactives imo. There's no tangible benefit to volunteering beyond a day of safety if you survive the coin flip.

[mic]

Agreed.

[Hulohot]

So who is Dan? I vote for him to be storyteller, as he shares my name.

[Hulohot]

So who is Dan? I vote for him to be storyteller, as he shares my name.

[That]

If Dan would stop changing his username all the time this kind of confusion wouldn't happen.

[Herdanos]

Day Three

The party - OrangeRKN, Jenuall, Drumstick, DarkRula, Quantum Name, Clarkman, Ironhide, mic and Hulohot - spent the night in the Great Library, learning all they can from its many books on myths and legends of the Forum continent.

"Friends, it's late, and I grow weary;
Mind is slow and eyes are bleary.
The time has come to rest my head
I urge you, travellers; off to bed!"

"What about Somebody Else's Problem?" asked Clarkman.
"Well, that's somebody else's problem, isn't it?" chuckled Quantum Name. The rest of the group was unimpressed, but all were exhausted, and soon accepted the Baron's kind offer of a warm bed and a hearty breakfast.

*

The next day, the adventurers - well-rested and well-informed - left the library and headed lakeside. They came across a red-and-yellow boat, but SEP was nowhere to be found. The group split up and spent an hour searching the shoreline and surrounding area.

"Maybe there was another boat, and he's gone ahead."
"Maybe he turned back?"
"Perhaps he's somewhere in the library and just got lost."
"Whatever he's done, we can't delay forever. We have to push west!"

They decided to leave a letter for Somebody Else's Problem at the library, explaining what had happened, and carry on with their journey. It was far from an ideal solution, they concluded, but then it was a far from ideal situation, and they departured in the hope that SEP would meet up with them somehow later. Jenuall and IronHide took the first rowing shift.

*

The land of GRcade, with its picturesque hills, lycanthropic forests and infamous bowling alleys, was but a distant memory now as the group of nine continued their journey west, to Grailtopia, in their distinct rowing boat. The lake was vast, and the heavens had opened some hours earlier; though the rain had subsided somewhat, and the group no longer had to desperately scoop up water with buckets to prevent the boat from becoming submerged, the wind was still bitterly cold.

Huddled together, those not currently rowing speculated as to what the GRail meant.
"I heard it grants immunity from bannings," said one.
"I heard it allows you to resurrect fallen mothers through the sacrificial use of PSPs," said another.
"I heard it's just a folder of Lizzy Vaid pics," a third voice whispered quietly.

After a long while, the vessel had reached the edge of the lake.
"There it is!" exclaimed Hulohot, pointing to a fallen bridge. Railway sleepers hung from its broken edge.

Hulohot showed the group the map he'd hurriedly sketched in the Great Library. It clearly indicated the major points of reference for the vast continent: the walled nation of GRcade in the east; the notorious Cohaagen Airbase in the centre-south of the landmass; the jagged coastline at its north, with its contrasting east-and-westmost points, the pirate port of Jhee-ar-Khade and the mysterious Quiet Ewe Cove, clearly marked. It was well-known that the continent of Bas-Ler awaited those that would cross at the North, and not since a particularly legendary crew had destroyed themselves from within, convinced a wolf was among them, had a sailing vessel been lost at sea. But the West was an unknown quantity, with less known about what might await beyond Cash Mountain.

"From what I could tell from the atlas, to find the inn, we follow the tracks," explained Hulohot. "Get on the trainline, and just walk. After a while, we'll get to the station we need. It'll be abandoned now, but the sign should be intact. And then it's just a little while from there to the inn."

The party followed the track for several miles, their progress only halted hours later when they came upon the decimated ruins of a train. Piled in with the debris were various gold-copper limbs, as if formerly belonging to an ancient, giant cyborg. Like many a thread, it appeared to have ultimately been derailed by a massive brass neck.

"The GRcade Express," DarkRula read aloud from the side of what was once a carriage.

"It won't be far now," Drumstick advised. "One of the books said that train was destroyed by R.E.L.I.C."

"They destroy trains?" shouted Quantum Name from atop the wreckage. "Crikey. How do they help us get to Grailtopia again? I thought we were looking for this Rogue Mod chap?"

"We are," explained Hulohot. "We need him to establish exactly where Grailtopia is. Four days ago none of us knew of its existence, and the lore isn't consistent as to its location. But not only will the Rogue tell us how to get there - if the Baron is right, he'll have the key to get us in."

No-one spoke. The group trudged on. Maybe half an hour later, mic broke the silence, pointing at a vast building site to their south.

"Hulohot, is that anything to do with where we're going?" asked mic.

"I've no idea," Hulohot confessed.

"I think I've heard of that place," IronHide chimed in. "I read somewhere that they're building a giant foundry there, but the project keeps getting delayed and the completion date gets put back. Some sort of future-tech, I think. It'll be decades before it's built, I reckon. I think they said it was all nano-"

"We're there!" shouted Hulohot. Distracted by the distant foundry, they'd not realised the station was now in sight. "Come on!"

An excited Hulohot sped up as he led the way. They wound their way through the long-forgotten train station, out of its building and into the adjacent town. An old sign informed them of their whereabouts:

WROPONT
TWINNED WITH ZWEISELBERG

"I don't feel great about this place," said Jenuall. "It doesn't look like anyone's been here in years."

The party followed Hulohot down empty streets past dilapidated buildings. Foliage had begun to reclaim the land from its concrete oppressors and the whole area had an otherworldly feel, like a real jungle slowly invading an urban one. Yet the town was only small, and it wasn't long until they were at its outskirts again, at another side. A woodland was within their sight, as was an old single structure at its outset.

"Pub, then, chaps?" joked OrangeRKN.

It was indeed an inn. Its sign was faded, but clear:

ASK THE FORUM

However, it was the wall underneath that bore the building's true sign, messily scrawled on in red spraypaint:

NOOD WAS HERE

Inside, amidst the cobwebs and dusty tables, was an old bar. Half-filled glasses attracted dead flies. From the pegs on the walls were hung blue hats.

"Right then," mic chuckled, "who's for a pint?" He lifted the hinge on the bar and walked round, assuming the role of innkeeper. Suddenly able to see the whole pub, his smile quickly vanished. Noticing his horrified expression, the group turned.

Laid rigid on a table at the back of the room was the cloaked figure that had killed Karl. They approached his corpse; there was no smell.

"He's not been dead long," surmised Clarkman.

"Do we think he was the Rogue Mod?" asked IronHide.

"Nah, it seems to me he came looking for him, but someone else caught up to him," reckoned Clarkman. "Besides, the Baron said he thought he was part of R.E.L.I.C."

A crashing noise startled them all. It seemed to come from further within the pub, inside a wall without a door. Wordlessly the group surveyed the scene, scanning for clues, until -

"Look! Below the dartboard!"

DarkRula was pointing at the wall; there were a number of stray darts hanging from the wall beneath the target but, surely enough, one was clearly different.

"It's a key," Drumstick realised, as OrangeRKN approached the wall. Indeed, the mismatched dart had been placed in a secret lock, and its door was slightly ajar. The nine GRail hunters moved swiftly inside. It was a relatively large room, perhaps the side of a couple of generous hotel bedrooms, with a desk, a central round table with padded chairs, and cork boards mounted on the walls. Pinned to these were countless scrawlings, sketches, photos and notes.

"The findings of the Wropont Ecclesiastic Lore Investigative Council," IronHide read. "So that's-"

"WR.E.L.I.C.?" said mic.

"This doesn't make any sense," said Hulohot. "Why-"

"Aaaaaargh!"

Quantum Name stumbled backward into a Hulohot, terrified. From behind a pile of old cardboard boxes, the figure of a man had emerged. He walked towards mic, though his movement seemed somehow irregular, as if gliding hesitantly. As it approached, the dim light revealed the figure's familiar face.

"Karl?!"

But as soon as it spoke, it was clear it wasn't Karl.

You fools. They told you not to come here. You know not for what you search, and you will soon wonder why also.

The adventurers were dumbfounded. Sensing their terror, the figure began to emit a manic, high-pitched cackle. When it spoke again, its voice was different.

They don't get it, do they? Oh, how delightful. I like the slow ones. Their faces are just that bit more... entertaining.

"What are you?" stammered DarkRula. The figure laughed again.

Oh, you really don't know anything, do you?

It began to sing.

Row, row, to Wropont
Blood begins to stream
Verily verily verily verily
Drown amongst the screams

The deep voice returned.

You've come all this way yet not realised what it is you've done? You've walked the path, crossed the lake and followed the tracks, and yet the connection evades you.

Ooh, let me. You got the other one!

No. I shall end them. I've no sympathy for GRail hunters who can't even spot a link.

The figure began to glow. As it did so, a ghostly hourglass appeared in the air beside it. The hourglass turned and the grains within began to fall.

"Look!" screeched Jenuall, pointing at a wooden mallet strewn on the floor.

One of you must try to lunge for the mallet.
One of you must try to stop the hourglass.

You must make a decision before 9pm tonight.

[That]

Holy gooseberry fool, Dan!

The villain of this story sounds very cool and handsome.

Loved the references to past games. It's good to see the "Cannibal House Expanded Universe" growing ever larger.

I see what you did with Wropont!

[mic]