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LIAB Text 59

2013-05-18T14:51:03Z

Whispri: Links added

{{pager int|Text 59|LIAB}}

It wasn’t like he’d imagined. The heat baked him from every direction. Burning embers and sparks occasionally spun through the room. But the smoke wasn’t that bad. There must have been a draft coming up from the lower [[dungeon]] [[level]]s. For now, he could breathe.

[[Parson]] knew about as much about [[fire]] as he remembered from fire safety month in elementary school, and the occasional [[Weather]] Channel show about firefighters. He knew that fire burned upwards, and you should stay low. It needed oxygen and could, like, flashover or something. Whatever that was, it was bad. That was about it.

And who knew if any of that was even true in [[Erfworld]], which had its own fire physics? Units caught in an inferno took damage randomly and could take a few specific actions like fleeing, fighting, and casting. There were damage penalties when moving, fighting was done at a penalty, etc. Some of it didn’t make a lot of sense with the actual physics of combustion.

So he sat on the floor, planting his ass in the empty [[portal]], and touched his [[bracer]]. The [[Warlord]] [[Antium]] and the last four [[Decrypted]] [[troops]] were beating the flames with cloaks and rugs at the other end of the room. That had seemed pointless at first, but then he remembered something about how units taking action to fight the fire could effectively transfer their actions to a unit they were protecting.

So...he’d better do something.

For the last few minutes, he’d kinda been raging out and panicking, he realized. But [[Charlie]]’s request for a calculation had the weird effect of numbing him up and focusing his mind on this one trivial thing. It wasn’t quite the same as getting an order, but he ''was'' contractually obligated to carry out Charlie’s calculation unless it would hurt his [[side]], and he couldn’t make a good enough case to refuse it.

Plus, whatever Charlie’s game was—trying to railroad him into using this [[spell]]—Parson needed to know this, too. Could he cast this spell? (Or any spell?) A way out was a way out, and going home beat [[dying]]. Maybe there was even a way back to Erfworld if he did...

The bracer hummed, and inside the little glass window he saw his own name in blue light:

'''[Parson Gotti, Warlord ([[Chief]]) (Level 3)]'''

Huh. Really? Three? He hadn’t felt anything at all. For a moment, he felt weirdly proud of himself for leveling. Then he blinked at the thing and subvocalized, “Hypothetical: me as a caster.”

The words changed:

'''{[Parson Gotti, Caster (unspecified) (unspecified)]}'''

There was a shout and a rumble from the other side of the room. A significant section of wall and floor began sliding down and away, churning up a shower of sparks. Parson gripped the edge of the portal until the collapse settled. He squinted. Antium had two soldiers over there now, not four.

Numbly, he looked back down and subvocalized, “Odds of: successfully casting the [[Carnymancy]] spell I’m touching.” He reached over and held [[Jojo]]’s [[scroll]], which he had set upon the floor next to him after pulling it out of his belt.

The window showed a long decimal number, then blinked and showed a short one instead. Then it ran through a series of digits that changed every split second. Then it went blank. Then it read:

'''specify conditions'''

“What? Here and now,” said Parson.

'''specify target'''

“Me!”

Another number flashed by, too quickly to read. Then the display read '''0.0'''

Parson looked into the display. “Izzat my odds, or are you just surprised at the question?” he said out loud.

But he knew that the bracer had just given zero probability of successfully casting the spell. Either Charlie was wrong, or he’d been toying with his prey. Although...neither thing seemed very Charlie-ish. He looked down at the lonely zero-point-zero.

Okay what now? Maybe he had phrased it wrong.

“Odds of: me as a warlord, as I am, casting this Carnymancy spell, right here and now.”

Again, a number flashed quickly, but changed to: '''0.0'''

“Odds of: me casting any spell at all.”

multiple parameters unspecified

Parson breathed heavily through his nose, and could feel the burn of smoke in it. The partial collapse had changed the air currents. It was now getting worse by the second in here.

“True/false: a non-[[zero]] chance of me successfully casting any spell exists.”

'''T'''

“So I am a caster of some kind. Or something,” he muttered. He had explored the possibility of casting spells before, and always failed. But he’d never thought to put the question to the bracer this way. “True/false: conditions exist that would give me a non-zero chance of successfully casting the Carnymancy spell.”

'''T'''

Way out restored, then. But no clue how. “True/false: I could create conditions ''here and now'' that would give me non-zero odds of casting the Carnymancy spell.”

'''T''', read the display.

Then, suddenly: '''F'''

“What the ''hell''?” Parson shouted to the air. “Charlie, are you screwing with this thing, too?”

When he looked up, he saw that Antium was walking up to him. The man’s face was sooty, and both his hands looked burned. Behind him, one of the last two soldiers was on the floor with his hair on fire, yelling. The other was beating him with a cloak.

“Chief, I think we have done all that we can,” said Antium.

Parson looked up at him. There were flames right there in the ceiling now, in bits where the plaster had fallen. The crackling sound was surreal, all around his head, like the sound you hear when you roll in a pile of dead leaves. That ceiling was going to come down on them any second. God, if [[Sizemore]] could just get here somehow, he could shore that up. And fix everything else.

“I don’t think I have, yet,” he said.

With a grunt, he rose to his feet. He spoke aloud to the bracer now. “Odds of: me successfully casting a [[Dirtamancy]] spell to put out the fire.”

The window showed a number. It had a decimal and six or seven zeroes after it, but it was a number.

Parson clapped his hands and made a hocus-pocus gesture. How the hell would you cast a spell, anyway? He had certainly tried before, but never with any indication of success.

“Put out the fire!” he shouted. He stomped his foot for emphasis. Nothing.

Nah, he needed some word or phrase from his world that was associated with putting out fires. That seemed to be how it worked.

“Alka-Seltzer! Pepto-Bismol! Gaviscon!” He felt nothing. “We Didn’t Start The Fire!”

He looked around, starting to realize he was a little dizzy from smoke and whatever else he was breathing. Somewhere on another floor high above, there was a rumbling crash.

“No, I guess we did,” he said.

“It’s been an honor to fight beside you, Chief Parson,” said Antium.

“Don’t start that shit,” said Parson. “I’m not done here. I’m not.” He looked around, spotting the scroll on the floor. He bent over and snatched it up.

“Odds of me casting this spell!” he shouted at the bracer.

The same number as before flashed, then changed to: '''0.0''' He almost saw what it was this time.

“Again!”

Number, then '''0.0'''. It was a long one. Hard to see the first digits. He looked at Antium, who was standing close. The other two soldiers were a few feet behind him, stepping on embers as they fell to the floor. The one whose hair had caught fire was black and burnt from the shoulders up, but he kept stomping.

“I think this thing is lying to me,” said Parson to the perplexed-looking warlord.

“Again,” he commanded the bracer. And again, a long number showed, then '''0.0'''. There was another collapsing sound, very close this time, maybe from the next room over. That first number after the decimal was not a 0. It might have been an 8...

“Run this same calculation ten times in a row. Go.”

The blue numbers in the bracer began blinking. The '''0.0''' was a dimmer blue as it blinked on and off, but the other number was superimposed over it: '''.980104773'''

A 98% chance of casting success.

He looked up at Antium. There was a lot more smoke in the room now, and Parson’s eyes were stinging. The bracer was lying. It was telling him he didn’t have a chance. Why? So he wouldn’t try to cast Charlie’s spell...

“Jojo said it’s free will versus [[Fate]],” he said. “But I’m really just getting railroaded by two different GMs here. I dunno wha— Huhg!” He broke into a coughing fit that left him bent over. Tears from his watering eyes ran down both cheeks. God damn, it was hot in here. Felt like the smoke was literally burning his lungs.

“Ah...fuggit!” he gasped, barely regaining control of his breathing.

He unbound and unrolled the scroll, holding it up in front of him. It shimmered brightly. His fingertips tingled. There were words on the parchment, a poetic stanza. But he couldn’t read them at first. He was seeing something else.

No, not seeing. More like...detecting, or knowing. There wasn’t a word for this sense, but some little compartment in his mind opened up, and what was in there was as rich in information as vision or hearing. He understood some of the things behind the things he could see.

Of course this was a spell. Of course it was. And it was built like...a key that would unlock the spell that had brought him here. He could see what it was. It was a spell to break a spell and snap it back. It would...fling him [[Parson's World|home]]. And he knew how to cast it.

The floor creaked, and listed slightly. He could read the poem on it now. Funny...

Yeah, it was time now. Time to go home.

He spoke, with a new understanding of how to intone the words of a spell. It was as different from plain speech as singing, but in a magical way.

“Roses are—”

The burning plaster hit his arms, just soon enough to warn him, just the barest moment before the flaming wooden beam came down on his helmet and flattened him to the floor. The magic sense—and every other sense—left Parson Gotti’s mind.

LIAB 109

2013-05-13T15:45:15Z

Whispri: Pop.

LIAB 84a

2013-05-11T04:18:54Z

97.113.46.154: Created page with "{{Needsimprovement|Needs pretty much everything.}} {{pager|84a|LIAB}}"

LIAB 83a

2013-05-11T04:09:50Z

97.113.46.154:

{{delete|Created with wrong title and isn't an appropriate redirect}}

Flee area

2013-05-10T21:27:59Z

97.113.46.154:

=Speculation=
Flee area is something [[Parson's Klog]] mentions in reference to escaping an [[inferno]]. It is unclear whether it is a [[unit]] [[stat]] or an action, though it is mentioned that an [[inferno]] gives it penalties.

[[Category:Speculation]]
[[Category:Erfworld Mechanics]]

LIAB Text 58

2013-05-07T00:30:39Z

97.113.46.154:

{{pager int|Text 58|LIAB}}

“And then he cuts me off!” shouted [[Stanley]]. “Fine, [[Parson|Hamster]]! It’s ''your'' big, fat behind that’s in the [[fire]]. [[Maggie]]!”

He stood there by the [[portal]], trying to concentrate to get his [[Thinkamancer]]’s attention. His [[twoll]] [[lackey]] stood to one side and stared at the ceiling.

The portal glowed and flowed with swirls of green light. That thing really made him nervous. Battle didn’t scare him. Heights, either. He could jump out his office window and [[fly]], if he had the [[Arkenhammer]]. But even if he didn’t, he could maybe call a [[dwagon]] to catch him. And he wouldn’t necessarily [[croak]] if he ''did'' [[fall|hit the ground]].

But if he took just a few steps forward and walked into that green rectangle, then ''poof''. That would be it for him and his whole [[side]]. Horrible thought. He hated this room.

“Maggie!”

And why did Hamster get to go through it? That wasn’t fair.

Hamster was just weird. Disrespectful. He did whatever he wanted, and screw the rules. And what’d it get him? In trouble. Yeah, now he was all, “Waah, I’m in trouble, pleeeease change the [[capital]] of the whole stinkin’ side for me, Lord Stan-leeeee?!”

Why wasn’t Maggie answering? Maybe he was too mad to concentrate. Grr.

“Screw it.” Using his [[Ruler]] [[Thinkamancy#Natural_Thinkamancy|sense]], he gave her an order to contact him, and waited.

And waited.

“She better hurry up,” he growled at [[Zhopa]]. “Hamster said they’ve got like two minutes.” He eyeballed his lackey, who didn’t like to say much. Stanley stared him down, daring him to make a comment.

“Two minutes, Lud?” said Zhopa, shifting his feet uncomfortably.

“Yeah, before he croaks! Before I gotta...pick out my third [[Chief Warlord]] of the day!”

The twoll stuck out his lower lip and wrinkled his eyebrows. “Lud [[Parson]]...is gonna croak, Lud?” It was the closest thing to an emotion that Stanley had seen him display. Great, another big Hamster fan.

“Well, no, probly ''not'', knowing him. Lord ''Genius''. You put him in a...in an impossible situation and he just goes, ‘Hurrdeedurr, I break the [[Erfworld Mechanics|rules]], tada! I win!” Stanley scowled. “So, let him do what he did last time. I’m not helpin’ him. Maggie!”

“Last time? What you mean? What was last time?” The Twoll leaned forward and cocked his head.

“You know!” snapped the Tool. “[[City]] was getting invaded, everything’s lost, and he just decides to [[Volcano Uncroaking|blow up the mountain]]. Croaks half a dozen armies in one shot, with an idea he pulled out of his huge butt! So let him do something like that again.”

Maggie really should have answered by now. Something bad was going on.

“He did that?”

“Yeah,” snapped Stanley. “You [[popped]] after that, though. Nobody told you the story?

“No. Lud. He blew up mountain. [[Gobwin Knob (mountain)|This mountain]]. All by hisself?”

“Yeah. Well, no. He used Maggie and [[Wanda]],” said Stanley, “and the turd guy. [[Sizemore|Seismic]].”

If he couldn’t get through to Maggie, then what was he going to do now? Maybe call Wanda on the [[eyebook]]? She wasn’t here, either. Everybody wasn’t here! It was really ticking him off.

“So...he had help.”

Was that twoll still talking? Sheesh, get him started and you can’t shut him up, right? “Yeah, I ''guess'',” frowned Stanley.

“And he want your help now?”

“That’s what I’m saying, he shouldn’t need my help!” He pointed up at the hulking mound of olive green flesh. “He’s the ‘[[perfect warlord]]!’ He’s the genius! But he wants me to run up to my office and change the capital, which is ''not'' genius, it is ''stupid''!”

The twoll shook his head slowly. “Everybody need help, Lud. Is leetle theengs that make a difference, sometimes,” he said. “Would be a shame, he croaks.”

“Shut up,” said Stanley reflexively. But that brought up another unhappy thought: life without Hamster, huh? What would ''that'' be like?

Even more lonely around here, he guessed. And who would he put in charge? It’d be all Wanda, all the time, just like the bad old days when they were losing city after city to the [[Royals]]. He should think about exactly what he was giving up here. “You just like him,” said Stanley, waving his hand. “Everybody likes him.”

Zhopa nodded. “I like him. He’s good. I help him make a peekneek.”

Stanley clapped the Arkenhammer into his palm a few times, staring away into the corner, and felt something tumble around in his brain. If Hamster bit it now, he’d never get the chance to mentor him, maybe even groom him for his own side someday. Was there a particular ''reason'' Hamster got on his nerves so much? Nobody else seemed to have a problem with him. Everybody liked Hamster. Even the big green lumps...what was a “peekneek?”

The tumbling in his brain settled down into the strangest realization. He looked up at Zhopa.

“Yeah, I like him, too,” he said, surprised at the words even as they left his mouth. “I mean, he’s a huge pain in the butt. But he’s ''my'' pain. In ''my'' butt! I paid 350,000 [[Shmuckers]] to have this pain!”

Zhopa nodded. “You gonna do it for him then, Lud?”

Stanley narrowed his eyes. “I dunno.”

He turned and paced, thinking it over some more. Changing the capital was such a drastic move. Spacerock was waaay out on the edge of Gobwin Knob’s domain now. As strong as his side was, they had really extended to reach it. Even getting out there to switch the capital back would be a problem. There were lots of good reasons not to.

“I mean, it’s even a long way up to the office,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. “Lotta stairs, y’know? Doubt I could even make it up there before...y’know. Before he burns up.”

He stood for a moment in thought. For whatever reason, he really didn’t want to lose Hamster right now. The thought of it actually kinda...hurt. Scared him, even. Stupid. But maybe he’d already waited too long to do anything about it. Probably had.

Zhopa’s low voice broke the silence. “You want help, Lud?”

Broom

2013-05-05T05:20:44Z

97.113.46.154: Created page with "=Proposed Canon= Judy Gale once owned a magic item that enabled flight, which took the form of a burnt broomstick. After Judy departed Erfworld, Olive Branch used..."

=Proposed Canon=
[[Judy Gale]] once owned a [[magic item]] that enabled [[flight]], which took the form of a burnt broomstick. After Judy departed Erfworld, [[Olive Branch]] used it in an attempt to escape [[Faq]].

[[Category:Magic Items]]
[[Category:Proposed Canon]]

Air defenses

2013-05-05T05:17:13Z

97.113.46.154:

==Proposed Canon==
Air defences are the means by which a [[city]] defends from [[flying units]], such as [[archery]] and spells stored in the city's [[tower]].

Node

2013-05-05T04:50:21Z

97.113.46.154:

{{Magic101}}
=Proposed Canon=

Nodes are locations associated with the [[Grandiocosmic Strings]]. They help a [[Thinkamancer]] magnify the G-string vibrations they create when casting [[Thinkamancy]]. Some nodes have special properties, such as nodes of [[intuition]]. By travelling between two nodes of intuition, a Thinkamancer can get a brief insight into their [[Fate]].

=Real World References=
Nodes might be a reference to how in some pieces of fiction, places of power are said to exist where the leylines intersect.

[[Category:Magic]]
[[Category:Proposed Canon]]
[[Category:Real World References]]

Jetpack

2013-05-05T04:42:28Z

Jszellmer:

=Proposed Canon=
A Jetpack is a type of [[magic item]] created by [[Dollamancy]] that makes its users more nimble and even enables them to [[fly]]. It can be upgraded with an ability known as an 'autopilot,' which allows it to function without input from the unit using it.

[[Category:Magic Items]]
[[Category:Proposed Canon]]

Tracy

2013-05-05T04:35:40Z

97.113.46.154:

{{Stats
|name= Tracy
|race= [[Men]]
|faction=
|class= Caster (Unknown Discipline)
}}

=Proposed Canon=

'''First Appearance:''' [[LIAB 82]]

He was one of the [[caster]]s attempting to prevent [[Parson]] from breaching the [[Magic Kingdom]]'s neutrality by entering an enemy [[portal]] without permission.

[[Category:Characters]]
[[Category:Caster]]
[[Category:Proposed Canon]]

Wizard’s Hall

2013-05-05T04:09:48Z

97.113.46.154: Created page with "=Proposed Canon= '''First Appearance:''' IPTSF Text 60 The Wizard's Hall was a location within the city of Efbaum. In the back of the room is a curtain hiding a ..."

=Proposed Canon=
'''First Appearance:''' [[IPTSF Text 60]]

[[The Wizard]]'s Hall was a location within the [[city]] of [[Efbaum]]. In the back of the room is a curtain hiding a smaller room filled with machinery.

This is the site where [[Judy Gale]] left Erfworld and [[Faq]] considered merging under [[Haffaton]].

=Real-World References=
The Wizard's Hall is modeled after the room in which the Wizard of Oz conned his subjects into believing he was a mighty wizard by hiding behind a green curtain and operating machinery.

[[Category:Proposed Canon]]
[[Category:Real World References]]
[[Category:Locations of Erfworld]]

LIAB 108

2013-05-01T00:05:41Z

Whispri: Pop

LIAB 107:13/Description

2013-04-29T06:34:39Z

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LIAB 107:12/Description

2013-04-29T06:34:36Z

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LIAB 107:14/Description

2013-04-29T06:34:35Z

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2013-04-29T06:34:33Z

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2013-04-29T06:34:32Z

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LIAB 107:10/Description

2013-04-29T06:34:30Z

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LIAB 107:7/Description

2013-04-29T06:34:28Z

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LIAB 107:8/Description

2013-04-29T06:34:27Z

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LIAB 107:6/Description

2013-04-29T06:34:25Z

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LIAB 107:5/Description

2013-04-29T06:34:23Z

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LIAB 107:4/Description

2013-04-29T06:34:21Z

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LIAB 107:3/Description

2013-04-29T06:34:20Z

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LIAB 107:2/Description

2013-04-29T06:34:18Z

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LIAB 107:1/Description

2013-04-29T06:34:17Z

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LIAB 107:14/Text

2013-04-29T06:33:07Z