Dungeon Keeper
The Tapestry had spoken. Not in words, but in ideas and images, ciphers and cryptic nonsense that had been laboriously deciphered, interrogated with spells and technology, pieced together from scrap. They had led here.
Planet Designation: AST994-III
Status: Terrestrial, K-class.
Non-sentient life: None.
Semi-Sentient Life: None.
Sentient Life: None.
Water: None.
Climate: Desert/barren.
Landscape: Rocky crags.
Air: Normoxic concentration: 29% oxygen, 60% nitrogen, 3% xenon, 6% trace gases, such as hydrogen, krypton, and argon.
Air Pressure: 14.352 pounds per square inch.
Sky: Red. Cloudless.
Sun: Class A star.
Warnings: Information from Tapestry indicates significant underground population. Subsurface information not available. Use caution.
Mission: ?
Somewhere down there, an object valuable and vital to the mission lay in wait, something so important that its existence was encoded into the Tapestry itself. Whatever it was, they needed to get it.
The only problem was, how to get in? The subterranean world had no access to the surface, and to physically breach it would not only be prohibitive, but catastrophic to the point of apocalypse to that underground world. Science could not solve this problem; thus, the crew turned to magic. The Tapestry had provided what were, after some analysis, unquestionably teleport coordinates. Five of them, for three people each.
To ensure the crew members were not lost, nor left behind without help, contingent spells were laid upon them, to return them to safety and help should they become injured, or should they find the item.
Without further ado -- with no natives to meet and negotiate with, no further preliminaries to make or plans to be made -- each of the five groups, with their supplies and equipment, were taken to the start.
[OOC: Don't worry too much about posting order. I will jump in where a response from the mysterious sky narrator is needed! Going with this, if you feel you're getting lost or outraced in posting, let me or the group know and we'll slow it down. The explicit purpose of this plot is for everyone to have fun, so please speak up if there's anything anyone can do to make that happen better!]
Planet Designation: AST994-III
Status: Terrestrial, K-class.
Non-sentient life: None.
Semi-Sentient Life: None.
Sentient Life: None.
Water: None.
Climate: Desert/barren.
Landscape: Rocky crags.
Air: Normoxic concentration: 29% oxygen, 60% nitrogen, 3% xenon, 6% trace gases, such as hydrogen, krypton, and argon.
Air Pressure: 14.352 pounds per square inch.
Sky: Red. Cloudless.
Sun: Class A star.
Warnings: Information from Tapestry indicates significant underground population. Subsurface information not available. Use caution.
Mission: ?
Somewhere down there, an object valuable and vital to the mission lay in wait, something so important that its existence was encoded into the Tapestry itself. Whatever it was, they needed to get it.
The only problem was, how to get in? The subterranean world had no access to the surface, and to physically breach it would not only be prohibitive, but catastrophic to the point of apocalypse to that underground world. Science could not solve this problem; thus, the crew turned to magic. The Tapestry had provided what were, after some analysis, unquestionably teleport coordinates. Five of them, for three people each.
To ensure the crew members were not lost, nor left behind without help, contingent spells were laid upon them, to return them to safety and help should they become injured, or should they find the item.
Without further ado -- with no natives to meet and negotiate with, no further preliminaries to make or plans to be made -- each of the five groups, with their supplies and equipment, were taken to the start.
[OOC: Don't worry too much about posting order. I will jump in where a response from the mysterious sky narrator is needed! Going with this, if you feel you're getting lost or outraced in posting, let me or the group know and we'll slow it down. The explicit purpose of this plot is for everyone to have fun, so please speak up if there's anything anyone can do to make that happen better!]
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He walked the required path in a more cautious square than he otherwise would, careful to place only one foot on each square until the circuit was complete. That was one...surely they'd get confirmation by then.
"Ideas about the other clue, sir?" Billy had a faint idea of who he was talking to from the buzz on the ship, but he tended to err on the side of formality.
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In fact, there was no response, one way or the other. Having been delivered together, the paired clues were considered just one question. He hadn't been disqualified immediately, though.
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If he'd had a companion with him, they would have chosen that moment to hit him on the arm and bring him back to the problem at hand. He didn't, though, so the Doctor had to manage it himself.
"Just call me the Doctor," he finished, before starting to jump from square to square to answer the second part of the question. He moved with such enthusiasm that it seemed almost random, but he knew exactly what he was doing and why.
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He watched the solution, slapping his forehead after the second square. "Of course. Enclosure doesn't necessarily have to be contiguous...right."
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Now they were just describing things vaguely so the DM felt they got the answer rightCorrect; if a square was formed from three-by-three lines oriented diagonally, it enclosed five spaces rather than one. The face smiled cheerfully.
"Well-reasoned! If four threes are sixteen, then four fives are what?"
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The Doctor grinned at the prospect of another challenge, starting to consider the problem as he produced a pair of glasses from a pocket and popped them on.
OOC: Take pity on a mun who is nowhere near as smart as her character!
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That was a trickier one. He turned the problem over and over in his head, trying to figure out how it could be possible. Four threes weren't sixteen, they were twelve. Whatever pattern led to this answer would tell him what to do with the fives, so...
There were ways to make sixteen, all right. Four times four, eight times two, sixteen times one, ten plus six, eight plus eight...but nothing with four threes.
He conjured up a mental image of threes, wiggling his fingers in the approximation. Wait. That sort of looked like eights if two of them were mirrored and the four were squished together...but then how could the fives be twisted? All that made was symbols that looked like little cherries if they were mirrored the same way as the threes. Some other way, or a new path entirely?
He tried to show this idea to the Doctor, but it was difficult without a pen and paper. It ended up as a series of finger squiggles.
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"I think that might be a clue."
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He doesn't dare to walk, but he instead sits on the squares, tapping his palm and occasionally looking out at the adjacent squares.
"Or is it algebraic? If everything's supposed to be multiplied by the factor..."
((Guess who remains commpletely lost.))
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Abruptly the squares beneath them were dull and dark, save for one directly in front of them. "This is one one."
A second square lit up immediately above the first. "This is one two."
Two squares over, two more adjacent squares lit up, so that two bars now glowed before them. "This is two twos. Does that help?"
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To Billy, he added: "It could be a few different things. If it's algebra, it's 1.3. Or it could mean that we're supposed to take three and four as equal. Which can then be used to infer that five and six are equal. Or the first bit is just a red herring and we should just say what four times five is."
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He taps his palm over and over again in various configurations of the four lines of three squares each, trying to somehow box in, write, or otherwise display the concept of sixteen.
"Not roman numerals...or a pun? No. Argh." He raked his hands through his hair, quietly wondering what horrible fate awaited people who were judged to be goblins.
It wasn't quite time to give up, though. No.
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And then it hit him.
"Of course!" He laughed. "It's so obvious. Brilliant. Brilliant."
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"What was it, Doctor?" He'll learn something, even though he didn't get it. There's that.
I couldn't resist, I'm sorry. ^.^
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Well, the Doctor would prefer to be assumed right simply because he's the Doctor, but his mundane is happy to take whatever they can get.The floating face had returned to listen to the answer, but the Doctor turned to look at Billy instead.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
The answer he expected was something along the lines of ‘no’ or ‘probably only to a Time Lord’.
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HINTHINTThat should make it easy for them to answer!no subject
"We've been making too much work for ourselves," he explained to Billy, "All we need to do is use the numbers to enclose a square. Just a square. And then the area is our answer."
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He silently drew the bigger square with the tiles, using the time to regroup. If it got more dangerous from here, he'd need to prove sharper than this. Learn, move on, do better. "Thirty-six."
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The squares all winked out save for one broad column, the light of which rose upwards in shimmering brilliance -- then abruptly vanished in turn. In its wake, a scorpion the size of a bus lifted its pincers and its tail, clearly intending bodily harm to the pair.
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The Doctor's bright grin died on his lips as he looked up at the scorpion in front of them. It reminded him of the creature the Doctor Lazarus had muted himself into, convinced that immortality was worth any price. It certainly looked just as bad tempered.
"I think I preferred the riddles."
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Billy yelped, rolling to the side. It was coming after him first---smaller target, easy to pick off. Or so the scorpion thought.
He ripped the elaborate buckle from his belt and jumped, thrusting the small trinket out as he had a hundred times before. "Triceratops!" A white light encased him in mid-air, and the Billy that landed in front of the scorpion was very...blue, to say the least.
"Every monster has a weakness. We'll stun it!" But not before dodging again. Those claws were fast! Billy would have to be as fast. He pulled a gun-like object from his side holster, aiming. Anything he shot from this angle was likely to bounce off, wasn't it?"