Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[Spinal_Taper]

"I don't know, exactly, but isn't that the point of friendship? Trust?"

[Innsmothe]

Well, what were your magical interests?

[Harry Baldman]

In the hallways of the Red Tower of Power...

Niklas takes a moment to drain a full vial of blood from the man - he seems to take it reasonably well, almost as if he is no stranger to being bled for profit. He probably isn't, come to think of it. When the glass container is filled, which takes quite a while, actually, Niklas gets off the person and goes to report to Fat Candace. She proves easy to find as usual, and gives Niklas a very nonchalant look when he presents the vial.

"Reasonably good work. Now, have you ever prayed to the God of Death? And do you know how to chant?" she asks of him, floating a little closer.


Somewhere along the harbor of Mothdale...

Scott looks around at his environment, but realizes that he still can't see a damn thing. This is disappointing, he thinks.

"Well, what were your magical interests?"

~manipulation of souls! this is now fully within the realm of the gub's power! next, we will attempt to harness the power of transmutation directly! and then telekinesis! and then the magic of life! and finally metamagic as well! and then energy manipulation, and possibly portal creation! many things and powers shall be gained by us before the week is done! and then the work will begin! we will transform this mostly empty city into the sprawling center of gub!~

For some reason Scott can't help but find this information a little troubling.


Slightly further away from Scott...

Mark takes a quick look around for his leg, but then realizes that the asshole dolphin spit it into the canal. He's not sure if diving in to get it would be the best idea, to be perfectly honest, and so contents himself with merely getting the orb and putting its occupant into a serviceable state again. That guy goes through so much abuse, it's getting ridiculous, to be frank.

[Mark's "medicine" roll: 1+1]

Then again, why bother? Sigmund's hardly going to appreciate it, and he'll just go and wreck himself again. Maybe he can delegate this to someone else instead. He just doesn't have the energy for it, really. Especially with a sordid set of body parts like the ones currently on hand. Instead, Mark decides to ask the gub to relay to his companions exactly why he in particular seems to have landed on the grand dolphin hit list.

~we have already told all interested parties the reason why you were attacked!~ the gub tell him. Hm.

Morton, meanwhile, communes with the voice in the air.

~Ah, good group Gub, you're back and seem well from the sounds of it. I had feared something dreadful might have happened to you, your absence was expected, but the hectic chaos was unfortunately not.~

~we have taken the first steps to ultimate power! so we are 'well', as you put it! the chaos was unexpected, but the loss of assets will not be repeated! next time assets will be locked up in safe places! in fact, we have begun doing this already!~

Ah. Morton turns to his companions.

"Good jester Kevin, good surgeon Mark, perhaps we should find some place safe off the streets? I know of one such we could perhaps attend, the Apostle's Abode. I'm afraid I may need help getting there in my current condition however. Perhaps we can try to find good sir Sigmund along the way?" he asks, and Kevin just shrugs and picks him up, though they fail to go anywhere, much to Morton's disappointment.

~I do hope you don't mind me renaming the Dancing Fly, good group Gub. I felt that the original name was perhaps a bit of a detract to the new place, and felt this one was more neutral in that respect,~ he then thinks at the gub.

~it matters not! now, do you require a new body? we can provide one within minutes!~


In a dark void of tenuous existence...

Sigmund, having few better ideas, tries to check if he can sense the gub - the answer is a very definite yes. What he can also sense is death. It pervades the sphere he is trapped inside of, and his so-far dormant claustrophobia is on the verge of triggering, actually. Death in every direction, and endless darkness, and eternal peril.

Sigmund wonders when Mark will get his metal ass into gear and put him in a new body already. This is starting to become fairly frightening.

~the technique of soul transportation has been successfully tested! it works without issue! are you still opposed to the idea of us practicing magic upon you?~


In the center of Blynn...

Timothy agrees not to talk back to his betters as per Lenny's instructions - Lenny seems pleased.

"Great. Now let's go find the guy."

They head through the center of town, attracting few looks along the way - there actually seem to be other ghosts around here, interestingly enough. Eventually Timothy is led to the hill fort looming over the rest of the town - viewed up close, the magical nature of the fort really stands out. Virtually every wall gleams strangely, and it quickly becomes evident that there seem to be a great many manipulations of space put into place - Timothy, following Lenny's lead, keeps landing in all sorts of curious places that he did not intend to float to at all, but Lenny does look like he knows where he's going. Once again, nobody seems perturbed at all by Timothy's appearance or anything like that, right up until the moment Lenny leads Timothy up to a very imposing-looking office entrance - the jet black door has the letters "CLM-BCM" written on it in bright purple, which strikes Timothy as a little bit too much, but he follows his guide within regardless.

Within the door seems to be a very luxurious, yet also very fleshy and very distinctly breathing office, filled with strange, organic alternatives to what Timothy would expect to see in a magistrate's office - cabinets, a huge desk with a veritable throne behind it, several chairs, a whole lot of miscellanea he can't quite identify and more, all in a slightly unsettling shade of tan that reminds Timothy of human skin. And the man behind the desk, a very gnomish-looking, grinning gentleman in a robe that, did it not have the look of having grown out of the man's skin, Timothy would describe as far too luxurious for his presumed station.

"Sir, I have an individual in need of help here," Lenny says. "He seems to be lost, and would like to return home."

"How charming," the gnome of a man replies. "And why should I help him?"

"He is willing to provide help. Right, Timothy?" Lenny asks his companion. Timothy wonders how grave this choice might be.


At a forming stalactite...

Darren tries for a good answer on this latest question from the odd pile-thing.

"I don't know, exactly, but isn't that the point of friendship? Trust?"

The pile shrugs. It looks very strange, considering that it has no shoulders to speak of.

"Well, I guess. So, friendship, you say? How about we become friends? What do you say about that?" it asks in a tone Darren finds a little skeevy - granted, it is significantly less skeevy than before. "I take good care of my friends, you know," it says and winks at him.

[Xantalos]

Never prayed to no god of death, and I have a bunch of books on chanting. I'm stubborn enough for it though.

[Harry Baldman]

Never prayed to no god of death, and I have a bunch of books on chanting. I'm stubborn enough for it though.

"Stubbornness will avail you nothing in magic. Learn the methods of chanting and the mode of address for Velusius. Then return."

[Xantalos]

Sit down in front of her and look up the things she mentioned in that big chanting compendium.

[Tomcost]

~Well, if Mark doesn't decide to get his metal buttocks moving and make a body for me soon, I think that I will agree, it's getting too dark here. In which kind of body would you put me, in that case?~

[Innsmothe]

"What are your thoughts on this development...and possible future, master?"

[killerhellhound]

Mark paused in his thoughts wait if he kept braking bodies I will have more materiel's and more opportunity's to use it. its win-win

!!MEDICINE!! him so he can go get my leg

[Xanmyral]

[Well, I'll bite the bullet and take a spin. Also, one of the few sentences that Gub isn't marking with an exclamation point.]

A new body? Morton can't help but wonder how exactly that would happen. Would Gub make him one? Transfer him to a new one perhaps? The desk can't really say with the strange being's new admittance of power. But the apostle of the tea leaf isn't one to turn down free help, and it would be rude for one to look a gift courser in the mouth, as they say.

~I would most certainly appreciate such a generous offer, good group Gub. I've only one request, if you don't mind, which is that the new body may be able to make tea effectively. Otherwise I've no qualms, whatever you believe is best good group Gub. Might I inquire as to how however? I must admit to being a tad curious.~ A small moment passed before the desk realized something.

~Oh, I should quite inform my compatriots of the transfer, I wouldn't want them to worry.~

"Good jester Kevin, good surgeon Mark, good group Gub has been kind enough to offer me a new form, and I've accepted."

Accept the Gub's kind offer of a new body! Warn allies of acceptance so they don't worry!

[Spinal_Taper]

"Ah, yes, that would be delightful, but I have a question. What sort of things do you and your friends do? We can't very well be friends without shared interests."

[miauw62]

Kevin, knowing no other way of communication without vocal cords, shrugs.

[Tomcost]

Kevin, knowing no other way of communication without vocal cords, shrugs.

((Back to old skelly days))

[Harry Baldman]

At the Red Tower of Power...

Niklas sits down in front of Fat Candace and decides to read his chant compendium for the information desired.

About an hour later, he gets up, having learned nothing about addressing gods and knowing which exact chants he might want out of all these available ones. Fat Candace seems to have utilized Niklas' state of distraction to float away. Hm.


In a dark and scary void...

Sigmund wonders about the sort of body he could receive from the gub - probably something ridiculous in all likelihood.

~Well, if Mark doesn't decide to get his metal buttocks moving and make a body for me soon, I think that I will agree, it's getting too dark here. In which kind of body would you put me, in that case?~

~there will be plenty momentarily! we are in the middle of transferring assets, and free bodies of human beings and ratfolk should be available, starting... now! yes! there are human and ratfolk bodies available!~


In a harbor of blinding white...

Scott keeps on talking, but now decides to ask the Artiste for input.

"What are your thoughts on this development... and possible future, master?"

"What, the gub using magic? They've been rather harmless so far, actually, and I see no reason to suspect that they will be anything but the very nicest overlords of all they can see for all eternity. Nevertheless, I must order you to not listen to or fulfill any of the gub's orders or requests from here on in," the Artiste says firmly. Ah, that lash of magically-enforced authority. Scott has not missed it.

~we knew that we had neglected an important fact! but it was lost in our list of priorities!~ the gub say, and suddenly everything turns dark for Scott. When everything returns to a state of normality, there is no more blinding light. Instead, Scott can fully see the docks, which look just as mostly deserted as they did when he was here the first time.

~you are an unproductive and inefficient addition to the thinking apparatus of the gub! we are at a loss on what to do with you exactly! so for now, you are free! and if you seek out or happen to observe your master, your soul will be placed into a random place and shuffled around for as long as it is needed!~

Interestingly, both Joe and the Artiste seem to be gone, though the former's absence is certainly easier to spot.


At the harbor of Mothdale...

Morton, who is currently being carried, decides to stop being such an awful burden and accept transfiguration once again.

~I would most certainly appreciate such a generous offer, good group Gub. I've only one request, if you don't mind, which is that the new body may be able to make tea effectively. Otherwise I've no qualms, whatever you believe is best good group Gub. Might I inquire as to how however? I must admit to being a tad curious... Oh, I should quite inform my compatriots of the transfer, I wouldn't want them to worry,~ he says, looking at his compatriots and regaling them with the pleasant news.

"Good jester Kevin, good surgeon Mark, good group Gub has been kind enough to offer me a new form, and I've accepted," he says, and Kevin just shrugs while Mark remains steadfastly expressionless.

~commencing relocation!~

[the gub's magic roll: 5]

Suddenly, Morton feels an immense pull, and is yanked out of his own broken body with ruthless, yet painless efficiency. The period in between is only seconds long, but feels quite a bit longer - the sensation of hurtling bodilessly through the city is disorienting and bewildering, to say the least, and feels quite a bit like death, Morton observes after a period of calmly thinking about it. In fact, it might as well be death as far as he knows, except maybe it's the temporary sort of death, you never know.

Well, anyway, he doesn't die, fortunately enough - instead, he feels the altogether familiar - at least twice as familiar as death, in fact - sensation of entering a body. A body, in fact, that may have been alive mere moments ago! It feels warm, anyway, and its life signs have not disappeared entirely when he enters it. They even quickly resume once the transition takes - Morton is, in fact, kind of alive right now.

Opening his eyes, he notices a very filthy ceiling.

Mark decides that he does probably need Sigmund for something - fishing, for instance. That's a pretty good use for him, really. He takes out his tools and hops back to the orb, thinking up some kind of fishing-related design.

[Mark's "medicine" roll: 2+1]

He can't really think of anything much better than a net of some kind, and so begins slicing tiny little bits of flesh from one of-

~no time!~

[the gub's magic roll: 2]

Mark wonders what the gub meant by that, and continues his work on the net-thing - he starts making headway on the weave, actually. Eventually he manages to make a crude sort of fleshy fishing tool - now to only figure out how to put Sigmund in it, really.

Kevin, meanwhile, wonders what to do with his life now that he's shrugged and all the life has drained from Morton's former body. Hopefully the fellow's alright. Wouldn't want him to have died or anything. Hm. Wonder what kind of body the gub put him into.

~no time no time no time!~

[the gub's magic roll: 2]

The gub do seem awfully excited, Kevin thinks. Wonder why.

"Hey, Kevin!"

Kevin turns to look at the Artiste, who seems to have buggered over here from wherever he was before. The man looks quite excited.

"I forbid you to fulfill or listen to any orders or requests from the gub!" he says rapidly, and Kevin feels his very soul snap a little as the order takes effect.

~how tiresome!~

Kevin then immediately blacks out, and the Artiste performs a rather unusual ten-meter step toward Mark.

"Hey, Mark, I forbid you to fulfill or listen to any orders or requests from the gub!" he tells the skeleton, and the order takes effect similarly to how it did in Kevin's case. Furthering the similarity, Mark immediately blacks out as well.

The two undead wake up some time later, and the Artiste is nowhere to be found at that point.

~we order you to speak with and follow the artiste!~ the gub immediately say. For some reason, both Mark and Kevin immediately feel a very distinct aversion to the idea.


At a forming stalactite...

Darren attempts to discover more about this creature before agreeing to be its friend.

"Ah, yes, that would be delightful, but I have a question. What sort of things do you and your friends do? We can't very well be friends without shared interests."

"Well, I do suppose that's true," the thing says, twisting in place a little. "I rather like music, I suppose. I can tap out a pretty mean beat, I think. I also shapeshift occasionally. And I like geology, I guess. Other than that, I don't think I've done much in the past ten or so years."

[miauw62]

~Why?~