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It was fun for a long time but towards the end it just started to drag

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I wish I could have joined in.

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Total Members Voted: 28

[Oliolli]

Oliolli finally woke up. He could clearly remember what had happened... whenever it was. The fight, the wounds and the emergency dressing. He quickly checked if the bloodflow had stopped. Luckily Oliollis' blood coagulates quickly, thus he hadn't bled to death from such extensive wounds. Next he turned his attention back to the dead axeman. Flipping the body over onto it's back, Oliolli tried to identify him, but couldn't. This was a complete stranger, that had attacked for no apparent reason. Finally finishing off the handle he had been working on (teeth, a hand and a sword can be used for much), Oliolli attached the weapons to it, straightened his unnaturally bent right leg as best he could and started slowly limping back to the fort, simply hoping the centipedes wouldn't find anyone. It would take hours to reach the fort again.

[wierd]

'Gods...' weird thought to himself. 'This is what happens when your brain gets removed during mummification.'

This was horrible. This could go so horribly wrong! They could both end up scrubbing latrines with their faces! Or worse! If he managed to get out of this with his mind intact, he would be sorely tempted to unwrap that mummy himself!

Then again, not physically having a brain to subjugate could well explain Roead's immunity to compulsion. Then again, he still had his, and he currently had waaaaaay more undead dancing on the string. In a battle between dangerous reanimators, Roead was outnumbered, and if he lost his will to eric...outgunned.

Gods this sucked! Weird liked having exit strategies. He liked having defenses. He liked to make plans, and fallbacks.  This situation was a nightmare!  Damn that mummy!

[Eric Blank]

"Don't get your bandages in a knot, old man. Not everyone is as hostile as you, and I don't take pride in controlling others' lives, or really desire to." Eric snapped back at the husk.

He led them back to his room and sat them at his table before shutting the door, to at least make the conversation seem moderately private. He then pointed to the table, saying "as you probably already know, I snapped into a mood earlier this week and made this table. I thought it was going to be a problem at first because it includes all of the text from the tablet I learned to control minds with. It's not a perfect translation of the imagery, what with it looping around the borders of the table. And it doesn't let anyone develope the power just from the table, even if you can read all of the text plainly. However, it does offer me as a wielder of the power a few extra powers related to the deity. The deity is directly associated with leadership, thralldom, wealth, speech, and hospitality. While thralldom is the sphere the secret is most directly related to, and leadership and wealth currently lack a secret they directly relate to as far as I know, speech and hospitality both had associated abilites. Namely, speech relates to communication through any means, including non-verbal, and the secret of mental thralldom already calls upon it to deliver messages through telepathy or gestures as well as verbal communication. But, hopsitality and speech also form a bond in which one can offer the mind of others "hearth and home" in a sense, outside their mortal body, like one would offer hospitality to a guest. It assumes, though, that they are willing to participate, they have no prior obligations with other deities, and that an appropriate "foster home" or body is capable of accepting them. The arrangement can be as temporary or permanent as desired, but I cannot use it on those whom I have enthralled at the time. I am authorized to share my secrets with others on the basis that they are a respectable member of society or strictly a member of a ruling caste or in a position of authority. In our current situation, that includes all of us, even Urist McFarmer. I can offer this to you as well."

He paused to catch his breath, and consider how to continue.
"So... not to get off topic on that tangent at the moment, I believe that the miner we lost today in the accident might have been one of those I had discussed this with previously. He agreed to take my offer of hospitality up in case of accidents, and when his body was destroyed, well... His mind returned to the foster home we'd agreed upon, which is this table here. At least I think it did. As you know we just got back in here since the incident, so let's check now."

As the others watched, Eric tapped a small circle in the center of the table, to which a shrill voice originating in the air over the surface cracked "WHAT? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT!?" It was Athel the miner alright, in all his wise-cracking, hot-headed glory. "Can't you see I'm in mourning? Of myself? I don't care what you famthut agaks are talking about, leave me out of it! I had plans, man! Plans! And you just so helpfully neglected to mention that the magma plume was under pressure, didn't you?"

"I told you all not to continue work there until further notice, didn't I? What else do you need to come to a decent conclusion?"

"I... I don't care! Armok damn you all!" And with that the voice could be heard no more.


Everyone looked up from the table, even Eric somewhat shocked. "Well... At least we know he's there," he continued, "So, what I really needed to talk to you about was the secrets of life and death, or, rather, what you know about them, as I've already studied them from a tablet I recovered in the tower. In his current state, Athel won't be going anywhere or really be able to enjoy his life. This wasn't meant to happen until after I'd had this discussion with you, anyone dying and demanding a reincarnation, I mean. So, any ideas what we can do to get him back out of there? I was thinking just offer him a form of disembodied-spirit-ness, but that's not exactly a pleasent existence, either. Having some actual experience with necromancy, I was hoping you could provide some guidance on acquiring a new form that isn't rotten. A golem could work, same with a clockwork automation, but a living body would be preferable, as Athel had requested such. And one last thing: the body would need to be inscribed with the symbology present on this table, even if in miniature. It's an enchantment."

Roead finally picked up his dropped jaw and exclaimed "What the HELL were you even thinking!? Trap one's soul to the mortal world, but NOT provide a suitable alternative to their body in the event it is torn apart and incinerated!?"

"He's not trapped, one can choose to 'off themselves' if they desired. It's a rather weak enchantment, really. Only their mortal soul is constrained to the object as it is to their natural body, so they can just as easily be killed in that form and thus pass on to the afterlife. The gods could smite them at will. The enchantment doesn't break on damage to the scripture; it becomes permanent if the body is not irecognizably or fundamentally altered. But, if the object suffers too much damage, such as if it were a living body and died or under some other condition no longer resembled the form it was in as it was enchanted, and another subsitute hadn't been chosen, then the enchantment breaks and they die per-normal for a mortal being. I'm not really clear on it, but suffice to say that if a golem became a pile of rubble or the enchantment that makes it a golem (as separate from the hospitality enchantment) were to break, then it would no longer be a golem and thus the enchantment would break, but if the golem lost it's head, then it would still be a golem, although headless, and the hospitality enchantment would be intact. Unless losing it's head broke the golem's own enchantment and it was no longer a golem, then-"

"Shut up, I've heard enough." Roead said. Turning to Wierd he asked, "What the hell are we going to do about this guy?"

[wierd]

"We tell him *exactly* what happens when you futz with the natural order concerning spirits." Weird said to the mummy, before returning to eric.

"Spirits have the right to naturally return to the mortal world if they choose, which some do if they feel they aren't being properly remembered, or if they have their graves desicrated by unsanctioned rites."

He took a breath.

"The gods and greater spirits that oversee the passage of souls do so because it suits their natures. Anything that interferes with that order makes them unhappy. Mummy's like this guy over here come back from the dead corporeally, because they have that option, since the body was specifically prepaired for that purpose. Technically speaking, a robot body would suffice if similar rituals consecrating it as a vehicle were observed. That's basically what an egyptian ushabti doll is. This world has no concept of robots, so nobody has tried it yet."

He looked down at the table, and scowled.

"I don't know what deal with this 'nobility god' you have gotten yourself into, but this thing is an abomination, and coming from a necromancer, that's a pretty damning pronouncement. See, the death goddess has free reign over the passage of souls. Death is a necessary sphere of divine purpose, because without death, there can be no new life. Without death, souls don't go to the afterlife, and if souls don't go to the afterlife, there is no proper reincarnation. Some souls she claims as a result of forfieture. These are souls that entered into a contract with her. Souls like yours. Souls like mine. Souls like that bitch thari. I take it you read all the fine print on that contract, right? If so, then you should know better. If not, then do yourself a favor, and stop reading tablets."

[Eric Blank]

"Indeed I did, and I understand the forfeiture. Unfortunately I also read all of the fine print on the other contract. If an individual chooses to use this method of reincarnation, they never enter the cycle of death and are entirely mortal in nature; slabbing them would be no more effective than slabbing someone who is completely healthy, even if their physical avatar is not alive or even organic. If their spirit's continued presence is an affront to a deity, then under normal circumstances they could still be smote down by that being, adn they're still restricted by age and not immortal. Finding a replacement body is the greatest concern if they don't want to be a talking rock for the remainder of their days. This table is an artifact. Has been blessed by that god, so it isn't possible to damage it or alter it's state; it's effectvely a permanent medium for souls. As for why this deity actually chooses to use this method rather than recall spirits from the afterlife is beyond me, but I suspect it's to offer an easy physical manifestation for them to interact with the living, assuming their physical form is fit to do so. Or, if inter-deific warfare were to ever occur, this is likely the nobility god's slap across the cheek to the death goddess, perhaps just to spite her. Being caught in-between is a little confusing. They both offer eternal punishment for pissing them off, after all. Even if this god of nobles is mostly insulted by failure to perform as he desires. By the contract to the death goddess I have to let souls proceed to the afterlife unhindered, but by contract to the noble god I have to offer hospitality to souls if they haven't been specifically smote by another deity. Athel's best options now are to find a replacement, or surrender to the afterlife, which he wasn't interested in yesterday. He's not really hindered from passage to the afterlife, as far as I know. So, is there any way a living, organic body could be prepared as a host, one that had no previous occupying soul?"

[wierd]

Weird shook his head.

"There's an old saying. 'You can't serve two masters'. Eventually, there will be conflict of interest, and I am suffering a powerful compulsion to do very unsavory things to this table. If people want to have bodies to come back to, they can properly consecrate a surrogate, and return the proper, legal way like Roead over here. This thing is exactly what you describe; a slap in death's face. Rest assured, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. If you keep this up, I may have to slab you soon. Trust me, its not something either of us wants, and both of us know why. If your nobility god steps on her toes, and snatches you out of reach, better hope she doesn't send her avatars to hunt your fugitive ass down. I feel a thousand prickles in my head right now for that guy in the table. His number was drawn, and he's late for the party."

Wierd's eyes rose up from the table.

"As for your question about a living body with no soul in it... that's stepping on the toes of yet more gods. Namely, childbirth, and its associated circles. Creating a living body that lacks a soul means peventing the natural processes of that diety, which won't win you many brownie points. I wouldn't reccomend it as a course of action, unless you like the iea or waking up as a rabid squirrel or something similarly distasteful. I'd stick with the deceased's corpse, or with a clearly inanimate but servicable artificial surrogate for any such "hospitality." "

His blue eyes narrowed and took on an almost sinister tone.

"And then, only *after* they have been properly conveyed to the afterlife. Incomplete souls like ours are the only exception. The *only* exception."

[Eric Blank]

"Hmm. I see. I'll deal with Athel later, then. He has been able to hear the entire conversation himself, though, I'll try to convince him to talk with me later. Good day."

With that, Eric ushered them out of the room. If there was any way to deal with Athel in a reasonable manner, it would have to come tomorrow. Too much digging, too much playing with fire of various sorts, and rampant insomnia weren't helping clear his head of all the metaphorical fuck that had accumulated over the course of the week. Failure is always an option to any sensible being, but nobody made a fool of him.
---------------------
[Hey, if you woke up as a rabid squirrel, you'd at least have an excuse to bite someone. Honestly, I'm a sensible guy when it is rewarding or I generally have work to do, but I completely disregard authority, despise the concept of "divine right" and live for the fight. A certain level of sadomasochism demands I do exactly what I shouldn't just for the pleasure of knowing I made a goddess piss herself in an incontinence-inducing blind rage. I suppose we should all pray your goddess doesn't piss a slurry of bloodthirsty eels and highly-acidic seawater, or we'd have a right nasty biblical flood on our hands. On the other hand, I could piss off the god of all nobility and incite a siege that not even the fortress I am building this very moment could stave off, getting everyone killed and sparking some sort of armageddon. I'm the resident sadistic monster for love of doing unspeakable things to others, but "sadomasochistic monster" has a nice ring to it.

If these deities both have it in for me equally with their inter-deific warfare, it's only a question of choosing sides, and I'll have you know my morality is not so corrupt, nor my willpower feeble like that of an elf. Yes, I think I know exactly what to do. But first I need to conquer my own insomnia and SLEEP.

And stop reading TVtropes. Holy crap I thought I was immune to that virus.]

[Zanzetkuken The Great]

In Alara...

"I shall try to do what I have said," said Zanzetkuken.

He sat cross-legged on the ground and focused.  Blue mana surrounded him and Hugo, who was in pain, and Zanzetkuken entered his (Hugo's) mind.  His mental avatar sprinted through the mental realm of Hugo's mind till he found the connection between the two personas of Hugo.  Zanzetkuken began by moving the planeswalker spark so it would only be in the normal Hugo's mind and used blue mana to split the connection.  The tendrils launched outward, as the personas separated into two distinct minds, but clockwork's mind launched tendrils to grab onto the connection.  Zanzetkuken split it again, as more tendrils tried to grab onto the normal Hugo's mind again.

Zanzetkuken blasted them down once again, and saw that the clockwork would not give up as long as the tendrils remained, so Zanzetkuken thought to himself I knew something would happen.  I hope this works.

He blasted them down, but this time had the normal Hugo's mental tendrils connect to himself.  He was launched out of Hugo's mind as the clockwork's mind was expelled forcefully, becoming exiled from Hugo's mind.

Zanzetkuken came out of his trance and saw Hugo awake in front of him.

This is going to be fun.  You are going to be affected by my character's persona, and vice versa.  What were your mana colors again?  Mine were blue, white, and red.

[WillowLuman]

Blue, white, black. Clockwork eldricht abomination has Octarine.

"What have you... done... Zanzetkuken? You realize that now I am utterly fragmented, and with only a partial existence I am astrally tethered to you? Now my mind will leech off your energy to exist, and I can't help it."

"You've still got your own body, don't you?"

"Yes, but it's the mind that counts. Well, as long as the other half is still trapped I suppose it doesn't matter. I just hope that the other I hasn't managed to tether itself to any wandering spirits."
Roead smirked. "I knew it, Joykill! As usual, my hunch was right, it was."

"And what kind of hunch was that?" Yes, what kind of hunch to make such a foolhardy declaration of intent?

"That the fool doesn't know what he's doing at all, and that he's a damn arse." With that said, he promptly reached out and clocked Eric in the head, knocking him to the floor.

"You didn't have to do that... _yet" said Weird.

"I'm bloody pissed! Also, I just realized my wrappings are a scarf and a roll of elvish privvie paper that those bums stole from the kobolds!"

[Eric Blank]

[But I kicked them out.]

[wierd]

"Really? Toilet paper?...."

Weird shook the incredulity away. Absurd wrapping material replacement with something more durable would have to come later.

"Nevermind. We have to do something about that table. Its an abomination. Got any more bright ideas, oh dessicated one?"

He really wasn't sure how to dispose of the thing without also prompting a desecration reaction from its patron diety. Maybe he could put a necromantic sigil on top to slam the lid down and keep it from absorbing more souls... or cast it in cement and sigil that.... 'damn you eric. I hope Roead dislodged your jaw for being a dumbass.' He thought crassly.


[Well, Roead could have punched him as they were being shown out? Fist through the dorrway?]

[WillowLuman]

[He ran after you]

"If you're far enough from a place of worship or any followers, as long as you don't believe in them, the effects of any given deity on you are fairly weak. Unfortunately, having a bunch of dwarves about, any god of nobility would be able to smite your arse with extreme prejudice. I'd say we should find a demon, but they seem to have gone extinct since my time. Perhaps a sufficiently powerful deity-like being would do the jobbie? I've heard that there's caverns below the ground where great big strange primal things roam."

[wierd]

"Hmm.. maybe..."

Weird mused.  Then he got an idea. He could banish the whole goddamned table without scratching it!

"I got an idea!" Weird shouted. "Help me push this thing. I'm totaly useless for moving shit, and my kobolds are too incompetent to move it without possibly damaging it. I don't care how 'invulerable' eric said it was."

Roead was a human mummy. This was important, because a table that was big for a dwarf was "kid size" for him.  He just reached down and picked the thing up.

"Alright mate, where d'ya want the bloody thing?"

"This way!" He shouted, pointing down the hall.  They'd take it to one of the recently mined galleries that were scheduled to have magma flow through it later. That would eliminate all evidence of the batshit crazy reverse summoning he was going to attempt. He couldn't remove the soul from the table, but he could send the soul, table and all, exactly where it was supposed to go.. of course, it would seriously damage the floor where the sigil would be drawn. That's what the magma would clean up later. When dealing with gods, let the gods sort it out. He had obligations to send the deceased where they belonged. Nothing in the contract said that the fugitives couldn't be in a bottle.

------

The motley pair drew quite a few odd stares as they rounded the corner, went down the ramp, and passed the infirmary.  Stealthfully ducking inside to grab a hunk of dried plaster from the medical supply bins, joykill hobbled as fast as he could be hine Roead. Why did humans have to have such damned long legs?

Reaching the galleries, Roead started into a tirade.

"Bloody hell! So, THIS is why I can't get any gods damned sleep!" He shouted, pointing at the glassed spot on the floor, a charred iron pick, and a frothy, sulfurous smelling pool of crusted over magma covering part of the floor. "You bloody midgets keep tryin to blow the whole damned mointain apart! If any of this shite ends up in my tomb, not a one o' ya will be able to walk straight again!"

"Whaaa?" Weird asked.  He really had no idea what Roead was going on about.

"Toes, man! Toes!" Roead asserted.

Weird didn't have time for this. "Just put it down right there for a minute, while I make the circle."

[WillowLuman]

Eric, not knocked unconscious as Roead had attempted, got up and dusted himself off to see the mummy and weird carrying the table out of the room.

[wierd]

[I made an edit. Your ball, hugo.]