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Quiddles

Junior Member
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Prologue

At the dawn of remembered time, the Mother called all Her children to Her that she might give them each a Name. She bade them form a line, and each came to Her in turn so she could whisper their Name. Each Name would give the one who possessed it their shape and their role in the world. Some creatures, all inclined towards trickery and pranks, thought to hide behind the Mother so they could overhear all the Names. She saw them easily, and sent them back to join the line.

The cunning tricksters did not give up. They agreed a plan together. One of them could hide much more easily than a whole group, so one would hide behind the Mother then tell the others the names they had learned. This they did, those remaining making sure to move about so it was not easy to see that one was missing from the line. When the Mother finally spotted the one hiding, the next crept off to hide instead. In this way, between them, the tricksters learned the Names of almost all the Mother's children.

The tricksters shared the Names they had learned, and in this way they gained the ability to change their shape into that of almost any other creature. Each of them, though, kept back one Name, and so it is that none of them can take the true form of any of the others. Because of this they can each be recognised, if you know what to look for.

Not long after the Mother called the tricksters before her, and it was immediately clear that they had not fooled her at all. “Every Name has a price,” she told them gravely. “A duty to live as that name, a role granted by it. No price is greater than can be paid by one creature. Yet, each of you carries not one Name, but many.”

The tricksters looked at each other in horror, suddenly realising how impossible it would be to live the life of every single creature whose Name they know. The Mother continued to frown at them, for she wanted them to know the gravity of their situation. Nevertheless, she was their Mother, and she loved them.

“I cannot take away the knowledge that you have, my precious Tricksters,” she told them, a little sadly, “but this I can do. Your own Names are yours alone, and you each must play that part. For all the other Names together, I give each of you a second duty. If you uphold that duty, you will be free of any others. If you should fail... then you must carry the weight of every Name, and that will surely kill you.”

Shuffling their feet in apprehension at what their second Duty might entail, the Tricksters waited.

“Perhaps you remember the child I called Human. Your duty will be to watch over this child. To use your wiles and trickery to guide it and teach it, to protect it from hubris and arrogance, to keep it in balance with my other children, and to teach it to prize laughter more highly than war.” Then the Mother had the Tricksters memorise this verse, binding them to their new duty while instructing them in it:

“Mine to trick and mine to teach,
Mine to seek and mine to see,
Mine to keep secrets,
Mine to guard and mine to guide,
Mine to watch and mine to warn,
Mine to bring laughter.”

So, in time, humans came to walk every continent of the Earth, and the Tricksters lived among them fulfilling their duty. Then, one day, one of the Tricksters vanished. The others had no warning and no clues. So suddenly and completely did the Last Trickster vanish that the others could not even remember a face or a shape or an everyday name.

After that, everything began to go wrong. One by one, gradually over the centuries, the Tricksters began to grow forgetful of their duty and even of the Names. Too spread out among the billions of humans to be able to help each other and remind each other of their roles, some have completely forgotten who they really are and live their lives believing themselves human, touched by madness and plagued by nightmares as, in their dreams, they play out the roles of a hundred thousand creatures.

One alone remains totally clear-headed and loyal to the duty bestowed on all Tricksters. One alone, who must find the other Tricksters and remind them who they are and what their duty is before the human race is destroyed by its own actions. That one is...

[Choice 1]: I run into the fire. I am not burned.
[Choice 2]: I sit among the branches of the Great Ash Tree.
[Choice 3]: I give a warning by running away.
[Choice 4]: I was born from a stone. Or was I?


Which do you vote for? You are voting to determine the main protagonist of this Quest story.

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[Choice 1]: I walk into the fire. I am not burned.

First off. I admire people who know how to take the initiative. If they walk in the fire first, that means everyone else is sure to walk in behind them!

Secondly... actually, that's all I got. I just really wanna be the fire person. I hope you understand.
 
[Choice 3]: I give a warning by running away.

That option just seems the most intriguing one to me personally, though all of them are interesting.
 
[Choice 3]: I give a warning by running away.
Seems like an interesting trait for a protagonist. Sorry, have to break the tie!
 
[Choice 1]: I run into the fire. I am not burned.

Sorry for creating another tie, but the idea of the protagonist just leisurely emerging from flames is pretty cool.
 
Voting so far is Choice 1: 2 votes and Choice 3: 3 votes. Choice 3 is in the lead, but it's close! One more day, will it change...?

Times up! Choice 3 just pips Choice 1 at the post.
 
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A quick interlude:

As soon as [Choice 1/Choice 2] set foot within Minneapolis–Saint Paul International Airport, it was clear that something was very wrong...

Choice 1: Sylvi
Choice 2: Oryc
 
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Chapter One
Trigger warning:
Hostage situation with gunpersons. An unwilling woman is groped. Attempted (unsuccessful) sexual assault.

As soon as Sylvi set foot within Minneapolis–Saint Paul International Airport, it was clear to her that something was very wrong. It was nothing that a regular, everyday traveler might notice. To a cursory glance there was nothing out of place, nothing untoward, but Sylvi felt her skin prickling with a familiar sense of warning. She gritted her teeth as she felt her ears trying to prick up and her nose twitching. She needed to stay human, at least for now.

Mine to watch and mine to warn

Up ahead, her danger sense told her. There was something subtly off in the pattern of movement, a few individuals not quite fitting the flow of passengers and those seeing them off or greeting their arrival. First things first, then. Get the other humans out of the way, out of danger.

Sylvi spun on her heel to face the main entrance, screamed at a pitch that pierced through every skull in the terminal, and broke into a run. “A Gun! He’s got a gun!” With flapping arms and continued shrieks she stirred panic and fanned the tide, turning the press of humanity until it was flowing back out of the building. Her own screams were quickly drowned out by the chaos she had caused. Before she could be swept out of the entrance she darted to the side, hopping over a row of couches to get out of the flow, and doubled back into the building again.

The sound of gunfire reached her ears as she did so. She did hate it when she was right. Especially when she hadn’t meant to be. Heart racing and hands shaking she crept onward, finding precious little cover to hide behind. Sylvi resisted the urge to shift forms into something smaller. She needed the brainpower only a human form could provide.

The gunmen... gunpersons... not one, but several, were easy enough to see once she was close. They were dressed to blend in with everyone else, but had a bulk to them suggestive of concealed body armor. Well armed, with automatics. Identities concealed behind masks. Well coordinated and informed- no alarms had gone off and the only airport security in sight was lying motionless on the floor. The visible security cameras had been disabled with well-placed bullets.

They had hostages. Not as many as they might have done, but still too many. Sylvi watched the way they handled those they had taken. How they reacted to the fear, how they responded to any resistance. Some had professional training, she thought. Military of some kind. Disciplined. Not what she needed. A couple of youths. Nervous beneath their shouts and demands. Not what she needed.

She spotted the way one deliberately groped a terrified woman and cuffed her child aside, his smirk visible in his eyes. When the woman’s partner... husband? tried to protest, the gunman did both again but with his gun to the man’s head, just to prove who had the power, and Sylvi had her target.

She undid the top three buttons on her shirt then worked her way into the gunman's view, careful to paint her body language to spell “victim.” There was a long minute in which her chosen target showed no sign of taking her bait. Then he turned to her and she shrank back, drawing him in until she thudded softly into a door.

“No!” she quavered as she felt the door press against her shoulders. “Don’t, please!” she scrambled sideways, shoving herself away from the door as though it scared her as much as he did. As she had hoped, the smell of terror was irresistible. ‘Her’ gunman closed the distance further and reached to grab at her partly-unbuttoned shirt, yanking her back towards himself and the door.

“Don’t make me go in there!” Sylvi begged, shoving ineffectually at the man’s hands. “Please, don’t! Not... it’s too small... don’t make me... not in there... please! Do whatever you like, but don't make me go in there!”

The man’s face lit up with malicious glee, ideas visibly slotting into his mind at Sylvi’s plea. “You’ll go where I tell you!” He growled, slinging his gun over his shoulder in order to free a hand to open the door, the other still firmly clutching Sylvi’s clothing. “I’ll be back soon!” he called to his companions as he shoved Sylvi through the open doorway and followed her in.

Sylvi’s knee met his groin as he stepped beyond the threshold. As he doubled up, she hopped to the side. One powerful kick and he flew into the wall. Sylvi slammed the door and screamed. “No! Stop! Please, please, don... mmmph mmmph mmmph.” Moving swiftly, she dealt another kick to the man’s head to ensure his lack of consciousness, scooped up a chair to jam the door closed as best she could, and skidded over to the desk that stood towards the back of the room.

There was no phone. Didn’t all offices have phones? There was a computer though. Blessing all idiots who left themselves logged in to their computers, she went to work. Clearly the lowly minion had a minimal access level, but it didn't take much burrowing to circumvent that. Sylvi sent warnings flagging up with the neighboring military facilities, with the local police and with local news outlets. She gave them the numbers, locations and the capabilities of the armed individuals. Every so often she gave another cry of anguished protest.

She still had no idea what the gun-waving airport invaders wanted. Someone else could work that one out. She was not keen on being around long to answer questions, which meant she needed to leave.

Back to the door she went, moving the chair aside and cautiously cracking it open. Then, finally, she Shifted.

“I am Sylvi, I am Sylvi, I am Sylvi,” the mouse thought as it scuttled through the narrow slit between door and frame. “I’m Sylvi, I’m Sylvi!” it thought as its legs moved in a blur, carrying it beneath a couch and behind a planter. “Sylvi, Sylvi, Sylvi,” it thought vaguely as it careered through the airport lobby, a marathon distance for a tiny rodent. “Sylvi Sylvi Syl... Syl?” it puzzled as it shot into the daylight and, instinctively, darted for the nearest shadows and out of sight.

“Syl...?

S...?

...?”

Choice 1: ...Sylvi
Choice 2: ...mouse
Choice 3: ???The Mystery Choice???

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Fellas... it's the year of the Rat. We're gonna embrace the mouse inside us and then we're gonna do what the rat does best.

We're gonna rat our way outta this joint.
 
That's not a bad point, but isn't anyone curious to find out what ???The Mystery Choice??? is? Because I surely am. (And what could go wrong, right?)
 
The whole first post was essentially about how we need to make sure we don't loose ourself.

The only viable options are 1 and 3. 1 because it is the safe option, and 3 because it is an opportunity. This early in the quest won't be too dangerous for us, I hope. Best case scenario for 3 we turn into our true form. Worse case we have to deal with some consequences as the QM teaches us what is good and bad to do.

Or I could be completely wrong. It's still early, we are still learning the rules.
 
I’m also pretty curious as to what this “???The Mystery Choice???” is. Could be bad. Could be good. Chaotic either way.
 

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