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GBCE · 02-16-2010, 01:15 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Lighing.

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GBCE · 02-19-2010, 08:46 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by McBatman.

"Round and round the wheel does spin, who survives and who will win?"
The tune echoed down the corridor, as Glere merrily strode through the caves, shadows dancing from the flames on the candelabra. He noticed a trail of droplets of blood splattered on the floor and wall of the cavern, turning his gaze slowly to the end of the corridor. Sitting with a wounded leg was that armored fellow from earlier. James looked over his shoulder, the single visible eye narrowing considerably. Glere merely smiled.
One of the fiercest competitors is wounded, eh? James continued to watch him, silently. Apparently he was rather... unhappy with their choice of departure last time they met. Glere blew on the candelabra, putting out the flames in a single breath. He slid it back into his cloak silently.
"So, the invitation then, has it been... accepted?"

GBCE · 02-19-2010, 09:03 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Lighing.

James sat there looking at Glere, in a crackly voice. "W-why yes it is accepted, my friend." James looked back at Mr. Nothing and Michele, they where still there it seemed like they where in an alliance... James looked back at Glere and waited a bit before saying "Mr. Nothing and Michele are back there.. We could probably take one of them out and then we will move onto the next round, then we can take out Mr. Nothing" All I hope is that my leg won't brake during the battle... And that Glere doesn't back stab me.... James waited for Glere to agree to this plan.

GBCE · 02-20-2010, 01:31 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Baphomet.

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**Pinary** · 02-20-2010, 02:08 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.

If someone were to enter Thomas' mind, they would likely be rather surprised to find themselves in a moderately-sized, apartment-style room, approximately nine meters wide by six meters deep, divided up into a central living area, taking up about a third of the room, and four individual areas, each taking up one of the four corners.

The central living area is mostly empty, with a beigeish carpet covering the floor and an old brown couch against the rear wall. The opposite wall, which we shall be arbitrarily call north, is rather peculiar. At first glance, the entire central third of it appears to be a full-height window, but when you really look at it, it seems to expand, taking up your whole field of vision.

The walls of the northeast sixth of the room are concealed behind an indoor rock-climbing rig. The carpet here is a dark blue, and there is a door set into one of the walls with a vaguely oriental image of a crashing wave emblazoned upon it. This door opens into a small bedroom.

The southeast corner of Thomas' mind looks like it was taken out of a gym. The walls are lined with mirrors, and there are several sets of weights on a rack and a basketball hoop. The floor is hardwood, and there is another door in the wall, this time with a flame pattern etched into its surface.

The southwest corner is the exact opposite of this one. Its walls are covered by bookshelves that reach up to the ceiling, and they are crammed full of books of many various shapes and sizes. There is also a desk here, with a computer terminal on it and a few papers scattered around. Again, another door, this one with a rather modern-looking stylized mountain on it.

The final sixth, the northwest, looks more like a stage than a living area. It has a podium in the centre, facing the east, and there are curtains covering the walls. It all looks like something a politician would give a speech in front of. One of the curtains conceals another door, this one bearing the image of a waving flag.

More than anything, though, all elemental imagery aside, it looks lived-in. The carpeting is worn in places, and the couch sags in the middle. It's a home.

In actuality, it's a home to four individuals, all of whom bear a striking resemblance to each other. At the moment, Eric was sitting on the couch, wearing his usual shirt-and-tie combination, staring blankly at the window, trying to wrap his head around the musical talents of feathers. Walt lay in bed in his jeans and t-shirt, staring at the ceiling and muttering about how robots shouldn't even need fingernails in the first place. Greg had rolled out the standalone whiteboards, and he was furiously trying to figure out a way for this story to make logical sense. He had taken off his usual tweed jacket and it lay strewn over the back of his chair.

All three were shades of black and white. The only person in the room in colour was Bern, who was sitting on a stool in his area, ignoring the completely ridiculous story Spender was telling. He'd gotten frustrated by the others' complete mental failures and had taken control before one of them did something stupid.

Thomas was wandering around the generator room, shifting some of the rubble to clear out one of the exits while Spender worked and rambled.

GBCE · 02-20-2010, 12:14 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by suomynonAyletamitlU.

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Woffles · 02-20-2010, 06:40 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Wojjan.

"Knock, knock!"
Asteira entered quite forcefully, catching the four minds unaware. With a friendly smile, she wandered about in the living room. "Family meeting, everyone. I'm new 'round these parts." All four of them shook up from their pastimes, and were surprised to find the ghastly image of that girl standing there. Eric was the first to talk.
"What are you up to, Ashteira?" "Oh come on, play nice. I just got here. And it's Asteira, by the way, lose the 'h'." Greg quickly pelted the ghost with questions."Rather than motive, how did you get in here? What's your plan now? We can force you out of here, you know." "Er, let me see. I got in here through possession, which has an interesting side effect regarding Thomas, I plan to form an alliance because it is obvious I can't face all these foes alone. And I figured it wouldn't be as easy as to walk inside and throw you all out, especially with a complex mind as this. I have a plan, plus minus, and wish to negotiate." "Ah, negotiating, that's my cup of tea." Walt stood up and quickly gestured Asteria to enter the room further. They both took a seat, and discussed for a while over some drinks.

**Pinary** · 02-20-2010, 09:29 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.

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"Knock, knock!"
Asteira entered quite forcefully, catching the four minds unaware. With a friendly smile, she wandered about in the living room. "Family meeting, everyone. I'm new 'round these parts." All four of them shook up from their pastimes, and were surprised to find the ghastly image of that girl standing there.

Eric was the first to talk. "What are you up to, Ashteira?"

"Oh come on, play nice. I just got here. And it's Asteira, by the way, lose the 'h'."

Greg quickly pelted the ghost with questions."Rather than motive, how did you get in here? What's your plan now? We can force you out of here, you know."

"Er, let me see. I got in here through possession, which has an interesting side effect regarding Thomas, I plan to form an alliance because it is obvious I can't face all these foes alone. And I figured it wouldn't be as easy as to walk inside and throw you all out, especially with a complex mind as this. I have a plan, plus minus, and wish to negotiate."

Eric stood got up from the couch and addressed Asteira sharply. "Fine, let's talk. What do you want?"

"A cooperation, mostly," she responded. "Neither of us can win this... contest on our own, all the others have begun forming pacts already."

"How about this: You leave now, and things can be calm between us."

"That's the concept cold war is born on."

"Would you prefer a hot war?"

"I would prefer a not war. It's obvious you are more powerful than me, and cold war is more of an oppression between imbalanced parties."

"All I'm offering is this: If you don't attack us, we won't attack you. At this point, that's the best you're going to get."

"You're a tough nut, that's a first. I don't really see any of us gaining something from that point of view. I mean, it was the exact relation we were in for the entire round, really."

"You just broke into our mind-"

"'Broke into' are such harsh words! I don't break into the area around Glere were I to talk to him. It's just my way of talking to you and directly to you. Just to negotiate. Rest assured, if I had anything up my sleeve, either I would've done something already, or you and Greg would've noticed by now."

"You approached us earlier, in the caves. That was a peaceful contact. This time, you forced your way into our mind. That is not a peaceful gesture. We are willing to let you leave. You should be grateful. We are offering you the chance to keep a measure of peace between us."

"I believe we're done here then. The last I want to do is challenge you on your own terrain."

"Goodbye, then."

"I now know how things stand between us. It's been a pleasure."

Bern had been standing off to the side during these negotiations. He trusted Eric to know how to deal with these scenarios, so he contented himself with just standing to the side with his arms crossed, looking menacing. Now, though, the negotiations were over. "You've had your chat," he said, "now get out."

"Tone down a bit," Asteira said, fading away, "I'm already gone!"

After a moment, Bern realized that he'd been standing stock-still during this whole exchange. He glanced over at Spender, who was still rambling on and checking on the machinery. Apparently he hadn't noticed. I'm just glad I didn't say that out loud, Bern thought to himself, turning his attention back to clearing out an entrance and making no effort to keep the rocks quiet.

GBCE · 02-20-2010, 11:52 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by suomynonAyletamitlU.

There are a lot of ways to tell if someone has had contact with the supernatural. Spender, being an dispatch and investigations agent, was familiar with reading scenes and people--mostly, however, he dealt with gateways and fissures into un-reality and mind-boggling, tormentuous hell-scapes filled with fanged drapery and long lines of famous political figures all doing the Macarena. Those kind of events are easy to sniff out. Here, though, reality was only tilted sideways a little, people were decently genre-savvy, and the worst thing that could happen to you was your own senseless and bloody murder.

He was more out of his element with Thomas, but as he managed to wedge himself awkwardly into a particularly comfortable position upside-down and sideways, such that a rounded bit was comforting his lower back and a small corner was right on an itch on his butt, he glanced over at the man, watching him heave the rocks around loudly. In only that moment, mostly by instinct, was struck by a certain tension in the man that he hadn't noticed a few minutes ago. Whatever it was, it was relatively minor, and the man hadn't said anything about it, but not knowing itched at him.

"... and let me tell you," he forced himself to finish without pausing, his tone becoming only slightly more measured and less jovial, "I'll never look at a rainbow without smelling HIM again. Not in this lifetime, at least." He finally let himself catch his breath, then broke the brief silence by wrenching off the component he'd been pleasantly engaged in steampunk yoga to find.

Inside it, he wasn't surprised to find, was some kind of unidentifiable crystal. Crystals always seemed to be part of otherwise-inexplicable devices, he reflected. He caught himself before he launched into another tirade, and just measured the man as he continued working.

It was hard to tell, he presumed because Thomas' four minds regulated his body's subconscious pretty well. Since Bern had been stolidly ignoring him, he couldn't really read into his silence or focus, and he hadn't really paid enough attention to know if his current behavior had deviated much. All he had was a moment's instinct, and that had been wrong before.

So, in his most disarming, conversationalist voice, he asked what to him was a fairly stock question, not sure what sort of effect the man might be under or have witnessed.

"What's wrong, Thomas? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

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**Pinary** · 02-21-2010, 12:38 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.

It took a few moments for Bern to realize that Spender had stopped talking- he'd been doing his best to drown him out with the sounds of moving rocks- and when he did, he turned to see why.

For a second, he thought Spender had vanished, but then he saw him tangled up in the machinery, holding some sort of crystal and looking at him expectantly. "Sorry, did you say something?", Bern asked.

Spender repeated his question.

"Well...", Bern began. Do I tell him or what, guys?

He doesn't need to know, Eric said, and what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

With that field of his, he'll know if we're lying to him, and we need his trust, replied Greg. Tell him.

"...We had a visitor," Bern continued. "Ass-face showed up-" His head jerked to the side, then turned back. "Sorry," Eric said, "Bern can be a bit, ah, crude at times. What he meant was, Asteira came into our mind and proposed an alliance between us."

Spender cocked an eyebrow inquisitively.

"We agreed not to hit first," Eric finished. "She wasn't very happy about it, but she wasn't exactly in a position to bargain."

GBCE · 02-21-2010, 03:11 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by suomynonAyletamitlU.

"I see... Asteira." He paused and tried to recall the words. "she lied, cheated, stole, and killed her way to the top of an illustrious political career, and stole a lance which would seem to be rather powerful." He paused. "Whatever that man's intentions, his descriptions have been accurate so far." He looked to his hand and the crystalline stone it contained. A coin tumbled out of his coat and into one hand, and then it, and the crystal, vanished, just out of sight of Thomas. He nodded to himself; it seemed to have a stabilizing effect on the pocket dimension that contained it, and it would probably have some effect on anything he did with it, but it wasn't particularly powerful.

Spender set aside his comfort and backed his way out of the machine again, taking no more than half a moment. "She was... a ghost, right? Or a specter, wraith..." he waved offhandedly. "The technical distinctions don't matter. Undead of the spiritual sort."

Eric nodded. "She said she had the ability to possess people... but, that won't work on us, and she knows it."

"Mm." Spender dusted off his clothes for a minute, then spent a coin to tidy them up, watching the grease stains work their way out of the fabric and fall to the ground, and the rumpled folds of his outfit straighten themselves out--for the moment. He jumped down off the scaffolding, landing on a flatter boulder, then knocked twice on the scaffolding appreciatively before commanding it to vanish. The spell over, the holographic structure faded away, looking for all the world like it had been made of a million tiny metal threads, all of which had just come undone and were blowing away in the breeze.

"I wouldn't trust her," he said with some emphasis. "If she can't beat you in single combat, she'll have to find some way to get someone else to kill you, don't you think? Whether that's by possession, or politics," he spit the word again, "she will find a way. Somehow, I doubt whatever she promised would keep her from finding a weakness in you and exploiting it, while your own promise keeps you from taking initiative in preventing such things."

As Spender finished straightening up, it struck Thomas that any sign of the rambling, jovial man had vanished with the platform, as though those tiny shining threads had wrapped themselves around his heart and blocked the warmth--and frivolity--he had been letting out.

He walked towards the partially unblocked exit, passing Thomas by mere inches--enough for the man to notice, a moment later, that he hadn't felt the slight pressure from the field he'd sensed before, nor the sudden wave of information it had contained.

"It reminds me of Glere, in a way," he said after a moment, thinking of the note. "Whatever he's up to... whatever she's up to... and James too, and perhaps Emilio. They are people who have no... earnestness, who will see the world through their twisted hearts, and kill for that reason. It's sad, you know," he added as an afterthought. "When you see the reasons why, but are powerless to stop it. Whoever they are now, they were made into that by others--by their betrayal, by their hatred. But the people and things that brought them there have left, and the scars remain."

As Thomas weighed those words, Spender started picking at the rubble silently, his thoughts dwelling on the idea of a spirit with the ability to possess. Would he be able to trust other people? How would he know if Asteira had her claws in someone he hadn't yet met? Suddenly, finding the others seemed like a priority. Was she in league with Glere? The two seemed to have similar tastes in mischief.

His eyes held a bit of sadness as his body moved, almost automatically, but they never really lost their determination.

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**Pinary** · 02-21-2010, 09:44 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.

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After a moment, Bern moved to help Spender clear the rubble, respecting his silence. This continued for a few minutes until, without warning, the cave dissolved around them.

GBCE · 02-21-2010, 10:03 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by suomynonAyletamitlU.

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Dragon Fogel · 02-21-2010, 10:06 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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GBCE · 02-21-2010, 10:17 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by suomynonAyletamitlU.

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**Pinary** · 02-21-2010, 10:20 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.

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Dragon Fogel · 02-21-2010, 10:26 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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GBCE · 02-21-2010, 11:33 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by suomynonAyletamitlU.

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GBCE · 02-22-2010, 02:06 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

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GBCE · 02-22-2010, 11:00 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Odinod.

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GBCE · 02-22-2010, 02:05 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Baphomet.

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GBCE · 02-22-2010, 09:09 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Baphomet.

James Raven's metallic boots clanged rhythmically against the stone floor as he trodded behind Glere down another nondescript, blue stone tunnel. His gaze was directed downwards, only occasionally glancing up at his new partner. He noticed a small stone directly in his path and his eye narrowed. He tilted his head a bit to the side. It really did look like a face, didn't it? What a stupid grin! Those two bits sticking out of the sides almost look like comically oversized ears.

And the perfect size for kicking. With hardly a second thought, he punted the rock ahead of him. It clattered against the stone floor and rolled to a stop. He caught up and kicked it again. Was that a squeak? Surely it was just the cave settling. Although, that man at the beginning did say something about the rocks living here, didn't he?

He shrugged and left the rock where it was. He noticed Glere had gotten a ways ahead of him and was rounding a corner out of sight. He increased his pace to catch up with the...man? Being. He felt a slight rumbling in the ground as he approached the corner, but didn't think anything of it.

Another twist followed the first, and another after that. The tunnel was winding back and forth and Glere was nowhere in sight. James found it odd that he wasn't catching up to him despite his quickened pace.

Rounding another bend, the tunnel continued straight for a long way, the ceiling growing higher, with no sign of the fishbowlkin in sight. Paranoia began to set in. Had he been duped? Was Glere hiding somewhere in the shadows? Had he been snatched away by something else? He burst into a full sprint through the tunnel and he rounded the corner at the end. He nearly ran straight into a wall. Dead end.

He knew there had been no branching tunnels. Now sure that he was being misled in some way, James spun quickly and started off sprinting back the way he came.

Again, he nearly ran straight into a wall which had not been there a moment before. His eye widened as he recognized the stone in the center of the wall. What a stupid grin.

The other contestants didn't feel the vibrations as the cavern above him opened up and released the piles and piles of mystical gear collected from previous adventurers on James's head. They didn't see the stones suddenly strip him of all his possessions and add them to the hoard. They didn't hear the giggling as the ground itself split and discarded the now-lifeless body of James Raven into a tremendous cavern below. All they heard was an echoing snap, and all they felt was the sudden and unwanted onset of sleep.

Bryce snapped twice more. With the first snap, a small bedroom materialized in the blackness behind him. With the second, seven sleeping figures on the floating screens he had been watching disappeared from them.

He leaned over on his desk and sighed, his characteristic smirk conspicuously absent. Miles spoke up behind him. "So, we're sending them to that helicopter place now, right? With the robots?"

Bryce didn't answer for a while, keeping his back to the young god. Another floating screen blinked into existence right in front of his face, and text began to scroll across it immeasurably fast. The text was replaced by a list of locations. The first on the list expanded, and a short description wrote itself out underneath. He stood and cracked his neck in both directions, rotated his shoulders, and shook his hands out.

Bryce forced the smirk back into place and turned to face Miles, pointing to the screen. "Naw bro, we're going there. Make 'em actually fight each other. Let's play good cop, bad cop."

"Oh uh... okay. Which one am I?" Miles asked, scanning the description on the screen.

Bryce chuckled. "Dude, I don't think you got any bad cop in you."

Miles's face fell a little bit. He crossed his arms and looked down. "Do so," he muttered.

"Whatever man. Just follow my lead."

The seven contestants all woke to find that, no matter how hard they tried to move, they were completely unable. Their eyes darted back and forth, but they couldn't move their heads or even speak. They each found themselves laying in bed in a small bedroom, six other contestants in bed with them. A window above the headboard filtered in bands of moonlight through the blinds. Bryce's voice piped up from below their feet, but they were unable to move their heads to see him.

"Isn't this cute. You're all in bed with one another. You're all best friends. Don't you all love each other." It was not a question, but a statment, uttered with utmost distaste. They all heard a snap, and a human form burst from nothingness in the air above their heads. Missing one arm and the opposite hand, with several scars across his chest, the body's lifeless eyes stared blankly in the bed's direction as it hung in space. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead. It waved and shook uselessly with Bryce's next words, his limbs flailing with no direction or control. "Oh, what's this? This party's missing someone! One of your super chum amigos couldn't make it! Well, let's fix that." Bryce stepped closer to the bed, now inside everyone's field of vision. He snapped, and the corpse dropped from the air, flopping across everyone's chests. The dead weight made it difficult to draw breath, for those among them that still needed it.

"That. Was. Pathetic. I brought you here to see some bloodshed. This is what I get instead? Yeah, we got a death, but none of you did it." He took another step forward and shifted, as if he were a reflection in an uneven mirror. Indistinct pieces of his body materialized around him, while other pieces warped and changed. He reached up with an arm that bend in many more places than it should have and removed his sunglasses, revealing black spheres in place of eyes. His white snarl warped into a bright gash across the space at the foot of the bed. It opened and he continued.

"Why should I even take you to the next round? What should I expect, that you'll all be having a tea party? You all gonna talk about your feelings? Are you all gonna go make out under the bleachers?" He took another step forward and the borders of his body became more indistinct. Copies of the black eyes, the white teeth, bled into view like poured honey. "You being here doesn't make you special. You're not privileged in your position here. I can find eight more to fill the space if I kill you all now. Give me a reason. Any reason not to skin you all right this second."

All were forced to remain still and silent as their entire field of vision became teeth. "What's that? Do I hear 'Overseer, we're all useless sacks of meat, devour us'? I think I-"

"Give them another chance!"

The eyes turned inward, to The Chronicler standing beside the bed. He looked over the contestants with worry. "They were picked. T...The Searchers are all gonna be upset if you kill their choices!"

The floating pieces of The Overseer congealed back into one form standing at the foot of the bed. He stared at each of them in turn during a palpable silence before covering his eyes with the sunglasses again.

He spun and took a step away, waving his hand dismissively in The Chronicler's direction "One more chance. You tell them about the next place." He snapped again.

GBCE · 02-22-2010, 10:04 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

The group suddenly found themselves in a new location, frozen from the neck down in a standing position. Bryce stood resolutely with his arms crossed behind Miles. A large, transparent dome arched far above them, revealing a strange and alien sky. Right at the top of the dome was a large clock. Below that, rows upon rows of stadium seats rested just beyond the dome's border, all currently empty. All around them sat pieces of stone and metal architecture, more intended to provide cover and restrict vision than to serve any structural purpose. Most of it was covered in places by a dull, translucent, slightly malleable substance. Several free-standing walls, a few platforms on pillars above the ground, some railings, hollow boxes, tunnels. Spaced throughout these objects stood silent, eerie wax statues, contorted into positions of agony. Most were human, with some notable exceptions. Most also wore strange garb or wielded unusual weapons, now encased in wax.

The first thing that would come to those familiar with wax figures would be "wax museum." However, the description was not quite correct. It resembled a twisted Colosseum, more than a museum, built for the sole purpose of lethal competition. For this purpose, the sections of the area were wildly varied, parts of it being forest while others sand-scapes. However, one thing was constant- a low, white fog pervaded the entire space, denser in some places more than others. If one observed closer, they might notice that the fogs seemed to congregate around the wax figures...

From an overhanging chunk of stone, the wax covering moved. It congealed into one solid stalactite of wax, which dripped down and formed the shape of a woman. She opened her eyes, which shone and reflected like real eyes would.

"Greetings, heretics. You have been summoned to the Wax Colosseum for disrespecting Lord Geromar and will now play a game for your lives and His amusement. Number of players has been set to nine. Eight st-"

Bryce snapped frustratedly. The woman's head twitched to the side violently. She began to repeat herself in exactly the same tone, as if her speech were prerecorded. "-musement. Number of players has been set to seven. Six statues will be activated to play the game with you. Time limit has been set to sixty minutes, and will be visible on the clock above you at all times. The rules of the game are simple. Rule number one-"

Bryce snapped again and the wax woman exploded in a shower of waxen globules. "This part is boring. You do it, Chronicler. I'm out."

He disappeared with another snap, and the players all found themselves fully animate again.

Miles looked around at the player's puzzled faces, and scratched his head.

"Alright... uh, my friend isn't really... well the rules here probably need to be explained, is what I'm saying."

Although Miles was certainly less imposing verbally as the Overseer, and did not actively use his power, he was still listened to in silence. Miles had a way about him, an indescribable weight that demanded for him not to be interrupted.

Stiffly, he waved his hands in space, creating three screens in the air.

"Uhm... Yeah, here. Look. Basically... Uh, wait..."

He retracted his screen hastily, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Sor- I mean... Anyway. You guys... and girls... will be playing tag, basically. You all know tag, right? It's kind of... basic, to the development of all mammals- OK, ok, I should get to the point. You'll be playing a 13 man game of tag, with the seven of you. The other players? They'll be... some of these people."

Miles awkwardly waved, directing attention towards the wax figures.

"Each time someone loses this game, they become part of it. Six of them... uh, I mean, six for this game, it's always one less than the number of players...uh, they come to life. They're uh... the other... I said it's a 13-person game, and there's seven of you. They're the other six...although really they can barely do anything. I'm not even sure if they're still alive... uh, they'll be the six other players you'll play with. Don't bother uh... attacking them... It won't really work out well. Next..."

Miles moved over to the melted Wax woman, and picked a shape out of her base. It was sort of like a football, but thinner. It's surface was fairly smooth, save for a small line of indentation. Inside of the indentation, it read: "Miles Fawman".

"Right... as... as you can see, it has my name in it. That means, I'm It. Right here, there are seven of these. Each one of you will start out as someone who is It."

His words were calmer and even, now. Miles was becoming visibly looser. With a still somewhat rigid action, he waved, lifting all six of the other devices out of their holders and handed them to each of the players. The last person, Asteria, did not get one, yet. Realizing that he held the final object, Miles felt slightly foolish and quickly tossed it over to her. Asteria, realizing the nature of the game, leapt to the side and avoided it completely. Miles looked suprised for a moment, and then frowned. A sudden heaviness bore down on Asteria. Suddenly, the device appeared in her hands, and her name appeared.

"... anyway... The devices record the name of the last person to touch it. The wax players will also have this effect applied to them. Erm... You can sorta just shove the devices into them, they probably won't mind. So, basically, you'll have to race off and find a wax person and give them your device. Not... not any of them. One of the alive ones. Since there are... seven of you... and only six wax players, the last person would be It. Oh, and you can't be...double It. I mean, one person can't have two devices with their name on it at the same time.. So, uh, you won't be able to like, replace the device in one wax figure with your own."

His mood obviously a bit darker now, as he wore his feelings on his face easily. He was quite easily offended, it seemed, as if he took everything to heart. Then, he lightened up a little, and finally brought his three screens back out.

"But, don't worry if you're It! This game would be boring without a good chance for the It to change hands."

His first screen displayed a corner of the museum, which had another screen occupying most of the wall. It displayed a map of the area, complete with little green stick figures representing each player. The wax figures had stick figures too, white ones, although the ones that were playing the game were not specified.

"This is over there," Miles waved like a weatherman behind him. "and it shows you where everyone is. Basically, you won't be able to sit and hide."

The next screen blipped to life, displaying another indistinct portion of the playing field. Another screen was here too, displaying another map of the field. The difference was that this one had only 7 red dots on them.

"This one is... basically the same, only it shows where the devices are. It's to prevent a boring game... like if someone was hiding them or something. This one is... over there."

The final one revealed a different screen- a longer, thinner one that displayed a list of names. On it were five names the players did not recognize, plus one Miles Fawman.

"The last one... it's the list of players who are not It. Uhm... I shouldn't be there." Miles' name was replaced with another unfamiliar one. "Yeah, so... those are the names of the six wax people who are alive. Or, uh, I don't think they're all people. Err... moving on. You'll probably want to check this one out sometimes, who knows if someone might trick you or something."

He gestured up to the clock above them, which now read 57:28. Miles frowned and waved towards it. It reset to 60:00 and stayed there.

"And then... well, there's the clock up there too. When it gets to zero, uh, everyone who's It...they die. I mean, they turn into one of..." He gestured towards the wax statues around them. "...one of those. Unless they are one already. But, we still take you out of the game if someone dies before the countdown ends... So I guess you can... you can kill someone if you're about to lose. Or something."

Miles clapped his hands and began sinking into the floor, finished. "That's it, guys! Uh... I know it's weird to say, but I hope you guys... have a good time? ...No, nevermind..." Miles' buoyancy left him as his head sunk through the ground. Suddenly, he jumped back out, with a surprised look.

"Oh! I almost forgot, one of the most important rules! The devices don't allow tag backs!"

This time, he sunk out of the arena properly, leaving the players to their business. The clock began its countdown.

GBCE · 02-22-2010, 10:13 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

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**Pinary** · 02-22-2010, 10:15 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.

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