You are standing by a tree
There are 3 paths.
One appears to go to a jungle,
one appears to go to a cave,
one appears to go to a beach,
you could try and climb the tree,
there is a nearby shop you could go in,
or you could do something else.
So what's its going to be?
Written by catprog on 01 April 2003
In the shop
There is a table with a sign saying
<strong>Free Sample:</strong>
Take one
On the table there is a fridge with a range of liquids. Also on the table are various magical trinkets including costumes. What would you like to take, or would you like to buy something?
Written by catprog on 10 April 2003
Other
You decide to get something else. But what?
Written by catprog on 13 December 2005
A lamp
You take a lamp. Now what are you going to do with it?
Written by catprog on 05 March 2004
Transformation Genie
Just then, a huge puff of green smoke appears.
The smoke forms the shape of a humanoid, then finally materializes into a turquoise-skinned man who appears to be about 25 years old. You quiver with fear, staring at him (after all, you're not used to seeing turquoise-skinned men appear out of lamps).
"Who has rubbed the lamp of the Genie of Transformation?", the man asks in a light, yet stern voice.
"I-I did", you answer softly.
He steps closer to you and bows. "Thank You, Master, Thank You!", he says as he kneels to you.
"Master?"
He stands. "Yes", he says. "You have released me from the Lamp, and now you may have three wishes.
The wishes carry certain limitations, however..."
"Yes, like what?", you ask again, almost bursting with excitement (having your own genie and all).
"First, there are only three wishes, no more and no less, and this may not be changed by any wishes made. Second, all wishes made by the master should be precisely worded. If the wish is too vague, then I shall choose the remaining factors of the wish. And third, all wishes must be related to the change of the master, or of someone else that the master chooses. In other words, all wishes must be transformative."
Well what are you going to wish for?
Written by on 11 March 2004
I don't need a **** Transformation
"I don't need a transformation thank you very much," you say. "I am perfectly happy as a human". "You can take your conditional wishes elsewhere, you ****".
The genie's eyes widen. "You are going to regret mocking me". " You don't want a transformation, too bad you're getting one.
GULP!!!
Written by on 18 May 2004
Park
"You are going to my animal park and help with the breeding programs" booms the genie.
All of a sudden a portal appears and sucks you in.As you go through you get knocked out.
When you awake your in...
Written by on 22 May 2004
Myth Room
You awaken in a room with 3 doors.
Each door has a word inscribed on it.
Air
Land
And Water
Which one do you want?
Written by on 27 July 2004
Air
You go through the door.
You step out into open air.
You try to get back to the door but to your horror it has gone.
You then notice you are growing wings but what kind?
Written by on 27 July 2004
Sphinx
As you change you realize that they are sphinx wings. But what kind of sphinx are you becoming.
Written by catprog on 26 June 2012
Trickery #1
It is never a good idea to insult a genie...
If some well-meaning soul had said that to you, in good faith, any time before this point, you would not have believed them. Who would have believed that genies existed? Not you, of course not - they were just a fairy tale. Something of fiction and fantasy, not of the "real world". You should never have picked up that old pot from the overflowing wheelie bin, surroundings spinning with drink, and staggered to the ground, leering at it like it a prize of great value and did not cage a demon within. Your sleeve rubbed the brass surface into a subtle shine, a gleam rising after years of misuse, and you swore loudly as hot steam hissed from beneath the lid, searing a line of pain across your hand.
If you had known that the being within was a genie, you would not have said the crude and vulgar things that you did, when the steam materialised into a blue-skinned something, muscled like a skilfully carved statue. He frowned after your tirade, for the figure was clearly male, and shook his head despairingly at your insults, saying that punishment was due to you for speaking so.
Punishment? Your mind became hazy, as if you had spent hours laying in the heat of the summer sun, subsequently becoming ill. You looked down at your hands, stumbling backwards with a half-strangled cry - they were not your hands! There was some monstrous growth making them bulge out, more animal than human and coated in a rapidly spreading tawny-gold layer of fur. How could this be? Trying to shriek, your vocal chords rebelled, permitting only a cat-like yowl of pain, you crashed heavily to the broken paving stones, writhing and twisting in unprecedented agony. Your spine cracked ferociously and you feared that it might have snapped in two, but it seemed to be stretching, elongating into a bestial shape...
That was the last you remember of that particular interlude. You blacked out and sank into restless unconsciousness, the sole sound fading into nothingness being a malicious, cruel laugh.
*
It takes your eyes a few minutes to adjust when you finally awake, blinking blearily in the startlingly bright sunlight. You are in a barren wasteland of a desert, frail looking cacti bearing their way up through the parched soil - the only thing that may be able to find substance in this ruthless land. Shaking your head to clear it (the effort goes in vain with the sun beating down upon your skull) you raise your hand to your head. But...the action does not quite go as you imagined it would and you are compelled to bend your head forward in order for your hand to reach it at all. How very peculiar.
It then comes to your attention that you are lying in a strange position on the ground with your arms curled beneath your body and your legs angled in a way that you would have expected to be painful... However, you are comfortable. Sighing deeply, you cannot make head or tail of this change, until a lengthy, leonine tail swishes behind you, disturbing the sand with the tufted tip.
Written by Amethyst Mare on 26 June 2012
Trickery #2
What? That cannot be right! How can you have a tail? Leaping to your feet and whirling around in a dizzying tight circle, you realise that you are on all fours. Something has happened to your limbs and you're walking like an animal! Are you an animal? It's not a ridiculous conclusion if you have a tail. Can you still talk? What if you cannot talk? Are you a simple beast now? What happened?
"H...hello?" You try cautiously and are relieved to hear a voice of sorts, although it does not seem like your voice; the voice that comes from your lips is lighter and of a higher pitch. At least you can talk and that is all that matters in this instance, that you are not a dumb, mute animal.
"Having fun, are we?"
To your left, near a spindly cactus with extraordinarily long spines, the man from the alleyway appears. Blue from head to...well...he dissipates into nothingness at the waist, but he has striking blue skin and a toned body that induces a jealous wish in you to have those hours, which you spent in the gym, returned to you.
"You?!" You shriek, rearing on to your hind legs and striking the air warningly with your paws, which you see are tipped with dangerous, sharp claws. "You did this to me? Just who the hell do you think you are? What have you turned me into? What are you?"
"Now, now," he chuckles, his attempt at placating you falling terribly flat with his amusement. "You should not have taken the liberty of insulting a genie now, should you, little sphinx?"
Sphinx?
You crane your head back over your shoulder and yelp to see the broad pair of feathery wings resting against your back, the fur coating your animal body like to the tawny fur of a lion. Jaw slack with astonishment, you flap the wings experimentally, surprised at the strength in your he new muscles, and stir up a cloud of sand with just a single down stroke, your lion-like tail waving as if with a mind of its own beyond them. Your face still appears human though, as you can talk, even if there is something not quite right that you cannot put your finger on. Unbelievable... Wait, he is a genie? Are they real after all then?
"Oh, and I made the decision to make a small change to your gender...none of the traditional sphinxes look male after all," the genie remarks, breaking into your stream of thought and looking up expectantly to enjoy your reaction.
"You...you what? But I'm not female!" You shout, baring your teeth and advancing towards the genie, who struggles to banish a growing look of alarm from his expression. That's right, you think, that's good: he should be afraid of you!
Written by Amethyst Mare on 27 June 2012
Trickery #3
Your hackles raise, long, dark hair falling wildly about your face as you lower your head, your body no longer your own and ruled by feral impulse. If the genie could stumble backwards, he would have, but with his current, insubstantial form he only drifts rapidly, his eyes wide in alarm. Though when you try to leap for the genie, claws unsheathed, something holds you back, like an invisible hand clutching the scruff of your neck to prevent aggressive or unwanted motion. Confused, you shake your head roughly and snarl, upper lip curling back from your teeth in a shockingly animalistic style.
"Now, now, if you really wish to leave, I might be able to consider it," the genie goes on hastily, holding his hands up to stay your advance.
"Oh, yes?" You say suspiciously, crouching low to the ground and growling softly. "And what, pray tell, would make you "consider it?"
"Well, there are many tasks that require doing about the zoo and items that require collection periodically," the genie says, his expression vague and unconcerned, more in control of the situation. "There are some that you could do...then I could let you go home. If you do these tasks well enough, of course."
What choice do you really have? As if to highlight your one and only option, a gust of wind blows your hair back, the sun beating down unforgivably as you are forced to narrow your eyes against the gritty sand carried on the shifting air. This land is sterile and completing these 'tasks' for the godforsaken genie will at least allow you to find some sustenance in order to survive, or so you hope, until you could escape or convince the mad bastard to release you.
"All right," you say in a disgruntled tone, sitting down upon your haunches. "What tasks do I have to do?"
"Excellent!" The genie beams, his whole manner altering with your acceptance.
Flourishing his large hands grandly, he produces a smart, brown, leather satchel, polished to a professional shine, and you sigh deeply, thinking that you had best become used to these ridiculous 'trick' of his. He throws the satchel at your forepaws - you shudder to say your 'feet' any longer - and unrolls a short length of crisp parchment, curling at the corners and yellowed in patches that look like a schoolchild has aged the paper using artificial means for a school project.
"Ah, yes," he murmurs quietly, so quietly that you prick your ears despairingly to catch his words. "This set will do nicely for today."
Tossing the scroll beside the satchel, the genie grins; a sharp edge to his lips suggests he is concealing something more sinister behind the white curve. Shivering, you duck your head to study them, pawing the scroll until it lies straighter upon the sand, so that you may read it more easily.
Written by Amethyst Mare on 28 June 2012
Trickery #4
"I am confident that you will be able to calculate the locations from the information supplied," the genie continues, turning to leave and fading from sight. "I must simply leave you to it then, sphinx. Ensure that you perform these tasks admirably!"
And with that, he vanishes completely, leaving a glowing pair of crystalline eyes shining for just a second after his body ceases to be composed of earthly matter. Growling over the pristine, gleaming satchel, which seems out of place when compared to the situation afoot, you crouch low to the ground to inspect the scrawl text, which reads:
Required items for collection:
Three ruby eggs, found in the nests of harpies.
One gold key, guarded by the chimera.
One ornate hand mirror, last seen in the caves to the north.
Harpies? Chimera? Your stomach drops and you swallow the influx of bile that gathers in your mouth. What on earth is a chimera? Some creature from mythology? Surely that means it's not real? Hah... You realise all of a sudden that you are not so far in kind from the chimera. Either way, it is something that you will discover and face in due course. You must escape from this place...and the first step in that quest is to find these damn harpies and those eggs of theirs.
"Okay..." You murmur thoughtfully, falling prey to your old, human habit of speaking your thoughts aloud. "Where would harpies nest? What is feasible? Up in trees? Cliffs?"
You do not even know what harpies look like, but suspect that they are prone to the habits of birds, to a certain extent, if they 'nest' in some way. Sighing deeply once more, you roll the scroll up carefully and manoeuvre it into the satchel, dropping the heavy flap securely over the precious cargo. You will not have any idea where to go if you happen to lose the scroll. Sitting up, you crane your neck at a near impossible angle to see into the distance and, squinting, you pick out the straggly shapes of what could be trees, if the desert heat is not confusing your senses.
Written by Amethyst Mare on 02 July 2012
Trickery #5
What else can you do? You lift your wings to provide a little shade for your head and begin the long, weary plod towards the distant foliage. The sand burns your paws, though those paws are large enough that the shifting, loose sand does not constantly dislodge you, something that you are subtly grateful for. You are too hot in your fur coat, regardless of how thin and fine you might have originally thought the tawny fur, moving over taut muscles in the repetitive action of your ground-covering stride. Relaxing into the motion, you try to forget the growing hunger in your belly and the insistent thirst; you did not think that being a 'pet' of sorts in a collection or zoo would be so tiring or taxing on the body, though you had never been exposed to extreme conditions before, having lived in the city for your entire life. You had never been the adventurous sort. But, you reason, this is not any ordinary zoo, so you will have to do the best you can and get out of the desert as quickly as your paws can carry you.
The air shimmers to your right with the alluring glitter of a shady oasis - how could you have missed this? Eagerly, you trot closer, longing for a drink of cool water to soothe the burning thirst, just a little drink of water. But, as you approach, the longed for water seems to grow increasingly distant, drifting further and further away until you stumble to a halt, growling furiously: the desert plays cruel tricks.
Turning away from what you now know is nothing more than a wistful illusion, you alter your course, heading back to the crooked trees. They are a bit closer, but still shimmer in the heat, appearing and disappearing like a magician's trick; now you see it and now you don't. "Just like magic," the magician would say after making your watch disappear. But that was only an illusion, a trick of the eyes and a slight of the hand; you hope that the trees are not an illusion too and that you will find the harpies there. It's the only lead that you have.
Thankfully, the trees become very solid and real when you finally walk beneath the scant, patchy shade that they offer. The landscape around them is more rugged and less barren than the desert - enough for some vegetation to survive, barely - although it is still excruciatingly hot, so that every step seems to require a great effort. Exhaling slowly, you flop on to your side; you wince at the thought that you are behaving like a lion, or lioness, in the heat, but continue your panting as you realize that it is cooling you down more than any drink of water. Although water would be wonderful right now...
Something glints above you and you glance up, bothered by the red twinkle, which seems determined to disturb your rest. Irritated, you stand up and shake yourself vigorously to rid your fur of the dust and twigs, which had clung on when you rested. You rear back on to your hind legs and place your front paws against the spindly trunk of the tree, which shakes dangerously, a couple of dry leaves landing upon your face. Sneezing, you dislodge them and crane your neck, squinting into the glare of the sun. There is a tangled mess of twigs tucked into the crook of two branches, something white and feathery caught along the perimeter... Is it a nest?
Written by Amethyst Mare on 03 July 2012
Trickery #6
Your heart leaps and you scrabble against the bark, ripping off flaky slices as you try to claw your way up the tree. If there are harpies here – whatever they are – surely they would have attacked you by now? They must be away and that red glint must be the eggs you are searching for! It must be the nest!
This ‘tasks’ lark isn’t so hard after all! You think jubilantly, dropping back to the ground with a hefty ‘thud’. But how to get up there... That’s the question...
Stepping back a few paces, you look over your shoulder and flap your wings, testing their strength; they stir up a cloud of dust and you cough, waving the pale feathers gently until the air clears, though it is as dry as ever. The tree is not very tall and the nest is not truly that high up... What else can you do? Swallowing nervously, you beat your wings hard and leap into the air.
Your first flaps almost send you careering back to the ground but you heave a great breath and pump the unused muscles harder, ignoring the burn. The hardest part must be getting off the ground, right? With that in mind, you hiss between your tightly clenched teeth, powering upwards. If you can just work out the motion, the pattern of the beats...like playing an instrument, only your wings are your instrument...
And then it comes to you. The rough and tumble ascent ceases and evens out, though you are many, many metres above where you had wanted to reach initially; you can’t even guess at the distance, but you know that your target is only a short dive away. You suppose that you need the height anyway in order to not cause more damage than subtle good. Your wings spread wide to the full span and you imagine that you can feel the air caressing every feather. You’re flying!
Soaring, you revel in the sensation, forgetting your purpose. Your muscles are no longer strained, but working with the air, taking what little shape it has to use and moulding it to your demands. It is amazing, this feeling of having no limits; you can go anywhere you wish. There is not a mountain too high for you to ascend, landing safely at a roost at the end of the day. Vaguely, you think that maybe your new shape is not so bad if you get to do this, but you quickly snap yourself back to reality, focusing once more
Written by Amethyst Mare on 04 July 2012
Trickery #7
The nest is below you and you unsheathe your claws, angling towards the twisted twigs at a shallow, carefully measured dive. Your wings fold in closer to your body, but not completely - for balance and a more cautious descent - the soft feathers brushing your fur lightly, like fingertips trailing over a lover's skin. As if you have been flying since birth, you alight gently on the nest, the tree rocking under your weight; it is a testament to the harpies' skill in constructing their nest that it does not collapse beneath your paws. You're very glad that it doesn't fall to pieces, as you do not want to destroy their home...just take a few things, you reason with yourself, trying to shake off the uneasy sense of guilt in your stomach.
The 'eggs' are captivating, though you wonder if it really is possible for a harpy to hatch from one. Then again, if they are mythical beings and there is really a genie that can change men into animals...anything is possible, you conclude, staring down at the glowing ovals. How could these be eggs? They are beautiful, like rubies cut from the finest veins below the earth's crust, perfectly formed into these faceted eggs... Mesmerised, you lean closer, balancing precariously upon the very lip of the nest.
"Those are ours!"
The screech comes from behind you and you scramble around, a guilty expression flashing across your face. What you can only guess is a harpy is streaking towards you and your eyes open wide at the strange appearance. The harpy has the head and chest of a woman, crowned with a halo of brilliant, blonde hair, the remainder of her body like that of a bird of prey. Cruel talons tip her narrow legs and she screeches more furiously than ever, more harpies rising from distant crags, swooping towards you at a frightening speed.
"Get away from them! They're ours! They're ours!" The harpy shrieks, diving at your head and raking her talons through your hair. "Get away! Get away!"
Yowling in pain, you shake off the trickle of blood that runs down your scalp, reaching down into the nest to scoop up as many of the eggs as you can. But your paws are too ungainly for such fine work and they keep slipping back on to the twigs as if they do not wish to leave their comforting circle. Tipping forward, you swear under your breath and almost overbalance entirely, managing to regain your position by a stroke of unbelievable good luck.
The other harpies are much closer now, uglier than the first; their ugliness, however, could be because their faces are twisted and contorted with hatred, all of them coming for you like hounds chasing down a fox. Yanking the satchel from your back hurriedly, you push three of the ruby-red eggs under the leather flap. No time to tuck it securely closed - you leap off the crook of tree branches, leaving the tree swaying below as if buffeted by a storm. Your wings spread and flap instinctively, the motion far more effortless now than it was before, when you first tried to fly. As the harpies whirl and streak after you, you have good reason to be very grateful for this.
"Bring them back!" The harpy at the head of the flock cries out, pain lacing her voice as she fights the still air to catch up with you. "They are ours - bring them back!"
"I'm sorry," you shout over your shoulder, pulling your tail sharply away as a black-haired harpy lunges for it. "These will help me escape. I can get out of here, with these."
Cawing in anger much like a crow, the harpy achieves a sudden burst of speed, screaming and clawing viciously at your back. You cry out in pain, wriggling and twisting in midair to shake off the harpy; her spurt of energy is lost quickly, however, and she falls back into the cluster of her sisters, all of them crowding around one another and keening loudly, mourning for their lost eggs.
"You'll never get out, never get out," they chanted as one, hovering in a small, tight group, giving up on the chase. "You're lost, lost, just like us. You're lost and you'll never get out."
Written by Amethyst Mare on 05 July 2012
