[ti]dungeon[/ti]Quail Quest!

CYCLE 3: QUAIL BE QUESTIONED

Again?!

Thankfully, having all passed the first checkpoint, everyone re-spawns at the CHASM OF INFINITE DOOM. That's probably good, since by now the Armies of Darkness have made it to the bottom of the mountain. The scenic vista point writhes with armored bodies, who pour down the hill towards the Chasm like the jellyfish from Finding Nemo (but faster).

Fortunately, your quails have laser-like focus and agility!

Boing! Boing! Boing!

"Peep! Peep! Peep!"

As you reach the other side of the Geyser Minefield, following Kazuki and Kath Ulu's footprints, you find yourselves at last at the castle gates. Of course, the castle is currently fortified against siege— they won't just open for anyone.

"Oy! What's the secret passcode?" yells the guard from the battlements, a wheel-mounted cannon pointed directly at the five of you.

"If there is one, even," threatens another one, ballista locked and loaded. "Answer wrong and we'll blow you back to kingdom come! No orc spies gettin' in on my watch!"

A list of options appears in front of you, prompting you to do one of three actions.

INSTRUCTIONS

Once you safely cross the GEYSER MINEFIELD and catch up with Kazuki and Kath Ulu, you must...

Choose the correct passcode: [tangent=It better be fun!!]FUN QUAIL FACT[/tangent], [tangent=Must have audial/visual components (actions and attempted quail cry).]BEST QUAIL IMPRESSION[/tangent], or [tangent=Must rhyme at least 3 times!]ORIGINAL QUAIL POEM[/tangent]. There is only one correct (non-lethal) option. If at least one player selects the correct choice each cycle, all players may progress.

Players who do not post this cycle will be overrun by the Armies of Darkness, automatically consuming one (1) quail. But don't worry! You have at least two to spare.

Blackthorne pushed himself off the ground with a low groan. What had even happened-

Right. The dragon. The teeth.

He shuddered a bit, glancing behind- to four little rookidee, bright eyed and cheerful. And, of course, behind them all was the growing horde of thigns that would kill him more. So, Blackthorne followed after the others, even if it meant wading through a literal minefield. But. Sure. Maybe whoever was supposed to add the mines had taken the week off. What did he know?

Darien Blackthorne had been rather unsure throughout the entire ordeal- But when the three options for a gate password appeared, he simply knew. Sarah Lee offered her facts, and he breezed forward. He may not have fun facts, or a quail impression, but he was an artist.

In dark we come, under the night
Feathers muffled, footsteps quiet, but eyes bright
We reach for the flesh, take only soft and best
And we leave you alone with the rest
Awake he comes, awake he comes, awake he comes
He runs with his paws like a drum
A question and a question and a question and a question
And he howls, and he searches, angry, hurt

Under cover of the night, at the edges of the camp,
Coyote up the trail came, sniffing like a scamp.
Sought to sunder his own hunger, eager jowls damp
And he pinned us with a glare and dared an eager meal to clamp.

When we offered him a meal to eat
As he grinned and took his eager seat
We offered him knowledge, but he chose not to listen-
As we christened him the source of the meat

Place removed by chase, letting chaos come and take us
We flew into the trees, for quails and birds and not the earth-ones.
Anger and the danger and he deigned to roar and lunge
And we fled into our nest with a plan to see it done

One by one we entered in a quiet line
With an object dragged ahead to mark the time
A cactus, pushed and prickly, out of sight
Awaiting the furious creature's bite

And with each quail blame-free, away they flew into the tree-
Anger growing awful, Coyote knew he would be paid
And with the last quail gone, the cactus answered none-
With a sharp jawful, Coyote knew he had been played

He glanced back up at the guardsmen, hoping this display had been impressive enough.

lord darien blackthorne offered a quail poem

So far, Taylor’s pledge to protect the chicks with her life hadn’t been broken, precisely. She had died along with them each time. Still, it wasn’t quite in keeping with the original intention of the pledge, and Taylor seriously hated to fail. She’d never been good at accepting failure - not as a child, not as a tennager and certainly not as an adult. She sure as hell wasn’t about to start now.

“Oh come on!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up as the babies woke, one after another, in spite of her flock’s valiant efforts in remaining silent. Being eaten by a dragon was a… novel experience, and not one she wished ever to repeat. Ever.

At least the respawn dumped her, unceremoniously or not, at the last correct crossroads, rather than right back at the start. With a gulp, she noted that the army had gained a good deal of ground while she was busy, y’know, dying and shit. “Tch, some evil armies really have no manners, huh?” She quipped, rather proud of herself when her voice only shook in grief very slightly. Thankfully, this seemed to be enough to keep the remaining Wattrels from noticing that their number was dwindling, at least if their indignantly agreeing cheeps were anything to go by. Frustrated, she pulled up the global chat to check for the correct path, and dashed out an angry, barely coherent message of her own.

With a huff, she gently scritched the bird perched on her left shoulder under the chin and rushed to catch up to the rest of the gang. By the time she arrived there was only one option left untried, and she grinned when she saw which it was, eyes lighting up. Making a fool out of herself? Hell yeah, this is her shit!

“Okay little quail babies, huddle up!” She hollered, far too loudly and obnoxiously, pulling bewildered and sliiiiightly irritated looks from the guards. Wisely - or coincidentally - she’d stopped just out of reach of the cannon, and the pair devolved into an argument as to what exactly the range was on a wheel-mounted cannon of this particular make and model.

“I’m gonna need you to teach me how to walk and talk quail, little loves!” She explained, gently transferring each of the dwindling group to the ground before her and trying desperately not to tear up over the two that were missing. “Do you think you can do that for me?” A chorus of enthusiastic peeping answered her request, and she sure as hell hoped that was a yes! Ignoring the other players and surroundings for longer than was probably wise, she played captive audience as the trio demonstrated.

“Ahem!” A few minutes later found the swimmer facing the guards once more. Rumpling her hair and sliding a few shed feathers into it, she did her best to imitate the ‘I’m a baby chick and my feathers are still a hot mess’ couture that the little trio of Wattrel had going for them. As though to set the scene, the three actual birds hopped out ahead, moving in a single file line with Taylor following along at the rear. They cheeped and peeped as they fluttered along in quick, darting movements.

Taylor followed on the heels of the third, doing her very best imitation of the chirping and peeping sounds they’d demonstrated for her. She looked truly ridiculous, crouched on her haunches, moving in the tiniest little hops she could, arms bent at her sides to vaguely approximate wings. As she moved she twitched her head side to side, probably looking more psychotic than avian, but clearly giving it a damn good try.

When the little troupe reached the gates, they lined up neatly facing the guards. In perfect sync, all four of them flapped their diminutive wings and sang out a joyful chorus of “peep peep peep!”s before sweeping into a dramatic bow.

A flawless execution, Taylor thought to herself, completely erroneously.

TAYLOR GAVE HER BEST QUAIL IMPRESSION

CYCLE 4: QUAIL BE QUARANTINED

As the passcode is correctly given, the guards applaud, lowering their heavy weaponry. "Bravo! Open the gates!"

The call goes down the line. "Open the gates!"

But no sooner have the five of you entered than do the Armies of Darkness appear on the horizon, racing towards the castle like the three wolves that attack Belle's father in Beauty and the Beast!

"You fools! What peril have you brought to our doorstep?" shouts a man, covering his young son's eyes.

"Quails are forbidden!" wails an old peasant woman, falling back. "What have you done?"

Boing! Boing! Boing!

"Peep! Peep! Peep!"

Finally inside the city, you can see where the map marker is pointing: the tippiest tip of the top of the tallest tower, black and twisted as an evil unicorn's horn.

"No! You're taking them straight to him!"

"Stop them, men! They're playing right into his hands!"

You scatter, pursued by guards and Concerned Citizens. Get to the top of that tower! Or die trying! But that's old news.

INSTRUCTIONS

Choose a method by which to reach the top of the twisty tower: [tangent=As you dodge through the alleys of the city, evading the angry mob, you come across a Flying Carpet Rental. Show your ID and pay a small hourly fee to see the city from a birds-eye view! The carpet is easy to pilot even for first-timers. Just don't damage the goods - insurance is murder.]FLYING CARPET[/tangent], [tangent=These common birds can be found near the city center, where giant old ladies throw them giant breadcrumbs. They're actually indigenous to the area, but are widely regarded as invasive pests due to their giant droppings. They're quite tame, but flying them where you want to go can be a bit tricky.]GIANT EAGLES[/tangent], or [tangent=Surely it can't be that easy? The spiral staircase leading up the tower is blocked off by legions of guards, but inspecting the outside of the tower reveals a secret elevator, its walls and ceiling riddled with spikes and chunks of broken glass like an iron maiden. There is only a single button, pointed up.]ONE-WAY ELEVATOR[/tangent]. There is only one correct (non-lethal) option. If at least one player selects the correct choice each cycle, all players may progress.

Players who do not post this cycle will be overrun by the Armies of Darkness, automatically consuming one (1) quail. But don't worry! You have at least one
to spare.

Blackthorne was very tired of dying. He was on "reduced," and even still the pain was enough to put spots in his eyes. He couldn't fathom what it would be like on "realistic"... Still, after a brief moment of feeling sorry for himself, he pushed himself up, and scurried through the now-open gate.

His poem had been moving- And that thug had gotten them both blasted by a ballista. He would have some words for Kazuki.

But, first, it seemed like he needed to run again- with only three little rookidee keeping at his heels. They had tot escape, and get up, but- how?

And then he saw them- giant eagles, just like in Lord of the Rings. They were kind, noble creatures. They were trustworthy.

Retrieving a fallen piece of giant bread, Blackthorne coaxed over one of the giant eagles, reaching to pet its face. Birds would help little birds, after all. Right?

Lord Darien Blackthorne uses the giant eagles

The experience of being blasted to death by exploding ballistas is truly something else. Kazuki gets up, stretching with his arms over his head as the army continued roaring behind him, practically nipping his heels this far in the game, though he’s died so many times (and in such creative ways) that he really could not care if an orc tried to make nuggets out of him again.

His last death was pretty funny, though. He chuckles, recalling the look on Blackthorne’s face when they loaded up the ballistas. He’s pretty sure he was grinning then.

Three peeping Fletchling are all that’s left of the barbershop crew. The trio bounces after him as they traverse back to the guards. Having read the ping from Taylor, Kazuki only offers a “Cheep cheep, peep peep,” and he’s allowed in, at which point he’s quickly pursued by an angry mob with torches and pitchforks.

“This feels familiar,” he says, narrowly getting pierced by an officer’s bayonet. The fletchling behind him cheep with panic, clinging to his legs as they flee down an alley.

“Flying Carpets! Get’cha flying carpets here!” A magnificently mustached vendor calls, brushing his beloved carpets. “See the city’s best views! Only for—HEY!”

Kazuki vaults onto one of the carpets, which bucks like a frightened donkey. He grabs it by its front tassels, trying to take control. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, show me the world, I got it! Thanks!”

“But sir, your ID! And the fee—!”

“PUT IT ON MY TAB,” Kazuki yells, already being dragged skyward by the runaway tapestry, his trio of Fletchling screaming where they’re tucked in his pockets.

KAZUKI TAKES A FLYING CARPET