Halesey isn't feeling particularly jolly right now, it has to be said.
"Fbagg up? Fbaggg uppfff? You bffffffftrdddddd my fffffffkin suith ruined! You bffffffftrdd, mnnng, I wath gonna fcore! Now lthhhh! Now lthh ath me! Artheholeth! An juth whaff the fthk am I meant to bbburn the reft withhh? Tthick it up yr bollockth!" he says, and his friend
Larry takes the advice to heart, buggering off to thtick it up hth bollockth elsewhere while Halesey reflects sadly on the fact that he has no other suits whatsoever.
Halfway through his buggering off, Larry suddenly realizes what he meant by burning the rest, and the revelation is nothing short of earthshaking. Wandering back over to the still-raging cocaine blizzard, he takes out his trusty lighter and attempts to set fire to the cocaine flurries, only to discover that the white powder is about as flammable as real snow. Probably all that slimy eldritch quality, he'd wager. And just as he is about to bet money on this hypothesis, the cocaine stops midair in a most jarring manner, falling to the ground and kicking up quite a bit of itself in the process. Larry takes a step back, unwilling to discover what further side effects snorting this crap may bring, and silently wonders if this doesn't mean he can now bag up all of this stuff - there have to be five kilos here at the very least, after all. Would probably fit in his bag, no less!
What's more, Halesey, while still pretty pissed and incredibly ugly off from the looks of it, appears to have followed him! Feeling a bit optimistic about this spot of good luck, Larry leads the way in the bagging, and soon the two guys have scooped up pretty much all of the coke in the alley, and there's about as much as one might have predicted!
* * * * *
Dave, being the wonderful man of many talents he is, turns his attention to the rewarding subject of amateur meteorology, and tries to summon up another storm to see if it'll fix things right up.
[Dave's affinity roll: 4+1-1]
Suddenly, the storm beneath him grows thicker as more underwear begins to storm down below! As a result, the updraft, slightly altered by the new flow of underpants introduced into the mix, grows weaker, causing Dave to begin to slowly descend into the increasingly impenetrable mire of his own creation. After a few moments, his feet touch the ground, or at least what feels very much like ground. The richness of the underwear storm makes it a little hard to check these things thoroughly.
* * * * *
John, after thanking the cap'n for his generous help, heads below decks, using his cellphone to illuminate the darkened depths and find his way. He promptly discovers that the first room he descends into seems to be filled with refrigerators of many shapes and sizes, as well as a copious amount of rugs with the occasional coffee table here and there, and strange paintings leering at him from the dark corners of the room. The smell of dung hangs heavy on the air, and though it doesn't seem to have any apparent source, John is quick to guess that it is most likely to be coming from one of the many doorways lining the walls.
One thought that hits John after a moment of appreciating the strangeness of the room is that it seems very spacious for being on the inside of a ship - whatever thoughts were going through the designer's head, practicality and ergonomic principles were obviously not among them.
* * * * *
THE DUNKER, noticing that the ladies, as ladies often do, seem to be busy with magical gossip, takes the opportunity to try and sneak a donut while nobody's looking.
[THE DUNKER's finesse roll: 4-1]
[Donut Girl's mind roll: 6-->1]
Before he can even move, the donut girl pauses in conversation, giving him a very unpleasant stare that makes the man unwillingly take a small waddle backward.
"Bring in some more people to try the donuts, and you can have more yourself. Agreed?" she offers, looking a lot sterner than before.
Author
Topic: The Forgotten Art: Approaching the Nexus (Read 272229 times)