At a cannibal's cabin...Kevin mentally shrugs, electing not to judge the cannibalistic murderer from the backwoods, lest he be judged in turn, found wanting and promptly eaten. Getting up, he follows the cannibal inside, and finds that the cabin is, just as it appeared from the outside, illuminated by a peculiar blue light of uncertain origin - the whole interior is filled with a fog of smoke with a strange choking odor.
After a short walk through the entrance corridor, Kevin is brought over to the central room, where the first thing that strikes Kevin is, fortunately, not an axe. Instead, he notices the hearth. Something's happened to it, clearly, because it's not a hearth anymore. At least not as far as he can tell. Instead, it looks something like a more bulbous version of the mouth of a Venus flytrap, with needle-like teeth protruding from its lips and sliding past one another as it breathes rapidly despite being made of what looks like some kind of basalt. The smoke that's been filling the room billows out occasionally from the corners of its mouth. Right next to it is a fire, now burned out, atop which a woman has been impaled on a spit and roasted, then partially eaten. The leg in the man's hands appears to have belonged to her at one point.
"Shorry 'bout the wife," the man turns to Kevin with his mouth full.
"Washn't my fault, y'know."He leads Kevin up to the spit and grabs a sturdy chair that's been knocked over - indeed, everything aside from the spit appears to have been knocked over at some point - and offers it to Kevin, then grabs a chair for himself.
"Really. 'Twash the..." he looks at the mouth a little further away and stops mid-gesture, his axe hand hanging in the air as he completely blanks upon regarding the mouth, remaining entirely motionless for the moment. Kevin looks over at the mouth, which seems to have opened a slight amount, the opening giving off a slight amount of blue light. The smoke is starting to make Kevin feel nauseous.
At a rapidly growing skull tower...Sigmund rather brilliantly decides to use his phylactery to levitate himself as well - shouldn't be too difficult with the force output he can manage. Climbing on top of the phylactery suspended in air, he tries to hold his balance.
[Agility roll: 3+
1]
Fortunately, it's not incredibly difficult as far as such things go, especially since he can keep the phylactery steady pretty decently while doing it. Now for the ascent, of course. Need to calculate the force required carefully, of course.
[Magic roll: 3]
He starts to rise very slowly upwards, realizing that it seems to have underestimated his weight quite a bit along the way. As a consequence, as soon as he gets to the top of the tower where the wizard in agony was standing, he appears to have finished up whatever he was doing, and now is standing there regarding his handiwork, which Sigmund in his concentration upon his momentary task had completely failed to register until this point. To make matters worse, it is at this moment that the tower wizard chooses to turn around, giving Sigmund a surprised, if very exhausted look. He... doesn't look hostile, oddly. Mostly just curious as he leans forward a little and looks Sigmund in the eyes.
In a soon to be flooded alley...Mark and
Morton, both very deeply conscious of the trouble they're in, immediately set about the drawing of a narrow escape circle for three, which the book seems to have an appropriate instruction for (it takes groups up to six for convenience's sake, though the exact number needs to be specified in a particular spot on the circle itself). Wilma, who's not quite as well-versed on drawing demon-circles, watches curiously as the two start to feverishly draw the relatively simple, though nevertheless somewhat complex diagram on the ground.
[Morton's circle-drawing roll: 2+
1]
Knocking together a very quick and dirty demon circle, Morton is somewhat surprised when the circle disappears suddenly, its former center abruptly sinking into the ground and creating a completely black hole in front of the three unfortunates. Good news is, it probably should work. The bad news is, of course, that it seems to be a very narrow hole, which was probably to be expected, considering the name. For a second, the three silently look upon the hole as the alley groans and heaves, beaten this way and that by the waves.
[Wilma's agility roll: 5]
"Who's going fi-" Wilma begins to ask, but then decides not to bother, instead stepping in front of Mark and executing a surprisingly competent headfirst dive into the hole, sliding halfway into it from the initial drop, her legs comically dangling out at first, then apparently making the rest of the way in via vigorous clawing and crawling. Looks like this escape route is going to be a tight fit.
The next spout of
something, considerably larger than the first, lands further down the alley, and seems to be flowing in Morton and Mark's direction.
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 564477 times)