Turn 55 - Fun Times In DreamlandGronok, confronted with the oddly ogre-like though nonetheless blindingly luminous and transcendent visage of Mo'kar the Teacher, his guide and teacher in life, can't help but feel a bit embarrassed at not having recognized the Illuminator By Fire.
"Oh! Sorry I didn't recognize you; I was busy being the sky," he says, wondering why the moon tastes like star-butter mixed with earth-tears. It's probably an interesting story. Sadly, he, lacking any structure beyond a vague shape formed by a creative mind when looking at chaotic waves of soap bubbles, cannot quite comprehend what it might be. He does know one thing, though - the ending is quite underwhelming. Isn't it always? But wait! Is that a question flying out of the dying sun?
Why, it is! Wonder what it is?
"Just a question, lord. Why me? Why choose me?"Mo'kar looks at the reasonable question with kindly, sweet eyes, giving it a pat on the head, then whispering in its air-ear. The question then goes to heaven, where all the good ones go.
"It's funnier that way."Oh. That's okay, then.
"Ooh, look. The sky is in thrice half twister now," Gronok says, allowing the sky to lull him into the wondrous sleep of babes.
When he opens his eyes, the world is still spinning and the light is quite blinding. There is also quite a lot of pain.
"Oh, good. You're finally up."Mo'kar? You're still here?
* * * * *
Phiali takes the silvery metal and tries to line the inside of the rotten old bucket with it.
[Craftsmanship roll: 2]
Sadly, bending metal with his bare hands is a skill Phiali has yet to master. Particularly with any degree of precision and usability.
* * * * *
Lars, confronted with a heretic, tries to convert him to the true ways of divinity!
"Sinner! Throw down your weapons and renounce your false god! Bow to the One True God or taste the flames!""Um, okay. I'm bowing before the One True God and all that."He does it, too. Clearly he is one of the faithful. He even takes off the white robe, revealing rather reasonable-looking clothes underneath.
"Do I really have to throw down my sword, though? It would be easier to stab other, less intelligent guards while possessing it is all I'm saying. I could even hold a torch in the other hand. Then I'd be like some kind of divine commando or something."* * * * *
Elizas decides that getting totally pissed does indeed take precedence over the nationwide religious revolution. God would want it that way.
"... Fine. Bartender, give me your strongest stuff!"The barkeep, who was most certainly among the men quite moved by the song, kindly provides some sort of beverage.
"Free of charge for you, but be careful with it. Real strong stuff."Elizas nods, opens the bottle and commences the chugging. The drink is a spirit of some kind, but Elizas hasn't drunk its like yet. Must be a local distillate.
This works in his favor, actually, as he is but a junior alcohol abuser and it takes him only about a quarter of the bottle to get as wasted as the day is long. After his final chug, he throws the bottle back to the bartender, then falls face-first on the floor.
He dreams of a crowded pub very much like the one he passed out in. In fact, it's actually the same pub, he'd say. He appears to be sitting at a table with three beautiful women and plenty of Azlippean wine. He takes a sip and chats the women up, and in but a short while they are quite taken with him. They seem to quite agree with his views on the obsolete nature of monogamy in today's enlightened society and how a good drink is truly a magnificent social tool without peer. They laugh at his jokes, look thoughtful when he shares his philosophical insights and respond positively to his flirtations. After a bit of conversation, all three of them agree to join him in his quarters for tonight for a more in-depth discussion, the euphemistic meaning of which one can easily gather.
Well, as they go about their business in the quarters, Elizas comes to a rather disturbing realization when he embraces one of the women. It appears that she is not a woman at all, but a simulacrum cleverly made of jagged and splintery wood! How terrible. Though highly uncomfortable and full of splinters, not to mention quite naked, Elizas decides that he should perk up. After all, he's got two others left. He embraces the second woman.
She, however, is made out of poisonous snakes. They proceed to bite, hiss and slither most unpleasantly, of which, surprisingly enough, the latter bothers Elizas the most. Then again, now he's got five minutes or so left to live, and the last two of those will be spent in horrible agony. With this in mind, he moves on to the last woman. However, as he is pressed for time, he'll have to skip the foreplay.
When the last woman turns out to be made of white-hot iron, Elizas wishes he had been bitten by the snakes a few more times, to put it mildly. Fortunately, the agonizing pain does a good job of knocking him out. He wakes up in a bit, still face-down on the tavern floor. Looking around, he notices that most of the people seem to have gone off to their rest, leaving behind only a few of the most seasoned drunks and the barkeep.
Gronok: 0 MP
Phiali: 1 MP
Lars: 4 MP
Elizas: 3 MP
Shashari: 5 MP
Author
Topic: Prophets of the New God: most unfortunately dropped. (Read 73397 times)