In a pile of straw...Sigmund, very dissatisfied with the horrid prickliness of the very thing that may have saved his life, slips out of the pile of straw, flopping out on the street and inspects himself - he realizes that he is a blob, and that he is very wet and disgusting. He has no mouth, which is good, because he would presumably vomit out of it if he could. He kind of misses being able to vomit, even if he never did get to use his capabilities for anything other than failing to make dolphins hate his guts to death.
He isn't sure how he's supposed to move on a non-sloped surface, actually. How do the jellies do even that, let alone fly? Their ways are indubitably mysterious, Sigmund thinks. Mysterious and vaguely alluring in their own way.
In a crumbling house...Morton feels uneasy about this state of filth, death and destruction he has landed in, and wipes off some of the grime off his very nice outfit - unfortunately, the filth on his hands kind of rubs off on it. Hm. That's no good. He quickly looks around the rest of the building - it appears to have been thoroughly looted, unfortunately. All of the furnishings, which must have undoubtedly been there not too long ago, seem to have been stolen, and parts of the place seem to have collapsed.
He is also reasonably sure he is not actually a ratgirl, unless his knowledge of human anatomy does not really apply to the body of a ratlike human being.
Anywho, he petitions the gub once more.
~Do you perhaps know where my old body is in relation to where I am now? I would be dreadfully appalled to lose my tea making supplies.~~they shall be delivered eventually!~Morton wonders if that's good enough. After all, the gub do seem dreadfully busy with something. While he ponders, he walks outside, thinking on what to do. The outside feels very warm and safe, if one discounts the unsettling noises coming from the canals and the nasty winds blowing all around the city. And that giant monstrous dog strolling down the street, looking highly alert and primed for trouble.
In the streets of Mothdale...Mark, still entirely confused on what to do, hops on his merry way, wondering what he could possibly replace his missing leg with. A walrus, maybe? A grasping toothy appendage of uncertain structure? Something even more interesting? 'Tis an issue he shall have to work on in due time, he thinks. Maybe he could... no, probably not. Hm.
~we have a solution!~ the voice of the gub says in his mind. Mark wonders what it might mean.
[the gub's magic roll: 4]
Unfortunately, it seems to mean peeling his soul out of his body and getting dragged through a rather large stretch of the city before settling in some sort of new body! The body in question seems to be a... person of some kind, dressed in highly garish clothing and sporting a very strange hat. Feels somewhat alive, Mark has to say. It's pretty unusual.
At a forming stalactite...Darren gets into this manipulation game that everyone seems to be extolling the virtues of. First, he tries peer pressure.
"Ah, yes, that's, ah, thank you for the compliment. So. How about we hang out somewhere cool? Like in there," he says, pointing off toward the mausoleum.
The pile seems amused again.
"You wanna go over to a darker corner, huh? I wouldn't go in there, though, it's full of people. I've got a pad of my own nearby, in a manner of speaking. I could show you lots of fun stuff there, if you know what I mean!" it says, winking strangely.
In one of the canals of Mothdale...Kevin does not enjoy these spontaneous soul pulls, evidently, as he is quite displeased.
~What the fuck? Change me back!~~you will grow to enjoy this form!~ is the gub's answer. Typical. Kevin decides to examine himself, and it takes him a minute to get his mind to process what's happened to him - it cannot be! But it is!
Kevin is now a dolphin swimming in the canal! There seem to be other dolphins around. They look unspeakably volatile. And the bottom of the canal is currently looking pretty hazardous as well - it seems to be crawling with worms! And it also has a lot of algae in it, too, Kevin thinks. No wonder the water here looks so terrible.
Elsewhere in Mothdale...Scott, disgusted at the disrespect afforded him, asks Erin if she is really that forgetful.
"It's me, Scott... have... have you forgotten me?" he asks in a vaguely mocking tone, and Erin's mouth opens up a little. Scott guesses she needs extra reminding.
[Scott's firestarting roll: 2]
He vibrates a little, but this does not seem to do much. Erin, at any rate, seems to relax a little and nod, for what that's worth.
Name: Rune, but nicknamed "Rick" (He has no idea why)
Gender: Male
Archetype: Magic-remnants ghost. (Effectively, a powerful wizard who died, and is now effectively just a rapidly replenishing mana battery for wizards to draw from) ((If this race is not okay, then simply have me as a skeleton 
))
Biography: Rune started life as a child in a village nestled in the mountains. His parents were both magicians - his father being a magician specialized in enchanting, while his mother preferred researching magical living organisms. He quickly learned to be a young little magician, and received his first focus at the age of 3 - he brought home an icicle one day, and his dad helped to enchant it into a focus. He then started messing around it, snowballing huts like crazy, and dominating anyone else in snow or ice based activities (Living on a mountain, almost all of the games were sledding or snowball fight based). As he grew a bit, his dad helped him enchant his second focus - this one was a tree-root from a rare tree with many magical properties. His mother actually discovered the tree, so she had plenty of root samples to go around. It allowed him to cast plant-based magic, and he sprouted a forest around the village, with the trees growing unnaturally close by to each other. His mother finally gave him the horn of a fire-based creature (It had some weird name, and he could never remember it). His father then enchanted it and made it into the now teenager's final focus. Three years after he became 18 (At the age of 21, effectively) his mother died in an accident caused by a massive explosion as a demon contained in an ancient prison broke free, decimating half the town. His father swore vengeance and nearly slew the demon before being flung far away by a powerful spell. Rune, siezed with fury, combined the power of all 3 focuses (Foci?) to tear the creature apart with thousands of spears of ice, fireballs raining from the sky, and finally, a huge root slamming out of the ground, flinging the demon into the sky. His father, nearly dead, managed to heal himself with a magical artifact he kept on him at all times. It ran out of power after he used it, and broke. He then made his way back to the village, and was despaired to find that his son had run completely out of any energy, and was nearly dead. All the magic use had exhausted the tiny supply he bore inside, and he was doomed. His father only had one way to stop his son from dying completely - he dashed into the magical artifact vault, which survived the explosion and massive battle, and grabbed one specific artifact. A tome, that was said to turn the living to the un-dead. He flipped randomly until he saw what looked like a blueish sort of ghost, then dashed back to his son. He chanted the words, and used the book as a focus. His son became preserved forever in the shape of a magic-remnants ghost, and was able to live again (Sort of). His father, then exhausted, fainted, and was in that state for many years, being fed by the surviving villagers in an act of kindness. Rune, or "Rick", never left his father until his father finally awoke, and said out loud to thin air "Thank you for waiting, so long.... You may now... go free... my son... I am proud of you... But I will always search for a way to bring you back..." After that, Rune traveled the lands until he was finally captured by Bernie and enslaved.
Too Long? 
Good.
Tomcost, faithful lorekeeper that he is, already corrected some of the things that are somewhat questionable in that bio. But those aren't very important.
The important question is, how would you feel about playing a ghost made of... unstable ectoplasm?
Author
Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 561898 times)