Dave, wondering if he has earned his lack of being stabbed already with that particular stunt, nonchalantly begins to walk down the hill and the spiral, seeking a helpful mold horse to ask for some tips on what he's supposed to be doing right now. He walks right up to one who seems to be currently dicing a panicked underwear warrior to bits, but it seems to be a bit busy with its berserker rage to answer any particular questions, at least coherently. A quick look around the battlefield reveals that most of the other mold horses appear to be behaving the same way.
Meanwhile, Dave becomes aware of the gates of the citadel slowly opening - as they do so, creatures identical to Dave's current allies, although slightly larger, pour out of the gates, charging toward the underwear forces, seemingly focusing on the capture of any escaping forces.
The underwear master, however, seems to getting a handle on things - one that bodes ill for Dave, as a matter of fact, considering that the creature is charging his way, leaping over the banks of the thylacine river, crossing the distance to the pasty wizard in a very expedient manner. Judging from the look of him, Dave has the feeling that he isn't in the mood to negotiate.
* * * * *
Halesey, pretty sure that it's midnight and that he has no business being out on the street and walking about with how eventful his day's been, quickly goes back to his apartment and with newfound somnolence obtains the strength to spend an undisclosed amount of time in a state of sound sleep. Sleep that feeds his soul and allows him to wake up in broad daylight.
As soon as he wakes up, an idea overtakes him, the sense that he has perhaps been less than creative in his use of the most holy potato - so he begins to peruse his binder for new tubery solutions to all of his problems.
[Halesey's mind roll: 4+1]
It takes but a glance, and all the world becomes a field, and all the thoughts within it merely potatoes - they have their time of planting, their growth and development, and one potato can in its time create many offshoots. With this in mind, Halesey harvests a few, but knows he must take only one, for the rest must be left to grow and create a brand new crop in his absence.
1. Locate Potato
2. Enchant Potato
3. Shrink Potato
Looks like your future road is paved with potatoes. I sincerely hope you won't regret this. *sigh*. Pick a spell, and keep yourself alive.
* * * * *
Eta, pretty sure that she just placed second in the contest of finding out the absolute worst way to fall off a pillar, immediately calls out to her.
"Lois? Are you all right? Lois?"However, Lois makes no motions.
"Help! My friend just had an accident!" she calls out in a more general manner, and within moments she hears somebody approach from the street - a police officer, judging from the uniform, tall and rather imposing.
"What's going on here?" she asks quickly and clearly, looking very bothered with the two ladies' presence near what is plainly a very dangerous building.
"Uh... whuh?" Lois suddenly stirs, blinking a bit, looking confused. She immediately starts to get up, though is a bit off-balance and thus has a bit of trouble with it.
* * * * *
Larry, urged on by the Oldthinker, decides to harness his power of breathing divine pornography once more.
"Not any more, but I can still magic some. Here, hang on..."[Larry's affinity roll: 3+1+
1]
With a cough to splinter the heavens, his mouth swings wider than usual, and a whole mound of gentlemen's literature is breathed out in front of him, in a process that seems to greatly amuse the Oldthinker.
"You're jutht full of cool trickth, huh?" he says, laughing as he quickly fetches a mag, beginning to leaf through it. His eyes widen at first, then he nods approvingly.
"Ooh, Trina'th in thith one. She'th sure looking good," he remarks.
Just then, a silvery, metallic head possessing a feminine face, though absolutely no metallic imitation of hair, pokes out of what Larry guesses is the kitchen from how fumes seem to be coming from it.
"Did somebody say 'divine porno mags'?" it asks in a woman's voice.
"Yeth, a whole load of 'em!" the Oldthinker says enthusiastically, pointing at the pile.
"Huh!" the angel replies, and steps out into the living room in full - she appears to be entirely metallic, though wearing a bright red flannel shirt and a set of gray overalls. Stepping over to the pile, she looks at the smut before her.
"So it is.""Thith here ith Larry," the Oldthinker introduces his new friend,
"and he can thummon porn and hatth at will.""Yeah, yeah, Larry, whatever," she goes, picking up a mag of her own and starting to read.
"Hey, cool! Shapeshifters galore!""Thath Phinny," the Oldthinker tells Larry and laughs.
* * * * *
John, seeing no reason why he wouldn't go to the office of the boss first and foremost, moves forward along with James to the Chief of Medicine's little corner of the hospital, finding the door unlocked and the office within relatively normal, if entirely devoid of life.
John's first step is to check the desk for any valuables - stumbling over to the center of the room, he pulls the first drawer open - inside is but a single envelope in a strange-smelling puddle of water that it seems to have produced - the whole thing is sopping wet. However, two words are clearly legible on its surface, chiefly because they've been scrawled on in large blue letters - they read
TO JAMES, and appear to have been written in marker.
* * * * *
THE DUNKER, always seeking to impress, knows exactly the best way to get a drink, and it's not to go out drinking, contrary to the expectations of his friends.
"Even better: magic!"[THE DUNKER's affinity roll: 4+1]
With a single mighty effort of his plump mind, he pulls all the nearby booze inward and, consequently, upward!
After about a minute passes he begins to consider the possibility that there is no booze in the near vicinity. Or if there is, it's probably locked securely in some teacher's cabinet or cupboard, or maybe in a locker. Thing is, nothing's coming his way.
"How about we just get drunk the regular way and give magic a rest?" Joanie asks.
"Amen to that. I know a bar that's not too far from here," Nigel concurs, and the two of them begin to leave.
Author
Topic: The Forgotten Art: Approaching the Nexus (Read 273356 times)