In Service: A Science Fantasy Quest

The air that greets you as you exit Baba's car bears a smell familiar to you. The scent of Lake Michigan, the lake that still thinks it is an ocean, is a fresh one. The watery, misty scent of the fog rolling across the blue waves. The fishy smell of a long day spent working the waters. The freshness of the pure wind whistling past your ears, buffeting strands of your hair as it passes by.

In short, it smells like a lake, if that makes any sense.

Lake Michigan itself, like always, stretches from horizon to horizon and is filled with an unfathomable amount of water. Human beings simply aren't built to comprehend the sheer weight of all that water, how many tons it must be.

The shoreline of the lake is a long thin strip of beige sand that faintly curves up and down the land. Before the sand is a lot of long grass and weeds that curl and scratch against your pant legs. Though, grass is a weed in of itself, so it's just a lot of weeds, you suppose.

"Baba!" You call to the eponymous witch as she climbs out of her car as well. "I'm gonna circle on around, see if there's anything of interest nearby. Can you, uh, do things?"

"I can certainly do things, child, many things indeed." She laughs with mirthful vigor. "What sort of things would you like me to do?"

You frown. "Um, can you start tracking down the rest of the guy's body?"

"Of course." The old witch nods and you begin your hike.

(Do you find anything? 94, well then)

Your long legs carry you across the grassy landscape, occasionally dipping into the sandy beaches as you trek around the area.

While making your way along the shorefront, you pause mid step as your eyes catch a flicker of something buried in the sands. Something that rubs you the wrong way. Your gut tells you to check it out, so you do.

Carefully approaching with extreme caution, you slowly unearth—or, in this case, unsand, a metal cylinder with a ball-headed antenna on one end.

You frown as you heft the fire log-sized up to get a better look at it. The whole thing is made of a polished chrome, marred slightly by the sands. The ball on the end of the antenna is a bright red while the antenna itself is shaped in the general shape of a spring.

It's obviously a piece of super-science, but there's no serial number or designation that could tell you what exactly this is for. A hunch tells you that it's some sort of sensory device, the source of this gut feeling being your extended experience in, ahem, 'screwing around' with sensory equipment.

Hmm, this will require some research. But, what if this was left for you to find? What if it's trapped?

Heck, it could just be mere happenstance that you found this here!

Do you want to take it with you, take it apart here with what tools you carry on you, or leave it in the sands?
[ ] Take it with you (Option to take it apart later)
[ ] Dismantle it here (Dismantle (Super-Science) Roll)
[ ] Leave it where you found it (You'll have an option to come back later, but it isn't guaranteed that it will be here when you do)

~~~~~~~

Returning to Baba, you see that she's holding what appears to be a leg.

The leg is quite similar to the head you saw in the scrying pool. Gray stone-like skin and far too defined features that seem to overlap and interlock at odd, harsh angles. It's all very geometric in shape.

"That's a leg." You declare as you slow to a stop near her.

"Indeed it is." The old witch confirms with a smile as she jostles the leg for emphasis. "This is the leg of Arabesh-lel Kran-komar. I found it under the fisherman's wharf." She jerks her head towards said wharf.

Now what?
[ ] Go talk to the locals
[ ] Secure the head
[ ] Begin looking for the other limbs

(Left Leg has been found. Right Leg, Right Arm, Left Arm, Torso, and Head still need to be found)

~~~~~~~

GM's Note: Alrighty, voting will be called tomorrow at 5 PM CST, thanks for reading

Right, well, whatever this object is, it is probably something worth investigating. Who knows just what you might find inside?

Whipping out your carryable tool kit — a foldable, wallet-like container made of tough, black fibers and secured with a velcro strap — you pop a squat on the sandy dunes and secure the metal cylinder between your legs.

(Dismantle (Super-Science) Roll DC 65: 60+10=70, success)

The first thing you do is search for a seam or hidden switches flush with the metal, there's gotta be a way to open it up for maintenance and the like. When you don't find one of those you swap to attacking the antenna, specifically where the base of the antenna meets the device.

There, you have a bit more luck. Slipping a tiny flat-head screwdriver into the slight crack, you manage to detach the ball-headed and spring-shaped antenna from wherever it was plugged in.

You swipe up the length of springy metal from where it landed in the sand. You turn it over and around in your hands, examining it from every angle. After a few moments of studying, you come to a conclusion.

This was professionally made, without a doubt. This wasn't some jury-rigged piece of shit that a lot of super-scientists end up slapping together from whatever spare materials they can scavenge from salvage yards. The lines are far too smooth, edges far too flush. This was made with machine precision way beyond what an amatuer has access to.

But, with the antenna out of the way you now have an access point to the insides of the device. Which you abuse mercilessly.

Popping the outer metal shell, you reveal the guts of the machine to the air. The insides are a mess of wires, beeping diodes, and a slowly spinning bar of metal suspended in a shot glass-sized container.

The metal shell seems to have sound dampening properties. Perhaps you can figure out how to replicate that?

Tapping the shot glass-sized container makes the metal bar wobble as it spins, quickly righting itself soon after. Hmm, it's obviously some sort of vibration sensor, but the size of it would suggest that it only has a max range of a few hundred meters. A few hundred meters is nowhere near enough to cover this beach, let alone the entire shoreline. Hell, it's not even far enough to cover the place where the head is.

Which means…

This is part of a network of these devices, a relay station perhaps.

A relay network you just disrupted.

Goodie.

Well, if somebody does come by you'll be ready for them.

~~~~~~~

You and Baba are making your way to the waterfront, where Baba's conjured a simple boat with a basic motor.

"This is the Widower's Plight, the ghost of a small boat that I found washed ashore." Baba says, patting the little boat's hull. Widower's Plight seems to hum and purr at the attention. "The physical body had been smashed upon the rocks, but the spirit was still around. So I made a deal with it."

"Speaking of beaches, I found something buried in the sands while walking the beach." You say, holding up a handful of spare parts you snatched from the relay. "Pretty sure it's a part of a vibration detecting network."

"Which we have disturbed." Baba concludes, nodding as she climbs into the boat. She turns and helps you embark on wobbly legs, boats have never been your strong suit — much like trains, now that you think about it. "It isn't part of any organization you know of, yes?"

You shake your head in the negative. "Nope, no seals or anything declaring who put it there. Which makes me think that whoever put this here," you give the bag of parts a jostle, "also put the body here."

"If worst comes to worst, grabbing the head and running is an option." The old witch offers as she starts up the engine. "We likely only really need the head. If the brain hasn't degenerated too much then I can pull the relevant memories out without too much difficulty."

"I'll keep that in mind then, Baba." The muscular grandma shoots a broad smile up your way, which you return with interest. Smiling is quite the enjoyable activity, which only further cements that joining the Service was a good idea. The Service of Supernatural Solutions has granted you ample opportunities to do so.

The Widower's Plight takes you and Baba out onto the waves of Lake Michigan, the lake that thinks it's an ocean. It doesn't take long to reach the spot where the scrying bowl had declared the head to be, tucked away in a small pocket of ocean plants.

It is, of course, under the water at the moment. You came prepared, of course, with some diving equipment you bought a while back. Nothing more than a wetsuit you're wearing under your clothes, a mask, fins, and some micro-tanks filled with oxygen.

"Say, tygrysek. If you desire, I can layer some spells onto you to make this easier." Baba reveals a green and blue tackle box that she says contains her materials for hydrowizardry.

"What kind of spells?" You ask in the midst of stripping to the wetsuit.

The old witch shrugs, waggling her hands about. "Eh, I've got a load of the things in here." She pats the box. "A few that give you gills and fins, basic water breathing effects, echolocation through sonar, mermaid forms, some powerful hydrophobic effects, night vision, the works."

Your brows furrow as you think about it. "Are they permanent?"

"Some are, yes, but even those can be dispelled or put on a time limit. I also have some underwater-based combat spells that I can layer into an easily breakable container. Break the container and the spell shoots out, easy as american pie." Huh, she got the saying almost right. "I could also just magic it up, though if it goes wrong…" She shrugs.

Would you like to have Baba attempt to magic it up? (If No, proceed to the spoilered section)
[ ] Yes
[ ] No


~~~~~~~

GM's Note: You are now, technically, on a bit of a time limit. So be aware of that.

Voting will be called tomorrow at 5 PM CST, thanks for reading!

In your hand are three hollow ceramic balls each about the size of a marble. Each has a different spell layered into a piece of silver serving as a magical battery. All you have to do is crush the thin plastery ball and the magic activates.

While Baba's setting up the Wizardry to place some spells onto you — spells to allow you to operate underwater better — you're familiarizing yourself with the spells in the balls.

The first white plaster ball contains the spell Jolt. Jolt, or this Jolt at least, is a piece of Electrosorcery currently resting in suspended animation inside the hollow sphere. You reckon that it'll be useful as a ranged attack both underwater and on the surface, as it sends an electric pulse out over an area of effect. Typically used as a stunner, but underwater it has enhanced range and lethality.

The second is called Pressure Bolt. Similar to Jolt, this is a piece of Sorcery held in suspended animation — Pressure Bolt is specifically Barosorcery, or Pressure Sorcery. Pressurizing and then launching things is a time honored tradition of magicians and humanity in general. It won't work in a vacuum, but you're not gonna be in one of those anytime soon, probably.

The third and final is Water Shield, a piece of Hydrowizardry as opposed to the other two. This spell, upon being crushed, will produce a shield of hardened water — which is different from ice, apparently.

Sliding the last orb into the bandolier that Baba gave you, you turn to the witch in question as she finishes lighting a candle — the final step in setting up the Wizardry necessary to cast some spells.

"Are you ready?" The witchy grandma asks as you slide your breathing mask over your forehead.

You nod, preparing yourself for the imminent dive. "Lay 'em on me."

Without much ceremony, Baba lays her hands on the circle of chalk and magic begins to flow. Sometimes the materials used in Wizardry rituals will crumple away to dust and ash. That only happens for permanent spells, of course. The spells that are being layered onto you are quite temporary things, designed to last as long as the candle burns — so about an hour and a half.

You don't think you'll need that much time, but better safe than sorry.

The magic flows through the circle in glowing blue and pink lines. The magic spider webs over and across the various items on display. A conch shell for the Conch's Hearing spell. The eyes of a fish for the Aquasight spell. Part of a dolphin's brain for the Sonasight spell.

The wax candle ignites and plunges you into a world you have never experienced before. The Sonasight spell throws everything into a strange, inky darkness than pulses with yellow light with every one of your breaths. Fortunately, it seems you can switch it out for the other spells, like the Aquasight spell that makes the waters of Lake Michigan seem as crystal clear as a glass of water on a bright, sunny day.

Conch's Hearing seems to already be active, though you don't clock anything out of the ordinary. Yet, at least. You assume that it will change once you get in the water.

Which you should probably do now, now that you think about it.

Slipping the mask over your face and shouldering the micro-tanks of oxygen — enough for six hours of swimming — you sit on the edge of the Widower's Plight and wave goodbye to Baba.

You throw yourself backwards and hit the water with a splash.

Quickly reorienting yourself rightway up, you're immediately struck by the beauty surrounding you.

The light of the sun refracts through the surface waves and casts the lake in a rainbow hue. It reminds you of a great stained glass art fresco, a view of awe-inspiring craftsmanship on a scale few get to witness.

The currents of the lake ebb and flow throughout the underwater landscape, carrying schools of fish to and fro. The currents twist and turn, creating a spectacle of titanic proportions.

It's almost enough to make you wish you were a super-oceanographer. Almost. You wouldn't give up Chemistry for anything — unless it were a better form of Chemistry, you suppose.

Regardless of any sights and views and your feelings thereof, you've got a task to get done and who knows how long until whoever put that relay sensor there arrives.

Swimming downwards is a breeze, your flippers making short work of the distance involved.

The sea of pondweed before you conceals your prize, that much is certain. All you have to do is get to it, which might be more trouble than it's worth. You're speaking in hyperbole, of course, this has far more worth than whatever trouble a bunch of plants could cause you.

You flipper towards the forest of flowing green and make your way through the gaps in the verdant walls of plant life. Drawing closer and closer to your prize, you begin to feel a strange feeling in the back of your head.

It feels like… something's coming.

Twisting around, you swap to echolocation and send out several pings. Shambling figures, four in number, all stumbling across the bottom of the lake in your direction. Risking a glance, you peek through the leafy plant strands and observe the four undead walking towards you.

Draugr, that's what these are, the nordic designs to their arms and armor leave no doubt in your mind to that. Tough, super strong, and, above all else, really, really hard to kill. Iron can injure one, but it can't kill it — it only slows it down. The only way to properly kill one is to decapitate the head, burn the body, and scatter the ashes into the ocean — preferably over the course of several days.

If one can manage to wrestle the draugr back to its grave, that will serve as a permanent seal that is really hard to break. Sticking it back in its grave will force the evil spirit from the body and will bar its return. In order to raise a draugr after its second death, one must get a new evil spirit.

Draugr are also quite adept at curses, being capable of laying a variety of curses on their victims.

You reckon that you can easily out maneuver them, as long as none are Icelandic in origin. If so, then they can shapeshift into a variety of forms that make this quite harder.

The legends say that only a hero has the strength and bravery to stand up to a draugr. You just hope that the blood of Ash will be enough.

What do you do?
[ ] Cut and run, or swim in this case (Guarantees your safety, but you won't be able to get the head)

[ ] Grab the head and go (You think you can get to the head before they get to you)

[ ] Fight them (You have a diving knife — iron, of course —, three micro-tanks with two hours worth of oxygen each, three spell beads containing Jolt, Pressure Bolt, and Water Shield, and your intelligence)
-[ ] Write in a plan (The surrounding area is mostly silt and rocks, with a thick forest of tall pondweeds atop a bank. The draugr are moving uphill towards you in a loose formation.)

~~~~~~~

GM's Note: A fight might just be on your hands here.

Voting will be called tomorrow at 5 PM CST

Perhaps you could try fighting them?

…

…Yeah, yeah that's probably a bad idea.

Deciding that not fighting the squad of near-unkillable super-ultra-zombies is the better course of action here, you twist and swim away from the draugr — heading deeper into the pondweed forest.

Lengths of green underwater plants brush against you as you make your way through the underwater forest. You can feel the draugr drawing closer and closer, each step they take cutting away seconds from your time.

How the hell are draugr even here in the first place? Are they remnants from that viking colony that existed up in Canada a millenia ago? If so, just how long have they been wandering around?

A thought nudges its way in from the back of your mind and a creeping sense of chilling dread crawls up your spine as a shudder runs through your body. Independent Undead, like draugr, tend to grow stronger the longer they live and the more lives they take.

Lake Michigan is known for being one of — if not the — deadliest of the Great Lakes. Many, many ships have met their ends at the hands of the cold, careless waves.

Could this draugr have ended some of those ships themselves?

The thought makes your blood run cold. If they have… well Lake Michigan's got a rather large problem.

If a draugr kills someone, that person will turn into another draugr come the next morning. There could be a lot of draugr wandering around down here, just waiting for the moment to walk onto the shores.

You might have just stumbled onto a bigger problem than you initially thought.

This never ends, does it?

Well, you can't say you didn't ask for it when you joined the Service of Supernatural Solutions. Dealing with this sort of thing is pretty much the entirety of your job description.

There!

Your fingers brush against the long strands of hair floating around Arabesh-lel Kran-komar's head like a halo of ashen hair. The head itself is a rather large thing, half again as big as your own head — which makes it somewhat heavy.

Of course, since you're underwater, you can carry it with ease.

Grabbing a thick handful of strangely rough hair, you haul the head behind you as you begin swimming upwards.

A long shaft of hardwood tipped in sharp steel whistles past your head as you swim up. Whipping your head around, terror fills your heart as you lock eyes with the empty, baleful eye sockets of a draugr, a mere step away from where you found the head.

Your heart beats away like a sledgehammer in your chest as it points a boney finger at you, laughing all the while. Your mouth is dry and your eyes waver as its fellows emerge from the pondwood around it.

Its laughter is a hollow, empty thing that drips with bloodthirsty malice. It says something to you in a violent, guttural tongue — its voice like bones grinding against rock.

You can't understand its language, but you don't need to to understand the promise of violence within.

A curse drapes itself across your shoulders, like the weight of an anchor dragging you down. You don't understand the words, but you don't need to. Some things are just universal like that.


Breaking the surface tension of the water and entering the warmth of the sun's light is like a breath of fresh air to oxygen-starved lungs.

Strong arms grab you by the shoulders and you thrash violently, thinking that it's the draugr come to kill you. Water splashes around you in great sprays as you twist and turn, trying anything and everything to escape the draugr's dread grip.

"Calm down, child!" An old, harsh voice that you vaguely recognize orders you as hefty arms drag your struggling body from the cold waters. Through blurry, teary eyes you can make out the vague silhouette of a large, muscular figure.

The blurry figure releases you, throwing you to the wood surface of a boat you dimly recognize in the back of your mind. You scramble to your feet as the stranger seems to forget you in favor of retrieving something from the side of the boat. With your head empty of all thoughts but a burning drive to escape, you launch yourself off the side of the boat and back into the water.

Strong arms lash out and grab you by the neck of your wetsuit, clotheslining you with your own clothes. With a choking gurgle, you attempt to claw at your attacker as the strong figure pulls you back onto the boat with strange restraint.

The figure pins you to the wood of the boat. You manage to slip a hand through the iron-clad grip of your attacker to claw at their face, causing them to rear back with a grunt of pain — giving you just enough of an opportunity to escape.

"Itzabella, no!" Your attacker cries out in fear as you slip from their grip and go to fling yourself back into the waters.

The blurry figure moves. Their arms whip out to grab you by your flipper-bearing ankles, arresting your forward momentum. You swing down like a pendulum, chin colliding with the side of the boat and rattling your brain with an almighty, skull-shaking Crack!

Dazed, you can't do anything as the strong and vaguely familiar warrior hauls your limp body back onto the rocking boat and slams you against the wood floor. You feel a meaty, club-like fist slam against your jaw, keeping you dazed as they lay a palm — fingers held straight together — across your face.

You can't do anything other than lay there limply, mind doing backflips as gray-purple light fills your vision and cleanses you of taint.

Baba releases you as you're suddenly overcome with extreme nausea, doing nothing to stop you as you tear off your mask and lean over the side of the boat.

Sick, vile bile spews into the slightly choppy waves below as you throw up your lunch. Pulling yourself back onto the boat, you lean against the railing as you wipe your mouth.

Baba pats your shoulder with the same fist she hit you with, an apologetic look on her face as you breathe heavily. The corners of her eyes crease with fear and worry as she gazes down at you.

"Wha-what happened to me?" You ask, prodding the sore spots on your jaw. You just know it's going to swell up tomorrow, but better than the alternative. "And what did you do to me?"

"You'd know more than me, tygrysek. You swam up to the surface, eyes wild and full of panic. I felt the taint of foul magic surrounding you, the taste of maddening fear in the air." Old Baba softly replies, sitting down next to you with a knee drawn up to her chest. "I cast a piece of extremely advanced mental sorcery designed to both cleanse the mind of any foul effects and deny any lingering magic from latching back on. It is very useful in situations like this"

You nod, thinking back to what happened before jolting upright.

"What, what is it?" Baba jumps to her feet as you frantically whip your head around, eyes searching for the reason you came out here in the first place.

"The head! Where is it!?" You nearly scream, only to be stopped dead in your tracks by Baba holding the object of your inquiry up by its hair. The large, oversized head of Arabesh-lel Kran-komar hangs by its hair from Baba's strong hand, perfectly fine — well, as fine as a decapitated head can be.

"You dropped it when I pulled you up for the first time." You blink and feel shame creep in, shrouding your shoulders like a cape of embarrassment.

"I… I'm sorry." You whisper as you notice a thin trail of blood leaking from around Baba's right eye. The same spot that you dimly remember clawing at in your frenzied panic.

"No worries, tygrysek. You were scared so you fought." She waves off your concern with a laugh. "I heal quick, don't you worry your silly little head about me."

"I'm still sorry." You insist, but let it go. You know that you won't win against Baba.

"And that is your right, child. But, if it will make you feel better, you can tell your Baba something."
"Of course! Anything!" You're quick to promise, a bit too quick it turns out.

"Careful, child, you wouldn't want to say that to the wrong person." Baba is quick to chastise you with a waggling finger. "But, what happened to you down there?"

"Draugr, four of them." You don't need to say any more as Baba nods, an understanding hmm filtering from her throat. "Old ones, one cursed me."

"I will have to look into this more. And I can see the curse on you." She frowns, peering closer while placing glasses she materialized from somewhere on her nose. "I… would recommend refraining from getting on any more boats in the future."

"Until…?" You fish for a time limit.

"Until forever passes. Or you die, either or." She shrugs. "This is a particularly powerful curse and I am not confident I could break it without causing severe damage to you."

"Damn." You curse, scowling at the now murky waters. It seems that the spells have worn off. Just how long did you spend down there?

"Now what do we do, Itzabella?" She asks you by name.

[ ] Call it quits and go home. You've got what you needed from this venture.
[ ] Keep pushing the envelope, likely until you regret it


~~~~~~~

GM's Note: Christ, we've had a lot of close ones today, haven't we? This was intense!

I'm trying a new thing where I put the rolls in a spoiler at the end of the chapter, to better keep the flow from sentence to paragraph.

Voting will be called tomorrow at 5 PM CST, thanks for watching!

"You can pull the memories from the head, right?" You ask Baba as you look out onto the choppy, murky waves. "That's not just something I dreamed up, is it?"

"Yes, but the technique I am familiar with will damage the brain — perhaps irreparably so." Old Baba affirms with a grim look.

"Would you be willing to do that?" The thought of that draugr's cold, empty, hollow eye sockets fills you with a strange, icy feeling. You dimly identify it as fear, the same sort of fear that crept up your spine and triggered every hair on your neck. You shudder, your shoulders shaking once before falling silent.

"Yes, I believe I would." You can feel her eyes on you. You know why she's agreeing to it.

"Then let's get outta here." You declare while looking into the water. "...I hate boats." You mutter, the wood shuddering under your hand.

"Alright, child." Baba says as she pilots the Widower's Plight towards the shoreline.

~~~~~~~

"So, how does this all work?" You ask as you stand in the almost disturbingly sterile basement of Baba's salon.

The basement is one thing and one thing only: white. White walls. White floors. White ceilings. White plastic wrap covers the myriad of old furniture piled up in corners of each room, remnants of a life spent cutting and styling hair.

There's a strange smell, far too clean and sterile for the clutter you see. The bleach scent accompanies the gentle humming of the strips of fluorescent lights in the ceiling.

In the middle of this specific room — which is notably clear of any sort of clutter-inducing furniture — is a wood table with a red, diamond shaped tablecloth. On the red sheet of cloth is a decapitated head clamped to the table.

The head of Arabesh-lel Kran-komar stares blankly at you as Baba hums pleasantly as she hustles and bustles around the room, reminding you of a bee hard at work. Of course, most bees don't have access to power tools. That is one of the stark contrasts that differentiates people from bees. People have power tools, bees don't.

Bees probably couldn't operate power tools either, not unless there were a lot of them all working together to do it. You think there was an old pre-Calamity movie about a bunch of bees doing things like that — something about a bee suing humanity and winning?

Pre-Calamity people were weird.

Regardless, Baba places a buzzsaw on the table. It's a blue-steel colored machine, CopperTech's blazen emblem displayed proudly on the side. It's an older model, about forty–fifty years out of date. This specific model is one of the smaller buzzsaws that CopperTech — a company that traditionally makes tools and construction equipment — perfect for the more minute work that certain jobs require.

"In order to gain access to memories," the old witch explains as she shaves the hair off of Arabesh-lel Kran-komar's head — the long, hairs flying , "one must first gain access to the brain." She slides goggles over her eyes as she picks up the buzzsaw and gives it a test whirl.

You raise your eyebrows and step out of the room, just in case something splatters. It would suck to get blood all over your clothes, you don't exactly have very many outfits. Perhaps you can mount an adventure to a clothing store sometime?

A few minutes later, a blood splattered Baba opens the door and invites you back in.

The head sits clamped to the now blood-red table — which is in turn clamped to the white-painted concrete floor. Of course, the head is now missing the top of its head and skull and the buzzsaw is now stained with blood. Arabesh's brain is exposed to the sterile air and what a sight it is.

The closest thing that it reminds you of is a kidney stone, just rather enlarged. Rock hard, strange angles, and lots of spikes. Metal spikes are plugged into the rock-like brain, put there by Baba.

"I thought…" You stand there, floundering for words. "...that there'd be more magic involved." You eventually settle on.

Baba shrugs, broad shoulders rising and falling with her hands. "Eh, it's a prelude to magic. The magic comes later." She says before squaring her shoulders and walking around the table. The old witch lays a hand on the rocky brain. "Now, there are some limitations to this method. I can only draw out three memories before the brain starts to break down, each further question deteriorating the brain more. A maximum of nine memories can be withdrawn before the brain will have deteriorated beyond use. Be warned, it is possible that the memory you want to withdraw will have been damaged or erased if the brain decays too much, so it's important that you ask the questions in the right order. Do you understand?"

You nod. "Yeah, yeah I do." You breathe in deep and hold it. Air hisses from your mouth as you breathe out. "Alright, lets do this."

Baba grins and holds her hands over the head, electricity sparking from the metal spikes and arcs up to her splayed fingers. The corners of her eyes spark with a purple-blue glow as her pupils dilate to pinpricks. A breeze blows your hair, an impossibility in this underground chamber.

"What are your questions?" Baba's words are filled with magical weight, dripping with energy and focus.

What are they? (You have 3 free questions before the brain starts deteriorating. At 9 questions the brain will be too decayed to support the magic.)
[ ] Write in

Some examples of questions are "What is the identity of the person or people who hired you?" or "What is your last memory?" or "What is the location of the people who hired you?". Obviously, you are going to have to be precise with your wording here.

Unlike most of these — where all questions are asked — only the questions that win the vote will get asked.

~~~~~~~

GM's Note: Apologies once more for lateness.

Voting will be called tomorrow at 5 PM CST. If you need more time to think of stuff we can extend the cut-off point to the day after tomorrow.