You feel a faint feeling of consciousness, still inhabiting that strange place between sleep and wakefulness. Your head is resting on a hard surface. Probably fell asleep at the desk again. [[Your mouth feels sticky.|1]]\n\nThe slow sweeping noise of the low ceiling fan is cutting through your candy addled cerebrum with such nonchalance, you suspect it’s doing it on purpose. \n\nThe bastard.\n\n[[Steel yourself for another day of weary existence.|examine]]\n\n

You spin around and eye the skyline, heart in your throat. The skies are empty, and yet you can’t help the feeling you are [[being watched|hobo]]\n\nUnable to shrug of your unease you turn to continue down street.\n

Reports are sketchy about what ultimately happened upon the Candy Crusher, and the mystery only deepened when rescue teams later came upon the derailed locomotive. \n\nMany of the occupants had savage head injuries that were not consistent to those one would think would result from a train crash. \n\n[[The King was nowhere to be found.|town]] The royal candy crown had been so utterly bent out of shape that there was talk of wild bands of savage gummi bears rampaging through the train. The devastation was absolute.\n

As one might expect Candyland is a pretty idyllic place. Dragons and unicorns frolicked through the candy fields. The denizens of this sugary paradise living out their lives in gingerbread cottages, as they worked the land. \n\nAt least that’s how it was.\n\nIn the year 20XX the KING of Candyland [[issued|Prohibition]] a royal decree. \n\n\n

You get up and stretch, your spine protesting every milimeter. This sugar deficiency wasn’t going away. The candy rations seemed to get smaller and smaller with each passing month. Even with the counterfeit books it was hard going. \n\n[[Look at your watch.|2]]\n\n[[Examine your flat.|3]]\n\n[[Get your coat and head into town.|Town]]

You struggle at you bonds, and discover you could [[wiggle|kick]] your left leg free.\n\n“I do enjoy my treats,” intoned the Turk.\n

You slink through the carriages, wooden implement of bludgeoning in hand. \n\n[[You see a guard.|g1]]\n

You weren’t sure you were doing anything except something. Anything. Your leg shot out and met its target between the large man’s legs.\n\nHe let out a peculiar mooing sound as he slid to his knees. Then almost as an afterthought you decide to bodyslam the stricken man, causing the wooden chair to explode. \n\nYou get up. [[Triumphant|success]] and lucky to be alive.\n

You almost bludgeon it, but realise that you might be going a bit over the top with the whole bludgeoning thing.\n\nYou come to an opulent carriage. Inside you can see the King.\n\n[[The King himself!|king]]\n\nTyrant of the candy peoples.\n\nYour grip on the bit of chair tightens.

You bludgeon him.\n\nYou come across [[a cat.|cat]]\n

It is bare. Except for a straw mat and a [[barred window.|window]]\n

THE CANDY RUNNER’S SAGA WAS ONLY JUST BEGINNING!

You had the contacts, The Dragon, most powerful of the Candy Barons was a good client to have. \n\nPlus you’d be able to claim a few crates of jelly babies for yourself and make a killing on the local market. \n\nHowever before the deal could conclude, the Gnome bristled. \n\n“There’s someone else here,” he growled. “You weren’t followed were you?”\n\nThe mysterious fluttering in the streets came back to you, and as you were about to comment that the Gnome was just being a bit paranoid, there was an almighty crash as heavy boots stormed the cellar.\n\nThere, above the heads were two large saucer eyes. An Owl! Of course, the King’s spies. How could you have been so stupid.\n\nThen it all went [[black.|wake]]\n

Looking out the window you see mountains flit passed at speed. You are hurtling through the Chocolate Mountains.\n\nYou seem to be on a [[train.|train]]\n\n

A candy prohibition was brought into effect. Suddenly the once fertile fields, accessible to all, were brought under lock and key. Accessible only to the privileged few. The Sugar Police were set up to crush any dissent, as the swift change took an unmerciful toll on the population.\n\nSurplus candy was dumped into the lemonade lakes, while the mint meadows were razed to the ground, ensuring the sweet smell of oppression was carried on the winds. A warning for others.\n\nThis is the world you inhabit.\n\n[[You are a candy runner,|office]] operating on the outer edges of the law. \n

Running your tongue over your teeth is something of a labour. The faint shape of a gin bottle barely recognisable through the gunk casing itself over your eyes.\n\nGreat, you think. Another night spent indulging in gin and jelly beans. What a bloody disgrace.\n\nWith a great effort you [[lift your head up|examine]], steeling yourself for another day.

[[Your ramshackled desk.|Desk]] \n\n[[A broken mirror.|Mirror]] \n\n[[The room.|Room]]\n

1.pm. Wow! Earlier than usual.\n\n[[You're such a go getter!|2a]]\n

You push the beans away and produce a striped gumdrop. It was way out of this guys price range, but you throw it to him as you continue on your way.\n\nThe bundle of rags proclaims his thanks, as if he’s just received a King’s ransom.\n\n[[It's a crazy old world.|Walk]]

Sorry lady. No offense meant. So, got any sugar for your pal Jimmy? Eh? Waddaya say? You got the goods? I need my candy, and I need it now! I need a rush!\n\n[[Listen Slick...|hobo2]]\n

Your desk is littered with mouldy ration books. There’s a switchblade embedded in a large and melted jelly bear. A victim of misdirected rage. \n\nTake the knife? [[Yes|Y]]/[[No|2a]] \n\n[[God you hated this place|2a]]

The Candy Runner Saga

The Turk approaches, holding what could be described as dental tools. If said dentist did his work in an abattoir in a secluded circle of hell.\n\n“Are you ready to [[begin|kick2]], my delicious little morsel?”\n

You walk through the concrete jungle that is CandyTown. \n\nThere is no wind, so the smell of mint from the ever burning fields was only faintly present. Run down, hollow, confectionery and sweet shops line the street. This was a bad side of town.\n\nThen again, every side was a bad side of town. This candy recession was going to get worse before it got better. \n\n[[There is a faint fluttering above you.|Sky]]\n

A broken table, a hard mattress that has too many broken springs to be classed as a bed and a plethora of meaningless tidbits. Your trusty trenchcoat hangs by the door, because of course you’re the type of shady person that would utilise a mac. [[This place really is a tip.|2a]]

You bludgeon him.\n\nThe train’s jelly chef [[spots you.|g2]]\n

The Dragon was not in fact a dragon. But he was a ruddy great serpent who used to inhabit the Lemonade Lakes. However since the candy ban came into effect, the government has taken to using the Lakes as a dumping ground for surplus candies and contraband. This has turned the once sweet waters into a toxic gelatinous soup, where no life can exist. \n\nThe Dragon ran his operations simply as a way to stick it to The Man as it were.\n\nHe could have been doing it to fund a rocket to the moon for all you cared. Business was business. \n\n[[And business was good.|deal]]

Dear god, this couldn’t be the King’s hard candy train, The Sugar Crusher, could it?\n\nIn answer to your question the door bursts open and a pair of distinctly evil looking guards grab you.\n\n“Time to go and see the Turk!”\n\nWhatever way you looked at things, this was probably not a [[good thing.|turk]]

The first thing you notice is you are gently rocking from side to side. [[You are in a cell.|cell]]\n\n\n

You smash it down on the Turk’s head. It makes an effective weapon. \n\nThe Turk is now making a sickening bubbling sound. You may have overdone it.\n\n[[Time to go!|go]]\n

"I ain’t packin’ anything for your grubby paws, so why don’t you beat it back to whatever foul smelling toffee hole you crawled out of."\n\nThe junkie stares at you unperturbed.\n\n“Man come on, just gimme a lolly, I got the beans! Don’t leave me hanging, I don’t wanna go back to eating apples again man. That ain’t no life!”\n\nHe holds out a handful of jelly beans. Spending candy to buy candy, it was a crazy world. Too bad the beans were virtually worthless.\n\n[[Walk Away.|Walk]]\n\n[[Take pity on the man.|5]]

The blade is wedged in tight to the congealed jelly, now with the texture of cement. Note to self, buy a new blade.\n\n[[God you hated this place|2a]]

And run slap bang into a dishevelled looking man with wide pleading eyes.\n\nHey Mack. Mr Candyman. Got any treats? A need a andy Rush! I’m crushin hard man!\n\n[[Excuse me?|hobo2]]\n\n[[Hey do I look like a man to you?|4]]\n

In a small mining town [[a stranger had appeared.|end]] The people oppressed by the cruel candy unions, funded by dirty beans. \n\nThe police bared down on the humble folk, eager for blood.\n\nA solid lump of wood was being withdrawn from under a heavy trench coat. The “concusser” would break bodies upon the soft white snow. \n

The King laughs a haughty, certainly evil laugh.\n\n“Those peasants think they can bar my entrance from their mines? The hide their candy behind walls of jelly and liquorice gates?! Fools! They will burn in gelatinous flames!”\n\n[[Become the hero you were born to be!|king2]]\n

The gnome wasn’t someone you would expect to meet in a fairytale. There was the faint impression that he was positively bristling with unseen weaponry.\n\nYou make your introductions and get down to business.\n\nThe gnome looks at you sternly and says,\n\n“My employer [[The Dragon|6]] has a shipment he needs to get to the townships beyond the Great Treacle Mines. [[Can you do it?"|deal]]\n

The arm of the chair is still tied to your [[wrist.|8]]\n\nTime to find a way [[off|go]] this crazy train.\n

You shove past, eager not to be late to the [[rendez-vous.|den]] You weren’t a charity.

This was not a good thing.\n\nThe Turk turned out to be the King’s chief torturer. He specialised in a technique known as the Turkish Delight. It was said to break a person completely, in body and spirit.\n\nSpeaking of spirits, you could really use a drink right about now.\n\nThe Turk was turned away from you. You who were [[bound|esc]] to a chair. He kept referring to you as his tasty little treat.\n\nIt was rather off putting. \n

[[Examine your flat.|3]]\n\n[[Get your coat and head into town.|Town]]

The candy den was dimly lit and smokey. The sweet smell of contraband sweets lay heavily in the air, making you slightly light headed. Soft moans of delight. \n\nAll around you decadence was being unleashed. An older gentleman in fine clothes was smoking rock candy in a pipe, in lieu of tobacco.\n\nA young woman was lounging on a bed of fudge, snorting sherbert through a liquorice stick. \n\nIn the darkest corners, one could see the glint of needles, dripping with golden caramel. \n\nA man, surrounded with empty sweet wrappers smiles at you with a far away look. “Divine,” he whispers as he slips into unconsciousness.\n\nAway from the abuse, [[you meet your contact.|gnome]]\n

You peer forlornly at the gaunt face staring back at you, your glory days long behind you. Now you remember why you smashed this thing. Certainly suits the vibe of the [[rest of the room|2a]]\n

Corey Milne