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[Onyxjew944]

((Suggestion: Start using your roll-less badass powers to murder all of your adoring fans. Desecrate their corpses and burn the neighboring villages. Take the villages corpses and spike them in the nearest field as a macabre example. Salt their fields. Raze the landscape. Do what Vlad the Impaler would do.

Alternate Suggestion: Just do the first part of the first suggestion. The other atrocities are just extra credit towards one Cthulhu Point.

Alternate Alternate Suggestion: Create a United Bureaucracy of Tribbles.))

[Harry Baldman]

In the tower of the Artiste...

Mark feels disbelief creep into his mind.

[Will roll: 6-2]

You know, this does actually seem a bit unlikely. Say, aren't you supposed to be dead, pyromaniac weirdo?

The pyromaniac weirdo falls apart into tiny pieces. Yeah, thought so. And you there, Yorinnsud! You're dead as well. Mark buried you. So don't even think about coming out here! And it's not his birthday, damn it, and it wasn't yesterday, either! It's actually two months from now, so there!

The birthday banners and the cake disintegrate. The streamers lying all around become dust, the festive mood of the room becomes a thing of the past. The Artiste looks vaguely bored, Bernie looks vaguely frustrated, Evelyn looks generally uncaring, Erin... well, Erin's still pretty upbeat. And Art's not too bad, either. But still, there's no birthdays going on anymore.

You know, this makes him doubt several other things. Hey, Tom, are you real?

"Sorry, no. And death ray eyes don't actually exist in transplantable form, you're pretty sure. They're more of an innate attribute of the soul, you see," he says, shaking his head and disappearing.

Okay, what about you, zombie guy?

"Um, nope, sorry, also do you know-" he begins, but is cut off by his own nonexistence.

How terrible! And you, sword?

The sword falls out of Mark's hands and disappears. Damn it, Mark thought he could trust you.

"Are any of you-"

"No, we're not actually real. Took you long enough to figure out. Oh, and you can't actually speak. Thought I'd remind you."

Oh. That's right. You're not real either, eh, ghost dude?

"Nope. You couldn't chuck a real ghost, could you?"

Well, that is a good point. Mark looks out the window. The pyres are gone, as is Emlocke. Nothing exists out there. Oh well. Mark sits down in a chair that has appeared behind him as the room crumbles to bits and everything turns black.

When the light returns, Mark is greeted by the sight of an opulent dining room. He seems to be sitting at the table alongside about fifteen other men and women, most of whom appear to be mages. Some of the mages are lurched forward, their heads resting on the tables. Others still seem to have lulled their heads back, their mouths open. None of them look awake in any form. Some of the seats around him are empty.

[killerhellhound]

really should have noticed this before check self over then then loot the room including the bodys

[Harry Baldman]

In a dining room full of people...

Mark checks himself. He realizes he's been thoroughly looted. He checks the other people around. He realizes they've been thoroughly looted as well. Dang it all.

He hears something very vaguely. Like a... chuckle of some sort, but it's distant. Not too far, mind you, but somewhere.

[Xantalos]

((Oh Artiste.))

[killerhellhound]

((Oh Artiste.))

that evil asshole I liked being able to fly through will power
(do I still have my metal body and tree head) look around the room slapping the mages to try and wake them up as I go

[Harry Baldman]

Inside a dining room...

Mark checks if he still has his tree head!

He does. Phew. That's a relief. And his metal bones are in place as well. He looks around the room.

The room is dominated by a massive, long oaken dining room table with ornate carvings of scenes of revelry decorating its surface. Though there are people seated around the table, there isn't any cutlery, though there are a few brass candlesticks with candles still in them. There are several tall windows lining the wall, showcasing a rather nice view of Emlocke from what appears to be the third floor. Actually, he can see the square from here. It is still full of blood and has Yorinnsud's grave in it. The other wall is lined with cases full of glasses, plates, cups and other such contrivances, with paintings of calming vistas decorating the places not covered up already.

Okay then, time to slap some of these mages to consciousness. He walks up to one, a lady in her twenties with a sky blue robe and slaps her with his metal palm.

She doesn't react at all. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is open, a small stream of drool trickling down her chin. She's obviously alive, but it doesn't look like she's likely to respond to him. Hm. He goes up to another mage, an old man in a blue and gold robe and picks him up from his slumped position on the table. Also not responsive. He slaps the man silly, but his only response is to begin twitching and foaming at the mouth. Huh.

Wait, there is definitely someone snickering somewhere nearby. It is an evil snicker, the kind you would make after watching a man fall into a devious trap many years in the making.

[killerhellhound]

flip the bird at the voice then leap through the windows dragging one of the mage's with me as a shield

[Harry Baldman]

Inside a dining room of some kind...

Mark directs a very annoyed bird in the general direction of the voice, then grabs a comatose mage, a middle-aged lady in a black robe. Using her as a shield, Mark dives at the window!

[Window durability roll: 1]

The window shatters immediately and Mark flies right out of it, comatose mage at the ready to break his fall! He lands on the mage, safely protecting his metal form from unsightly scratches!

[Lady endurance roll: 6]

That lady is made of stern stuff. She doesn't seem to be particularly hurt aside from a broken nose. Cradling his shield close to him, Mark takes a look around.

He sees nothing. Nothing beneath him, nothing above him, nothing around him.

[Spinal_Taper]

Investigate. All ghosty like.

[Harry Baldman]

In a bloody square...

Darren goes forth to investigate these spooky events happening around here. He is, after all, supremely qualified in matters of spookiness. Putting on his metaphorical detective hat, he takes a careful look around the square.

All is well. It's still full of blood and melted corpses, but that is hardly unusual. All is still.

Well, except for a tree-headed metal skeleton crashing through a window and landing on a middle-aged comatose woman that he seems to be utilizing as a shield. The skeleton then gets up, still wielding the woman, then... nothing. He's just standing around.

[Spinal_Taper]

Check if the skeleton has a mind through possesion. Don't d anything with the body, however.

[Tomcost]

Check if the skeleton has a mind through possesion. Don't d anything with the body, however.

((You can't possess people. If you do, you have to have a body to survive, if not, you will banish))

[Harry Baldman]

In a bloody square...

Darren takes a closer look at the skeleton standing about. It's pretty difficult to tell whether it has a mind, really. It doesn't look particularly clever, what with the tree for a head and all. How does it even see, Darren has to wonder. Oh, if only he could possess whoever he pleased! But alas, he can only pretend to do so through clever telekinesis and ventriloquism.

There does seem to be something pushing on the skeleton. Something strange. Listening in, Darren can hear the faint rustle of clothing in the thin air. How strange.

[killerhellhound]

look around and try to will the darkness away then start walking forward