I was undecided about whether to put this here or in the main Adventures forum. I decided it was just miscellaneous enough...but at this point I'm thinking I will eventually do something in Adventures--the opportunity is just too cool to pass up.
Thanks, CheeseDeluxe!
The issue of relative bball skills is arguable, so we'll make that two votes for Section 13 and one for Section 7...
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13So this is life!
A brook crafted to be beautiful to the senses. A gazebo of your own. Freedom to wander the city, but amenities enough to make this urge fleeting. An education and a liege lord who cares about you. Although you try to maintain an appreciative disposition, it’s often hard not to take for granted all the good things you enjoy.
You are an
emerald-colored lizard about two feet in length, not counting your ample tail. [See the picture in my sig file!] You reside in the courtyard of Lord Ajiam Aratunil Inen, Imperial Secretary of Health and Inferior Council to the Throne of Vayellia. Although you, as his vassal, have no formal power of your own, your connection to such an important man makes it easy to find acquaintances. In your youth, he provided for your education on various subjects, a debt you keep close to your heart. Your tutors were mainly birds, especially the venerable cranes and crows renowned for giving Vayellia what are called ‘the world’s wisest skies’. Now you pass the boon forward by tutoring the human children of the lord’s servants, a task that you enjoy and that brings you a humble allowance.
Your sessions are held in the gazebo you think of as your personal home, although the lord occasionally uses it for picnicking or for entertaining guests. You are surrounded there by lush, flourishing plants, and by trees that are sturdy but malleable enough to climb. Some of these grow over the brook, and you’ve been known to spend the odd morning dropping playfully from their branches into the water and climbing up again.
Moreover, while you’re normally able to feed yourself on the wild creatures living in the brook’s banks and elsewhere in the courtyard, you are always welcome at the back entrance of the manor, where kitchen maids will gladly feed you whatever’s gone uneaten within. Nor does your lord ignore you; while his visits are rare, you relish them, as he values your opinions on the future of the empire.
While reflecting deeply on all the blessings of your life, it’s difficult to let little fragments of bad news from the political establishment bother you much. And that is, after all, how it should be. Although war may be brewing with Vayellia’s eastern neighbor, your immediate focus should be on your immediate life, and the affairs of distant people and places should never evict local pleasures from their place of honor in the forebrain.
One of the lord’s other vassals, a carpenter, has a son who comes to you for instruction in his letters. He is a good but impatient student, and since you, with pen in mouth, are a slow writer and not terribly quick of speech, his attention often drifts.
“Modi, will you answer anything I ask?” he puts to you one day in spring.
You endeavor to take the high ground. “Of course I will, even if the answer is that I don’t know,” you reply.
“All right. Why do I have to learn to write?”
While this question disappoints you, you are prepared. “Because, Brendt. In the days before civilization, there was little need for any creature to record its thoughts. Life was lived mainly in the moment, and long-term plans were scarce. As such, the gift of speech, bestowed by our Creator upon all vertebrate creatures, was sufficient for all our communication needs. But then, Brendt, there came a time when civilization, with all its flaws and grandeur, arrived in the world. It became necessary to record and revisit our thoughts—so that we might learn from them, and hold one another accountable. A new, mode of speech had to be born, one that lasts beyond the moment—and that is why we write things down. And I sometimes wonder whether there might not be a third level of communication in store, when we progress far enough! I have no notion what kind of communication this might be, but historically, as civilization progresses, it meets its own needs. And the further progress of civilization is certain.”
You are proud of carrying off this speech with such facility, but it turns out the boy was only preparing to pester you. “And why is that, Modi?”
“Why must civilization progress?” The spines along your back rise, as do you. “Because that is its nature, and ours. We are thinking things, Brendt; we cannot stagnate or we will die.”
“Why is that?” the boy asks, hiding a grin.
You know now that he intends to deluge you with ‘Why’s, but you are up to the challenge. “Because for intelligent beings to tread the same mental and spiritual ground over and over can only lead to decay.”
“And why is that, teacher?”
You chide the boy. “You yourself are treading the same ground repeatedly as you speak, Brendt, and you have me to thank for your continued stimulation. What if, in response to your constant ‘Why, why, why’ I were to answer only ‘Because, because, because’? You would suffer from the boredom of it and regret your impropriety.”
The boy looks a bit embarrassed, but persists after a modest pause: “Why?” [This boy should be on Pesterchum.]
You look him in the eye. “Because decay of the spirit leads to decay of the body, but more importantly, because it is the one fate we must most stridently avoid. Decay is the opposite of being and the opposite of desire.”
“Why?” he asks.
Of all the things he could have said, this is the most predictable, and yet it sends your mind over a precipice. He could hardly care what you answer at this point, but you do, and as such you honestly desire to answer the question: why is decay of spirit the worst thing possible? But it seems so utterly self-evident. What, for that matter, is the best thing possible? Your mind dwells on the dichotomy of decay and progress, and suddenly you are struck by a memory so deep it makes you cry out. You fall to your belly, eyes wide. Creator. The quest.
“Go,” you tell the boy. “Leave me alone, please…!” So he leaves, and you lie there reeling, recalling your conversations with Creator from before you existed. So there is such a being! You have studied theology, but were never certain before. Yet there is no doubt in your mind that these memories are real. If they were false, there would be no place for anything true.
You close your eyes and remember all of it. Your assignment—to discover the ultimate goal. To find what sits at the end of all progress. You! Were you the only one given this quest? Is it given to everyone? You’re overwhelmed by the very…electricity of it! This is the most important moment of your life. Your character will be tested by what you now choose to do!
“The lord must know. No doubt about it—I must go and tell him immediately.” Section 17.“To begin with, no one must know. This is my quest, and I cannot slough it onto anyone else.” Section 22.Votes?
It's written at an adult level and is a good deal larger than other interactive books--plus it has hidden secrets and a nifty challenge system. You can read about it here:
If we have a challenge, I'll explain how it works and let you take turns picking combinations.
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