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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh

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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh ID:X97Jd1Qb Thu 20 Feb 2025 10:57:15 No.6200128 View View Report

Quoted By:

>Answers VII: The Last Answers (not really)

You press your lips together. "But would you stop me? If you could?"

"If I could? No. I don't think so."

"That's stupid," you say. "I murdered you. With a knife. Don't lie and tell me you wanted to get murdered."

"No, Charlie, I very much didn't. It wasn't something I'd at all prepared for. While I wasn't afraid for my life, given my, er, remote status, I did fear that I'd be... changed irrevocably. A founded fear, as it turned out."

"Except it wasn't irrevocable." It makes sense, sort of; you just didn't see Richard as the forgiving type.

"No. I mean, yes, Charlie, I'm back. I don't think I'll ever be able to be that man again. You won't let me. But the change has, I think, lingered."

Oh. "A change for the better?"

"That's for you to judge. I'm not unhappy with how I am." Richard steeples his fingertips. "I suppose I'm hopeful that it'll better facilitate our partnership, as it were. To that end, the murdering was no harm done."

Maybe he really is different. The Richard you remember would be screaming. "You're not just saying that so I'll cooperate?"

"Of course I'm saying it so you'll cooperate, Charlie. That doesn't mean it's not true. Besides, I'm not convinced it wasn't a net positive. I don't know, because I don't know the future. But I..." He taps his fingertips together, thinking. "I wonder if it was inevitable."

"Me murdering you was inevitable."

"Not precisely, but what you got out of it. You know what you got out of it."

Oh God. You do. "Richard."

"Yes?"

"The red stuff was inevitable?"

"That's a very Charlie-type name for it. And no, not exactly. The—"

"Can you tell me what it is?" You fold your arms. "You haven't been helpful about it, even a little. Henry was more helpful, and he wasn't helpful at all."

"I've been out of sorts, if you haven't noticed. But yes. You're speaking of the Wyrm's blood."

You frown. "I thought the Wyrm was way underground. There's no way I—"

"It's not entirely literal, I don't think. It was made, after all, yes? Mud and the blood of the betrayed. Nevertheless, I believe it, eh, resonates with the Wyrm. Carries some of its Law. Think of it like this, Charlie. Is your blood you?"

Ah! He can't pull one over on you, even if he pretends to be civil. "Nope! Because you fudged with it, didn't you?"

(1/7)

Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh

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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh ID:gQBVQ5Xr Wed 16 Oct 2024 09:53:45 No.6124002 View View Report

Quoted By:

But it's too late then. Hugging is not an extended process. You have your arms shoved under his arms, and you have your nose in his shoulder, and you have your ear by his mouth, so you can hear him clearly and loudly say: "Fuck!"

ID: 3/14
SV: 3/??

Then he explodes. Shrapnel flies through you. He's all light, blue light, white light, not dim or pulsing or strobing— solid light, sea-bright, salt-cold, Gil-shaped, and it all slices directly through your weak non-skin. It doesn't hurt you. It wouldn't hurt you. But your flesh, your blood, your heart: they scream.

You scream, or make a noise: you can't tell which. Inside your body, the red stuff melts where it's cut, but it's sun-fed and reforms elsewhere just as fast and twice as thick. It's shooting up and down your limbs, bubbling your skin, curling your fingers into Gil's back. He still has a back. The light's all coming from inside. Your eyes are glazed. Your teeth are sharp and wet. You should bite him. You should bite him on his neck and open his arteries and kill him. You should kill him. You will kill him. He is trying to kill YOU. HE IS TRYING TO KILL YOU. HE IS A TRAITOR! HE IS YOUR ENEMY! HE HATES YOU! HE IS ONE OF THEM! YOU NEED TO KILL HIM. YOU NEED TO KILL HIM. YOU NEED TO KILL HIM. YOU NEED TO KILL HIM. YOU NEED TO

You need to let go. You need to let go and get out. He isn't holding you at all. You're the one gripping. Why are you gripping? TO KILL HIM. There's nothing inside of you. That's the problem with the fake body. It's all empty space and now it's all red. If you were cut open you could probably see it all. You have to get out of here. You're not strong enough to get out of here. You have to KILL HIM. YOU HAVE TO KILL HIM. YOU HAVE TO KILL HIM. YOU HAVE TO

>[1] Write-in. (Optional. Choices tomorrow.)

Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh

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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh ID:gQBVQ5Xr Wed 16 Oct 2024 09:52:23 No.6124001 View View Report

Quoted By:

But it's too late then. Hugging is not an extended process. You have your arms shoved under his arms, and you have your nose in his shoulder, and you have your ear by his mouth, so you can hear him clearly and loudly say: "Fuck!"

ID: 3/14
SV: 3/??

Then he explodes. Shrapnel flies through you. He's all light, blue light, white light, not dim or pulsing or strobing— solid light, sea-bright, salt-cold, Gil-shaped, and it all slices directly through your weak non-skin. It doesn't hurt you. It wouldn't hurt you. But your flesh, your blood, your heart: they scream.

You scream, or make a noise: you can't tell which. Inside your body, the red stuff melts where it's cut, but it's sun-fed and reforms elsewhere just as fast and twice as thick. It's shooting up and down your limbs, bubbling your skin, curling your fingers into Gil's back. He still has a back. The light's all coming from inside. Your eyes are glazed. Your teeth are sharp and wet. You should bite him. You should bite him on his neck and open his arteries and kill him. You should kill him. You will kill him. He is trying to kill YOU. HE IS TRYING TO KILL YOU. HE IS A TRAITOR! HE IS YOUR ENEMY! HE HATES YOU! HE IS ONE OF THEM! YOU NEED TO KILL HIM. YOU NEED TO KILL HIM. YOU NEED TO KILL HIM. YOU NEED TO KILL HIM. YOU NEED TO

You need to let go. You need to let go and get out. He isn't holding you at all. You're the one gripping. Why are you gripping? TO KILL HIM. There's nothing inside of you. That's the problem with the fake body. It's all empty space and now it's all red. If you were cut open you could probably see it all. You have to get out of here. You're not strong enough to get out of here. You have to KILL HIM. YOU HAVE TO KILL HIM. YOU HAVE TO KILL HIM. YOU HAVE TO

>[1] Write-in. (Optional. Choices tomorrow.)

Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh

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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh ID:bPGKr7ir Wed 21 Feb 2024 10:20:51 No.5931865 View View Report

Quoted By:

HE IS HAPPY WITH US
HE LIKES THE COMPANY
HE IS NOT IN DISTRESS
HE DOES NOT CARE TO
RETURN TO HIS LIFE
WHICH IS CONFUSING
AND OFTEN DEPRESSING.

"You're lying," you hiss.

IS IT SO UNBELIEVABLE
THAT WE PRESENT A SEMI-
OBJECTIVE IMPROVEMENT
OVER HIS PREVIOUS STATE

Pat snorts. You refuse to glare at her, since she probably wants that. "Yes! He— he's my retainer! We had a very strong relationship, and—"

YES
HE SAYS THAT
HE LIKES YOU VERY MUCH
AND WANTS YOU TO VISIT.
WHY SHOULD WE RELEASE HIM
INTO YOUR DANGEROUS CARE?
WHY SHOULD WE DOOM HIM
TO AN ANXIOUS AND LONELY LIFE
WITH ONLY YOU TO RELY ON?

"He's not lonely!" you say. "I just said, we have a very strong relationship—"

A RELATIONSHIP WITH YOU
HOWEVER HAPPY IN THE MOMENT
WILL END IN BLACK TRAGEDY.
YOU BRING DANGER IN YOUR STEP.
WE SAW IT INSIDE—
YOUR WET AND RANCID WOUND—
IF YOU TRULY LOVED HIM
AS A FRIEND AND COMPANION,
WYRM-DAUGHTER,
YOU WOULD LET HIM BE.

>[-1 ID: 6/10]

You say nothing. Pat wisely says nothing. Horse Face, unwisely, lets out a long low whistle. You make a note to burn him at the stake later, after you throw him in your personal snake pit.

Anyways, it's— it's— no! No. No, no, no. You don't care what Us says, the evil liar. Gil likes it with you, and even if he thinks he likes it with Us, he'll change his mind once he's out of there. His mind is being poisoned, basically. You can't trust what he says (or what Us says he says) at all. You will rescue him, obviously, because he's best off not inside the creepy goo hivemind, and also because your life would be anxious and lonely without him. You mean... um... you can't think of a positive way to say that. It would be. A heroine isn't a heroine if she doesn't have a retainer— she's just a crazy person with a sword. So.

You inhale shakily. "Don't call me that."

THAT IS WHAT YOU ARE
WYRM-DAUGHTER

(Choices next.)

Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh

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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh ID:Kq51h8kf Wed 06 Dec 2023 09:53:30 No.5856311 View View Report

Quoted By:

"You are unusual, Charlie. I wouldn't go so far to say 'special,' no offense meant. Your bloodline is a dime a dozen, for one, and there's nothing intrinsically different about you than there is from any other human being. There wasn't, in any case."

In your imagination, you swivel your chair petulantly. (Where's Gil when you need him?) "Well, I— I'm a positive thinker! You mean to say that every single other person out there is thinking just as positively? Because ha! No way! Just look at—"

"You are in the top percentile of optimism, yes. I wonder about that. I wonder if the universe likes to listen to you, Charlie." He raises his eyebrows. "But I don't know, and I'm afraid I have little to offer you in terms of interpretation. It'd be foolish to write these things off as pure coincidence, but I— I don't know if what they portent is good or bad. Most likely it's a mix of both."

"Okay," you say suspiciously. "But do you think I have a destiny? Maybe?"

"Oh, primrose, I hope not. You don't want one of those." Richard sighs. "We may pray I was unsuccessful."

You pretend to swivel.

"Now— you still have God in you, right? It's dug itself deep; I nearly missed it. How has it been treating you?"

"Uh..." you say.

"You see? This is why you don't want destinies, Charlie. They're malignant. Did you get it all from killing me?"

You're pretty sure even Nice Richard would have choice words about the 'drinking evil blood water' incident. "Pretty much?"

"Patricide is worth a lot of favor." Richard's smile is a little sad. "Well, I'm sorry you've had to carry it around in there. It's really not designed for long-term exposure... or short-term. The Wyrm isn't known for its tender concern for the well-being of humanity, I mean."

"I figured that," you say uncomfortably.

"Would you like me to try my best to remove the last of it? I can't guarantee anything— it's slippery. But I will wear gloves."

>[A1] Yes! Please! The red stuff has been dormant for a little while, but that's only because you *killed* somebody with it. (Oh, God.) You're certain it'll rear its ugly head again, likely sooner vs. later. If Richard can take a stab at it, he should.
>[A2] Er, is this safe? Not that Richard won't try his best, but what if the red stuff gets angry and starts making you try to murder him? Or what if he gets infected instead? Too risky. You'll have to deal with it by yourself.
>[A3] Write-in.

> Additional questions? (Write-in. Optional.)

Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh

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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh ID:bFAtGa2j Mon 28 Nov 2022 05:45:44 No.5478760 View View Report

Quoted By:

>LAST TIME ON DROWNED QUEST REDUX

Your expedition to rescue Madrigal has gone awry, as you and Gil have found yourselves stuck in a recreation of a religious festival 200 years ago. Separated from the rest of your party, the two of you set off to rehydrate your shrink-dried worm Annie. Then you discover that the sacred waterfall has an 8-hour line.

You send most of Gil off to go stand in the line while you and the rest of Gil investigate the volunteer tents set up by the "liaisons" of the sea gods. To Gil's consternation, you can barely fight the compulsion to murder one of the liaisons, instead invoking the divine 'red stuff' inside you to ultra-commune with him. You wind up underneath(?) the goo ocean, where you have a surprisingly civil and pleasant conversation with "Us," a hivemind of several thousand people who drowned and were rendered into goo. Us tells you that the the festival is a comforting "dream" created from their collective memories, and that you're free to stay or go from it, provided you don't disturb anything. You awaken back inside the "dream" and find Gil missing.

As (most of) Gil, you're pissy about having to stand in line, and have gone off instead to get your divine blessing permanently extracted. You accidentally have a spiritual awakening instead.

As Madrigal, you are very wet and very bemused when Lester Six attempts to trick you into opening the mysteriously blocked STORAGE door. You work on learning how to work your goo body, which pleases Pat. She opens up about her situation-- she's under death threats from the inhuman(?) Management, who also kidnapped the real Lester. You're unsympathetic and blow up on her when she proposes experimenting on you to get the goo snake done faster. Pat gives you the cold shoulder the rest of the night, and you pass out on the couch.

Back as Charlotte, you find Gil, then find... Gil, who is acting all weird and uppity. He magycks you, causing you to cough up what looks awfully like a dead Richard-snake, then prompts you to admit to the whole ritual murder fiasco. He's confused about why you're so upset about it, Richard being Richard, but hugs you supportively when you start ugly crying. You calm down in time to spot a plume of smoke rising from elsewhere in the festival.

Your investigation of the smoke is stopped by some random guy. Pissed off by his audacity, you're overtaken by the red stuff and twist him into being your (and the Wyrm's) mindless servant. You don't snap out of it after, forcing Gil to tackle and magyck you. You commune with the "dream" and convince it the fire-- the *real* fire, almost certainly set by Lucky-- is totally normal and sensical. This works, and you're warped across the festival: you've been arrested on suspect of starting the fire, and Lucky is your interrogator. You snap him out of it, then go find Arledge. Finally reunited, the four of you attempt to rehydrate Annie... except that somebody's been murdered atop the sacred waterfall!

Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh

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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh ID:ba3YBPUR Wed 26 Oct 2022 09:07:31 No.5443771 View View Report

Quoted By:

>Commune, damn you

What are you doing? This isn't you. You don't like pagans. Or fake people. But you don't just go around murdering them, do you? You don't lose it at the slightest— it wasn't even a provocation! You don't. If you did, you would've already throttled Ellery to death with your bare... uh...

Okay, so you did do that. But it wasn't out of nowhere, was it? It was for a good cause? And he came back, so— so it's not even comparable. This is different. And you weren't even going to throttle Certified Liaison Draven, you were going to stab him with a... a...

Maybe it's the knives. It's the fault of the knives. All the knives. If you had The Sword like you ought to, you'd be instead driven into a— a heroic, you know, fervor. Something clean and good. And perhaps you'd be making a grand speech right now, not gasping feverishly for breath. Wouldn't that be nice? And Gil could watch and applaud how good of a speech it was. Draven too. That was one perk of R— of him. He had good lines for you, sometimes. Great lines. And he could make the whole speech sound better, too. Could the stuff in you do that?

YES you think immediately— there is redness in your peripheral vision. YES it could. Forget great. Forget grand. It could make it flawless—pristine—perfect. It could make the people who heard you love you. Make them die for you. Make their blood pool around your ankles. The snake can't do that. The snake can only make it as great as you could make it. Could only push it to the limit of your ability. Human ability. Why settle? Why would you settle? You deserve so much more. You deserve people to love you, Lottie. You could punch through those limits like wet newsprint and it wouldn't even be any effort. You already have what you need inside you. The sacrifice is made. Your hands are bloody. (Your hands are shaking.) Would you let that to waste? If you open your mouth it'd be sealed. It'd be over. You'd win. Or alternately you could stab the bastard and let more build inside you, let it permeate every pore and membrane until you were ripe—low—wet with it until it rises steaming into the green air until you collapse under your own weight until you explode, or implode? Until you spatter watermelonlike into ripe wet chunks and something better comes from you.

[Wait—]

Or you could spend it. Or you could open your mouth open your mud/bloodslicked throat and let people love you. Don't you want that? Gil's right there. Gil could love you and you'd never again have to worry that he didn't. He would. It would be law. This is power, Lottie, this is

(1/4)

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