Arcanepath.net

First Man:
I think...
I think I am.
Therefore I am!
I think...

Establishment:
Of course you are my bright little star...
I've miles and miles of files
Pretty files of your forefather's fruit
And now to suit our great computer
You're magnetic ink!

First Man:
I'm more than that
I know I am...
At least, I think I must be

Inner Man:
There you go, man
Keep as cool as you can
Face piles of trials with smiles

It riles them to believe
That you perceive
The web they weave...
And keep on thinking free

In the Beginning: Moody Blues 1969

The room was stale, a strip of sunlight carrying dust mites above him.
He groggily returned to consciousness, squeezing his eyes together to make them water and flush dirt from them.
He had no idea of how long he had been out and it puzzled him that he couldn't recollect how or when he had passed out or come to this room.

A sense of panic quickly seized him; he couldn't feel anything, only turn his head a little, move his eyes and twitch his nose.

The feelings of numbness, helplessness and claustrophobia coupled with the feeling that his brain was clogged and bursting with throbbing pain overcame him. His watering eyes perceived colours and shapes but no clarity to his vision.

Feebly, he struggled against this strange paralysis and the fearful uncertainty of being. A croak of protest and fear emitted from his extremely dry throat.

He started to take in his surroundings; the outside light was shrouded by a pair of partially drawn curtains.
The pattern was vaguely oriental, a glossy silver with curved yellow flowers running their length.
A sweet smoky smell invaded his nostrils, he struggled to recognise it, not food, maybe incense.

He was growing uncomfortable now, not least due to his incapacity but also for two other reasons, the first was that he was very clammy and not just because it was hot in the small room, his skin was greasy and he felt washed out.

The second was that it occurred to him, he couldn't hear any sounds, anything outside of the room.

Moving his head agonisingly slowly to the right side he squints down the length of his body.

Is he tied up?

Is he in fact completely strapped into something such as a Gurney?

What is holding him in this state? Could it be some sort of effect from the incense?

Slowly but surely feeling began to return, first the painfully slow turn of his head, then the twitch of his fingers.
Angling his head to the side allowed him to look down his body, he was laid upon a simple cot, and nothing restrained him other than his own impotence to move
Momentarily a dream like image of a pretty girl, with long brown hair, cherry red lipstick and a long flowing yellow dress entered his head.

This acted as a small respite from his awful personal turmoil and predicament. Closing his eyes he dragged all of his nervous, fearful energy to focus on that vision, like a man clawing on a cliff face to prevent a fall into nothingness.

Squeezing his eyes closed his vision or memory flickered trying to capture the girl.

He caught fragments, the same image of her frolicking on a summer’s day, running around a picnic laughing with abandon. The grass was long, flattened by the picnic blanket.

Distantly he became aware that the silence had broken, a faint "Atenshun" and a song

"To take you in the sun to promised lands
To show you every one
It's the time of the season for loving"

The incapacitated man muttered and croaked in a broken voice through his delirium.

‘What's your name?

Whose your …….?

Is he……. like me?’

He saw this vision as if from his point of view. He was lying on the blanket.

The girl stopped in her flighty orbit, turned and with a cheeky loving smile jumped on him.

At that point a massive surge, like the bolt of an electric shock rocked his chest and with a gasp of pain and surprise he involuntarily sat up on the bed panting heavily.

Then after a split second he omitted a growling roar of agony as he was assaulted by the wracking pains of cramp which tore through his whole body, making him roll spasmodically off the cot.

‘Argggghhhhhhh!’

His true deep baritone voice came to the fore, flushed out by the hurt he was experiencing as he tried to gain purchase on his confined muscles.

His vision swam the room becoming indistinct; from beyond the haze he heard more faint voices

"He's coming round" they whispered

"He's disorientated" said a distant male voice, barely a whisper "I'm not surprised, a miracle that he's waking up at all"

Health Roll of 9.

The sensation was strange and terrifying, he purged his system but looking at the floor there was no vomit, yet he could smell it and feel it spread around his outstretched hands

This brought on a fresh bout of vomiting and through the terror of disorientation, hallucinations and his pure detachment from reality he imagined that he was bringing up his own blood and entrails. There was nothing to prove his tortured mind that this wasn’t so.

‘Help Me!’ he nigh on gargled through the invisible detritus in his mouth as he clawed feebly at the cot as he tried to rise to his feet.

Darkness suddenly and mercifully descended on him, like a warm comforting blanket into oblivion.

Roll 3d6?

14

He knew that he had been out for a long time, distantly the last words he'd heard before plunging into darkness was "Damn"

He slowly became aware of a bobbing sensation, eventually realising that he was doing the bobbing, opening his eyes he looked out into the murky blue waters of presumably an ocean.

He was submerged, floating some 3 meters or so below the surface, strangely it didn't concern him that he wasn't drowning, something in the dark recesses of his head told him this was okay.

What wasn't so welcome was the large ominous shape distantly moving from side to side through the murk towards him.

‘Just when I thought I was going to enjoy myself’ he thought as with a detached air he continued to survey the depths and the surroundings of the body of the water he was in.

The knowledge of that threat was there, but it nagged at the back of his mind like a child tapping him on the back, and he felt that it would only be a danger when he allowed himself to truly acknowledge it. A bit like the distinct lack of oxygen he was experiencing. If he didn’t pay it any attention perhaps it would just shrug its shoulders and be on its merry way, and leave him alone.

‘What difference would it make to my predicament anyway?’ He thought. ‘As It’s not like I can hide up a tree to avoid it!’ He smiled sleepily to himself, drifting in the deep like a strange embryo.

How deep is this water, and is it salty?

Please roll 3d6 for Perception skill stat for me mate, I’ll then roll.

Rolled, you can't see the bottom and yes definitely saltwater

‘Ah….’

Perception roll of 7.

What is coming his way?

Is he actually drowning??

It is important to note that suddenly, and against all probability, a sperm whale had been called into existence, several miles above the surface of an alien planet. And since this is not a naturally tenable position for a whale, this innocent creature had very little time to come to terms with its identity.

This is what it thought, as it fell:

The Whale: Ahhh! Woooh! What's happening? Who am I? Why am I here? What's my purpose in life? What do I mean by who am I? Okay okay, calm down calm down get a grip now. Ooh, this is an interesting sensation. What is it? It’s a sort of tingling in my... well I suppose I better start finding names for things. Let’s call it a... tail! Yeah! Tail! And hey, what's this roaring sound, whooshing past what I'm suddenly gonna call my head? Wind! Is that a good name? It'll do. Yeah, this is really exciting. I'm dizzy with anticipation! Or is it the wind? There's an awful lot of that now isn't it? And what's this thing coming toward me very fast? So big and flat and round, it needs a big wide sounding name like 'Ow', 'Ownge', 'Round', 'Ground'! That's it! Ground! Ha! I wonder if it'll be friends with me? Hello, Ground!

And the rest, after a sudden wet thud, was silence.

Hitch hikers Guide to the Galaxy

The predator ghosted through the murky green blue plankton rich water into the vicinity of the man, it was obviously curious about the presence of this unusual creature in its abode.

The man recognised that it was a tiger shark by the subtle mottled vertical lines that ran down the fish’s sides. It was approximately nine feet in length, and moved purposefully with a graceful but menacing flick of its tail.

Working out how or why he recognised it was a different matter.

The fish made a slow pass about twenty feet beneath him and moved off into the murk, with three small remora fish in eager but wary pursuit. A weird feeling of vertigo, coupled with a sobering realisation of his location in open ocean overcame the man at last.

Any sense of well being he had experienced was quickly replaced with a deep primal feeling of dread that started in his stomach and rose through his body. His eyes began to sweep and scan the depths, as his relaxed posture broke into one of fearful intensity and awareness.

As his fear had predicted (and if he had knew had help betray), the shark re-entered the man’s limited field of vision behind him. It was about ten feet above him this time. He knew that it was only a matter of time before it would come to investigate fully, and that would mean razor sharp teeth and pain. Unless he could think on how to stop this, his end would be far from pleasant.