[ Reality twangs uncomfortably in the Ring around you, and next thing you know, you're standing with your teammates beneath an apple tree. No one else is anywhere to be seen.
Faith's voice sounds. ]
You believe in so many--
[ The crackling of paper, the turning of pages. ]
--so many things. Tell me, which of these would you pick to believe in? To save you and fulfill you.
[ Fourteen scrolls materialize around you, with words on them. Approach, and the words will echo in your head: ]
"Our team." "Ourselves and our ability to persist in being as such, as long as we live and breathe; our own reality." "Kindness." "Family, our own blood." "Bravery, determination, and adventure." "The little things in life." "Change and growth." "Being at the top." "Happy endings." "Justice." "Inner strength." "Friends and friendship." "Delicious pie." "Our own personal truths."
[ At the foot of the apple tree, a silver box appears. It can fit exactly three scrolls. ]
[ The box snaps shut. In the distance, there's a sound like faint thunder or the turning of pages--funny, aren't those very different sounds? For now, nothing else happens. ]
[ Reality warps once more, and you're falling through warm rain to the distant sound of weeping.
You land on the bottom of a huge, open-topped glass case that towers over you. Water sloshes around the glass, slowly but surely rising. Beyond the waters, you can see the blurry outlines of several other teams trapped in glass like you.
There is nothing here except the silver box from the first round. The scrolls are still inside it, but each of them is now wrapped around a handful of small glittering tokens--some silver, some gold.
Sorrowful's voice sounds once more. ]
Each of you shall take a token from the box and suffer the punishment bound to it. Refuse to do so, and your shelter will shatter and you will drown immediately. Take them, and you may survive long enough to be rescued. If anyone takes pity on you!
[ In the distance, somewhere, there is still the sound of weeping. ]
[ All characters present should comment with what token they're taking--silver or gold, and what scroll it was wrapped in. Silver tokens inflict physical punishments and gold tokens inflict psychological ones. This is not IC knowledge. ]
And you do. Suddenly, you can't move. You can't breathe--but you don't need to breathe. You're not capable of growth or change any longer, not a living person but merely an object standing here immobile, watching but unable to do a thing to help those around you.
Distantly, you are aware that you can talk, somehow--but regardless, it's impossible to shake the conviction that you will never move again, that you are condemned to be a statue for the rest of your days.
Sorrowful's voice echoes in your head. "Then be bound to your team you so believe in."
Glimmering strings suddenly attach to your arms, legs, back, and sides, binding you to everyone in the room around you. They pull and they pull, inexorable in their strength, drawing you tighter and tighter to your teammates. Your body does not adapt well to this. The force yanks your limbs out of their joints. Terrible bloody rips appear in your flesh. Your spine cracks and slips out of alignment. And you feel the pain of all of it vividly.
Sorrowful's voice echoes in your head. "So change and grow."
Before you can even process the words, something in your body begins to obey him. Some of your bones twist and warp within your flesh, sending bizarre agonies through your body and toppling you to the ground as your shape becomes strange and unbalanced. Other bones merely grow, and soon enough they bulge and tear through your skin.
[ The weeping in the distance grows louder and louder as you attend to your terrible tasks, until finally, the voice of Handless Faith reaches you again. ]
Stop! I remember--
I remember--
I have learned of hope.
[ The voice of Ren of Sterling reaches you from somewhere far away. ]
Perhaps 'hope' is not for something like myself to define. But I think it may be just another form of desire. It is okay to want things, isn't it? At its simplest form. To want to be happy. To want to be content. To want whatever it is you want. That's reasonable.
[ As if considering that it might be polite to do so, your pain vanishes and your wounds heal. ]
ROUND ONE
Faith's voice sounds. ]
You believe in so many--
[ The crackling of paper, the turning of pages. ]
--so many things. Tell me, which of these would you pick to believe in? To save you and fulfill you.
[ Fourteen scrolls materialize around you, with words on them. Approach, and the words will echo in your head: ]
"Our team." "Ourselves and our ability to persist in being as such, as long as we live and breathe; our own reality." "Kindness." "Family, our own blood." "Bravery, determination, and adventure." "The little things in life." "Change and growth." "Being at the top." "Happy endings." "Justice." "Inner strength." "Friends and friendship." "Delicious pie." "Our own personal truths."
[ At the foot of the apple tree, a silver box appears. It can fit exactly three scrolls. ]
DISCUSS
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ROUND TWO
[ Reality stutters around you. ]
you believe so much
[ Crack. A break runs down the center of the world before you. ]
What have I believed in?
I am...not what the Story made me.
I am not virtuous. All I have is pain.
I can be bad.
[ Reality dissolves, and then you're back in the Ring... ]
Round Three
You land on the bottom of a huge, open-topped glass case that towers over you. Water sloshes around the glass, slowly but surely rising. Beyond the waters, you can see the blurry outlines of several other teams trapped in glass like you.
There is nothing here except the silver box from the first round. The scrolls are still inside it, but each of them is now wrapped around a handful of small glittering tokens--some silver, some gold.
Sorrowful's voice sounds once more. ]
Each of you shall take a token from the box and suffer the punishment bound to it. Refuse to do so, and your shelter will shatter and you will drown immediately. Take them, and you may survive long enough to be rescued. If anyone takes pity on you!
[ In the distance, somewhere, there is still the sound of weeping. ]
Discuss
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It's okay, I got it.
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Would you two both stop it?
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1/2
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Submit
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And you do. Suddenly, you can't move. You can't breathe--but you don't need to breathe. You're not capable of growth or change any longer, not a living person but merely an object standing here immobile, watching but unable to do a thing to help those around you.
Distantly, you are aware that you can talk, somehow--but regardless, it's impossible to shake the conviction that you will never move again, that you are condemned to be a statue for the rest of your days.
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Glimmering strings suddenly attach to your arms, legs, back, and sides, binding you to everyone in the room around you. They pull and they pull, inexorable in their strength, drawing you tighter and tighter to your teammates. Your body does not adapt well to this. The force yanks your limbs out of their joints. Terrible bloody rips appear in your flesh. Your spine cracks and slips out of alignment. And you feel the pain of all of it vividly.
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Before you can even process the words, something in your body begins to obey him. Some of your bones twist and warp within your flesh, sending bizarre agonies through your body and toppling you to the ground as your shape becomes strange and unbalanced. Other bones merely grow, and soon enough they bulge and tear through your skin.
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IN THE END . . .
Stop! I remember--
I have learned of hope.
[ The voice of Ren of Sterling reaches you from somewhere far away. ]
Perhaps 'hope' is not for something like myself to define. But I think it may be just another form of desire. It is okay to want things, isn't it? At its simplest form. To want to be happy. To want to be content. To want whatever it is you want. That's reasonable.
[ As if considering that it might be polite to do so, your pain vanishes and your wounds heal. ]
[ Your surroundings shimmer and fade, returning you to the Ring... ]