Halesey, before going with
Larry, insists on visiting the bathroom first. Larry, despite being very enthusiastic about the prospects of blasting eldritch cocaine at his friend as soon as possible, is unfortunately forced to face the simple fact that Halesey, despite not being exactly the most buff individual around, still has more than enough brawn to resist his attempts to him out into the street, and moves to the bathroom while mumbling justifications to his friend. He comes out a short while later, looking very disappointed and visibly bereft of all the ATM's orange-stained money. Larry, though dissatisfied at the way money disposal seems to have taken precedence over his business, picks up right where he left off and takes Halesey over to one of the secluded alleys of the area, the two of them standing behind a dumpster like kids who have just obtained their first free samples of meth.
"Hope you got your bag, big guy, because I got two words for you - eldritch cocaine," Larry says, but Halesey doesn't look all that impressed. Fortunately, he doesn't need to be yet. At Larry's urging, Halesey holds up the bag and lets his buddy get his hookup going.
[Larry's affinity roll: 1-->3+1]
A vein bulges on Larry's temple, pulsing as he tries to make it storm eldritch cocaine. The coke ain't coming, though. Larry wonders what the problem might be, honestly. Performance anxiety? Lack of cheering? His secret awareness of the fact that, since the spell seems quite good, it can't possibly work as good as advertised? A profound lack of answers to the question 'why bother'? Fear of the law getting wind (literally) of cocaine dealings in the area?
* * * * *
Dave has a wicked plan and, as one often does with wicked plans, sets it into motion immediately without any thought about the potential consequences. First of all, he tries to engulf a set of dentures in enchanted angel ghosts.
[Dave's affinity roll: 1-->2-1]
Rather predictably, he winds up with himself engulfed in infinitely repeating specters of angels, their fractal, ectoplasmic bodies wrapping around him, filling him with sensations of approaching death! Fortunately, Dave was prepared for this kind of eventuality. In fact, he has a spell for it now!
[Dave's affinity roll: 5-1]
Concentrating for a minute, he manages to reach out to the dead angels engulfing him and... adjusts them, so to speak. He notices them begin to fall apart - some suddenly snap in half and dissipate, some begin to twist in even more unnatural ways, while some others begin to look not entirely right in the head, so to speak. Most of them remain on Dave, though their effects seem to have changed slightly now.
[Dave's body roll: 5-1]
They're not particularly bothersome, at least. Dave's not quite as bothered by the icy chill of death now that it's spreading through him a second time. In fact, it feels a lot like the embrace of his dear old grandma, and she was pretty okay, if a little batty at times.
* * * * *
Eta, following in the footsteps of many wizards before her, tries to find a secluded place that nobody would mind if it was vandalized with a whole lot of golden footwear. Unfortunately, of all the alleys around, none are particularly secluded - on the other hand, none of them have all that much in terms of fragile content, so it's all good, she supposes as she walks into the alley - well, not so much a proper alley as a very small side street, really - and turns to a very impudent trashcan propped up in what looks like the rear entrance of some boutique. She puts out her hand and tries to summon up the power.
[Eta's affinity roll: 5+1]
[Eta's finesse roll: 6-->4]
Possibly because of her rather rested state, she finds the magic come easily to her - a whole clump of what look like solid gold high heels appear in her hand and immediately shoot toward the trashcan with minimal spread, smashing the can against the wall with the greatest of ease, and many of the shoes seem to be embedded in the wall from the power of the volley - furthermore, many of them seem quite bent from the impact. And, judging from the sound they made, they seem to indeed be metallic as well - all signs point to these golden high heels being the genuine article, pretty much.
* * * * *
John, unable to shove all the enormous responsibility of going up to a person and ask if they're here on behalf of a pawn shop wizard onto Mr. Lee's shoulders, walks up to the koto player and addresses them.
"Excuse me, do you happen to be a friend of mister Lee?" he asks, and the busker looks up. Disturbingly, the face that meets John clearly does not seem to belong to a human being. Rather, it seems to be that of a cow.
"Moo," it says and shakes its head. John nods slowly and starts to back away, but the busker grabs his hand, its brown and wet eyes meeting his as its black tongue shoots out of its mouth, poking its own snout for a moment before retreating back in.
"Moo, I say," it adds in a flat manner, getting up and stepping over the koto, getting way up into John's personal space. The busker seems to be at least a full head taller than him, and its massive shade completely eclipses the morning sun above John's head.
Author
Topic: The Forgotten Art: Approaching the Nexus (Read 271926 times)