Adventure Gamers - Forums

>n

Crumbling Wall Face
The wall once continued north from here some distance before curving northwest around the remainder of the city. So much has crumbled away, though, that the walkway is impassable north of this point. To protect citizens, there is a safety railing across the broken edge.

A metal ladder of four rungs descends the inner face of the wall, allowing pedestrians access to the streets to the west.

Among the rubble fill of the wall is an odd spiral-shaped rock.

>x railing
Though it shows traces of surface rust, the safety railing is sturdy and close-fitted enough to prevent anyone, child or adult, from taking a tumble down the jagged masonry.

The monocle pings happily as we sight the safety railing with the crosshairs.

>x ladder
The rungs have been bolted individually into the stone.

The monocle pings happily as we sight the metal ladder with the crosshairs.

>x rock
The spiral rock turns out to be a fossil, from one of those sea creatures long ago.

The monocle pings happily as we sight the fossil with the crosshairs.

> get all
> w

Pegbiter - 19 March 2021 11:44 AM

>wave l-remover at ladder

I’m going for “meta adder” impossibility.

>wave l-remover at ladder
We reset the device to l. The device buzzes, puzzled. It has tried to create a “meta adder”: evidently “ladder” is too tightly bound to its modifiers and can’t be manipulated separately. Or perhaps it just doesn’t have sufficient power to handle the metal ladder.

>get all
fossil: We pick it up. It is perhaps an inch and a half long, the shape of a corkscrew seashell that once housed something small and soft. There are thousands of these things around; they’re not exactly valuable, but an interesting curiosity all the same.

>w

Webster Court
Here below the wall is a broad, plainly-paved court.

Lending its name to the location is a bronze statue of Noah Webster. My mother likes to irritate my father by quoting what his contemporaries called Webster: a “viper”, a “maniacal pedant”, and (always a favorite at Reform Day parties) “a toad in the service of sans-culottism”. She makes sure to pronounce that in the most Parisian accent possible.

The large building just to the north — yes, the one in pale pink — is my parents’ home. I think I mentioned that my parents were well off. My father works for the Bureau, embarrassingly, and my mother was born into the kind of money that we like to pretend doesn’t exist on this island.

The streets continue south, east, and west; and just to the northeast is my parents’ side garden.

> wave s-remover at fossil
> s

>wave s-remover at fossil
We reset the device to s. There is a distinct spearmint flavor, and the fossil turns into a foil. One of those long springy swords used for fencing. It has a button at the tip to prevent harm to one’s opponent.

There is a dismissive blatt from the monocle, and transposed over the foil is a faint, greenish image of a fossil.

>wave f-remover at foil
We reset the device to f. With a distinct whiff of mechanics and the summer time, the foil turns into some oil. A can of what appears to be motor oil. It is sludgy and black.

There is a dismissive blatt from the monocle, and transposed over the oil is a faint, greenish image of a fossil.

>ne

Patriotic Chard-Garden
A narrow strip of land between the house and the edge of my parents’ property. The eastern edge runs right up to the decaying old wall of the city, which here means some stumpy masonry on this side and a dizzying drop on the other.

The rest of their terraces and gardens are fenced off.

A little chard still grows in the nearest bed, carefully tended to thrive in this climate.

Because it’s so linguistically productive, chard is something of a national symbol; and during the world wars, there was a fad of gardening at home. After the war, it became common for affluent people with a little bit of land to keep their garden, so that if you were down on your luck you could glean a few leaves.

>wave h-remover at chard
We reset the device to h. With a distinct whiff of crisp, snappy cardboard, the chard turns into a card. Not a playing card, as I might have expected, or a calling card, or even an index card, but a Tarot card, representing the Chariot. The vehicle is drawn by two prize horses, one black, one white. The driver appears to be having some difficulty keeping them together, to judge from the surly expression and the raised whip.

There is a dismissive blatt from the monocle, and transposed over the card is a faint, greenish image of some chard.

>get card
We pick up the card.

>wave d-remover at card
We reset the device to d. With a distinct whiff of metal parts and oil, the card turns into a car. It is little larger than a toy, but that is what you want when driving on the streets around here. Any substantial vehicle wouldn’t fit down the winding drives.

Here is how my mother gets around. She takes a 300 Euro Hermès scarf with an orange border and a pattern of prancing horses. She tosses it in the air. As it falls, she shoots it twice, like a clay pigeon: once to take out the F, the second time for the S. And such a car: buttery leather seats, jaguar lines. If someone asks how she gets such good results, she jokes that it’s because of her quality materials.

Suffice it to say that we are not similarly blessed.

The car is far too large for us to carry, and falls onto the ground.

>x car
It is little larger than a toy, but that is what you want when driving on the streets around here. Any substantial vehicle wouldn’t fit down the winding drives.

There is a dismissive blatt from the monocle, and transposed over the car is a faint, greenish image of some chard.

>enter car
We open the car door: perhaps unsurprisingly, it comes without an effective lock system.

We get into the car.

>start car
The extremely primitive dial in front of us is pointing all the way to the left. I think that’s its way of saying it’s out of fuel. At any rate, the engine won’t start.