Urban Warlock Quest I

You are in the middle of the Mojave desert, doing a 100 on a freeway and you are wearing a black suit and sunglasses.

'It's a nice car. It's a real damned nice car, so please, please, don't scratch it,' you say under your breath.

You would accelerate further, but you've got the pedal to the metal and the 60s engine is groaning under the strain already. The 1965 Thunderbird looks amazing, but it handles like a fishing boat with wheels taped to it.

You swerve forcefully, almost going into a tailspin, as the air less than a hundred feet ahead of you ignites into a fireball so hot that it scorches a hole into the asphalt.

'Who throws fireballs, seriously!' You turn around and shout at the car following you. Unlike you, the man chasing you isn't driving a convertible, and so he doesn't hear you, nor can you see any part of him, except for the outstretched hand that he's been using to throw fucking magical fireballs at you for the past five miles.

'Can't we talk about this?' You turn to shout, as loudly as you can. Then you duck, because the following fireball would have hit you straight in the face if you hadn't.

You speed past a police car a few seconds later hear the sirens, as the surprised cops get their shit together and start chasing the both of you.

You're running away from a wizard and some cops in a car you don't technically own, the sun is glaring so hot that you have been sunburned for the past four hours, you've been wearing the same sunglasses and suit for the last week, and you have no idea how far out of depth you are.

Hell, you wish you could go back to being...

>A thief, a well respected, second-story professional.
>An archaeologist, an academic that wanted a bit more excitement in his life.
>A journalist, chasing the newest story wherever it took you.
>A wizard's apprentice. Kept in the dark and fed on bullshit, but at least not entirely ignorant.
>A conman, a criminal, but a clever one.

>A wizard's apprentice. Kept in the dark and fed on bullshit, but at least not entirely ignorant

>A thief, a well respected, second-story professional.

>A thief, a well respected, second-story professional.

>>A conman, a criminal, but a clever one.
>A thief, a well respected, second-story professional.

>>A wizard's apprentice. Kept in the dark and fed on bullshit, but at least not entirely ignorant.

>A conman, a criminal, but a clever one.

Sup Dead

You're damned right you wish you could go back to being a thief. You had respect, of a sort. You could have just pawned the book and taken a vacation to Hawaii or Cuba or something.

But no, you opened the leatherbound tome, read the pseudo-latin, got a hard-on remembering the wizard books you read as a kid and drew the actual pentagram and chanted the words. Well, okay, you spoke the words, you don't have any idea how to chant.

You're ripped away from the memory by another spell flying at you. You had never even been shot at before. You always paid your dues to the biggest gang around, kept your head down, you were always smart.

A little taste of power, and you're on your way to Vegas with frequent stops for partying and trying out your new powers.

All of this thinking is pointless, anyways. Apparently, once you've sealed the pact, you're in for it for the long haul. And you've sealed a pact with:

>A fay lady. Some days you think she's better than some gibbering monstrosity. Others, you think you'd take any nightmarish creature over her. Always you know she is trying to play you. [Glamours, illusions and mind magic. Pact advanced by sealing deals with mortals on behalf of the faerie courts]
>A succubus from Hell. Hot, in the same way that the lure of the angler fish is shiny. She has shown you a hell of a time, but you're sure that if you ever touched her she would literally eat your soul. [Combat magic of every flavor, Pact advanced by causing chaos and destruction.]
>An Eldritch god from beyond the stars. It is insane. There is no other way to put it. And it wants its insanity to spread everywhere. [Madness and Random effects. Advance the pact by enlightening mortals to the insane knowledge of it, and of course, driving people insane]
>The actual Devil. Well, you doubt it's the Abrahamic Devil. More like the folkloric one. The guy you sell your soul to on the crossroads. [Dark Miracles and Bursts of Inspiration. Advance the pact by human sacrifice.]

>A fay lady. Some days you think she's better than some gibbering monstrosity. Others, you think you'd take any nightmarish creature over her. Always you know she is trying to play you. [Glamours, illusions and mind magic. Pact advanced by sealing deals with mortals on behalf of the faerie courts]
Fits a thief the most, I think.

>A fay lady. Some days you think she's better than some gibbering monstrosity. Others, you think you'd take any nightmarish creature over her. Always you know she is trying to play you. [Glamours, illusions and mind magic. Pact advanced by sealing deals with mortals on behalf of the faerie courts]

>>A fay lady. Some days you think she's better than some gibbering monstrosity. Others, you think you'd take any nightmarish creature over her. Always you know she is trying to play you. [Glamours, illusions and mind magic. Pact advanced by sealing deals with mortals on behalf of the faerie courts]

>>A fay lady. Some days you think she's better than some gibbering monstrosity. Others, you think you'd take any nightmarish creature over her. Always you know she is trying to play you. [Glamours, illusions and mind magic. Pact advanced by sealing deals with mortals on behalf of the faerie courts]

>The actual Devil. Well, you doubt it's the Abrahamic Devil. More like the folkloric one. The guy you sell your soul to on the crossroads. [Dark Miracles and Bursts of Inspiration. Advance the pact by human sacrifice.]

Dude always seems fun.

You look at the statuesque woman next to you. She is wearing a dress of silver, as in, you're pretty sure it's actual silver somehow woven to be soft and pliable. That she is beautiful beyond mortal ken is a given. Most of the time, as you have been using your new powers to show off to some girl, or to get free drinks, she had a look on her face somewhere between absolute indifference and annoyed disapproval. Amidst the chaos, however, she is smiling. With teeth.

You had a nerdy friend back in Chicago. You remember that once, stoned, he told you to never make a deal with a faerie. That he'd take any minion of Hell, any crazy nightmare before he'd make a deal with one of the Sidhe. You called him a nerd and told him to stop smoking so much. And asked him what the fuck is a Sidhe.

Looking at Lady Gwynn's shark-like smile, you start thinking that he might have had a point.

'Gwynn, help me out here,' you say.
'Mm? Do you have anything you've got to offer in exchange, mortal child?'
'Look if you do nothing, I'm probably going to die, and then your fun is over,'
'Oh, not over. Delayed, at most. But, if you must put it like that,' She says and stands up ramrod straight, turns around, and begins casting a spell that you most certainly don't recognize.

The only two spells she has given you so far are a simple glamour that allows you to change your face, and just a tiny bit of illusion that allows you to make a sort of a dodgy looking image of anything immobile.

'Sirs, stop your vehicles immediately, or we will be forced to open fire!' you hear over a loudspeaker. Gwynn finishes her spell, and for the first time the car behind you swerves and the man inside screams as if he's being tortured.

>This shit is too much. The man following you is distracted, if you pull over maybe you'll get a nice comfortable cell instead of fiery death. Pull over.
>Distract the cops with magic, then take a sharp turn at next opportunity. Try to lose them.
>Other

>The actual Devil. Well, you doubt it's the Abrahamic Devil. More like the folkloric one. The guy you sell your soul to on the crossroads. [Dark Miracles and Bursts of Inspiration. Advance the pact by human sacrifice.]
or
>An Eldritch god from beyond the stars. It is insane. There is no other way to put it. And it wants its insanity to spread everywhere. [Madness and Random effects. Advance the pact by enlightening mortals to the insane knowledge of it, and of course, driving people insane]

>>Distract the cops with magic, then take a sharp turn at next opportunity. Try to lose them.

>Distract the cops with magic, then take a sharp turn at next opportunity. Try to lose them.
When the hell does any thief worth his salt listen when the police tells him to stop?

You've never been caught by the fucking law, and you're not going to start now. Maybe you could talk your way out of it, maybe they would find a way to connect you to all the burglaries you've committed. Either way, neither are you going to take that chance, nor does your pride allow you to stop.

So, you do as your new fairy buddy taught you, visualize a doughnut, sugar glazed with sprinkles on top, the size of a sedan, and release the image fifty feet in front of the cop car.

You almost feel sorry for them, as the driver panics and drives off-road. Almost. You raise your hand, middle finger extended and take a screeching turn onto some dirt road.

Did you get away? The wizard is certainly distracted, maybe half a mile behind you. If Gwynn can keep...

'That is all I can do, child,' Gwynn says.
'What? I need you to keep him off me!'
'Tsk. I gave you a chance. I am not going to end the chase just to keep you safe.'

Well fuck.

You cannot keep the same sort of speed going on a dirt road, but you keep going ten miles an hour over what you can handle.

The wizard finally makes his turn as well, but you think he is outside the range of his fireballs.

[Your background is Thief: in any city larger than 40 000 people you can find a fence, and potentially connect with the criminal underground through them. You can do burglaries to train your agility and earn money. You also get certain stat bonuses, but I will not be making a character sheet until after this session. Your pact is Fey Pact, and in order to gain magical power you must seal pacts with mortals, to give up portions of their lives to the faerie courts, to give their first-born to the fey, to visit faerie revels, and other pacts. You have $42 cash and a really nice car.]

>Speed up. He would have to be crazy to try to keep up with you if you went any faster.
>Turn around and drive at him, try to make him chicken out and drive past him.
>Offer something to Gwynn for further assistance.
>Other

>>Turn around and drive at him, try to make him chicken out and drive past him.
>Speed up. He would have to be crazy to try to keep up with you if you went any faster.
Live life on the edge!

>Speed up. He would have to be crazy to try to keep up with you if you went any faster.
Making pacts with fae is always a bad idea if you can avoid it, and making yourself a bigger target for the fireball-slinging wizard is literally retarded.

Your options suck donkey dick. Under normal circumstances any one of them would be suicidal, so you decide to choose the one that is most likely to succeed, not the one you are most likely to survive.

So you press down on the gas pedal to see what the old girl is made of.

Roll 1d100 Lower is Better, rolling under 40

Rolled 96 (1d100)

>inb4 nat 100

Rolled 50 (1d100)

LIFE IN THE FAST LANE
SURELY MAKE YOU LOSE YOUR MIND

Best of three, nat 100 cancels out all successes, nat 1 is critical success, if both a nat 1 and a nat 100 happens in one roll, the table is flipped and I do the most unlikely thing I can think of.

Rolled 20 (1d100)

You accelerate and every foot you drive feels like you're hydroplaning. You are wound tighter than a torturee on the rack, and all of your focus is bent to keeping the old car on the road. You manage, and as you speed ahead, maybe it is hopeful thinking, but you're pretty sure that the wizard is falling behind.

You feel the exhilaration that you sometimes get when avoiding detection by a hair's breadth on a job. All that adrenaline, seeing that the danger is almost over and deciding to throw a party with dopamine. You almost feel good enough to shout out in triumph, but then you hear Gwynn laugh.

No, not laugh. This kind of laughter has its own word. You hear Gwynn cackle.

You dare a quick look at her.

'What are you laughing abo-'

You freeze. You cannot move a muscle. Your foot is frozen pressed down to the floor.

You're going to crash. You're fucking going to crash any moment if you can't get your movement back.

>Ask Gwynn for help.
>This is an attack on your mind. Maybe you can break out of the spell through willpower.
>Other

>>This is an attack on your mind. Maybe you can break out of the spell through willpower.

>>This is an attack on your mind. Maybe you can break out of the spell through willpower.

Goddamned wizards, goddamned hands, goddamned feet, move, move, move!

Roll 1d100, under 20

Rolled 65 (1d100)

Rolled 78 (1d100)

Fucking Gwynn.

Headed to work, will catch up for sure asap. Glad to see you back.

Rolled 65 (1d100)

Rolled 29 (1d100)

'Nnnn! Nnnng!' you shout with gritted teeth.

Gwyn sighs, and the break pedal gets pressed down by invisible force. Clearly the faerie has no idea how inertia or friction works, but your brakes screech terribly, you go into a spin, and start sliding down and away from the road.

'Don't flip, don't flip, don't flip, don't flip,' you think. The wheels on the left side crack, and break off the axle. You feel a severe bump and start flipping over. Something stops the upward momentum and you slide to a stop.

The wizard's car approaches at the same breakneck speed, and you get just the one lucky break of the day. He too fails to control the car, and instead of driving up to you, he turns too suddenly and his European sedan doesn't take it.

It is almost in slow-motion, the right side of his car raises slowly, until it is sideways, and then everything speeds up as the car rolls over again, and again, and again. by the time it stops, it is a mess of squished metal, plastic and it is leaking several fluids.

As it stops, you are released from your paralysis, and start shaking. You aren't going to go anywhere with two wheels, you could call in for rescue, but if the wizard is still alive, you aren't sure you'll be able to fight him, even if he is in as bad a state as you would expect.

>Approach the car. Try to talk to the wizard if he's alive.
>Approach the car. Make sure the wizard isn't getting up.
>Start walking back in the direction of the main road. He's unlikely to catch up to you even if he is alive.
>Other

>Approach the car. Make sure the wizard isn't getting up.

>>Approach the car. Try to talk to the wizard if he's alive.

>Approach the car. Try to talk to the wizard if he's alive.
We're a thief, not a murderer.

>Approach the car. Try to talk to the wizard if he's alive.
We'll regret this.

>Approach the car. Try to sacrafice the wizard to the fae.

Good thing you wore a safety belt. Your shoulder and neck feel like they have been badly bruised, and your whole body feels like it's recovering from a severe cramp. Your jaw especially hurts, like you've had it wired shut.

But nothing is broken. You exhale, take off the belt, and open the door. You all but fall out, but manage to get your feet on the desert ground before the rest of you reaches it.

'Clever,' Gwynn says, as you approach the remains of the wizard's car, 'Make him scream for me, dear!'
'Not going to kill him,' you say, weakly.
At that, Gwynn pouts.
'Oh, whatever. Do what you want, I'm not going to stop you,' she says.

You walk up to the factory-fresh and scrapyard-ready car, and try to open the driver's side door. It comes off without any trouble.

Your mouth fills with saliva, there are just so many bits of the wizard that are supposed to be inside that are outside. Nothing should look so much like a fleshy tube, there should never be this much blood.

You hope the wizard is dead.

He opens his eyes.

'Warlock,' he says, in a weak, wheezing voice, 'What is your name?'

>Mark Blaine
>No way are you going to give him your name
>Write in

Sacrificing people isn't how the fae one works bruh. We do deals, not sacrifices. That's devils you're thinking of.

>>Write in
"Not very polite to ask someones name without telling them yours first."
Also make up a fake name.

>Call me Mark. Is there any way I can help you?

>Write in
You first

>No way are you going to give him your name

'You first,' you say.
'Hah! Leigh Cromwell. Speak yours now.' he says, and has to take a pause, 'Warlock, I would know the name of the man who killed me.'
'I didn't mean to...' You start saying, and feel a presence next to you.
'I don't like your shadow. She smells like honeysuckle and lies,' a voice says.

You turn to the source of the sound and wish you hadn't. Next to you stands something that looks like a petite, scrawny woman in a luminescent green leather suit. When you look at her, you hear the loudest silence you have ever experienced. Your head hurts with it.

Okay, imagine a movie, imagine the scene proceeding as normal, and then suddenly the film cuts to a person, and all the background music, all ambient sound stops, and there is an absolute silence. It was like that, but louder. The only noise you could hear was a terrible tinnitus, and you heard it through your spine.

'If you stare so much, beetles are going to crawl out of your heart,'

>Run and don't look back.
>Try to talk to it.

>>Try to talk to it.
"That's a pretty apt description of her, really"
We should recruit her! Our fae needs a straight man anyways

"Yeah, I'm not that stupid magic man. I may be new to all this crazy shit, but even I know names have power."

>Try to talk to it.
"You do her a disservice; she smells nothing like honeysuckle."

>Also talk to Leigh.
"Call me Mark. Leigh - how much do you not want to die right now?"

>Try to talk to it.
>"You do her a disservice; she smells nothing like honeysuckle."

Supporting this-even if it kills us.

"Well, this was fun. Sorry about your friend there, but he tried to kill me with fire, so..."

And then run back to the car as fast as possible.

'You do her a disservice. She smells nothing like honeysuckle,'
The thing that looks like a girl freezes.
'Ha! Ha! Ha!' She says.
Gwynn is walking towards you.
'I greet you, King,' she says.

You look at Gwynn. Then you feel something wet running down your temples. You run your fingers over the wetness. The venom in Gwynn's words has made your ears bleed. Sure. That makes sense.

'Gwynnie Nude! I once imagined you inside out. Do you remember?'
Gwynn curtsies, 'What brings your highness to these parts?'
'I like playing games. So many shiny pieces move today.'
'I see.'

You hope neither of them will notice, as you turn to Leigh. 'Leigh, how much would you like to-'

'When you say 'take' a piece it means 'destroy'. You cannot actually take a piece from me, aptly-named-one,' the King says.
'Can he not?' Gwynn says.
Instead of answering, the girl that Gwynn called king jumps into the car with Leigh and sticks her head inside the insides of the fallen wizard.

'Bllrbrl mffgn hrfghtn' the King says.

>'Gwynn, what the fuck is that?'
>'Er- Miss. King. What are you doing?'
>Try to kill Leigh before the King does something
>This is much too weird. Run.
>Other

>'Gwynn, what the fuck is that?'

>>'Er- Miss. King. What are you doing?'

>Other

Take pictures.

>>'Gwynn, what the fuck is that?'
then
>'Er- Miss. King. What are you doing?'

>'Gwynn, what the fuck is going on?'
>'Er- Miss. King. What are you doing?'

'Gwynn, what the fuck is that?'
'Sir Mark Blaine, I present to you the Crimson King, Crimson King, Mark Blaine.'
'I mean what the fuck is that?'
'Tsk. It is a thing from beyond the stars. It has no business being here. Only an aspect of the whole thing, or even I would be on the ground praying for death.'
'What is it doing?'
'What does a rabid dog do in a nursery?'
'Miss- Er, Miss King, what are you doing?'
'Mrf- K-ng t-k-s Kngth.'
'I thought you couldn't 'take' pieces.'
She removes her head from the stomach cavity of Leigh.
'You are glue. I am the stars. So many squishy pieces. How do you put yourselves back together?'
'We don't really-'
'Oh! Of course!' She reaches into Leigh's chest, rips out a rib and stabs him in the eye. 'Too much seeing, not enough looking. Good dog!'

Leigh breathes in and screams.

'Good, good boy! Leigh wants Mark-meat?'
'Pardon?'
'Oh! I know this one! Snakeskin, wretch, humbug, aorta.'
'Gwynn?'
'Either we try to kill it or we run. Now.'

>Try to kill it.
>Run.
>Other.

>Run.

>Try to kill it.
We can't run nearly fast enough. Our only hope is to strike while it's still distracted.

>Run.

>>Try to kill it.
I doubt we can outrun it.

>Try to kill it.
Do we have WEPON?
Such as gun? or axe? or knife? or heavy pipe?

>Try to kill it.

I hope our fae freind knows how to set a gas tank on fire.

'We cannot outrun it,' you say.
'Are you a warlock, or a mere mortal?' She says, and conjures a-
'No way, I am not riding that,'
'The thing about virgins is a myth. It is perfectly safe.'
'No, I mean I am not going to ride that. There are some embarrassments worse than death,'
'It is swifter than the wind, it can run farther than any thing made by man, it is a beast of legend and you are afraid of LOOKING SILLY?'

>Ride the unicorn away from here.
>Hit the star-god with a tire-iron

>>Hit the star-god with a tire-iron

>Ride the unicorn away from here.

>Ride the unicorn away from here.
*sigh*
*pinch bridge of nose*
*repress memories*
AAAALLLWAYS

>Ride the unicorn away from here.

>>Hit the star-god with a tire-iron
RIP mc

>Ride the unicorn away from here.
Only because you asked so nicely, Gwynn.

'God fucking damn me,' you say
'Likely already has. Get on my unicorn, what was the word, ah yes, bitch.' Gwynn says
'Mark Blaine! I shall hunt you, wherever you go I shall hunt you. To the peaks of the highest mountains, to the depths of the the deepest trenches! You will not escape!' Leigh shouts.
'Bark! Rar! Arf!' The Crimson King says.

The Unicorn picks up speed. And fucking hell is it going faster than you have ever gone.

'And it STOPS when I tell it to STOP,' Gwynn says, as if reading your mind.
'Are they following us?'
Gwynn focuses for a moment.
'No. Whatever the goal of the King, killing us right now doesn't seem to be a part of it.'
'God damn. How unlucky of a day is this?'
'Child. The Crimson King is hardly the only dangerous thing in our world. You were going to meet something sooner or later.'
'Like what?'
'Demons, of course, but they don't usually pick on their equals. Louis Cypher, if you catch my meaning, is supposed to be in America. The Viking gods are making a bit of a comeback. And, of course, you should beware the enforcers of the Circle, like your buddy Leigh was. There are more, but the point is, I am only here to see how long you last, not to make you a king of anything.'
'Can't I just avoid all of this?'
'A delicious morsel under my protection? No, I think not. I am sure there is already a long line of people that want to kill you or make you theirs.'
'Great. Fucking great. What's next?'
Gwynn grins.
'You wanted to go to Vegas. I know a place.'

>'Elaborate. Please.'
>'Fair enough. Tell me more about your kind.'
>'No offence, but is there any way for me to get out of this.'
>'So, how worried should I be about Leigh?'
>Other

Choose no more than two.

>>'Fair enough. Tell me more about your kind.'
>>'Elaborate. Please.'
We're already in deep. Might as well embrace the insanity, or we'll go mad.

>'Elaborate. Please.'
>'There's obviously no easy way I can get out of this. How do I learn how to fight back?'

>'Elaborate. Please.'
>'So, how worried should I be about Leigh?'

>>'So, how worried should I be about Leigh?'

Guys, more about fae should be more important than elaborating, We need more background knowledge or we're gonna get blindsided by something eventually

>'Fair enough. Tell me more about your kind.'

>'Elaborate. Please.'
>'Fair enough. Tell me more about your kind.'

>Other
You wanna have a shotgun wedding?

I assume elaborating will tell us what we're actually heading headfirst into in Vegas right now, which is probably something we want to know as well.

>elaborate
>how worried

'I can feel in my back that you have some questions. I should say up front that a pure maiden such as myself isn't going to wed a mortal merely because he sold his soul to me,' Gwynn says. Fucking adrenaline.
'Lady Gwynn, you said you know a place in Vegas. Could you elaborate?'
'Only enough so that you are still confused, but I do love that game ever so much. It is a deep place of chance where the fallen meet. A dank corner in the spirit of the city. Gomorrah of the witching kind. A place of gathering that always wins.'
'I don't care about how you keep underestimating my intelligence. So, it's a casino?'
'Something like that, yes. But then, nothing like it at all. There are chances to test your luck, child, certainly.'
'Very well. May I ask another question?'
'One more, and so it is!'
'Right. Can you tell me of your kind? The faeries?'
'Tsk. I would rather not, but alas, I said I would. There are four seasonal courts. I am, of course, of Winter. We love mortals for their eternal struggle towards beauty and for their eternal capability for violence. You would be an embarrassment to me were I to take you to court today. But I am certain you are able to achieve a degree of beauty if you apply yourself.

[Aside from the usual means, you can improve your standing with the Faerie Courts and Gwynn by spending time to make yourself more good-looking]

>Offer to exchange question for question for further answers.
>Proceed in silence
>Other

>>Offer to exchange question for question for further answers.
Fae like games, time to up our social link?

>Offer to exchange question for question for further answers.

>Offer to exchange question for question for further answers.

>>Proceed in silence
a cemetery or morgue? "test your luck" doesn't really fit though...

>late for the party
Fuck

'Care to make a game out of it? Question for question?'
'And answer for answer? Clever child. I never could say no to a game. If you lie, i will cut your eyelids off,' Gwynn says, with genuine cheer in her voice.
'Alright, would you like to go first?'
'Yes I would! What will be your second question?'
'How worried should I be about Leigh?'
'Hmm. Imagine someone, say, killed your mother. Right now, with all of the power at your disposal. You should be exactly as worried as the person that might have killed your mother in this hypothetical should be. What was your first love?'

>Write-in

Not even a third-way done. I'm going to try to go to bump limit, and so far we're on schedule.

>Thievery

>Thievery

>A girl in high school. Her name was Megan. We broke up after about two months, though.
We discovered that we loved thievery more around that time.

>a gathering of friends. Why steal if I have no one to brag to about it after?

>redheaded baby sitter

First love, not greatest.

Backing.

You laugh.
'I think you're going to be disappointed. I did date a girl called Megan in high school. But she made me choose between her and thievery. That was when I realized I loved larceny more than any woman. So, thievery's my answer.'
Gwynn laughs.
'I would not be disappointed at an unusual truth. Curious. Very curious. Yes, you have always known that everything in the world belongs to you, but for the taking. I can relate.'
She falls silent and it takes a few moments before you realize that she is waiting for you to ask a question.

'I know I cannot escape this pact, nor this world opened up to me now. How do I learn to survive here.'
'Seek out knowledge. Knowledge is power, and do not let anyone tell you otherwise. That said, having more magic shall not ever hurt, and for that you should make deals on my behalf. The trick is that the thing that you ask for should always be too much for your comfort. If you are happy to make the deal there is no sacrifice in it for you. What do you fear most?'

>Write-in [also write-in another question]
>End the game

Decent answer.

You