One moment, you were sound asleep. Probably dreaming of something that could not or would not happen in reality. Something esoteric and obscure. It could be anything and everything, as that is how dreams work. What was being broadcasted inside of your mind is of no importance at the current moment because at some time during your slumber you passed away. Died. Your heart had stopped beating and your chest had rose and had fallen for a final time. A fate that meets all living creatures, both young and old. At least your life ended painlessly and without any suffering, right? The same cannot be said for most other mortals whose flames have been snuffed out. The world of the living is behind you now. Whatever responsibilities, unfinished business, prospects, goals, or relationships you had are left behind. Now it is just you, standing in the middle of a small yet indescribably long pathway of dirt. You cannot see where it leads, as your eyes travel up ahead until the view forward becomes shrouded by clouds. All around you and the pathway leading up to nowhere is a sea of grass, beautiful white flowers sprinkled about in that green sea. A blue sign points forward, a language you cannot read being written on the side of it. The only symbol you can decipher aside from that arrow is a picture of a tree providing shade for a humble sitting bench. With nowhere else to go and nothing else to do, the only choice is to begin marching up the trail and see what awaits at the top, however far up that may be. But first, you must remember. Specifically, you must remember you who are. What life did you live leading up to your death? Who are you, traveler? >Write-in.
This is my first time running a quest so expect this to be a relatively short and simple one. I’ll try to post once a day.
>>5993366>Atticus>You lived the life of a traveler, doing odd jobs until there were none left then moving to the next location. A strange illness had claimed you, yet the details escape your memory.
>>5993366>Johnathan >You lived a simple life as an office worker for a massive company. You've never had much to complain about or any grand aspirations.
>>5993381I'll back this.
>>5993381Hmm. Sure. I'll bite.
>>5993381+1
>>5993381Support
>>5993381This seems legit
>>5993381>>5993455>>5993500>>5993504>>5993540>>5993694>>5993940Ah, that’s right. You remember now. It would seem your memories of the life you lived and the person that you are only return very slowly here in this pathway between life and death. Your name is Atticus, which comes from the Latin word “Attica” or “rugged coast,” which is fitting considering you were born in an area which had just that. You spent your life traveling from place to place, exploring the continent while doing a number of quick jobs for some quick money. It was not a lavish life by any means, but you were comfortable. You got by and you seldom went hungry or had to find your sleepings on the street.Remembering further, you seemed to have come under with an illness of sorts. The first doctor you had spoken with diagnosed you with…the common cold. green “Just rest for a couple days and bundle up. Next thing you know you’ll be back to normal in no time.” /green So that’s what you did. You did not work for a week, showing no signs of progress as you holed up in a cheap hotel. Funny enough, the illness did not seem to grow any worse. It felt stagnant, like it was satisfied with the current level of sick it was causing you. Perhaps it was eating you away without you realizing it, perhaps it accelerated all at once in a violent climax. Whatever the case, you were not conscious to witness your final few hours. Whatever it was that killed you remains a mystery. Perhaps the ones still alive will solve that puzzle during an autopsy. Not like you’d be able to know. You begin walking up the path, your boots pressing down into the dirt and leaving your footprints behind. The sounds of birds calling out to each other ring out directly above you, and you catch half a dozen of them fly past overhead. It leaves you thinking. If it is not just man that hikes this path, what other animals can I encounter on my journey? Are those even birds or are they simply mirages meant to bring more beauty to this landscape before me? The thought is left with you while you continue hiking up the trail. It’s not that steep, surprisingly enough. It is only about a couple of degrees perked upwards. Is this really the stairway to heaven you think it is?(1/2)
>>5994229How long has it been that you have been walking? It has felt like an hour of nothing but step after step. You lost count of how many you had taken at this point, but surprisingly enough you do not grow tired. Your muscles do not grow sore, your lips do not dry up, and no sweat drips out of your pores. Sometimes the road ahead is shrouded in clouds, other times you can see far ahead and take in the serene beauty of the sky around you. You have been walking in a foggy part for the past five or so minutes, or at least that’s what it felt like. Finally you pushed yourself out of that cloud and could see the road ahead…except this time there was something interesting. An oak tree sticking sprouting out of the side, overlooking the dirt walkway and a humble wooden bench leaning against it. Just like in the picture atop that blue sign you strutted by in the very beginning of your journey. There’s a person sitting on the bench, waving over to you very enthusiastically. You’re too far away to make out any features at the current moment.(2/2)>Make your way towards the waving person.>Stay where you are.>Walk past them.
>>5994232>Make your way towards the waving person.Can't ignore a plot hook.
>>5994232>Make your way towards the waving person.
>>5994232>Make your way towards the waving person.They may be in the same situation.
>>5994232>Walk past them.
>>5994252>>5994269>>5994308>>5994976Well, it was most certainly a different view than the one you’ve had for the past hour. Something different dotting the seemingly endless trail ahead naturally grabbed your attention. It wasn’t much. It was a scene you could probably have found at any of your local parks when you were still alive. A tree and a bench with a person you’ve never met sitting on top of it. Still, the sight of another person on this lonely road and the opportunity to take a break from all the monotonous walking was too good to pass up on. You make your way towards the scene, your steps with just a little more bounce to them than before in anticipation of meeting the first person you’ve seen on this journey. Now that you’re this close to the stranger, you can see clearly who it is. A friendly looking man with short, grey hair and a black mustache. His skin had a healthy tan to it and unlike you appears to have been dressed for a day out. Once you sit yourself down on the opposite end of the bench, giving your mind a rest from the Sisyphean task of unending hikes, he scoots himself closer with a broad smile adorning his face. Hey, stranger. Bet you had a nice view on the way up here, right? He extended his arm out, hoping for a handshake. You got a long ways to go. Should be about a day of walking until you reach the top, give or take. At least that’s what I’ve heard. Was that a full 24 hours of nothing but walking? It’s not like you are tired or anything, so sleep might not be involved in that calculation. You’ve only been walking for an hour, so you’re not even a quarter of the way there if this man is telling the truth. The name’s Roger. I’ve been waiting for my wife before I go ahead and climb any further. Atticus. Pleasure to meet you, Roger. Ah, a wife. Something most men would love to have. What about you? Did you have a wife before passing on, or did she hit the bucket before you? Maybe you had a husband instead. Maybe you had nobody and can keep trekking up the pathway without waiting on anyone important.>You had a wife.>You had a husband.>You had no spouse.(If you choose one of the first two options, you can elaborate on if they died first or are still alive.)
>>5995303>last post had no color>this post has too much colorIt’s like Goldilocks. The next one will be just right…hopefully. My bad.
>>5995303>You had no spouse.
>>5995303>You had no spouse.A rolling stone gathers no moss
>>5995303>You had no spouse.A wanderer's path is a lonely road.
test test
>>5995354>>5995379>>5995380>>5995714That’s right. Now that you can remember it just a little more clearly, you had no spouse to mourn your passing. At least you didn’t when you died. You’ve had plenty before. Women and men. They just, for whatever reason, never lasted long. You never could figure out why, but no matter how invested you were in a relationship it just always managed to go wrong the longer you two were together. That’s why one day you simply sat down and accepted the reality you were not made for long term relationships, but short, quickly burning flings. Say, you have a wife by any chance, son? The man peeks past you, halfway expectant of a woman to he trailing right behind you. Of course, there was nothing and nobody to be found. Just a subtle drop downward back the way you came for the next 3 or 4 miles. Not that either of you could see that far with all the clouds obstructing the view both forwards and backwards. No, sir. No wife. I’ve had plenty of girlfriends, though. You said you were waiting on your wife, right? The man nodded. Yep. My darling Annabel. Been together and going strong for 35 years. We met in high school, actually. She was a freshman and I was a sophomore. Everyone told us that the whole “high school sweetheart” thing never works out. But we did. Roger leans to one side, stretching his back and twisting his arm over his head before switching sides and doing the same thing yet again. He then releases a loud breath of relief before returning to his original pose of leaning forward in his chair, his elbows on his legs and his eyes on you. That sounds like a long time… It was a long time. 35 years was a very long time for someone. You’ve always heard about old people and their marriages lasting decades without the two of them growing tired of each other, but you simply never believed it to be true. Certainly they had to have been cheating or having affairs on the side, right? Someone like you could never fathom maintaining a relationship with the same person for longer than a year, never mind 35 of them. Hah! You think that’s it? I’ve been waiting here for 17 years! The old man let out a hearty laugh before slapping you on the back, almost accidentally throwing you off of the bench entirely. Whether that’s because of his strength, you being unprepared for the sudden touch, or both. (1/2)
>>5996328 Damn…how’ve you been passing the time, then? It doesn’t appear that there was much else to do here besides twiddle your thumbs and kick your feet around. If he’s been waiting here for 17 years, perhaps he’s explored this pathway better than you could ever hope to have the patience for. He said it would only take about a day of walking to reach the top, right? Oh, just doing what I am now, mostly. Talking to people like you and whatnot. I love hearing people’s stories. Always have. I’ve never been too good at telling them, though. Hey, I got a deal for you, kid. You tell me a fun story and I’ll tell you one too, hm? It is not like you are in any rush to see what meets you higher up along the trail or even what is at the very end of it. Nobody is waiting on you and you are not waiting on anyone. You are free to make your own choice without the burden of responsibility weighing you down. It all just comes down to whether you wish to entertain this man’s desire for a story or keep making your way forward. Surely he would not be waiting much longer before another person came by to share their tales with.(2/2)>Get up and keep walking.>Accept his offer and share some stories.>Ask him something. (Elaborate on what you want asked if you choose this one).>Write-in.
>>5996329>Accept his offer and share some stories.
>>5996329>Ask him something. (Elaborate on what you want asked if you choose this one).If anyone has come back from moving forward.
>>5997327Supporting -- that can be his tale. We can tell him one of ours, to, though.>>5996329>Accept his offer and share some stories.>Ask him something. (Has anyone ever coe back the other way, down this path?)
>>5996379>>5996533>>5997327>>5997392It doesn’t take long for you to make up your mind. A couple of seconds at most, or at least you think it was. You were in no rush to reach the top and you were curious about some things. Is this path a one way trip? Surely there is nothing stopping you from just walking back the way you came, right? Or is whatever’s at the top convincing enough to stay up there? So many questions, but so few ways to get answers. This man has been waiting at the bottom here for seventeen years. He might know a thing or two and if anyone has came back down from moving forward, he would know. Okay, sure. Got all day, right? For all you know, it could always be day along this trail. But first I wanna know something. Then I’ll give you a story. Has anyone come back from moving forward? The man pauses for a second. His brown eyes gazing off into nothing with one of his hands raising up to scratch at his bristly chin, like he is lost in thought, recollecting the traffic that had passed him by in his time here. You know, I’ve been keeping count of all the people I’ve met here while waiting on my wife. 8128 people have passed me by in the seventeen years I’ve been here. Honestly, I’m struggling to keep track! The man then took another second to pause and think of what to say next. His eyes diverting to the way forward before returning back to meet you. I haven’t lost count of the people who’ve come back down, though. Only six. I watched them pass me by thinking nothing of it, until they would come back down a day or so later. I never saw them come back up, funny enough. One of them, a sweet little girl, couldn’t be older than nine. She was wearing a sun dress and a large straw hat. I dunno why she did it, but she was carrying her sandals in one hand and getting dirt all on her feet. I wasn’t gonna judge, though. I was more worried about why she was here. Usually the people I’ve seen up here were no younger then, say, fifteen. We got to talking for a little while. About how she ended up here. It took a little convincing but eventually I discovered why. Her father was some important politician, you see. Been in the profession in one way or another for most of his adult life. I assume that the longer you spend in politics the more enemies you make. She said they were having a picnic and she must’ve ate something bad because she ended up in the hospital. His hand balled up into a fist, but quickly relaxed once he realized you were still eyeing him. Some son of a bitch tried to poison the father, but ended up slipping ricin into HER tea instead! Can you believe that? I dunno if she managed to make a recovery or what, but I haven’t seen that girl again since she headed back down. A sigh escaped his lips. I’m not heading back down there. I’ve lived a full life, even if it wasn’t as long as I hoped for. (1/2)
>>5997426 I see… 8128 does not sound right. He has been sitting here for seventeen years, right? Many, many more than that have left the world of the living in seventeen years. And out of that many people, only six had the desire to return? It did not seem real. It did not sound like it made any sense. Alas, he seemingly has no reason to lie to you, especially after slipping a story of his into his answer. Alright, I’ll tell you something. The man nods.You ponder for a minute. What story should you tell? There were so many, as with life. You may not be going into the history books, that does not mean there have not been any exciting moments in your existence. Now it’s time to pick a story to tell. Something interesting to pay back the information this man’s given you. Alright, uhm… (2/2)>Losing your virginity.>Playing in the woods as a kid.>Hitchhiking across Europe.>Write-in.
>>5997427>Hitchhiking across Europe.
>>5997427>The one time I almost got married
>>5997427>Write-in.The first friend we ever made and how we lost them.
>>5997472This is a good one.
>>5997472I'll formally support this.
>>5997472Yeah, you know what? I'm >>5997447, but will change to this.>>5997427
>>5997472+1
Update will be later than usual tonight.
>>5998533Thanks for the heads up, QM!
>>5997472>>5997491>>5997514>>5997586You think long and hard. What story is there to tell that this man might find interesting? You could tell him all about the time you lost your virginity. The girl herself was most certainly an odd character, but she wasn’t the only factor that night which was unorthodox. No, he does not seem like the type to care about such juvenile tales. What about that time you hitchhiked across Europe? You were there for quite a while. You made it into every nation on the continent. From Portugal to Russia, and from Iceland to Turkey. You’ve seen a lot, heard a lot, and tasted a bunch of different things. You even almost got married to a fling in Liechtenstein. No, that would take too long. You would be here for days. Once you start from the beginning it never ends. That is why nobody asks you about your duration in Europe a second time. You spent a lot of time running around the woods behind your house when you were a child. You made your first friend there…oh, that’s right…yes, this story will do just fine. Alright. Let me tell you about the first friend I ever made and how I lost her. That got Roger’s attention. He leans in, all attention directed at you. A couple of seconds pass by with utter silence, save for the wind blowing against the tree behind you and the sound of a single bird calling out overhead. Well, don’t wait on me. I’m waiting on you, son. You take a deep sigh, bending to the side and placing your elbow on the armrest, gently dropping your face onto it while staring blankly into the distance. Where to start? At the end? No, it would be better to begin your story earlier. Much earlier. Her name was Estelle. She came from a rich family who rose to wealth decades ago. Basically they were old money. Are old money unless something happened to them in the past…well, however long i’ve been here. That family was pompous. You hated it any time she would invite you over. It did not matter how much money they had, you wouldn’t put up with the snarky attitude coming from a bunch of narcissists who never worked a day in their lives. That’s neither here or there, though. Their family is not part of this story. She is.(1/3)
>>5999084 She had hair the color of fire. Despite her prim and proper family line, she was anything but. I guess you could call her a tomboy? Anyways, she was really into fantasy and all that junk. Had a custom made sword and everything. Called herself a knight when she had the damn thing on, too. She was as much of a LARPer as she was an adventurer. We actually met in the woods behind my parent’s house. 81 square miles of forest, give or take. You could walk out to the middle of it and there would be no civilization for nine miles in any direction. It was the perfect place for someone like me to spend some alone time. I learned a lot of things out there. You are going off topic. You could easily talk about the forest all day, however. That place is what turned you from a boy to a man. Talk about Estelle. I actually met her in those woods, too. Turns out her family’s estate was fixed on the opposite side of the woods to my neighborhood. It was getting late out and I was setting up camp for the night, as I tended to do. Once you reached the age of ten, your parents were always willing to let you go out there and explore. Almost frighteningly so. While it did toughen you up and teach you some valuable life skills, there was no shortage of occasions where you might have died or be injured too terribly to be trusted out there alone again. Each scar on your body told a different tale. Ones you still remember clearly. Tent was propped up. Campfire was burning. It was a quiet evening. I was sitting under the night sky preparing a rabbit for dinner. The sun would soon set behind the trees and I’d be treated to a sight unlike anything you could get in the cities. With no artificial lights covering your view, the stars are endless. You could lay out there all night and never run out of constellations to create. Not that you ever did, of course. Maybe an hour or so. Sleep is important. Yeah, I’ve seen it. Took my daughter out on her fourteenth to see it. She loves astrology. It’s wonderful. Anyways, I was sitting there minding my own business when I heard rustling come from my side. There she was. A girl. About my age. I was ten at the time and she was twelve. We got along almost immediately. That is when you paused. There was not much else to say. You shared the rabbit, got to know each other, and then cuddled up in the tent before hiking back home with the promise of meeting back at that spot the very next day. You spent the next four years as best friends, even when more people came and went into your lives. Some of the forts you two built were probably still standing out there somewhere. Even after all those years. Hey, you said you lost her, right? How’d that happen? Roger brought his hands up, subtly waving them in front of you as if to show he meant nothing by it.(2/3)
I lost the third part of my post so need some time to rewrite it. Apologies.
>>5999088 If you changed your mind, I completely understand. I only wanna hear the stories YOU wanna tell me. No, it’s fine. I’ve gotten over it. It’s just…well…I guess it’s better if I just tell you, huh?] If you want. No pressure. You lift your cheek off of your elbow, instead opting to rest the back of your head against the wooden bench. Your eyes were still fixed upon something or nothing in the horizon ahead of you. Perhaps it was a cloud. There were plenty of those here. We spent years in those woods. Of course, many people would come and leave our lives in that time. No matter how close we were to them or how long we were friends with them, Estelle and I agreed that the woods were our domain and ours alone. The most any of the other kids could go was as far as they could turn back and still see civilization behind them. Not that most of them did wish to go any further than that. They all either did not see anything interesting worth hiking further out or were scared. The few that did wish to go beyond the vague line you and her set were quickly turned away by various means. “Let’s grab some grub.” “It’s bear season.” “It’s getting late.” Et cetera, et cetera. I was seventeen. She was nineteen. Her family sent her off to some prestigious university halfway across the globe the year before that, but she still came around for the summer. Her family didn’t like that, of course. Wanted her studying all year. She’d always say the same thing. “My grades are passing, are they not?” You say that phrase in your best imitation of her posh accent as you can. People were always thrown off guard when they saw a toned woman with scars all over her body with an attitude similar to her fiery hair speak in a sort of posh English accent. Surely any outdoorsy tomboy would have a dialect a little more…rough around the edges, right? Estelle’s uncharacteristic accent aside. She may have only said the same thing to her family, but when it was just the two of you she complained whenever she could. Of school, of home, of her egotistic family, of all of it. Those woods were an escape for her. Nevertheless, she was there that summer. It was noon and the two of us were tracking a deer down. We didn’t use guns. We used bows. Didn't wanna scare off any other animals or bring too much attention from any potential predators, though they tended to keep their distance either way. We finally found the deer. It was hunched over, drinking out of one of the rivers, completely oblivious to us. The wind was in our favor. We had a clear shot. That’s when you pause. Just thinking about the series of events that unfolded after that moment of gleaming opportunity was enough to make your head sink and your heart ache. You’ve already shed out all of the tears for her as you can. The only thing you can do is remember and retell. (3/4)
>>5999141 The first thing I heard was a gunshot. The next thing I heard was Estelle falling over onto the ground. Screaming in pain. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you there was someone else hunting that same deer, would you? Your shoulders were now slouched over. Roger’s hand came up and latched onto your shoulder, rubbing it gently while waiting for you. You don’t have to tell me anything else if you don’t want to… No, it’s okay. You wanted a story, right? After a second to collect your thoughts, you continue. Well, he got the deer. But because of the way he was positioned and the fact we were out of view, he got her as well. The fucker was hunting deer with ammo they could take out a damn bear…I tried everything I could. Tried fishing the bullet out but it was too deep. Tore my shirt off and used it to hold down on the wound, but she just wouldn’t stop fucking bleeding…when the guy finally came down and saw us, I had him help me get her back to her estate since it was closer. Couldn’t even call for an ambulance until we got there since there was no cell. Another pause. You smack your lips, taking a breath. She bled out before the paramedics could arrive. Turns out the man who shot her was her cousin. Didn’t know Jack about hunting aside from how to track down the game. Everyone knew that it wasn’t me, but those pricks spent a year and a half taking me and my family to court over it! Nothing came of it, of course. Despite their lawyers and their best attempts to withhold evidence and stretch the trial out, you were ultimately found innocent when they found no proof you or anyone in your family owned a firearm. I’m…very sorry to hear that. Very sorry. If what’s at the top of this trail is what I think it is, then I hope you find her again. Roger pats you on the back. Like a father trying to comfort his son after his first breakup.(4/4)>Trade another round of stories.>Ask Roger a question. (Elaborate.)>Continue hiking up the trail.
Ugh. Gonna try to save my posts better and write less henceforth. Thank you for your patience.
>>5999092>>5999145Yikes the sucks. Been there.>>5999143>Ask Roger a questionNobody who returns from up ahead said anything about what they saw, then, huh?
>>5999143>Ask Roger if he's seen anything besides humans up here. Like an angel?
>>5999154>>5999185Through it all, you cannot help but release a faint chuckle. Only if there’s woods up there. Hah, well I’m sure there is. Now what? You’ve heard his story about the little girl who was poisoned, walked up this trail, and walked back down never to be seen again. You then told your own story about your first friend Estelle. How you met her in the vast stretch of woods and how your friendship was abruptly brought to an end in that very same patch of nature. You could always hear another one of his stories before handing one yours over in return. You have lots of them to give, as do most people. You could also continue up the trail. Maybe you will meet more interesting people along the way. If not, that is fine. You still hope to see what is at the top of this trail. Before you make that choice, it would be good to get some more information if you can. Nobody who returns from up ahead said anything about what they saw then, huh? Roger scratches his chin once again, the bristles on his flesh giving off clear sounds of being scraped against. Well…no, not really. I’ve asked all six of them but they always found a way to scoot around answering it. Either that or they just claim to have forgotten it. Sorry, pal. Wish I knew. That question was a dead end. Did they truly forget or were they just hesitant on telling him? Either way, why? If Roger is correct, it is only a day of walking either direction and if everyone is heading up there eventually, then what reason is there to keep it a secret? If Roger here does not know the answer to these questions, then perhaps the only way to know is to push forward. (1/2)
>>5999934 Thanks anyways. Say, have you seen anything other than humans up here? Angels, maybe? I mean, there’s the birds. Roger raises his hand, raising it into the air ahead of him with his pointer finger outstretched. His hand does not move, but his finger swirls around in circles. But other then that, not really. Actually… He pauses, sinking into his seat and rubbing his head before sapping his hands on his legs, turning his head to you. There was one woman who looked a little odd. A cloud was rolling in, which meant this whole place was foggy and damp. This was about seven or eight years ago, I think. I was sitting here under this tree when I heard the sound of feet in the dirt. When she was only a couple feet away from me I could finally get a good look at her. His eyes were now fixed on the trail leading up to the bench you two sat on, as if he was reliving the entire encounter. She was paper thin. So thin I could see each rib bulging out of her skin. Speaking of skin, she was as white as a woman could actually be. White white. So white it was like she was a lighthouse in the fog. She didn’t have any clothes on her, either. Not even a bracelet or anything. I tried calling out to her but she just kept on walking. Didn’t even notice me. Like there was nothing else but the trail ahead of her. I can’t explain it but the way she walked was also weird. Like she was on a treadmill. Other then that, I can’t really help ya. Sorry, kid. Perhaps that was just a weird human woman who was in the right place at the right time. Maybe there are angels here. Once again, the only way to find out the answers to what place you are in seems to consistently end up being “Keep moving forward and find out yourself.” Thanks for your help, Roger. You stand up, turning around to face the man with your arm outstretched. His arm shoots out to grab yours, your hands shaking together for a second. Of course. And thank you for the story. Again, I’m so sorry to hear about Estelle. I take it you’re leaving now? Yep. I can’t stay here forever. That’s fair. Before you run off on me, here. Take this. Roger follows suit, stand up and walking around the bench, walking over to the oak tree behind it and giving the base of the bark a good, hard kick. That’s when a single red apple falls down onto the ground, which he promptly picks up and dusts off with his hand. They’re pretty good. (2/2)>Accept the apple.>Refuse the apple.
>>5999935>Accept the apple, but don't eat it yet.
>>5999935>>5999941+1
>>6000000
>>5999941>>6000030You are not hungry, and you have not been hungry once in your time here. How long has it been since you had arrived? Your best guess is about two hours, though you have only been walking for one. Roger has seriously taken up a lot of your time, hasn’t he? Yeah, sure. You extend your hand out, and Roger responds by tossing the apple your way across the bench. You fumble around with it for a second, almost dropping it out of your grasp a couple of times before it is stored safely between your fingers. You hold it up and nod before tucking it into one of your front pockets. Take care, Atticus. I hope you make it safely. You too, Roger. Hope you reunite with your wife, er…eventually. Saying you hope his wife would die sooner rather than later is just cruel. Good thing you caught yourself before offending the man. He seems like a nice guy. At least to you, anyways. With a final wave as you head off back upwards along the pathway, you see the man sit back down onto the bench, just as he was when you arrived about an hour ago. Seventeen years is a long time to sit around waiting for someone with only the company of strangers to pass the time. You certainly had no such patience. With the apple in your pocket and tales having been shared as well as some tidbits of information regarding this place fresh in your mind, you turn you head ahead of you and march on.It has been a long journey. There has been nothing else out of the ordinary ever since you had left Roger and that bench by the tree. Just this dirt pathway with a deep green grass along the sides, sprinkled and peppered with flowers of varying colors and shapes. A gentle wind blowing through your hair and brushing against your face. The occasional flock of birds flying by, soaring much faster than you could ever hope to, even at a full sprint when the wind is in your favor. Matter of fact, why not run? You do not seem to tire of the endless walking. Your muscles and your joints are still as comfortable on your body as they were when you were at the very bottom of this trail. Perhaps the serene environment is enough to calm you. Enough to coax you into taking your time and basking in the warmth of a sun that is nowhere to be found. You should know. You have been eyeing the sky from every angle and you have yet to find where the source of the sky’s brightness was coming from. But that was no matter. Nothing about this place seemed correct according to your years of experience on Earth. (1/2)
>>6000898It must have been ten or so hours of walking with absolutely nothing different, but when you finally walked through yet another cloud and come out of the other side, you found a peculiar sight. A van was parked on the road. Not on the side, but directly on the dirt road, blocking it entirely unless you wish to walk around it and step onto the grass. There seems to be smoke floating out of one of the open windows near the front, where one would drive the vehicle. Other than that, no noise or sights could be seen from where you stand, looking at the inconspicuous van. It was a change in scenery, at least. (2/2)>Inspect the van.>Walk around the van.>Try to drive the van.
>>6000899>Inspect the van.The heck...? A car-crash in paradise?
>>6000899>>Inspect the van.
>>6000899>Walk around the van.
>>6000907>>6001051After what must have been ten or so hours of walking without any change in scenery, you figure it would be good for you to take a quick break from the monotony of walking forward, step after step. You walk over to the van, standing directly in front of the open window that was leaking smoke. It did not smell like any regular smoke, nor was there enough of it to confidently say the van was in any sort of danger of catching on fire or exploding. Perhaps that is just your subconscious telling you “I’m already dead. What’s the worst that can happen to me now? Perhaps it was because the smoke reminded you of something. Or someone. That’s right. You remember your great grandfather Elias for some reason. He smoked four cigarettes a day. One after each meal and one right before bed. Most would think a man like that would not last very long, but he ended up dying at the ripe old age of 102 from natural causes. You would always joke that if he had not been a chain smoker he would have lived to be 500. Sometimes you even believed it. Ah. That explains why you suddenly thought of him. The smoke you were smelling was tobacco.You slip your hand up and over the window to unlock the door, silently cracking it open so you can climb on in and see what that odor of burning tobacco was coming from. Hopping up into the van sent a shake throughout the vehicle, momentarily pausing your inspection as you waited and listened for any noise. Certainly if anyone was inside, they would have felt or heard you climb into the parked van. Nothing could be heard or felt course throughout the floor, though. After a couple of seconds of wait, you continue, climbing past the driver’s seat and into the back, where your view forward was obstructed by a thin veil. Wherever that tobacco smoke was coming from was behind this curtain. With a deep breath, you shove the thin barrier aside, stepping through to be met with a man sitting at the very end of the van, smoking a cigarette and looking up at you. Took you long enough. You knew I was in here? The man nodded. At least he looks like a man. If you did not know any better, you would say he looks more like a lion. A thick golden beard and an equally strong mullet running down the back of his head and spilling onto his shoulders. Big and brolic with muscles poking out of his shirt everywhere you looked and scars covering his face. Surely he must have some interesting stories to tell about each one of them, just like with you and your own scars. (1/2)
>>6001653 Name’s Atticus. Leon. After a couple seconds of awkward silence, the man motions to a chair on the other side of the room, right next to the entrance you came in from. The room was very cramped. Miscellaneous filling the space as if he’s been living, for lack of a better word, in this domicile. I ain’t gonna hurt ya, boy. Not unless I got myself a reason to. You sit down, halfway concerned of what he would do if you didn’t. That an apple in your pocket or you just happy to see me? Now his eyes were resting on your lap, focused on the bulge in your pants that obviously resembled a round object in one of your front pockets. If you ain’t gonna eat it, gimme. His other hand which is not holding a cigarette stretched out towards you.(2/2)>Give him the apple.>Keep the apple.>Ask him a question to break the ice. (Elaborate.)
>>6001655>Give him the apple.>Ask him a question to break the ice. (Elaborate.)Is food rare around here or something?
>>6001668+1 Good start. Also, do we need to eat? Has he ever felt hunger here?>>6001655
>>6001655>Give him the apple.>>6001673He doesn't tire, i'd guess it's not needed.
>>6001668>>6001673>>6001698Usually after half a day of walking, one would grow hungry or thirsty. In need of rest at the very least. You are none of these things. Your stomach does not grumble. Your lips are not dry. Your muscles are loose and you feel quite comfortable. If you are not to eat the apple, then it might as well be given to someone else. Your parents raised you not to waste any food, after all. So much so you still go out of your way to ensure there is no food left to be wasted, whether that’s by cutting open the peanut butter jar to get those last couple of spoonfuls or sucking on the bones on your chicken wings until all the meat and sauce has been removed. Your family was living off of food stamps, so you had to metaphorically pull yourself up by your bootstraps in order to live a life you deemed comfortable. With that said, if the man was hungry, why not feed him? He does not seem too dangerous. Yeah, yeah. Alright. Here. You toss the shiny red apple across the van towards Leon, his fingers wrapping around the fruit mid-air without any fumbling about. Without a thank you, he takes a bite out of the apple before bringing the cigarette to his lips with the other hand in between bites. Much better than that vape flavor shit. Through a deep sigh, he leans back in the bed, which is actually a bunk bed for two despite him being the only person living here. He is sitting on the bottom bunk, of course. After another minute of silence with no words spoken between the two of you, you finally decide to change that. So, uhm…mind if I ask you a couple questions? Sure, kid. Leon does not lift himself up off of the bed or even turn his head to you. He simply lies there waiting on your questioning. Is food rare around here or something? Nah, not really. Not a whole lot of options, though. Damn, I miss steak. The burly man takes a deep blow of his cigarette. A bit too deep as he coughs out the excess smoke between breaths. Even if it was, it ain’t like we need it no more. It just taste good, haven’t seen nothing here go bad before. So we don’t need to eat? You don’t get hungry at all? He lets out a small laugh, almost spitting out his chewed up chunk of the apple he was snacking on. No shit. We’re both dead, ain’t we? Only reason to eat something here is cause you like it. While a little disrespectful, he did answer your questions. Now you have another confirmation of your suspicions that food is unnecessary here. As if never growing tired or weak ever since you died in that hotel bed wasn’t enough of a clue. (1/2)
>>6002641 Say, kid… Now the man lifts himself up, leaning against his knees and staring you up and down as if he was appraising you. You ever been in a fight? Er…a couple times, yeah. You’ve had your fair share of skirmishes. Most of them were between friends or colleagues so it was never anything serious. The few times they were genuine fights were mainly due to one or both parties being drunk or high. You usually ended up winning your fights, serious or not. You’ve never taken any self defense classes or anything but you were physically adept enough to have a natural edge over the average person in a couple of ways. You win ‘em? Sometimes…why do you ask? Let’s fight. Hey, where’s this coming from? Answer the question. (2/2)>Accept the challenge and fight Leon.>Try to change the subject by swapping stories.>Try to leave.
>>6002642>Accept the challenge and fight Leon.Fights lead to good fraternizing.
>>6002642>Accept the challenge and fight Leon.
>>6002642>Accept the challenge and fight Leon.Sure, why not?
>>6002642>>Try to change the subject by swapping stories.
>>6002652>>6002907>>60029583 anons roll 1d20.
Rolled 68 (1d100)>>6003563Poi!
Rolled 6 (1d20)>>6003590Ah fuck, misread, correct dice now
Rolled 19 (1d20)>>6003563
Rolled 7 (1d20)>>6003563
>>6003594>>6003686>>6003689A tense minute or two pass by without a word spoken between the two of you. You ponder your choices. This man looks like he could pose a threat in a fight, so maybe you should try to back out somehow. But something inside of you tells you not to do that. Whether you win or lose, you might end up learning something new about this place and how it works. If you do not tire or grow hungry, does that mean you cannot be damaged? You already know you can feel pain after tripping and falling onto the dirt sometime ago on your hike up along this trail. Losing would mean a lot more pain than a simple smack against the floor, but you are confident enough in your abilities to hold your own in a brawl that even if you lose, it would not be without struggle. Yeah, alright…that wasn’t really a question, though. The moment you accept Leon’s challenge, he drops the cigarette onto the floor, stomping it underneath his boot and snuffing out the flame inside before taking a final bite out of the apple and tossing it back into the springy bed. C’mon, boy. The smell of second hand tobacco smoke is quickly wafted out as a side of the van is opened up. The side leading further up the trail. The lionlike man steps out, taking a couple steps back from the van and watching as you do the same. Once you both are standing before each other on the dirt, he looks you up and down, as if waiting for you to make the first move. You do not do such a thing, though. Instead, you wait on him. In all your years you have never started a fight sober. Just because you are dead does not mean you will start now. Tch… Leon is the first to attack, launching himself at you and throwing you against the side of the van, your back colliding with the metal wall and temporarily knocking you into a daze. This daze only lasts a second until the moment you see his fist winding up, preparing to strike dead center onto your face. With your ears still ringing, you kick your foot up into the air and slam it deep into his toned stomach, pushing him off of you and onto the floor before he has the chance to unwind and bring his fist anywhere forward. Even with him sprawled out onto the floor, you waste no time running forward and climbing on top of him, pinning his arms down with your knees and standing over him. Tap out. (1/2)
>>6003766Even in this compromising position, the man does not do that. He only thrashes around, kicking your back with his heel and almost pushing you off of him. You only manage to deal a couple of punches to his face before he successfully kicks you off of him, but that does not stop you. You jump up immediately, spinning around to meet him and wrapping your arms around him in a bear hug before tossing him to the ground the moment he stands up. A lot of tossing and turning, grunting and heaving, and overall undignified wrestling in the dirt occurs before you finally have him pinned with nowhere to move and no way to fight back or escape your embrace. You done now? A disgruntled sigh escapes his lips after thrashing and squirming around underneath you, but the man finally taps your arm and gives up the fight. With that, you let him go and allow him to climb up back onto his own two feet alongside you. Don’t get full of yourself now… Just as quickly as it started, the man walked off back to his van, wiping off the dirt that found its way onto his clothes, leaving you to decide whether you follow him back into the van or continue on your way.(2/2) >Continue hiking up the path.>Follow him to ask more questions.>Follow him to swap some stories. >Write-in.
>>6003768>Tell him it was a good fight.
>>6003768>Tell him it was a good fight.>Follow him to swap some stories.
No update today. Should be back to daily posts tomorrow.
>>6005250Thanks for the update, QM. See you tomorrow!
>>6003772>>6003907 Yeah… It feels good to win a fight. Especially to win one you had not even instigated. Winning in general always feels good. That is part of being human, is it not? That is what you tell yourself while you choose between returning to Leon’s live-in van or continuing your trek up the trail. Hey, wait up! After a moment of pondering, you figure it would not hurt to hear a tale or two out of the man. He seems interesting enough. You jog back into the van just in time for him to close it behind you, and you toss yourself onto the chair across from him as the lionlike brute sits himself down back onto the bunk bed, this time with no apple or cigarette in his hand. Just the silence of the surrounding environment and the occasional creaking of metal with every sizeable readjustment from either of you in your seats. You did good. Almost had me a couple times. You practice something? Nah. Just…whatever comes natural. You? More or less. Your fighting style came about naturally. The forms you learned were taught to you with experience in brawls instead of any master or instructor. Why’d you challenge me anyways? You like fighting or something? Silence. Silence for a while. You ever felt anger before? Not upset. Not annoyed. Not even mad. Pure rage. You like to think you have a couple of times in your life. Back when Estelle’s family tried to find you guilty of killing her when they all knew it was their own who did it. 25 to life was at stake all because they didn’t wanna take blame for their negligence. You were pretty pissed off and hated them for a while then. You still to this day feel disdain towards that family, although you have mellowed out somewhat over the years since then. I have. It was sometime in my early twenties. Can’t remember when. I ain’t good with dates. I had a dog. His name was Stetson. Had him for a long time. Maybe ten years, so about as long as I could remember. He was basically my best friend. I had a girlfriend, too. We were together for a couple years. Went strong, but eventually it just fizzled out. I wasn’t in a very good place money wise at that time so she ended up taking Stetson to live with her and her new boyfriend until I could afford to feed him. That was after we stopped living together and all. His face was grim, staring directly at the wall ahead of him like there was something pinned to it. I went over one day to check on him, like I usually did. First thing I saw was that he wasn’t there, jumping up and scratching at my leg the moment I walked in. That’s what he usually did. I asked her where my boy was. I honestly would have been less shocked if all the windows in the house suddenly exploded at once. The bitch put him down…without even telling me… (1/2)
>>6006070Now his fists were balled up, hanging towards the floor and turning red from all the blood he was pumping to his digits. His teeth gritted and his eyes squinting, still locked on that one arbitrary spot on the wall ahead of him. He was my best friend. Better than any human I’ve ever met. And she put him down without even telling me. She told me she dropped him off at the vet and let them handle the rest…my boy died all alone. That’s not even the most fucked up part, though. He wasn’t sick or getting old or nothing. He was still healthy as a horse. The cunt…the cunt just…didn’t wanna take care of him no more…FUCK! With a pounding of his fist against his thigh, it’s like the anger coursing through him turned into defeat. His shoulders fell and his body slumped forward. A tired sigh escaping his lungs, like he was too exhausted to even get mad now. Didn’t let me take him. Didn’t give him to a shelter. Fuck, she didn’t even just let him run off somewhere. She had to put him down…her boyfriend’s idea, of course. Was jealous of how much affection she was showing him. Affection that coulda been given to him. Now his eyes turned, locking onto you, not wavering as his eyes were on yours. You couldn’t help but squirm in your seat a little, half expecting him to leap at you and try gouging your eyes out or something. I’ve never been more filled with anger and hate then I was at that moment. So much so that it felt like any other time before or after was just me lying to myself, trying to convince myself that I was angry when I wasn’t. Like someone cut my head open and poured boiling water until it was bubbling in every part of my body. Like my guts were being cooked and my skin was being fried. Every single one of my senses were and it blurred or numbed. I guess that’s what people mean by a blind rage. I can’t remember much of what happened next but when I came back, both my ex and her boyfriend were dead. I killed them, of course. I know it was wrong. If I was thinking correctly I wouldn’t’ve done it. Not tryna justify or explain myself. I’m a bad man and I rightly got locked up. Anyways, to answer yer question…I fight so I can get the rest of that boiling water outta my system. Good thing it’s easy to pick fights in prison. I’d say I got about this much left in me. His hand straightened out, tapping himself on the stomach, right where his belly button would be. Never killed nobody else besides those two. Never even tried. You’ve met people who preferred pets over other people, but you never thought you’d imagine someone taking it this far. This guy is nothing like Roger, that is for sure. Knowing you now can’t sustain any damage or injuries up here soothes you in his presence just a little bit. Enough to not instantly bolt out of here.(2/2)>Ask him a question. (Elaborate.)>Tell him a story.>Politely leave. >Write-in.
>>6006072>>Politely leave.
>>6006072>Tell him a story.Heavy. I feel like we could tell him about how angry we were with the family.
>>6006072>Tell him a story.
>>6006072>Tell him a story.About our anger, and about how we mellowed out and started to find peace, what did it for us.
>>6006072>Tell him a story.Nothing too preachy.
>>6006276>>6006319>>6006527>>6006597>>6006941You never were big on dogs. Being allergic to them is one of the main reasons, obviously, but you also just find them…dirty. At least cats can and do lick themselves clean. Dogs just tread dirt everywhere and have no concept of cleanliness. At least that is your experience with them. If a man is covered in dirt, he would take his shoes off at the front door and head straight for the shower. Dogs will roll around in all the furniture they can find and then shit on your pillow. That actually happened once when your parents owned a dog. Needless to say it was given to a nearby shelter soon after and you’ve never owned one since. Even then, you still understand that needlessly putting one of them down and ending its life for such a trivial reason was at least a little cruel. At least that was how you felt on the matter. I’m sorry to hear that. I had a pet fish once. You don’t have much to come off as relating to him on. That fish lasted about a week or two back when you were around five. That’s about as far as having pets went for you. There were a couple of wild animals you became accustomed to meeting out in the woods in your childhood, most of which you gave names. That is beside the point, though. You may not be able to easily relate to the man on having pets, but you can relate to him on that feeling of overflowing anger and hate. …but yeah, I’ve felt that way before to some extent. Not over the fish or anything…you see, I had a friend. A good friend. Her name was Estelle. I won’t get into many of the details, but we were out hunting in the woods one day. Just her and I. Next thing’s next, she had a bear sized bullet wound in her side and was bleeding out fast. We couldn’t get her back in time… You shot her? Leon says it so matter of factly. Like he’s hearing about a story of someone drunkenly texting their ex for the thousandth time. No! No, it wasn’t me. Nobody meant to shoot her. A cousin of hers was hunting, too. Didn't see her until it was too late. And that’s what got you feelin’ like that? No, not really. I was actually just…sad. Grieving and all that. At least….until the family tried pinning the blame on me. You never thought you would be bringing up the past so much now, especially parts of it you had been trying to move past for some time now. Yet here you are. It started with Roger, now Leon. You promise to try keeping this specific story in your life withheld for a little while longer after this. It’s too late to stop now, though. Might as well finish it, since the man seems to be listening anyways. I guess they figured they could get something out of it if they tried finding me guilty. They were filthy rich so the case lasted a while. Ended up not being charged, but neither were they. I felt like you. Boiling anger and hate. (1/2)
>>6008382You chuckled a little, albeit it came off as a little forced, as if it was your way of trying to ease the tension. Hell, I still hate their guts for not even taking responsibility. Tell you what, though…I found a way to deal with my feelings that didn’t involve knocking someone’s teeth out. Well, more like it found me. You were never trying to find a way of handling your rage, instead opting to let it fester inside of you until it inevitably exploded. That was until life began to take you in a new, almost refreshing redirection. It wasn’t much, but I once took a trip to Europe for a couple years once I became an adult. This was about a year after the incident, mind you… That’s when you realized this wouldn’t be very useful for him, seeing as there isn’t much of a chance to be traveling around Europe now that the both of you are dead. Whoops. W-What I mean to say, is…I met people. A lot of different people and a lot of different perspectives. I dunno if it’s directly related or if the two had nothing in common at all, but the more people I met in each province I traveled through, the less hate I found myself feeling when thinking back to those bastards on the other side of the woods behind my parent’s house. Maybe that was just a me thing, but meeting a bunch of people actually helped… You are just throwing a bunch of shit at the wall and hoping some of it sticks, really. You actually don’t know what came over you and what caused you to have a change of heart in your feelings towards Estelle’s family, but one day you just did. No, rather it was more than just one day. It was a slow, barely noticeable change until you couldn’t even notice anything was different until you looked back. But if it had any chance of leaving an impact on him and saving any other passerby's from getting challenged to a fight by this brute, good. I see…well, thanks for nothing. I swear if you start lecturing me ‘bout finding God… No, no! I’m just…ah, well… You slowly fade into silence. There’s not much else to be said. You tried, but nothing came of it. Maybe next time you’ll have found a way to approach this subject less…clumsily. You got anything else? Hm? (2/2) >Ask him another question or two. (Elaborate.)>Bid your adieus and continue hiking.
>>6008384Why is a van up here?
>>6008384>>6008406+1 and then>Bid your adieus and continue hiking.
>>6008384>Bid your adieus and continue hiking.
>>6008406>>6008441>>6009130You quickly notice that this conversation has not much elsewhere to go. Not everyone is the conversational type, and Leon over here seems to be one of those people. At least you got something out of him, even if your attempt to give him some advice in dealing with his immense anger had seemingly no effect. Might as well wrap this up. Yeah, just one more thing…why is a van up here? You wave a hand in the air, gesturing to the hunk of metal you both sat inside the belly of. No clue. Maybe someone died in it. Was just laying here when I found the damn thing. Right, right…well, thanks, anyways. You get up, walking over to the man and extending your arm for a handshake. He looks up at you, completely ignoring the gesture while returning for another cigarette. I, uh…guess I’ll get outta your hair now. With that, you open up the side of the van and step on out, politely closing it behind you and leaving the sour man to his business while setting back out onto the trail. You didn’t learn much, except for the fact there’s a lionlike man who likes dogs, fights a lot, and resides in a van. Ah, well. It gave you a much needed break from the arduous hiking, but now it’s right back to that for you. You should be almost halfway there already.(1/2)
>>6009426Another nine hours of walking. Walking. Walking. Walking. The same sights, the same scents, the same noises, the same sensations. Dirt and gravel being kicked up by your shoes, step after step. The occasional cool gust of wind blowing against your side and ruffling your hair. Every so often a bird would caw overhead. Caw, caw, caw. The potent aroma of a lively patch of flowers on the grassy sides of your dirt pathway. You assume you’ve been here for 22 hours now, though with all the breaks you’ve taken you figure you’ve only actually been walking for twenty. If there is no more stops and no more rests, then at minimum you are still looking at four more hours of walking. Did everyone have to walk this same road? Did they meet Roger and Leon along the way? No, that doesn’t quite check out. How many people did Roger say he met? Over eight thousand or something. Too small a number. You are lost in thought for a good while, ignoring the serene environment around you. You’ve already seen it enough to know perfectly what’s ahead of you, so your focus can be directed to your own thoughts while everything else becomes a mist around your constant treading forward. That was until you were snapped out of your trance by a leaf having fallen on your head. You look around, taking in the new, refreshing scene around you. More oak like trees surrounding you and your path. Up ahead, the dirt is broken up by a wooden bridge, passing over a pond. The bridge must be about a hundred meters across, and the pond is deep enough to go waste deep inside of from what you can tell. And just like the last two times there was a change in scenery, another person is leaning over the edge of the bridge, admiring the water. This one looks different. A woman. Younger than the rest, though you cant be sure since she’s still halfway across the bridge. (2/2)>Walk up to her.>Walk past her.>Write-in.
>>6009427>>Walk up to her.
>>6009456She didn’t seem like she was causing trouble, and while your body may not grow tired of the constant marching, your mind most certainly does. It needs stimulation, and while the landscape that surrounds you is no doubt beautiful, you’ve been staring at it for twenty hours, more or less. You walk onto the wooden bridge, your footsteps smacking against the planks alert the woman to your arrival, her head twisting to see who’s approaching her. With a smile and a wave, she seems inviting to you, the stranger. Once you finally reach her, you prop yourself up against the side of the bridge, leaning your back against it in opposition to her leaning forward onto it. Now that you’re this close to her, you can make out some more finer details. Just like you suspected, she was a woman with dark skin. She looked young. Maybe around college aged, though your ability to guess ages is usually off by five or ten more often than not. Her hair was a mess. A brown cluster of hair that flows down almost to her shoulders with no care for being rule or composed. It seemed like every part of her that could be brown was, including her hazelnut eyes. She was wearing combat boots despite not appearing to be the type for combat, ripped up denim jeans, an old belt, and a red plaid button-up shirt. Hey, babes. Hey. After your greetings, you both pause, unsure of what to say next, or if it’s your turn to speak at all. So how- So why’d-no, it’s fine. You go first. The woman lets out a quick laugh before speaking again. I was gonna ask how you ended up here. My name’s Val, by the way. Atticus. I dunno, actually. Some kinda illness while I was asleep. You? Car wreck. Don’t worry, nobody else got hurt. Was quick, too. The woman looks down at the pond, leaning closer over the edge. You think I could jump in there? Just then, Val began to grab at her belt, her fingers fidgeting around while she undid the metal piece and dropped it to the floor by her feet. You look like you got some questions on your mind. As long as you don’t mind me taking a swim, though. I could use a bath. Hey, wait… She punches your shoulder, now bending over to undo the straps on her combat boots. Calm down, dork! I’m not hitting on you. I don’t even like guys. Well, she seemed determined to take a calming bath in that pond. Not like you can blame her, you have your own fair share of dirt sticking to your skin after kicking a bunch of it up, nevermind the seldom trip and smack against the ground or your tussle with Leon earlier. Still, she seemed all too casual disrobing herself in front of a complete stranger, even if she isn’t attempting to make a move on you. Maybe she’s just a hippie like that.>Let her jump in the pond.>Urge her against it. (Roll a D20.)>Join her.>Write-in.
>>6010226>Let her jump in the pond
>>6010226>Urge her against it. (Roll a D20.)I love rolling.
>>6010226>Join her.We already got a girl waiting for us, but no reason we can't splash around and check out lesbian boobs. We were a bit of a horndog when we were alive, right?
Rolled 16 (1d20)>>6010226>>Urge her against it. (Roll a D20.)
Rolled 1 (1d20)>>6010599You have no idea who’s at the top of this trail right now. You do know you got around town a lot in your life, though. That much is true.>>6010535>>6010703I guess I should’ve made it clear I would be the one rolling. My bad. Anything more than 10, you talk her out of it. Anything 10 or less, you don’t. Probably should’ve made this more balanced, too.
>>6011105(Damn. My sincerest apologies to those who voted for some modesty.)Even knowing that this woman doesn’t see men in any intimate light, something still tells you that it would be inappropriate. Maybe it’s because you know you would be looking at her through a different lens than she’s looking at you, maybe you don’t want anyone seeing you two like this if anyone else were to come up the trail, but whatever the case is, you feel compelled to try talking her out of it. Well, l-look, I just…ya know… Buddy, I’ve dealt with guys who’ve done a lot worse than stare. I don’t mind. If it’s that big a deal, you can just…look away, right? That is what pacifies you somewhat. She saw right through your thoughts, but at least she’s offering a way out. Not that you’re confident enough in your self control to do so, but at least you can try. With that, Val continued to strip down one article of clothing at a time. Her pants were unzipped, dropping to the floor, her shirt was unbuttoned and slid off of her shoulders, revealing some sort of tattoo of a bull on her right shoulder. Not even her underwear or her socks were safe, those being tossed right next to you as well. Now with her completely exposed, you expect a change in her attitude. Perhaps she becomes more aggressive in making sure you don’t ogle at her. Maybe she gets flustered or shy. Nope. None of that. The same nonchalant attitude she was showing you before persists. You turn your head away, but you can still watch her out of the corner of your eye as she hops up over the railing to the bridge and plunges into the pond feet first. The sound of water splashing about, and when you turn around to make sure she’s okay, you see her leaning back against a rock in the middle of the pond, soaking in the water that comes halfway up her chest.(1/2)
>>6011151 Ah, that’s good…just the right temp…offer’s always open, man. Maybe later… For now, you were satisfied with keeping your clothes on and leaning your back against the bridge, facing the opposite direction of Val while she soaks in the pond, completely carefree. So, uh…how long have you been here? Here specifically? A couple of days. You’re noticing a pattern of some people not being as eager to climb this trail as much as you. She still has a long time to go before she beats Roger’s seventeen years but she still has been here in this one spot longer than you’ve been here in general. Why? You waiting on someone? Seems like a good enough guess. Hm? Oh, uhm…I guess so. In a way. What’s that supposed to mean? Just waiting for the right person to follow for the last stretch. Don’t really wanna reach the end all alone, ya know? To be honest, I’m a little scared. Having some good company when I get up there would be nice. Right, right…I mean, we could always hike up there together. I wouldn’t mind some company. Gets a bit lonely during those long stretches of morning. A few seconds of silence pass you both by. Just the sounds of wind rustling through the leaves of the trees and the water flowing throughout the pond against the rock and the dirt can be heard before Val speaks up again. Maybe. Tell me a little about yourself. Wanna know if you’re a chill guy before making up my mind. Quite the informal interview all things considered. Still, you get why someone might wanna face whatever’s up there, whether it’s reincarnation, an afterlife, an eternal void, or something else, with someone else right beside them. Do you, though? Either way, you have no shortage of time to spare for entertaining this girl’s curiosity. That’s ultimately your choice, though.(2/2)>The time you got lost in the Appalachians and almost died.>The weird way you lost your virginity.>Your time traveling and doing odd jobs.>No stories.>Write-in.
>>6011152>>The time you got lost in the Appalachians and almost died.
>>6011152>The time you got lost in the Appalachians and almost died.
>>6011152>Your time traveling and doing odd jobs.A happier story after the last two we shared. Builds on what we were sharing with Leon, too.
Locking Appalachian in but it’ll be posted tomorrow, hopefully.
>>6011206>>6011210>>6012187You figure there’s no harm in entertaining this woman for a little bit. She seems like the type to enjoy a thrilling story, and nothing is more thrilling than a survival story. Good thing you have just that. Alright, I got something. This was when I- Hey, dingus. I can’t hear you when you’re facing away from me like that. She has to be playing with you, right? That has to be it, you think to yourself. Then again, you were all way up on this bridge and she was down there in the pond. With the noises of nature surrounding your in this miniature forest and your head turned away from her, she may very well not be able to hear you clearly. You turn around reluctantly, your eyes showing their lack of control as they settle on the bathing Val. She was still there, leaning against the rock with the top half of her breasts exposed. Her lips were rising up her face in a sort of smug grin. She seems to be enjoying your reactions. This better? Yep. You sigh, leaning over the rail made of wooden planks, your eyes still hovering between Val and anywhere else, inching your way towards being comfortable enough to look at her directly. Of course, you don’t mind getting a peek at some titties. It’s just the fact you are basically in a public place that anyone in theory could walk past that throws you off a little. I was twenty. I was about to go off and explore Europe, but something I always wanted to do was go hiking along the Appalachian trail. Well, not all of it. I only had plans to hike from Bear Mountain State Park to Clingman’s Dome. Seemed like a good enough portion of the trail to follow with spending a substantial amount of time doing it. From New York to North Carolina. You figured it would only take about a month at most, even if it took the average hiker three just to walk halfway. I already grew up in the woods, so I figured this would be an easy task, and it was for the most part. I was making record time. Met a lot of nice people out there. Everything was going great and I was almost at the end… You pause, halfway chuckling to yourself at how the next series of events played out. In hindsight, it is a little funny how you ended up getting lost. Two weeks in. I was in southern Virginia, about to cross over into North Carolina. I was in the last stretch. The sun was still up. Right above my head. You point directly up into the sky, gesturing to a sun that is not there. I went off the trail a little to take a piss. Couldn’t have been more than a hundred or two hundred feet. I turned back around to get back on the trail, but when I walked back, it wasn’t there. I walked in every direction I could trying to retrace my steps, but the next thing I knew, I was lost. That’s when I quickly realized I forgot to pack anything in case this happened. (1/3)
>>6013498You were confident in your ability to not get lost in the wild. Not once in the years you spent playing in the woods behind your parent’s house did you ever get lost, though that was because there were a lot of easily identifiable landmarks and you were familiar with the land. This was another beast entirely. A much more dangerous beast at that. No flares, no walkie-talkies, no compass, nothing. So since I had no way of knowing where I was, I just waited. Set up camp for the night and figured someone would find me the next day… You pause. I was there for a week. A week of maintaining my camp, setting stuff up to protect myself against any bears or what have you in the night, eating, shitting… So did someone find you? After a week? No. I left. My food was running low and winter was rolling in. You weren’t prepared for hiking in the winter. Not that it was as cold as it could be down in south Virginia, but you were still up in the mountains with no shelter. I took whatever I had left and walked in a single direction. Whichever way I thought was south. I was starving, dying of thirst, exhausted as hell, and could barely walk. All my resources were either used up, broken, or useless. I only drank when it rained, I only ate when I found berries or managed to catch some game with my bare hands and a pocket knife. You don’t even notice you are looking right at Val while you’re retelling what you remember. I spent another two weeks practically pulling myself forward with no idea where I was, and- You pause, rethinking your time on the verge of death in those mountains. And? Oh, sorry. Was just remembering something. You ever seen a wolf before? Only in photos. Why? You saw one? I killed one. Two, actually. Those fuckers didn’t slow down once until you managed to put them down. At least they provided a good source of food for a while. The sun was setting and I was about to set up camp again, albeit at this point it just involved a sleeping bag and a tarp. I was about to settle into bed and get out of the freezing cold when I heard ‘em sneaking up towards my tent. My flashlight died days ago and the fire was dim so I couldn’t actually see them that well. I just knew there were a couple of hungry wolves outside my tent, and they knew I was weak. Weaker than you’ve ever been. At that point you were making it only a mile or two a day. Living off of berries and rain water can only sustain a grown man for so long before his body shuts down. I just barely managed to grab my knife before one of them came in from behind and tried biting into my leg. Thankfully his teeth only dug into my boots and I could stab him right in the eye. You know they were both males because you were able to see it when you were skinning them. (2/3)
>>6013499 The other one had a better shot at taking me out. Jumped on me while I was prying the knife out of his friend’s eye socket. Actually tore up my back pretty badly. You turn around, lifting your shirt up to show your back to Val, flashing your scars to her, them being much bigger and noticeable than the other minor cuts you’ve received in your life before turning back around, dropping your shirt, and looking down at Val once more. I kicked him from behind, and that sent him flying out into the dark again. I managed to get that knife out of his friend and chased after him, lighting myself a torch from the fire along the way. He didn’t run far. Probably cause he planned on waiting for the right moment to bite me again. We ended up charging at eachother, and he took a chunk out of my arm. Good thing he held on, cause it let me shank him right in the skull. Damn. Good thing you’re here in case there’s any wolves I gotta worry ‘bout! Don’t know if I could take them on myself. You hope she never has to. You barely made it out of there alive, seeing as you almost bled out from all the bites and scratches. Yeah, well, I don’t plan on fighting any more of those sons of bitches. Anyways, I patched myself up, skinned them, cooked them, even kept the bones in my bag in case I needed to make some tools or something. As always, you are never wasteful if you can help it. Two weeks later, I was as close to dying as I ever was. No blood, wounds everywhere, think I had food poisoning, and I ran out of food or water. I was freezing and my clothes were all torn. I was barely conscious and was probably about to black out. That’s when I could make out a dirt trail just up ahead. I used the last of my strength to run up towards that trail, and when I finally reached it, I blacked out. Next thing I knew, I was in a hospital bed with tubes and straps all over me. They said you were blacked out for three days. Took you a month just to be able to leave the hospital, nevermind fully recover. Well…at least I know I can trust you to protect me from any bad guys. You watch as Val lifts herself out of the pond, exposing her naked flesh to you as she climbs out and up the side of the bridge, pulling herself over before falling down onto the wooden floor with a thud Ack! She gets up, rubbing the back of her head while resting on the side of the bridge, water dripping down her entire body. I like you. You sound fun. I wouldn’t mind following you the rest of the way if you want. >Accept her offer.>Reject her offer. Oh, and while I’m drying off, if you got anything else to say, I’m all ears. >Ask her a question. (Elaborate.)>Ask her for her own story.>Jump into the pond.>Wait for her to get dressed in silence.>Write-in.(3/3)
Rolled 2 (1d2)>>6013500>1 for Accept, 2 for Decline>Ask her for her own story.
>>6013500>Accept her offer.>Ask her for her own story.
>>6013500>Accept her offer.>Ask her for her own story.>Jump into the pond.We can rinse off while she talks.
>>6013674>>6014055>>6014515>>6014797The only reason you hadn’t jumped into the pond and joined Val in soaking in the cool body of water was because you feared getting too close might cause a conflict or end up with the woman keeping her distance from you. Now that she’s standing right next to you and allowing the water to drip off as she dries in the sun, you feel you are able to wash off the dirt and dust you’ve collected on your trip thus far. You begin to strip yourself down of your own clothing in front of Val, just a little less casually as she had done. When she notices you disrobing, she turns her head to you and speaks up. And what’re you doing? Washing up in the pond. …you couldn’t do that before? You pause, holding your position while thinking of how to respond, your shirt halfway lifted up your torso. …no. She shrugs, clearly confused at why you just now decide to take a swim below the bridge, but she does not say or do anything as you strip down to your bare naked form and climb over the edge, slowing gravity to drop you down with a loud splash into the cool water. You dip your head into the water and scrub it down with your hands before resurfacing against the same stone she was previously leaning against. The water comes up to your ribs, splashing against your torso while your upper half basks in the sun while your lower half is feeling refreshed from the clear water. Yeah, sure. You can come along with me…if you gimme a quick story while I wash up. Now the roles are reversed, and you are now the one buck naked in the pond looking up at her as she thinks up an enticing story to tell. Well, uh…let’s see… As she mumbles to herself, Val turns around and bends over to grab her clothes off of the ground. She’s dried off enough now to get dressed. At least she seems to think so. There was this girl I was dating for a while. Her name was, uhh…Eleanor, I think-AH! You watch as she almost trips over the bridge’s wooden rail while trying to pull her pants up over her legs. Uhm, sorry…anyways, Eleanor, right? Yeah, she had this weird habit of taking off without warning every so often. Would just grab her keys, her wallet, her phone, and drive off. I would always ask her where she’s going or why she never tells me, but she always just said “Just going for a drive.” Now Val was slipping her shirt through her arms and buttoning it up one at a time. You didn’t notice this before but she doesn’t seem to be wearing any bra. Just panties. So I obviously got sus of her. Not only cause she wouldn’t tell me where she would go, but because she would sometimes spend the night gone. Like anyone else would, I thought she was cheating on me or something… (1/2)
>>6015631 Call me a stalker, but one day I just had enough and followed her. I kept my distance so she wouldn’t spot my car unless she was going out of her way to look far behind her while driving…which she didn’t. I followed her for about thirty miles before she pulled into some gas station and got - humf - out. Now she was jumping around, nearly falling flat on her ass as she slips her socks back onto her feet. My heart almost dropped when I saw her talking with a man behind the gas station. I knew she was bi so it wouldn’t be a stretch. I waited, and waited, and just as - ngh - quickly as they met up, they left… Now her shoes were slipped on and tied up, meaning she was back to being completely dressed. Now you were the only one without clothes on. Turns out she was buying weed this whole time! Sounds bad. It wasn’t, though. That’s the fucked up part! I mean, I’ve been smoking it since before we even started dating! I just didn’t have to go and act all scandalous about it… She sighs a breath of disappointment, giving you a chance to inquire about the situation. So what happened next? It all worked out? Well, for a while…turns out she was cheating, though. The times she would go out and spend the night away were actually her hooking up with an ex. Same thing as last time. I followed her because she kept giving the same answer for everything. “Just grabbing a joint.” Followed her to some guy’s house. She came out with her clothes and makeup all messy. I didn’t wanna believe it, but the third time around I couldn’t deny it any longer. Broke it up with her not long after. I’m sorry to hear that. You’ve had your fair share of breakups, and a good enough number of them have been from your partner cheating on you. You hate to admit it, but you yourself have even ended up cheating once or twice. Anyways, uhh…yeah. That’s all I got to say. Sorry, I’m not that good at stories or whatever. No, it’s fine. It’s something at least. You stand up in the pond, jumping up onto the bridge and climbing your way to the top, dripping in water before throwing yourself down on the wood, your body completely exposed to the elements with your dirty clothes right beside you. Now that you think about it, you should’ve at least tried washing them off in the water, but that would just take longer to dry off. (2/2)>Ask Val a question. (Elaborate.)>Get ready to hike up the last stretch of the path.>Write-in.
>>6015633>Ask Val a question. (Elaborate.)Ask if she's seen other people around here. If so, what have they been like? We've seen a couple of people here.
>>6015633>Ask Val a questionHas she run into anyone interesting, or perhaps something weirdly out-of-place like Leon's van?
>>6015640>>6015713Now dripping wet and waiting to dry off, you have time to ask the woman standing next to you a couple of questions. You turn your head to her while resting your arms on the guard rail. She notices you looking at her. What’s up? Oh, nothing. Was just wondering…have you seen other people around here? Hm? Oh, uh…well, besides you, I think about…four or five others? Why do you ask? Just curious. What were they like? Found anyone interesting? You’re only the third person I’ve met so far here. None of them really stood out too much. There was this old lady near the bottom of the trail on some bench who said she was waiting on her husband…some couple who were chilling in this old van with a dog…oh, there was some kind of tall, thin, pale looking girl who walked by me earlier! Looked like a ghost…that’s really about it. A van, a bench, they all indeed sound familiar. For some reason, the descriptions of the people Val had met also ring a bell, though you cannot place your finger on why it does. Alright, then. That’s really all I gotta ask. You ready? Yeah, but are you? She looks you up and down, bringing attention to the fact you may have gotten too comfortable without clothes on. Ah, shit! You hurriedly grab your clothes off of the ground and begin to put them on, one article at a time until you are just as fully dressed as her, this time both of you feeling just a little cleaner. Let’s go. After you, big guy. With that out of the way, you two begin to head off towards the end of the bridge and forward towards the end of the road. You still somewhere around four hours of walking to do if Roger from all the way back down the trail was correct, but at least you have someone to keep you company along the way. You’re close. Very close to figuring out just what is at the end of all this. So close to being given closure.(No vote in this update today, but the end of the quest is near now. Should hopefully be able to give y’all something to vote on tomorrow.)
>>6016738Four hours of monotonous walking with your new friend Val. It wasn’t the shortest time you’ve gone without a break since arriving here, but with good company right by your side the entire way, it felt like it was only forty minutes. Maybe it was because you were having fun passing the time by cracking jokes, telling stories and singing songs, but the same landscape that you’ve been looking at for the past 27 odd hours starts to feel refreshing. The healthy spring flowers, the wavy grass, the blue skies and the puffy clouds. Even the cawing of birds that migrated above you both which you started to grow tired up began to sound pleasant. Maybe it was your company, maybe it was because you were nearing the end of your posthumous journey, but you’ve never felt better. Like every joint in your body was relaxed and your mind was entirely calmed down. You’ve never felt this loosened up, either mentally or physically. Before the two of you even knew it, you eyes were met with what appeared to be the end of the pathway. The top of the hill. You both look at eachother for a moment before turning your attention back to the road ahead of you and sprinting ahead at full pace. Like an unspoken race to the top. You didn’t expect the woman to be as fast as she was, but she indeed ends up outrunning you, albeit just barely seeing as you made it to the top. Once you both reach the top and realize there is no more road to travel and no more incline on the dirt, you both have your eyes facing upwards at the sight before you. A cloaked figure is suspended up in the air before you both seemingly by nothing but their own figure. Their shape appears human, but when you get a closer look you can notice that there is nothing inside that cloak besides shadow. A dark contrast to the bright, lively space surrounding them. A glowing, golden aura surrounds the figure. You and Val look at one another, confused. Is this it? It is nothing like what you were taught would be at the so called “stairway to heaven.” No pearly gates are found. Just a dead end in the road and a mysterious figure in ragged cloaks. After a minute of silence with the two of you standing around and unsure of what to do, you suddenly hear a voice in your heard. No, it’s not your subconscious. It’s very clearly a foreign thought intruding on your mind. “Come forth.” You hear that? You and Val lock eyes with eachother as she raises a finger to her temple. You nod. It seems that foreign voice wasn’t just intruding on your own head, but hers as well. What’s even weirder is that you both clearly know that command was given to her and not you. (1/2)
>>6017827 I guess this is it, huh? I guess it is… Well, thank you for letting me come with you. You’re a cool guy, Atticus. She reaches out for a fist bump, which you gladly accept. You too, Val. See you ‘round, alright? With a grin and a wink, the woman turns her back to you as she steps forward, coming closer to the ragged figure in the sky. You feel compelled to take a few steps back, allowing whatever was about to occur, well…occur. The next thing you know, you’re watching as the figure extends one arm forward while pulling the other back, like an archer drawing their bow and preparing to fire. As they do so, a number of strange, indecipherable golden symbols and runes seem to be spawning around him as well as multiple similarly golden colored rings forming a tunnel down to where Val was standing. She looks back at you one final time, a satisfied smile on her face. No fear or worry shrouding her cheeks as the rings of gold are launched forward, smashing onto the space around her. And just like that…she was gone. Whatever happened to her after she disappeared from your sight is beyond you. Maybe there is a heaven beyond this. Maybe there’s a hell as well. Maybe she was reincarnated into a squirrel or something. She said before on your trip together that’s what she would love to be reincarnated into. Or maybe she just…vanished. Her soul being released into the void. Whatever the case may be, it isn’t long before you are called upon next. Except this time, it’s…different.“You are free.” Again, even though it was three simple words spoken directly into your cranium, you know exactly what they mean. You avoided consuming that apple from the oak tree way back at the beginning of your journey, and you now have a rare opportunity to turn around and walk back the way you came. You don’t know what awaits you on either side of where you stand, but at least you are able to choose which direction calls to you.(2/2)>Step towards the figure and allow your story to come to a close.>Head back and possibly get a second chance at life.
>>6017831>Head back and possibly get a second chance at life.Not done wandering.
>>6017831>Step towards the figure and allow your story to come to a close.
>>6017831>Step towards the figure and allow your story to come to a close.I wanna see what will happen.
>>6017831>>Head back and possibly get a second chance at life.
>>6017831>>Step towards the figure and allow your story to come to a close.
>>6017872>>6018150>>6019301>>6019477>>6019797You stand there for a couple of minutes. Looking forward and towards the weird looking figure. Looking back the way you came, as far down as your eyes can go. Your hands scratch at your chin, your legs stepping one after the other as you pace around, lost in thought. Whatever or whoever that thing is that just send Val to the other side must be thinking you look really funny right about now. Your thoughts are in utter disarray, unsure of what to do. You have a very rare opportunity to be given a second chance at life. You still have many years ahead of you if you end up recovering from whatever illness plagued you, you hope.You hope, but for some reason you can’t bring yourself to take a step down the path. You’re stuck to where you are. That’s when you ponder. What would happen if you return to the bottom of the trail and give yourself a second chance at life? You wake up, overcome your illness if you’re lucky, continue running around the continent performing odd jobs that just barely pay enough to satisfy you, and then you die again? Maybe you won’t even get a second chance to come up to where you currently stand. You died peacefully, and you died with no business left unattended. You are satisfied and it could have ended much worse. After all, what good is a book without a satisfying end? Your parents may mourn you, but other than that it would make no difference whether you are dead or alive any more. Plus, you are increasingly interested at what awaits you on the other side of eternity. You take one last look downward at the way you came, your eyes following the dirt, grass, and flowers until it’s obscured by a passing cloud. You let out a deep, prolonged sigh before turning around to face the cloaked figure in the sky. Your head held high, though that might just be because you have to crane your chin up to face him as you step forward one foot at a time until you’re standing right where Val was just what felt like moments ago. Alright. I’m ready. Do your thing, or whatever… (1/2)
>>6020126(2/2)At that moment, you’re met with a front row view of the ragged figure extending an arm forward and towards you, its hand balled up in a fist while the other drew back, like it was drawing a bow. It was like the air around the figure knew what to do, and cryptic golden symbols surrounded them, as well as a series of bright, golden rings stretching down like a thinly veiled tunnel down towards where you stand. It felt like hours you stood there, watching the spectacle before you. In truth, it couldn’t have been more than a minute before the figure’s backed away fist lets go and the rings collapse one after the other onto you. It’s blindingly bright. So much so you have no choice but to squeeze your eyes shut with no clue what was going on around you until it was dim enough to pry them open once again. When you did so, you were no longer standing, but floating. Flying wouldn’t be a correct term seeing as you weren’t actively moving yourself, but it was more like something or someone beyond your line of sight had an invisible rope around your waist and was pulling you forward into somewhere of nowhere. All around you, pages of books fluttering about and words you cannot read in a language you cannot recognize rush past you. It grows faster, and faster, until a light at the tunnel is visible. You cannot remember your previous life any more. You cannot even remember much of anything. The only thing you know is that you are suddenly being bombarded with overwhelming stimuli. Bright lights, deafening sounds, gross smells, and the vague sense that there are people crowded around you. Look, honey! She’s a girl! (End of Quest.)
Thank you to everyone who voted and beared with me through my first time running a quest! I hope those of you who stuck around until the end enjoyed it. If you have any feedback you’d like to give, that is always welcomed
>>6020128>>6020132I enjoyed it! I wouldn't have minded a bit more exploration of the mysteries fo the afterlife, but I understand that's a bit beyond the scope of a one-shot. Don't forget to archive this on suptg, if you care ro do so. Thanks for running it!
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/5993366/
