Recursion of Fate[TEXT] (Let's make a deal)

[mysticCharlatan]

>Be the young girl.

Very well. You are now the young girl, having just finished her training. You feel pleasantly tired from your workout. You have recently spoken with a friend with a chumhandle of supremeSingularity, explaining that you may be late for an meeting with him and your mutual friends.

There are several things about you that are unique, but the one that people can't seem to ignore is your general lack of symmetry. You tie your ponytail a little off to the left, and you have a slight scar on you right cheek.

Oh, and you are also missing your right arm. But most people who know you don't bring that up. You see, you are left handed, and pack a mean punch.

A girl as unique as you deserves a name. What was yours, again?

[trulyElse]

>Lindsay Lovhaug

[mysticCharlatan]

>Lindsay Lovhaug

You are now LINDSAY LOVHAUG. Your blonde hair is held up in a lopsided ponytail (which, by the way, is impressive considering you did it with only one hand). As may have been assumed, you are an AMPUTEE who has lost your RIGHT ARM in an accident at the age of eight. You are now sixteen, and don't like to dwell on the past. Besides, there are so many things more interesting than your general lack of symmetry.

You are very involved in several ATHLETIC ENDEVOURS, as is testified by your athletic figure and the various TRAINING DEVICES surrounding you. It is your dream to become an OLYMPIC-LEVEL ATHLETE, the odds and you handicaps be damned. You are also interested in HUMAN ANATOMY and MEDICINE, and are considering following in your father's footsteps by studying in this field. You know, if the Olympic athlete thing doesn't pan out. You also have a mild appreciation of ART, particularly SCULPTURE, though your own skills in this area LEAVE MUCH TO BE DESIRED. You are currently wearing you WORKOUT ATTIRE, though you have eschewed your PROSTHETIC ARM, opting to keep it in your backpack. You consider this a statement towards your REFUSAL TO BE PITIED AS A CRIPPLE, while most others consider it a statement towards your BULL-HEADED STUBBORNESS.

You are currently in your training room, in the basement of your house. Various WEIGHT and CARDIOVASCULAR TRAINING DEVICES surround you, and the punching bag is currently resting on the floor. Your father has just left, and asked you to come to the pharmacy just down the street.

>Stuff slain punching bag and mount it over the fireplace.

The great thing about punching bags is that they come pre-stuffed! So that's step one taken care of!

You lift the punching bag one handed using your increadible UPPER BODY STRENGTH. You march right upstairs and prepare to mount it over your old fashioned fireplace.

...At least you would if you hadn't already done that with the punching bag you did in a month ago. Yep already got that covered. So your refusal of this command has absolutely nothing to do with you being NOT QUITE STRONG ENOUGH to carry the punching bag upstairs all on your own. Because you could total do that if you wanted to.

Inventory:

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Apparel: Workout Attire, Single Strapped Backpack (contains: 1 Prosthetic Arm)

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Wasn't entirely sure if that was supposed to be a joke name or not, but it works so why should I worry?

[mysticCharlatan]

==>

You walk upstairs, without the punching bag, even though seriously it would be so easy to take it with you it really isn't worth your time.

You arrive in your living room. An old couch sits against the far wall, with a FLATSCREEN TV on the opposite wall. Connected to said TV are the various movie players of the house, as well as your old GAME SPHERE. Looking at it makes you think once again about how excited you are to play this new game with your friends; you have your own copy somewhere around here, but you promised yourself you'd wait until the whole group was together to take a whack at it.

A coffee table stands near the stairs, and on it is your TOUCH SCREEN CELLULAR PHONE, which you use to keep in touch with your friends when on the move.

You begin to contemplate your next course of action and oh dear lord you hear barking.

Dad must have forgotten to lock up the dogs again.

[trulyElse]

>Retrieve Cell Phone
>Arm yourself with ... arm.

[mysticCharlatan]

>Retrieve Cell Phone

Easily within arm's reach, your cell phone is hastily stashed away in your pocket, safe from the oncoming attack.

>Arm yourself with... arm.

You get the distinct impression that someone is poking fun at your handicap for their own amusment. You file away a thought to punch the next person to bring up arms in a conversation. That should about even things out, you think.

Anyway, it would be a good idea to have something to defend yourself with, and your (oh wait, you're-see that Chester, you can do it too) not going to be using it anyway...

You deftly unzip your backpack and pull out your prosthetic arm. You hold it by the wrist, reasoning that the thicker end of the arm would be more suitable for combat.

Not a moment too soon you might add, as a large, ugly, drooling beast turns a corner and lunges into the room. A deep, booming bark erupts from its mouth.

Well, might as well count your blessings. At least its not the Demon.

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Just a moment as I pick out the right piece...

[mysticCharlatan]

>[S] Strife!

What's with the [S]? Its almost as if...

Woah. Deja vu.

Oh well, you might as well just hum this while you deal with the Beast.

You stand warily as your foe sizes you up. You've both danced this dance before. You know that you can do this. Just like he does.

Doesn't mean he isn't going to try his damndest to beat you anyway.

Looks like the first move is yours. How are you going to proceed?

[Naristar]

kick him in the nose

[simon.clarkstone]

> Throw arm behind him.
> Play sounds on phone.

[mysticCharlatan]

>Kick him in the nose.

You charge at eachother. The Beast's jaws snap hungrily, but you easily avoid them, placing a foot firmly on his snout. However, the Beast is not so easily defeated. It shrugs off this initial attack (you swear his head must be steel reinforced or something), pushing at you in an attempt to cause you to loose your footing. Rather than comply, you leap, using the momentum your foe has supplied to perform what can only be called an acrobatic pirouette. Vaulting over the Beast, you land gracefully by the couch, ready to make your next move.

>Throw arm behind him.

You aim carefully, making sure that the trajectory will take it nowhere near the television, and throw the arm towards the corner of the room. The Beast reacts as expected, chasing the projectile. You are forgotten, for the moment.

A moment is all that you will need.

>Play sounds on the phone.

You reach into your pocket and begin going through your list of recordings. It takes less than a second, you know what you need and hardly need to look to find it. Your secret weapon prepared, you charge at the Beast. He turns, the prosthetic still in his mouth, as you approach, ready to defend what he thinks is his prize.

He has no chance. You play the sound. The high pitched assault on his ears, a sound that could not be made by any earthly creature or device designed by mortal hand, paralyzes him. He hears the voice of the Demon, and being the simple minded creature that he is, is not immediately aware of its source. He remains completely still as you barrel into him, prepared for victory.

[Naristar]

tame him
who's your daddy NOW!!

[trulyElse]

tame him
who's your daddy NOW!!

I'm going to have to agree...

[simon.clarkstone]

> Muzzle him using your backpack.

[mysticCharlatan]

>Muzzle him with your backpack

You condition, while not one that you would wish upon another, does occasionally show a silver lining. This is one such time, you think as you slide the backpack off, no extra limbs getting in the way.

Already unzipped from when you retrieved your weapon, you slide the bag easily over the stunned Beast's snout. He quickly comes to his senses and attempts to break free, but it is too late; you've wrapped you arm around you backpack, effectively sealing it around his canine mouth.

>Tame him.

Oh, you can so handle that. You hold your makeshift muzzle in place with an iron grip. Struggle though he might, Beast cannot wrestle himself free. Eventually he settles, falling to his belly in a guesture you know to mean he has accepted defeat.

VICTORY! Oh yeah, who's your daddy!

You rise in a celebratory pose, a foot planted on your vanquished foe.

You've gained a new title! You are now Lindsay Lovhaug, BEAST TAMER!

[mysticCharlatan]

==>

Your battle now complete, you prepare for the next phase.

Step one: turn dog over.






Step two: prepare for belly rubs.






Whosa goodboy? Whosa goodboy? You are!

Good dog. Best sparring partner.

You wonder for a moment what that must have looked like to anyone watching. They may have thought that your life was in some sort of danger. But they really had no reason to fear; Beast would never think about actually hurting you, and the feeling is reciprocated.

[Naristar]

someone attack from behind them!

[mysticCharlatan]

>Someone: Attack from behind them!

Oh come on, you just finished one fight, what are the odds that you would oh holy crap.

You react just in time to avoid being stuck by a thick wooden rod crashing down where you were not a second ago. You also push Beast out of the way, lazy bum that he is. Thank you fighter's instincts.

You turn to face your attacker, and are not-quite-surprised to see your father. SAUL LOVHAUG is probably one of your favourite people in the world. He never gave up on you, even after your accident, and never stopped treating you like he did before.

Unfortunately, he had already gotten into the habit of beating you with a stick before your accident. But its all in a loving, fatherly way.

Dialog:

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IL: hey, 1 7hough7 you were gonna open the pharmacy early 7oday
SL: I still have some time.
SL: Now that your warmed up, how about going a round with your old man?
IL: ...heh, why no7?

You smile as you watch you father assume a fighting stance with his staff. He waits until you have retrieved your weapon (which now sports a few bit marks courtisy of the numbskull currently drooling in the corner), and then invites you to make the first move. Unlike Beast, you have never bested your father in a fight. But you get a feeling that this might just be your lucky day!

[Naristar]

spinning cartwheel Kick to his junk!

[mysticCharlatan]

>Spinning cartwheel kick to his junk!

You throw your arm, hoping to distract your father while you initiate an attack. And you might as well look good while doing it.

You hear the sound of plastic on wood as your father deflects your projectile, but you've already planted your hand on the ground and begun to flip into a series of one-handed cartwheels. One, two, three rotations... but coming into your fourth, you feel a sharp sting on your wrist as your father takes your hand out from under you. With nothing supporting you, you tumble headfirst into the floor.

Damn it all. The old man doesn't pull any punches.

And you love him for it.

You roll over to find the tip of your father's staff in your face. He stands over you, an imposing figure with a stern look on his face.

What was that?
What have I told you, time and time again?
Always keep your eyes on the target.
And the cartwheel? It left you wide open.
Never lower your defenses just to look cool!

You return his glare unfearing. In fact, a look of amusement flits across your face.

...sur 7h1ng, dad.
you wanna 7ake 7he same adv1ce?

In a flash, your foot rises, taking advantage of the opening he's left.

He stumbles away, his face screwed up in pain.

You're not going to be pulling any punches either, dad.

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Yeaaaaaah, we're out of the cradle!

[Naristar]

((^5^*Highfive nice work))

Now that youve won offer help

[trulyElse]

>Lindsay: Pester Chester.

[simon.clarkstone]

> Take his staff
> Get changed
> Run aforementioned errands

[mysticCharlatan]

>Lindsay: Offer help.

You pick yourself up off the floor and walk towards your father, your hand outstretched in the universal symbol of helpfulness.

Unsurprisingly, you recieve a staff to the face as a reward. Or you would have had you not been expecting it and dodged accordingly.

Thank you, fighter's instincts.

It seems your father is not content with leaving the fight at this. However, your previous attack has slowed him, allowing you to fight in a more relaxed manner.

You trade blows with your father almost lazily. You both get a few hits through, but mostly its just to fill in the time as you converse.

Dialog:

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so, wha7 d1d you wan7 me 7o do?
(strike to the head, deflected)
Oh, right.
(counterattack, dodged)
Well, the guy who usually makes deliveries called in sick this morning.
(three hit combo)
The good news is that we only have one delivery to make.
(all three strikes miss)
The bad news is that its Mrs. Juliet. Ow!
(kick to the shin, good hit)
doesn7 she l1ve- woah- across 7own?
(almost go me there)
you know 1 don7 dr1ve, dad
(c'mon, got him on the ropes)
Distance has never stopped you before.
yeah, 1 guess- oof
(staff to the gut, that hurts)
n1ce h17
Thank you

You continue trading blows like that for a few more minutes, with neither one of you gaining any ground. After a while, you call a tie. Your father tosses you the medicine you need to deliver to old Mrs. Juliet, and says to get going as fast as you can before falling none to gentle onto the couch.

>Lindsay: Pester Chester.

You grab your phone (while your at it, you pick up your backpack, stuffing you prosthetic back into it), and start your mobile PesterChum application.

Huh. I guess Chester isn't on. Must have gone downstairs to have breakfast. Or fight with his dad. Or both.

But it appears you have excellent timing, as you log on just as two more chums start pestering you.

Pesterlog(1):

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aimlessInfinity began pestering imperialLegionette

AI: announcement to
AI: CS, IL, and SS
AI: i will be unable to attend today on agreed meeting
AI: appologies

aimlessInfinity ceased pestering imperialLegionette

You don't even bother attempting to answer. You know how AI uses pesterchum: as a sort of high speed email, rather than a method of conversation.

But huh. She's not going to be there today.

You try your best to be upset over this development.

You do not do very well.

Anyway, who else is pestering you?

Pesterlog(2):

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cardinalStrategist began pestering imperialLegionette

CS: ||==K Hey, did you see AI's message?
IL: yeah, 7ha7 sucks
CS: ||==+ Sure it does.
IL: wa7s 7hs7 supposed to mean?
CS: ||=0 Oh, I think you know.
CS: ||=? Your competition is out of the way.
IL: wa7?
IL: no, no way
CS: ||==[ You just keep telling yourself that.
IL: shu7 up!
CS: ||=0 Hehe.
CS: ||==K Anyway, I was trying to think who might make a good player four now.
IL: wa7 abou7 US?
CS: ||==+ You trying to stack the deck?
IL: no!
CS: ||==[ besides, you know Ches will say no to that.
CS: ||==< I was thinking of inviting CD.
IL: your g1rlfr1end?
IL: sure, 1 don7 see why no7
CS: ||==K Maybe if your lucky...
IL: shu7
IL: up
CS: ||=0 Okay, alright.
CS: ||==K I'll go run the idea past Ches.

cardinalStrategist ceased pestering imperialLegionette

[simon.clarkstone]

> Saul: tell Lindsay to get going.
> Lindsay: what is up with cardinalStrategist's quirk anyway?
> cardinalStrategist: fail to pester Chester.

[mysticCharlatan]

>Lindsay: What's up with cardinalStrategist's typing quirk?

Why would you wonder that? You figured out a while ago that those are supposed to be chess pieces. And you didn't even have to ask CS.

Okay, so it was Chester who told you.

Heh, Ches clued you into the Chess theme. Heh.

>Saul: Tell Lindsay to get going.
>Lindsay: Run afformentioned errands.

Great, now your dad is yelling at you. Fine, you get going. But you need to shower and change first.

You run upstairs, and after a quick shower (no shower scenes for you, pervs), you change into a SPORTY OUTFIT consisting of a pair of BLACK SHORTS and an ORANGE TANK TOP (it is interesting to note that you really only have long sleeved or sleevless shirts, both of which draw attention to your lack of symmetry). Because it might rain today, you stuff a LIGHT RAIN JACKET into your backpack.

You head out the door, making sure you have both your phone and the MEDICINE that your father gave you, saying a quick goodbye to your father.

...

You are now BEAST.

Wait, what?

Don't worry, we'll get back to the people of this story in a moment, there's just a little aside we need to get through.

You plod up to your OLDER MASTER and rest your head in his lap. You'll leave behind a sizable amount of drool.

You're pretty sure he'll like that.

Your older master begins scratching behind your ears. Ooooooaaah, that's good.

Monolog

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Hey boy...
...Am I a bad father?
I can see what's coming, and I'm not keeping her from it.
...
...Then again, she'd hate that.
Being locked up, I mean.
I have to let her go.
Even if...
...
...I guess I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't, huh?

You, as a dog, have no clue what any of his sounds mean. But, you get a feeling your person is feeling down.

You whine sympathetically.