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PostPosted: Sun May 06, 2007 12:30 am 
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Joined: Sat Mar 10, 2007 11:15 pm
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((Anyone and everyone, feel free to add to this. In case you all were wondering, the RP aspect of this game is something I'm really big on :) ))


The book had not been stamped.

Which meant the DRC had not found it?

Which meant it was something that was overlooked?

Or perhaps it was intended to be picked up by him, yes?

It was possible, wasn’t it?

Perhaps the Girl had left it, but, no, not her style. There were no screeching birdmen or incense filled caverns with tribal cave-drawing and other such nonsense.

No, it had not been the girl, or the DRC. The girl could read what had become known as The Art. But did the DRC really know what they were looking at when they glanced over the scrawlings of am Age that they found? Sure, they had Sharper to play the part of modern Maintainer and it had been nothing short of a miracle that he hadn’t stumbled into an Age without an atmosphere, or ravaged by fires or consumed by a substance that made radioactive fallout look like a long day at the beach. How quickly could one make a panic-link before the flesh started to burn?

They were told to stand clear of any unsanctioned books, and yet, wasn’t the Girl’s little journey all about defiance to this very rule. Weren’t the books in his own new Relto, and the one that came before filled with unapproved Linking Books? The heart and soul of this very adventure was in direct opposition to the DRC’s core rules.

And yet, there was hesitation in this particular Book, found in this very familiar place, this common Age traversed by so many explorers daily. It didn’t make sense for him alone to find such a Book, here, in the middle of the path. Finding an untouched Linking Book in here of all places would be like stumbling over a bag of $100 bills in a crowded shopping mall during the Christmas rush and you, yes you, and only you are the one person who seems to notice.

This was sick! This was a joke being played by someone with far too much time on their hands. And what would the outcome be? A panic-link out of a tribal cauldron or from a freefall, or perhaps it’d be more like that scene from an adventure movie he had watched once where the giant globe-shaped rock chases the hero out of a cave only to be apprehended by pigmy warriors.

He looked around. Who was watching him, who was waiting for him to pick up the book and get zapped, or make the Link into some gawd-awful world? He paced around the book, eyeing it, afraid of it, not wanting to Link to it, but oh so intrigued by it. He, after all, was the Collector and this, after all was an Age possibly worth owning no matter the danger.

Just why here, here in this place, not hidden behind puzzle and trap or put on a pedestal? Why would it be found on the path for anyone to stumble over and for The Collector himself to find?

Oh the heck with it! He reaches down for the book and opens to the page with the viewing panel.

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