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I've had this story buzzing around in my head for a little while and wanted to write it. The run-down is that it takes place in the world of Dark Gate, an RP run on this very forum by Tassadar. If you are unfamiliar with Dark Gate or its lore, it's my hope that I'm not so terrible a writer that this story becomes incomprehensible to you, but you might recognize a few things a little faster if you do hold some familiarity. My intent is to post in this about once a week.
Story-wise, success in most choices will be determined off of a general reaction table, which will receive a roll. This roll will determine whether the action was a major failure, failure, minor failure, minor success, success, or great success and the story will continue from there. Fetish-wise, there's no real limit (besides things that are illegal to host on this forum, of course), it will simply depend on how the voting goes, the same goes with the amount of smut.
Finally, there will be game overs. Generally, these will be accompanied by a "Try Again?" choice, so that anybody involved may decide whether it becomes the hero's true end or whether it was all just a trick of the imagination. Tiebreakers, in all things, will probably be decided with a coin flip if it comes down to it.
And now, without further ado; Succubi and Private Eyes.
The streets of Acheron were anything but quiet. It was as true at day as it was at night. The hustle and bustle of the only city to fully survive the world-wide invasion a mere two years prior persisted through each and every hour of the day, dying down only slightly while the sun was still up. But the city had not only survived, it had flourished. The cataclysmic attack that had signaled the end of many civilizations was the very tipping point that allowed the city spring onto the stage of the world. Refugees poured into young Acheron, unable to find safety anywhere else.
And why wouldn't they? If you wanted something badly enough, chances were that the citizens of Acheron not only had it, they had it in abundance. Food, shelter, water, and order? It was simple as having a few denarii. Denarii? There were plenty of quick things that could be done in Acheron for a coin, because Acheron was also well known for the less scrupulous activities that could be found inside.
For that very same flourishing city was rebuilt, from the devastated ruins of a town that their kin had destroyed and all others had abandoned, by demons. And those same ruins were, at first, repopulated by the goblins, stalkers, and the humanoid higher-class, all of whom made up the ranks of the demons. Second came those who were like of heart with the demons, and like of cravings. Many of the initial denizens of the city had peculiar tastes and an appetite to match. It was not the gold they were interested in. No, they craved souls.
But that wasn't the only reason Acheron came to be known as a city of sin. Its moniker as a place of vice was owed mostly to how its people sated their spiritual hunger; they took their fill through sex. Any who were interested, and some who weren't, could find more than just the essentials in the demon city.
Perhaps the lonely traveler wanted company for the night. Maybe a drink that would keep them warmer? A little game of chance to pass the time? No denarii? No problem. You can pay in other ways. Why don't you follow me into the backroom to discuss it? We don't have to, of course, we can – ahem – negotiate right here. Just sit down and you can pay off your losses with a smile.
That same crowd possessed an active nightlife. It was why, when shadows loomed over all the streets of Acheron, the music played louder than it ever did in the day and the crowds converged and diverged without end, making it very possible, even simple, if you were trying, to get lost in the constantly changing labyrinth of pressing flesh. Under the light of the stars and the flickering streetlamps, the people of Acheron did what they did best: they survived. They wheeled and dealed. They conned and connived. Some plied their trades, seeking payment in energy as often as they requested denarii. There were a few normal businesses, often run by human refugees, that only wanted the money to survive; these usually had a sign proclaiming “Denarii Only Please” hanging somewhere in plain sight.
In that very same climate, three gunshots rang out and pierced all the other noises. Yet, nothing changed in the crowd. Armored men and women rushed to find the cause, but nobody else did. Shots were the city guard's problem, that or the problem of someone with a few pints of blood to lose. No point in getting distracted if the bullets weren't hitting you, just keep your head down in case they have a few left. The gun might as well have been a part of the chorus, since the music kept playing and the crowd maintained that same group murmur that made it impossible to hear your conversational partner but easy to hear everybody else. That uncaring climate was the same reason that there was a woman laying face-down in an alleyway who hadn't been given a second glance since she had collapsed there.
The feminine figure let out a soft groan as her vision blurred into focus. Her shoulder-length, brunette hair was splayed out in all directions, resting on the filthy cobbles of the alley. She had a splitting headache and her body was sore from head to toe. Thankfully, the simple white dress shirt and tan slacks she had on gave her some measure of protection against the scraping stones that made up the ground. Her groaning intensified as she tried to push herself to her feet. It felt like her head was being forced apart at the cap with a metal spreader. When she had finally, after much struggle, managed to bring herself to her knees, she gently rubbed her head. Despite all other indications, her skull was intact.
But her body might not be, she realized, as she caught sight of red on the front of her shirt. Shit. She felt that summed things up pretty well. It didn't hurt – at least she couldn't feel anything more than the ache that permeated throughout the rest of her body. She cautiously brought one finger to the red blotch, running it across her skin through the stained shirt. No pain. Emboldened, she brought her finger up to her nose and took a short whiff. Her eyes narrowed, she was on her way to solving the mystery. The final conclusion would require just a little more evidence. She licked some of the offending red liquid off of her finger...
Hot sauce. Luckily for her, it turned out that the gunshots had, in fact, been a problem for somebody else, at least on that night.
She brought one knee up and pushed off of it in order to stand up in the deserted alleyway. Even after determining that she was uninjured, if not without pain, there were still a few other pressing problems. Her inability to remember how she got there or even her own name among them. On a whim, she dove into her pockets for clues as to how she had ended up face-down in an alleyway. Luck smiled on her again, she pulled a brown envelope from her slacks. On the back it read; In Case of Amnesia, Open This.
Convenient, she thought. Might as well give it a try. She tore open the envelope...
1. What's the heroine's name?
A. Alima
B. Diane
C. Other (Enter one)
2. What's her specialty?
A. Guns; she's quick on the draw and a good shot to boot. It's gotten her out of more than one bind.
B. Subterfuge; give her a dark night and she's a ghost. Add in a simple bobby pin and most doors can't keep her out.
C. Speech; she's got a silver tongue. All she needs is an open ear and she might be able to convince its owner that the sky is green.
D Cunning; she's practiced the quick-draw with her brain rather than her gun. She's a little faster on the uptake, puzzling things together, and at reading people's true intentions.
(Note: The name doesn't matter, mechanically, I just couldn't decide myself and thought I would open it up. Specialty will determine the success rates of various actions in the future. Making her skilled with guns means she's more likely to succeed in a quick draw situation, subterfuge gives her a bonus to sneaking about, etc. That isn't to say that a gunslinger can't successfully sneak about, however, it's just easier for a heroine that specializes in subterfuge. Additionally, taking gunslinger, subterfuge, speech, etc. options will gradually increase her chances to succeed at future such options.)
Story-wise, success in most choices will be determined off of a general reaction table, which will receive a roll. This roll will determine whether the action was a major failure, failure, minor failure, minor success, success, or great success and the story will continue from there. Fetish-wise, there's no real limit (besides things that are illegal to host on this forum, of course), it will simply depend on how the voting goes, the same goes with the amount of smut.
Finally, there will be game overs. Generally, these will be accompanied by a "Try Again?" choice, so that anybody involved may decide whether it becomes the hero's true end or whether it was all just a trick of the imagination. Tiebreakers, in all things, will probably be decided with a coin flip if it comes down to it.
And now, without further ado; Succubi and Private Eyes.
≈≈≈≈≈
The streets of Acheron were anything but quiet. It was as true at day as it was at night. The hustle and bustle of the only city to fully survive the world-wide invasion a mere two years prior persisted through each and every hour of the day, dying down only slightly while the sun was still up. But the city had not only survived, it had flourished. The cataclysmic attack that had signaled the end of many civilizations was the very tipping point that allowed the city spring onto the stage of the world. Refugees poured into young Acheron, unable to find safety anywhere else.
And why wouldn't they? If you wanted something badly enough, chances were that the citizens of Acheron not only had it, they had it in abundance. Food, shelter, water, and order? It was simple as having a few denarii. Denarii? There were plenty of quick things that could be done in Acheron for a coin, because Acheron was also well known for the less scrupulous activities that could be found inside.
For that very same flourishing city was rebuilt, from the devastated ruins of a town that their kin had destroyed and all others had abandoned, by demons. And those same ruins were, at first, repopulated by the goblins, stalkers, and the humanoid higher-class, all of whom made up the ranks of the demons. Second came those who were like of heart with the demons, and like of cravings. Many of the initial denizens of the city had peculiar tastes and an appetite to match. It was not the gold they were interested in. No, they craved souls.
But that wasn't the only reason Acheron came to be known as a city of sin. Its moniker as a place of vice was owed mostly to how its people sated their spiritual hunger; they took their fill through sex. Any who were interested, and some who weren't, could find more than just the essentials in the demon city.
Perhaps the lonely traveler wanted company for the night. Maybe a drink that would keep them warmer? A little game of chance to pass the time? No denarii? No problem. You can pay in other ways. Why don't you follow me into the backroom to discuss it? We don't have to, of course, we can – ahem – negotiate right here. Just sit down and you can pay off your losses with a smile.
That same crowd possessed an active nightlife. It was why, when shadows loomed over all the streets of Acheron, the music played louder than it ever did in the day and the crowds converged and diverged without end, making it very possible, even simple, if you were trying, to get lost in the constantly changing labyrinth of pressing flesh. Under the light of the stars and the flickering streetlamps, the people of Acheron did what they did best: they survived. They wheeled and dealed. They conned and connived. Some plied their trades, seeking payment in energy as often as they requested denarii. There were a few normal businesses, often run by human refugees, that only wanted the money to survive; these usually had a sign proclaiming “Denarii Only Please” hanging somewhere in plain sight.
In that very same climate, three gunshots rang out and pierced all the other noises. Yet, nothing changed in the crowd. Armored men and women rushed to find the cause, but nobody else did. Shots were the city guard's problem, that or the problem of someone with a few pints of blood to lose. No point in getting distracted if the bullets weren't hitting you, just keep your head down in case they have a few left. The gun might as well have been a part of the chorus, since the music kept playing and the crowd maintained that same group murmur that made it impossible to hear your conversational partner but easy to hear everybody else. That uncaring climate was the same reason that there was a woman laying face-down in an alleyway who hadn't been given a second glance since she had collapsed there.
The feminine figure let out a soft groan as her vision blurred into focus. Her shoulder-length, brunette hair was splayed out in all directions, resting on the filthy cobbles of the alley. She had a splitting headache and her body was sore from head to toe. Thankfully, the simple white dress shirt and tan slacks she had on gave her some measure of protection against the scraping stones that made up the ground. Her groaning intensified as she tried to push herself to her feet. It felt like her head was being forced apart at the cap with a metal spreader. When she had finally, after much struggle, managed to bring herself to her knees, she gently rubbed her head. Despite all other indications, her skull was intact.
But her body might not be, she realized, as she caught sight of red on the front of her shirt. Shit. She felt that summed things up pretty well. It didn't hurt – at least she couldn't feel anything more than the ache that permeated throughout the rest of her body. She cautiously brought one finger to the red blotch, running it across her skin through the stained shirt. No pain. Emboldened, she brought her finger up to her nose and took a short whiff. Her eyes narrowed, she was on her way to solving the mystery. The final conclusion would require just a little more evidence. She licked some of the offending red liquid off of her finger...
Hot sauce. Luckily for her, it turned out that the gunshots had, in fact, been a problem for somebody else, at least on that night.
She brought one knee up and pushed off of it in order to stand up in the deserted alleyway. Even after determining that she was uninjured, if not without pain, there were still a few other pressing problems. Her inability to remember how she got there or even her own name among them. On a whim, she dove into her pockets for clues as to how she had ended up face-down in an alleyway. Luck smiled on her again, she pulled a brown envelope from her slacks. On the back it read; In Case of Amnesia, Open This.
Convenient, she thought. Might as well give it a try. She tore open the envelope...
1. What's the heroine's name?
A. Alima
B. Diane
C. Other (Enter one)
2. What's her specialty?
A. Guns; she's quick on the draw and a good shot to boot. It's gotten her out of more than one bind.
B. Subterfuge; give her a dark night and she's a ghost. Add in a simple bobby pin and most doors can't keep her out.
C. Speech; she's got a silver tongue. All she needs is an open ear and she might be able to convince its owner that the sky is green.
D Cunning; she's practiced the quick-draw with her brain rather than her gun. She's a little faster on the uptake, puzzling things together, and at reading people's true intentions.
(Note: The name doesn't matter, mechanically, I just couldn't decide myself and thought I would open it up. Specialty will determine the success rates of various actions in the future. Making her skilled with guns means she's more likely to succeed in a quick draw situation, subterfuge gives her a bonus to sneaking about, etc. That isn't to say that a gunslinger can't successfully sneak about, however, it's just easier for a heroine that specializes in subterfuge. Additionally, taking gunslinger, subterfuge, speech, etc. options will gradually increase her chances to succeed at future such options.)