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C pound the pavement and if it comes ups poo poo then use the favor
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Nov 2, 2020 18:50
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A.) Rojor'n'w should take the parcel to Larid'n'm and receive father's favor. “I’m gonna go right now!” exclaims Rojor’n’w, getting up from his chair. Although it would probably be best if he makes himself presentable first. In his hopelessness, he hadn’t been keeping up with his hygiene. His outer hide had become rough dry and patchy, his Riylad’m’l’s pocket was filled with crumbs and sembuluh, and it even seemed the glow of his Huilagis was wan-looking. Maybe a bit of sprucing up was in order. The wetroom was the largest room in his father’s apartment. This was common in Itty Bitty Doraldnki due to the complex bathing routines of the Doraldnki people; once real estate developers in Port Pondskipper realized they could charge a premium if they just knocked out some sleeping space and expanded the wetroom, the trend was irreversible. Rojor’n’w could remember a childhood in a Doraldnki tenement, with a sick little water tap shared by multiple families; the fact that these had given way to luxury baths was no great victory for the families those fancy taps and spigots would replace. Doubtless they now lived in the dust and dirt of the Beaten Lands while Rojor’n’w cleansed himself with great gouts of water. Strange the thoughts that cross one’s mind when one is bathing, muses Rojor’n’w as he oils a ridge of outer hide, then gently guides a crescent-shaped razor called a lunx along it to smooth the irregularities. It has been a while since his last lunxoriation, so there’s certainly more work to be done, but the improvement is immediate. Just to be safe, Rojor’n’w applies a great palm-ful of woon to the surface of his outer hide, evenly distributing the strongly-scented paste until the surface was shiny and pliant. Although not so strange; I have to remember where I’ve come from. I can’t become like the cruel and bizarre barons of industry this town is so rife with, like the Wetmelons and the Isladungs. Rojor’n’w, despite all evidence to the contrary, felt confident he would one day be wealthy enough to consider these ethical questions. Carefully he draws some of the torn edges of his outer hide together and applies Wirsp Wholden’s Patented Hide Balm. Rojor’n’w feels a little pang of guilt for buying a brand made by a human company to suck up Doraldnki drenkmar, but he had to admit it was a better product than Thint’r’d’s Hide Daub. Similar ablutions and ministrations took up the greater part of the next two hours, during which Rojor’n’w thinks many things which, while interesting to him, are probably not interesting to any of the readers, as I am absolutely certain they are not interesting to me. So, after languidly drying himself, Rojor’n’w sets out into Port Pondskipper bearing the parcel his father has given him for delivery to Dr. Larid’n’m. A.) It is a lovely day! Rojor’n’w should walk! B.) Don’t want our boy to get all sweaty, if Doraldnki in fact sweat. Rojor’n’w should take a dash-tram! Also, should Rojor’n’w stop into his favorite cafe and grab a stimulating beverage before hitting the road? 1.) Yes 2.) No
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Nov 8, 2020 05:13
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B1, this is an important day and we need to be fresh and full of energy.
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Nov 8, 2020 05:21
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HBar posted:B1, this is an important day and we need to be fresh and full of energy. agreed, gotta make a good impression!
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Nov 8, 2020 05:25
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HBar posted:B1, this is an important day and we need to be fresh and full of energy. Sure thing
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Nov 8, 2020 19:15
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A1 you never know when opportunity knocks, better to walk and see what might be seen
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Nov 8, 2020 20:49
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B.) Don’t want our boy to get all sweaty, if Doraldnki in fact sweat. Rojor’n’w should take a dash-tram! Also, should Rojor’n’w stop into his favorite cafe and grab a stimulating beverage before hitting the road? 1.) Yes Rojor’n’w heads across the pentagonal intersection, stepping through the cavalcade of vehicles and pedestrians with the deft ease of a lifelong city dweller. The bricks are percussive with the grinding of wheels, the stomp of boots, and the clatter of various draft animals. Go-boxes come sputtering along from time to time, steam belching from their mekanisms and smoke churning from their fireboxes. Rojor’n’w hates the dreadful things, and curses those desert-dwelling Drejj for bringing them about in the first place. There had been no such monster back in his home reality; although Doraldnki cities were plagued with the feculent shorba and its numerous waxy leavings.  The thin edge of a wedge-shaped seastone building greets Rojor’n’w with a tinkling door-bell and a pleasant aroma of horo-jna. “Welcome to Thern’m’l’s Jnahoron, Oow’xun Horowmo Alx-Miwi Jna.” “Yeah, can I get a hot jna, extra strong, with two plenx.” “My apologies for burdening you with this news, but as of today we’ve only got the fake plenx. I wish that it were not true, but it is, my friend and customer.” “Actually I prefer the fake plenx, but what happened to the real stuff?” “I am no expert in the matter, but from what I hear-” the Doraldnki behind the bar leans in, obviously excited to divulge some knowledge “-the reality they discovered with the same risi root as home also got invaded by Constructors. No more risi extract, no more plenx unless they’re able to find another one.” “Whelm’n’g’s Plenxidi company is going to hit some hard times. Most Doraldnki can’t stand the fake stuff. I’ve got peculiar taste.” Rojor’n’w gratefully accepts the fabrex cup of jna, and drops the plenx into the cup one after another. “Anyhow, I’ve got an errand to run, so I’ve got to catch the dashtram.” “You’ll be wanting to make sure you grab a lid.” Offers the vendor, helpfully. Rojor’n’w tosses off a shem-shem and takes a lid from the stack, putting it on the cup and heading out the door.  The dashtram station is a ramp that spirals gently upwards to a second-story level, where passengers step onto the tram. Rojor’n’w presses his destination key on the tram console, which makes a satisfying clack, and he takes a seat. He can feel the vibration of the tense spring at the back of the tram. He can also feel the hot jna dripping from the lid, and is annoyed. He always ends up with one of the wonky ones that don’t seal right. “Pardon me.” A Doraldnki says as she glides past him into the seat across from him.  Three Lesiums, she’s beautiful! Rojor’n’w tries and fails to not stare, compromising with awkward periodic glances up from his steaming and dripping cup. As more passengers enter and set their destinations in the tram console, the spring adjusts tension. Hornapple Street Station. Pickletwist Alley Station, a little closer, the tension subsides somewhat. There will be a few dashes on this route, it seems. That’s fine, Rojor’n’w’s in no hurry, he just doesn’t really want to walk. Keather J. Riverdammer Memorial Park, the tension decreases. She’s reading a human novel he’s never heard of; the cover is written in lavishly-decorated Lavish script, the language of the wealthy and erudite and obnoxious classes of the Beaten Lands. Even with the basic Lavish he’s learned to read it’s inscrutable. She must be very smart. Very beautiful, very smart. Calm down, Rojor’n’w, Rojor’n’w says to himself. One thing at a time. You’ve got a job to do. It is due to his distraction--or maybe regardless of it— that Rojor’n’w does not notice a fellow in a green coat step off the tram, stoop to remove his destination from the console, and cast Rojor’n’w a cursory glance before descending the spiral ramp. The tension increases. But maybe today is my lucky day, says Rojor’n’w’s confident mind to his usual one. I could talk to her, ask her about herself, tell a joke. He sips his jna shakily, his anxiety spiking suddenly. The seat vibrates beneath him, the tramspring’s potential energy aches to release. ”PICKLETWIST ALLEY!!!” cries the tram operator, and on a beat of three she pulls back hard on the lever next to her. A catch somewhere in the mekanisms below is released, and the tram fires furiously forward with alarming alacrity. Rojor’n’w is prepared, and moves his arm loosely so as not to spill his steaming jna. “So, uh… what’s the book about?” ventures our protagonist. There’s a long and awkward silence, before the Doraldnki woman holding the book lowers it slightly, her eyes confused. “Me? Are you speaking to me?” “Ah, eh, uhhh,” says Rojor’n’w, “just uh, curious what your book is about. It looks fancy.” “Oh,” she replies, looking flustered, “it’s The Damsel Among the Drejj, it’s about a young Scuumi heiress who flees a political marriage to a Morani duke and lives an adventurous life in the Beaten Lands, with the Drejj.” “Sounds dense!” says Rojor’n’w. She smiles tightly, and returns to her book without another word. Rojor’n’w, come on now, that’s not the right thing to say. Suddenly, the tram lurches to a halt. Rojor’n’w’s digits squeeze around the cup to hold it fast, but the faulty lid pops off, followed closely by a sluice of scalding jna. The jna dashes itself over the Doraldnki woman’s book and outer hide. She screams in pain and indignation. Rojor’n’w bursts into a cacophony of apologies: “Please, I’m so sorry! I didn’t- I wasn’t prepared- it’s just jna it should come right out- well, maybe not from your book oh by the Three Lesiums I’m so sorry! I’ll replace your book, please, I’ll buy you a new can of woon for your wetroom, just please forgive me-” “It’s alright,” she says with strained reassurance. She looks at her book like a murdered pet, but seems to control her composure. “It was a rare edition but- it’s a book, just a book, it’s not your fault.” “It is my fault, I’m sorry, and please if there’s anything I can do to make up for this…” he does a formal shem-shem and says “My name is Rojor’n’w. Please, mar adutl, let me buy you dinner sometime, by way of apology for the damage I’ve done to your book.” “And my outer hide?” she asks, raising an eye ridge. “Looks spectacular to me,” replies Rojor’n’w, candidly. She grins slightly. “Mirew’l’g. This is my stop…” she steps off the dashtram. She looks back to Rojor’n’w. “There’s some good restaurants on Pickletwist, Rojor’n’w. Maybe I’ll find you at one soon.” She smiles, slips her soaked book into her Riylad’m’l’s pocket, and gracefully waddles down the spiral ramp. Rojor’n’w stares into the ripples in his half-emptied fabrex cup of jna, observing the way the different vibrations made different patterns. The ripples met each other, interfered with one another, became new ripples… all just from little waves of action, propagated from a source and bouncing off each other. Mirew’l’g. Mirew’l’g. Mirew’l’g. Dr. Larid’n’m!  Dr. Larid’n’m’s office is in an imposing seastone edifice soaring above Crematorium Boulevard, a street chock-a-block with the unpleasant but necessary parts of life, such as the morgue, prisons, waste reclamation and of course services for resident Doraldnki refugees. Several names are on a list outside the door, with their occupations spelled out in Simplified Lavish as well as Doraldnki Clearhand. Specialists existed here for all of the weird little giblets Doraldnki kept tucked away inside their hides; a spridgeologist, a duoeiaieoulogist, a chennkki surgeon, and even a Huilagisist, though the last one Rojor’n’w considered to be nonsense quackery. Finally, he sees Dr. Larid’nouawim’malik: Curdurdicologist. Apparently, he specializes in the curdurdic stage of Doraldnki natal development, probably having some part in the successful extraction and transfer of the Guide Womb. Good money in that, I bet, thinks Rojor’n’w. He buzzes the name. The door unlocks, and once inside Rojor’n’w takes the raiser to the fifth floor. He steps through the door just across from Dr. Larid’n’m’s office. Inside, a human sits at reception, chewing something resinous-smelling and looking bored. “Hello, I’m here to see Dr. Larid’n’m.” “Do you have an appointment?” “Er, no, it’s a personal matter.” “He’s with a patient at the moment. If you want to make an appointment, you can see him in forty-five minutes. Otherwise, you can wait until his shift’s over like the debt collectors do.” Why would I want an appointment at a curdurdicologist? wonders Rojor’n’w, confused. Doesn’t she realize I’m not female or yhoundl? Then it strikes him: no, she has no idea. This is some reception job for her, she knows nothing about Doraldnki at all. A.) Rojor’n’w says: “Yes, I would like to make an appointment!” B.) Rojor’n’w says: “That’s fine, I can wait until the end of the shift.” C.) Rojor’n’w says: “Out of my way, I’m coming to see Larid’n’m whether you like it or not!” D.) Rojor’n’w says: “Kavelx this, I’m leaving. I got better poo poo to do. Brawnfire fucked around with this message at 05:49 on Nov 9, 2020 |
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Nov 9, 2020 05:42
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Hot dang, we're already off to a good start for the day. B - that we can spend the time doing something and get to talk to the Dr while they're not busy, head out and do a few things and then come back a little before his shift ends
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Nov 9, 2020 05:58
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A we're no debt collector, this is just favors.
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Nov 9, 2020 06:01
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SniperWoreConverse posted:A we're no debt collector, this is just favors. I was thinking that might play to our advantage though, if he's off guard thinking we're after money and it's just like a favor then might be quicker to agree to it?
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Nov 9, 2020 06:04
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God drat it. I'm sorry, I just realized I literally gave the address in the first entry and made up a new one for this one. Just... just pretend this is entirely consistent and not just mostly so, I promise to get my poo poo together reference-wise. I'm amending the first entry because I like the new one better for flavor text. I love you, thank you for tolerating me, and see you next time!
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Nov 9, 2020 06:17
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Brawnfire posted:God drat it. I'm sorry, I just realized I literally gave the address in the first entry and made up a new one for this one. Just... just pretend this is entirely consistent and not just mostly so, I promise to get my poo poo together reference-wise.  two timelines addresses merging!thanks for creating this and sharing it with us mate!
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Nov 9, 2020 06:23
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Stoner Sloth posted:
Who knows, this may be plot-pertinent! Maybe I'm going meta with it, and I'm not just on thought-scattering drugs! Also, thank you for your kindnesses!
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Nov 9, 2020 06:28
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Currently tied between A and B!
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Nov 9, 2020 19:03
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Both amount to "come back later" A if the appointment is today, for fun and confusion If appointment isn't today, say thanks but go B Also question about the tram: it seems our hero Roger tapped his key like an RFID card, but the Green Coat Stranger inserted his key on boarding and removed it on alighting. Could you clarify please?
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Nov 9, 2020 19:34
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simplefish posted:Both amount to "come back later" A would be in less than an hour, B would be later today. Also, you're right the language around the tram console could use clarification. It's more like a set of mechanical keys like a typewriter or adding machine, and upon boarding the passenger depresses the key to their destination, allowing the tram to determine set tension for the first dash. They are likewise expected to remove their destination if they leave, as a matter of politeness. As you may imagine there's a few flaws in this system: one such flaw: in simpler mekanisms you don't need to press your destination key if someone else already has; however, someone might leave and remove their destination station while someone else is still aboard for this destination. Nicer, newer dashtram systems in ritzier parts of Port Pondskipper employ a tallying mekanism to help prevent such an occurrence. Thank you for holding me accountable, I want to be as clear as I can with this confusing nonsense.
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Nov 9, 2020 20:13
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Thanks! My vote is B then, we can take the meeting to the pub after, and we don't risk annoying the doc by taking up a slot some walk-in could be paying for
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Nov 9, 2020 22:37
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B, but make sure she tells Larid'n'm that we're Mori’a’w's son, and that we have something for him. If he thinks we're just another debt collector he'll slip out the back.
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Nov 10, 2020 12:16
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Stoner Sloth posted:I was thinking that might play to our advantage though, if he's off guard thinking we're after money and it's just like a favor then might be quicker to agree to it? no, no, this is a favor, of friends, surely
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Nov 10, 2020 23:09
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Hi! Look, we all know what happened here. Another attempt at doing the game went by the wayside. That's my bad! I had too many irons in the fire. But, I'd still like to continue one or two of our adventures in the near future. As such, I figure I should set up a schedule of sorts! So here's your chance to vote: What day of the week do you want BRAND NEW BEATEN LANDS UPDATES?
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Jun 12, 2021 04:10
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No worries, these things happen. Would love to see you continue this series though and happy for any day of the week (I'm on weird insomnia Australian time anyways) Also hope life is treating you well in these trying times!
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Jun 12, 2021 06:38
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B.) Rojor’n’w says: “That’s fine, I can wait until the end of the shift.”  Rojor’n’w is in Dr. Larid’n’m’s office waiting room, currently being asked a question by a resin-popping receptionist.  “He’s with a patient at the moment. If you want to make an appointment, you can see him in forty-five minutes. Otherwise, you can wait until his shift’s over like the debt collectors do.” “I suppose I’m in no hurry,” Rojor’n’w says, “is there someplace decent to get a bite to eat while I wait?” The receptionist smacks her chewing resin; “there’s thox-all to do on this street, unless you want to hang around the crematorium.” “’Thox’, huh? That’s a new one to me.” “You like it? My friend Scanaree taught it to me. She’s iO Shiamara.” The receptionist takes a moment to be pleased at having such cool friends. “Anyhow, anything worth doing in Itty Bitty Doraldnki is on Pickletwist, and the doctor usually heads over to the Twist-It Inn when his shift is done anyways.” “Fair enough. Tell him it’s just a favor for an old friend of his, Mori’a’w. Not a debt collector or anyone.” The receptionist pauses mid-chew and pales a bit. “Did I say that? About the debt collectors? Just my sense of humor. No need to mention that to the doctor.” “Right. Of course.” Replies Rojor’n’w, “Well, thank you for all your help.” “Don’t mention it." She smiles. "Oh, and I don’t know what sort of favor you’re asking, but if you want on his good side immediately, get him two fingers of Wareigh Red.” Rojor’n’w had never heard of such a thing, but he assumed it must be some sort of liquor. A bold move buying a stiff drink for Dr. Larid’n’m right off the bat but, also, not seemingly a bad one? “Thanks again.” He says, raising his digits in a grateful shem-shem before departing. The short dashtram ride back to Pickletwist Alley is uneventful. Rojor’n’w drains the cold dregs of his jna as he descends from the station, then pitches the empty fabrex cup vaguely towards a rubbish bin. He listens to it bounce off the rim onto the street, in time with his own footfalls upon the cobblestones of Pickletwist Alley.  There’s a motley bunch of businesses shouldering up against one another in the tight alley, each one of which is farting out some strange stink or another. It's early still, however; the worst stinks were yet to come when the dark, strange services of nighttime Port Pondskipper began to open their doors. Rojor’n’w hoped to be home before that hour. It wasn’t really his scene.  There’s certainly time to pop into a couple shops before heading over to the Twist-It Inn. Rojor’n’w casts his eyes over the most interesting- and least threatening-looking shop signs, making his decision. A.) Milo’n’g’s Rare Volumes (UsED BOokS) B.) The Hidery (Hide Cleaning and Repair) C.) Huuulang Lounge D.) Cariti’s Curios E.) Marvelous Marjot’s Intrareality Fashion Emporium!
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Jun 17, 2021 01:19
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E Welcome back!
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Jun 17, 2021 01:34
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A
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Jun 17, 2021 02:01
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Thanks, all! It does my heart good to see the Beaten Lands still has some fans.  I've been having a great time, raising my kids and releasing an EP with a fellow goon, so don't worry that the hiatus was from anything bad! I just had too many irons in the fire, as I'm prone to doing. But character Brawnfire has unlocked skill tree Scheduling & Planning, and as such I should be able to handle my poo poo better. But if I try to do anything new, tell me to chill out, yeah? Edit: Oh, and if anyone's curious about my EP, check out the link under my avatar! Brawnfire fucked around with this message at 04:44 on Jun 17, 2021 |
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Jun 17, 2021 04:39
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A) books books books
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Jun 17, 2021 05:22
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E & A if we have time, first impressions count so we should maybe jazz up our image
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Jun 17, 2021 15:09
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A.) Milo’n’g’s Rare Volumes (UsED BOokS) E.) Marvelous Marjot’s Intrareality Fashion Emporium!  The myriad confluence of books mimics the forceful blend of realities endemic to the Beaten Lands; a great many texts, typefaces, materials and tongues are represented upon row after row of shelves. Some are great chunky volumes, embossed with bold burnished rectilinear glyphs, while others are slim and elegant folios traced with fine letterforms and bedecked with place-keeping ribbons. Rojor’n’w gapes in awe at the impossible variety of book spines, trying to imagine the different people who had written them, the different cities in different nations in different realities that had all come together on the shelves of this shop.  Most of the titles Rojor’n’w could not read. The symbols on them, while interesting, have no meaning to him. Rojor’n’w can speak Doraldnki, of course, and is literate in Lavish. He’d also begun studying some Dibble-talk, but mostly to order food from the Dibble joint down the road. Nothing hits the spot like |doublered//vulpinhawk| and |brigand//rice…| Rojor’n’w catches himself letting his mind drift as his eyes caress the books. Finally, he sees a title that appears interesting, and readable  The book is very thin and printed cheaply, but the writing is of a very arch and scholastic Lavish variant referred to as Nasal Lavish due to its usual spoken delivery (down the nose at the listener.) In practice, it was most often used by the great families to write documents academically excusing their various atrocities. This one seems a little different, however: Collected Minutes of the Cariti Resistance in Port Pondskipper [vol 1.] Intrigued, Rojor’n’w leafs through the book to a random point and reads: ”…the Cariti in that township, having been ruinously assaulted by Scuumi soldiers over the past many months, are ill-prepared for the impending Morani invasion. Dispatches of weapons and armor have been arranged through agents at the Oasis, but it is feared to be too little too late. M. Biandishmant C.: Are there any Cariti Resistance cells nearby? P. Fulthroat C.: The whole area has been entirely routed by Morani. The town was meant to be a redoubt. M. Biandishmant C.: There must be something we can do besides trusting mercenaries. P. Fulthroat C.: If the Honorable Marquess Biandishmant d'Cariti would like to take up his sword in defence of the— M. Biandishmant C.: I shall take up my sword in your THROAT you pissant little k-x! K-x thyself and k-x thy mother! P. Fulthroat C.: I k-x thy mother’s grave, vagrant! M. Biandishmant C.: SAY THESE WORDS TO MY FACE. SAY THEM TO MY FACE. P. Fulthroat C.: WOULD THAT THEIR BILE WOULD SEAR THAT DREADFUL MUSTACHE FROM THY VISAGE CUR Rojor’n’w is starting to get an idea why the Cariti aren’t major players these days. Most of them in Port Pondskipper were running shops that sold whatever treasures they smuggled out of their homes during the Morani invasions, such as the one next door. It must be an agonizing and dreadful life, parceling out one’s heritage to survive in an uncaring city of strangers. Rojor’n’w snorts. “Welcome to the club, rear end in a top hat.” Another book catches Rojor’n’w’s attention: its spine is clean and white, like a square of pristine cut marble. Nothing upon it is written, so Rojor’n’w slides it from its place and turns its cover over in his digits.  The design—a pattern? Words? A print, or a spatter of ink? Whatever it is, it’s black as night. Rich, velvety black. It draws the eye in with absence of light, to the point Rojor’n’w nearly didn’t notice the two Old Lavish words printed in plain ink below it. Rojor’n’w squints at the words, nearly unable to focus on them with the gorgeous black design just an inch above. What did they say? The words were archaic, for certain. The symbols were cousins of their modern counterparts, but Rojor’n’w isn’t a scholar of the Lavish tongue. He’s barely even a speaker of it; most of his time was spent in Itty Bitty Doraldnki, speaking and reading and writing in Doraldnki. Still, one of the words is clearly a fancy old version of a word on street signs all over the Port: DO NOT. The question is, what is the other one? Perhaps more information would be inside. 1.) Look inside the book! 2.) Move on, see what other books look interesting. 3.) Let’s get to the fashion store! 4.) Write in:
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Jun 24, 2021 05:10
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1, that book cover can’t tell us what to do.
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Jun 24, 2021 05:24
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HBar posted:1, that book cover can’t tell us what to do.
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Jun 25, 2021 01:46
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Sorry, brief delay for dumb life circumstances. Hoping to toss something your way tonight, I got the crumbs but not the cake.
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Jul 1, 2021 18:13
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Brawnfire posted:Sorry, brief delay for dumb life circumstances. Hoping to toss something your way tonight, I got the crumbs but not the cake. I'm just gonna consider this a spinoff https://moultano.wordpress.com/2021/07/20/tour-of-the-sacred-library/
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Jul 22, 2021 21:55
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