Larry, despite having the lips of an illithid, tries to instruct
Halesey in the sublime subtleties of proper cocaine handling.
"Pbbbbbbbbffff! Juff bbag up whaff ooo cannf and bbbburn the reft!" he burbles enthusiastically, but doesn't get the feeling that Halesey has understood him. Just as well - all his cocaine is already in a bag, and he has no smaller ones to put it in. And burning all he's got just seems so counterproductive - after all, half a kilo of coke is nothing to scoff at - that's, like, 500 grams. Loads of cash you could get for that! That is, if anyone was willing to buy their cocaine from shady villi-faced individuals and mindflayers who talk like they're from a Saturday morning cartoon, which is a question in and of itself.
* * * * *
THE DUNKER feels fulfilled for now, the white light of quality pastries soothing his restless soul for a moment as the two ladies next to him converse about donuts, providing a very nice backdrop to the fat man's very much audible digestive processes.
"That was a good one!" he observes to nobody in particular, and lets off a massive sigh, virtually all of his inhibitions suddenly fading away in a single second of relaxation of every muscle in his body. Unfortunately, strange and slightly disturbing noises emanating from his flesh are but the beginning of it!
[THE DUNKER's affinity roll: 2+1]
What follows these noises is a monstrous burp-cough normally reserved for particularly grievous esophagogastroduodenosocopies, a single pair of odd-looking underwear shooting out of DUNKER's maw at the donut girl just as she hands Eta one of the sample donuts. It softly lands on the side of her head, and the girl pauses for a moment, possibly considering what to do right now. She quickly decides in favor of retrieving the underwear with the tongs and throwing it in a nearby corner before turning back toward Eta, who seems to have paused in her examination of the donut and asking of any questions to silently gawk at the way the fat man appears to have somehow vomited up a pair of briefs.
* * * * *
Dave, figuring that the energy of the sky is perhaps best left untapped, tries to carefully descend through the storm.
[Dave's finesse roll: 3-1]
Unfortunately, the underwear storm is still keeping him in the air, throwing him this way and that on occasion and the pants-streams shift in the chaotic mass.
* * * * *
John asks the cow another question, a most pertinent one indeed!
"So, why are you here, if I may ask? Is there a way out?""I'm the cap'n, and yes," the cow says as John steps over to the ladder leading downward into the dark recesses of the ship. A very strong smell of dung emanates from within the darkness, and John gets the feeling striking a light to get a better look wouldn't be the best idea.
"That's not one of them, though. Feel free to step down and look, fella. You might be here a while," it adds as John regards the forbidding depths.
Author
Topic: The Forgotten Art: Approaching the Nexus (Read 272163 times)