[Ooc]
I am still on vacation until Tuesday.
I took ztg's mana test. Depending on how I answered certain questions that I have equal preference (and I literally mean equal) for, I test out either black-blue, or green-blue.
This would explain the nearly polar opposing personalities in the corai vs joykill drama. My character has no interest in material card-based magics though. It would feel too much like tarot to him, and his personality type foregoes commanding potentially sentient servitors. His mindless undead are morally questionable, but the bodies are already dead, and the soul doesn't come back with the animation. That makes it tacky, but passable to him. Commanding powerful and clearly self-motivated magical beings by imposing his will over thiers is perverse to him. He would flatly turn down ZTG's recent offers on principle, and would question his motives for wanting to build an "order" of such empowered beings. Historically, people building such orders, with themselves (naturally!) Being the ranking and heredetary leader, have not had civilization's (in general) best interests in mind. And, those that did, often created orders that later came to subjugate and domineer in direct opposition of the order's founding ideals. (See, eg 'christ' and his disciples , vs modern christianity.) That's a pretty big shoe to fill to not have him question ad suspect too greatly to accept such an offer, being more wholesome than biblical 'perfect' jesus damned hard. )
I just listed the results for reference.
Right now though, he has other fish to fry. A dwarven mindflayer roaming the fortress is a pretty scary thing.
[/ooc]
Weird layed in his bed. Tinman's green goop had spared him the indignity of yet another set of gnarly scars from gizogen's "fabulous surgical skills", and for that he was greatful. The hospital food was horrible though.
So was hugo's abhorrent snoring. Single becoming big, green, and scaly, he had also developd flaming halitosis, and earth rumbling snores. Gods... the snores. He liked hugo, well enough, but they just don't make breatheright strips in size "dragon".
'Just wait until he figures out that reptiles and avians have "very different" unmentionables to mammals. ' he thought to himslef bemusedly. 'When he figures out that he only goes #2, and out the same slit his john thomas hides in, he's gonna have a conniption about personal hygiene.'
That last thought made him giggle; something he soon discovered he shouldn't have done. While the green goop had sealed up his shoulder well enough, it didn't to a whole lot for the shattered ribs. Laughter was literally painful as hell.
Maybe he'd talk with him about it discretely later.
Gizogen, despite his eccentricities and preferneces for clockwork mechanoids over flesh and blood patients, and his "unique taste" in hospital zone decor (specifically the 'paint'), he was prettupy festidious about infectious agents, so when Roead, the new resident mummy, and original tennent of the property showed up to discuss recent events with te closest thing he had to a kindred spirit in the madhouse that was the new bay 12 fortress complex, it didn't go over well.
Several heated words, threats of mechanoid vs angry puppy battle royales, and even a personal threat to use a mechanical high-speed rotary appliance to forcibly unwrap the mummy if he didn't leave immediately, the 'good doctor' relented after weird said to knock it off, or he would use all his strength to get those stupid kobold corpses that he had left haunting the 'bold bay' two days before to storm down here and ransack his office. It was hard to precisely describe the mixed expression and bodylanguage that gizogen employed, but it was fiar to say he was only complying because it would damage his long term goals and accomplishments to an unacceptible degree by continueing the protest. It was also abundantly clear that further threats to his "secret lab" would not be tolerated.
"Looks like I owe you again..." said the mummy.
"I know I said we could talk about the reason you couldn't seep in the morning, and that it was two days ago," he groaned, "but that was before I got squashed by an angry tarantula."
"That's still something I want to discuss, but that's not what I came to ask about.." wheezed the walking undead. "Did you know you aren't the only necromancer here?"
"What!?" Weird shouted, just before the color of anger drained from his face just as suddenly as it had appeared. The pain from the involuntary reactions it had caused was unspeakable.
"Who is it?" He barely managed to croak.
"I think his name is Eric." The swaddled corpse muttered. "He's been using your kind's art in ways he shouldn't be, far too quickly for his own good. I can tell by your reaction, that you didn't know he was practicing."
"That dumbfuck!" Weird said as intensely as he could without hurting himself. "Where the hell did that idiot find a slab to contract with? If he breaks the taboo... doesn't he know that contracts with gods aren't things to enter into lightly?! How far has he gone? Will I have to slab him soon?"
"Not that far... yet... but he's been doing strange things too. I smelled something else on him lately. He used some sort of compulsion on the living just recently as well. Made some drunken lummox named urist McPlanter walk right into a closet and stand there, while he made off with one of those dead kittens frm your lot's refuse pile. Apparently forgot to undo whatever spell he cast on him too. The man was still standing there while I tasted the magic. I think he's been traffiking with more than just the death goddess lately. That kind of ambition is dangerous, as I'm sure you know. I wouldn't normally care what you mortals are up to, my interest in the affairs of the living died when I did, and wouldn't care what some bearded simpleton does to himself in private, but I don't relish the idea of being controlled by your kind; no offence intended."
This was disquieting news. Eric was casting geas on people, IN ADDITION to selling part of his soul to raise the dead!? What kind of deal did he make to ensnare the minds of the LIVING!? That's some serious voodoo there, and a power that absolutely NOBODY should have. He didn't blame Roead for being 'disturbed' by the prospect. He had to get out of this bed, and contront him about it, and soon.
"I don't blame you." Weird growled. "I wouldn't, its against my principles, but who knows what somebody else would do. Its a justified concern." He paused. "Do you know any ways to block whatever strange magic he weaved on Urist? If I'm to confront him about it, I don't want to end up in a closet myself, ..... or worse."
"It goes against my own principles to do anything to help the living... your kind is so.....'animated'.. he groaned. "But I owe you a solid for all those puppies. Way better than what a whole kingdom had offered when they buried me, and given without even a moment of hesitation or reservation. That's the biggest reason why I came down here and suffered that fool of a doctor to threaten my bandages like that without cursing him where he stood... but your concern about the affairs of a corpse like me is....refeshingly unexpected. Especially from one of your kind; no disrespect. --i'l see what I can get out of the other wandering spirits on the matter."
"Thank you, and none taken. For one of your kind, you've been remarkably patient and amicable. From what I've been told, your kind really hates necromancers, to the point of cursing on sight."
A foul smelling cloud of dust puffed from between the wrappings as the tall, dessicated figure laughed.
"That's only because I wanted answers, and because you didn't try to wrap your twisted will on me the moment you saw me to squeeze the secret of my powers out of me. Your restraint was.. unexpected. Your behavior now, is even more so. I dare say, you're an almost respectable necromancer."
"I had a good introduction to the real cost of the art from my teacher." He said. "She pointed me down the road less traveled in the art, because its harder. Almost all necromancers fall to the seduction of power and control, and when they do, they cause a cascade of problems that emperil other necromancers, and yet more... and far more ordinary people and sentient undead. Its a sick joke, but the souless under our curse have to win back our souls by proving we never lost it, or become consumed by the power and knowledge we traded it for. I hope eric hasn't gone too deep into the art that he won't hear reason. That idiot's gotten himself in deep."
"You sound remorseful of your choice.." mused the ancient zombie. "That's hilariously unexpected. Your kind usually goes bonkers the mere moment you touch those accursed rocks."
"More than you know." Weird sighed. "More than you know."
"I'll look into our shared little problem." Roead affirmed. "Let's hope he shares your uncanny sentimentalities."
"I hope so." Said weird. "I hope so."
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Topic: If Bay Forum were a Mountain Hall, continued... FULL DISCLOSURE (Read 266329 times)