Larry, after expediently going through his morning routine in the name of speeding business, decides to seek out Green Pancake Guy without further ado. He heads downtown, reaching the W7000 with haste, making his way past the depressing robot, up to the third floor with the elevator, and then to the Executive Suite, where he knocks on the door.
Minutes pass. The door does not open.
* * * * *
Dave, not sure he can make lightning strike twice, but sure as hell eager to try. He starts picturing each one of his spells, putting them together in his mind as he considers the possibility of casting them at once.
Storms of underwear of the distracting sort, vortexes filled with dentures, or perhaps gates to reality, all interwoven with thoughts of hookers and enchanted ghosts of angels. Earthy barriers of smut and rivers of thylacines, the Undulating Porcelain Gremlin Kings invading and claiming dominion over the creatures that dwell on the moon in question, and literally everything in between as the elements lock in with each other in three-dimensional space. Everything begins to fit together in Dave's mind, a unified picture starting to form as he considers the format of the next casting of his spell. This is going to be a fun one, he suspects, unless he fucks it up along the way in some critical manner. Reality is about to get a wonderful little dose of Dave, this is becoming increasingly clear.
* * * * *
It is indeed fortuitous that these wizards of ill repute have found an acquaintance in
THE DUNKER, for one such as he is nothing if not incredibly distracting. A single magical finger pointed, a single mighty beard imagined, his thoughts composed and the magic flowing, he tries to bring forth the grim power of the house of self-replicating dentures!
[THE DUNKER's affinity roll: 6-->6+1]
And as the ground near the police begins to vibrate, they seem to be a tad disturbed.
Eta, sensing that what's about to happen could turn out in virtually any way, steps away from her position nervously as she considers the probability of a pit suddenly appearing beneath her feet again. It is probably higher than she thinks, she concludes, keeping herself on the move just in case, if only to assuage her instinct of flight.
The asphalt coating the road breaks, and teeth begin to emerge. Large, impressive teeth, ones that you would be unashamed to put in your mouth if not for the fact that they were also quite impressively coated in dirt and sewage. The leading sets of teeth, seemingly clumped together in a spire, break through the ground, widening at the base until reaching a certain point. At this exact same time, the asphalt in five points that are regularly spaced around the central spire, the closest but five meters away from the wizard himself, breaks as well, producing yet more spires. The group, THE DUNKER excepted, all back away as his creation takes shape, revealing itself like an immense, alien batholith pushed up from the bowels of the earth by forces unknown. The spires push away the surrounding ruins, or worse, swallow them entirely as they rise upward. The spires are strange affairs - their roofs are shingled with teeth, the walls look like fleshy gums, the windows along the walls like open, false mouths, horizontal for the central spire, but vertical and slit-like for the outer ones, looking very sinister as they rise from the earth.
And then the pavement cracks once more in many places - the central spire widens to become a larger building, while the outer spires are evidently connected by an outer wall. Its upper part, which appears to be made entirely of large incisors, parts the asphalt as well. The house, or rather fortress of dentures rises further, revealing its front gate - a closed mouth with teeth that are longer than any the observers present have ever seen. As the base of the fortress rises about three meters above the rest of the landscape, the terrain all around it collapsing downward, creating a moat of sorts. At the front, right next to the gate, a drawbridge formed of a single prosthetic lower denture has taken shape, and as the castle finalizes its formation, it lowers itself elegantly before THE DUNKER, the gates it has hidden thus far also opening in a similar fashion.
The police are nowhere to be seen, and the castle currently is about the size of a city block, looming over the entire surrounding landscape rather threateningly with its faux-organic looks and massive construction.
"That's beautiful," says Hungry Pete from right behind Eta, scaring the living bejesus out of her with his sudden appearance.
* * * * *
Halesey, reacting rather violently to Cadwallader's continual insistence on going on his own way, begins to cast his go-to spell as he rants.
"Or, you know, how about you just stop being such a dongferret, dillweed? How exactly do you think you’re gonna find God, carrying on staring at the side of the vortex like it’s a stinking filthy navel?"[Halesey's affinity roll: 1-->2]
In his rage, however, something goes wrong! Terribly wrong! A mafioso appears, he believes. But not where one could expect. He appears right in front of Halesey, somewhat blocking his view of Cadwallader. The hairy, large fellow seems to be asking a question of Halesey.
"Have you been payin' your dues lately?"[Cadwallader's affinity roll: 1-->2+1]
Cadwallader, meanwhile, seems to be working on magic of his own.
"Huh," seems to be the only result Halesey can detect. It is a semi-disappointed, though still mainly apathetic "Huh".
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Topic: The Forgotten Art: Approaching the Nexus (Read 272941 times)