THE DUNKER leads the way, beckoning Hungry Pete to follow him into the depths of this building, where no doubt all shall be revealed. Trudging on along the fleshy floor of the factory, they come to a rather conveniently located staircase.
Well, it seems to be a staircase, anyway, but it's made out of scantily clad people who appear to be weeping openly at their terrible fate. It appears to lead upward for at least five floors, if not more. The staircase looks pretty stable, and a few prods with the foot show that the people in it, while aware of the presence of the wizards very acutely, don't seem inclined to trip them up or do anything other than feel deeply sorrowful about cruel fate.
"This is indeed a great castle of flesh, no doubt inhabited by the devil! Perhaps even several devils? A few personifications of sin at the very least, I would say!" Hungry Pete rambles half to himself as the two of them look at the walls, which look about the same as in the previous room, which was a large hall, with the exception of a giant belly button (one that even THE DUNKER wouldn't have trouble fitting into, to give a sense of scale) to their left which appears to be staring right at the two visitors.
Also staring at them is a radiant, sharp-dressed woman who appears to be descending the stairs. She's smiling rather warmly, and as the two notice this, their reactions are markedly different. THE DUNKER gets the slight urge to sigh contently and smile back. Pete... well...
"Ah! The Whore of Babylon!" he says. The woman's smile disappears.
"Sir, that is rather insulting, not to mention slanderous," she says, looking unamused.
"That's exactly what the Whore of Babylon would say, is it not?" Pete replies manically. The pies orbiting him start to do so more violently, and he readies his shield in a very combative manner.
"Oh dear," the woman observes as she prepares to run.
* * * * *
Larry checks the time. He's got about... two and a half hours until the meeting, seems like. Cool. Nonchalantly he walks toward the Reaches, not particularly listening. The tentacle of his host trails behind, lighting the way.
The walk ahead is pretty uneventful - the tunnel has no pretty pictures, although there's some very fine fractal engravings on its side, and the tunnel itself widens and ascends. For a few moments, the light disappears, only to come back from the other side of the tunnel, leading Larry forward rather than trailing behind him.
"Sorry for making the tunnels so long - I'm thinking of later making neighborhoods lower down, adding branches to these hallways, that kind of thing. But that's planning for the future, not really relevant now."It takes a bit before Larry walks out to what seems like a lookout platform that offers him a view of a small neighborhood of houses built atop a set of rocky pillars protruding up from what look like bottomless pits. Well, at least that's the view he gets when his host kindly waves the luminous angel around, letting him get a good view of the network of catwalks and the structures all around, which all have a semi-genuine ancient look to them, and each of which appears to be engraved entirely with straight lines, connected stone blocks usually having perpendicular patterns in relation to one another.
And also, despite the fact that this is quite possibly the most dangerous environment Larry has found himself in yet, there are no guardrails in sight. All of the bridges connecting the streets, though they are nearly monolithic and built with what seems like a solid grasp of architecture and tectonics in mind, lack anything to prevent a wayward traveler from plunging over the side into certain invisible death below.
"It took a really long time to dig the nearly bottomless pits, in case you're wondering."Point is, this place doesn't seem entirely safe to wander into when he can't really see very far even with a light source.
"Wanna go see one of the cribs, maybe?"* * * * *
John, upon agreeing to meet with Mr. Pilton at a certain location, a downtown bistro simply called Leonard's on Hewer Street (not to be confused with Leonard's on Richards Avenue), writes out a very considerate note to James explaining his momentary disappearance. Then he leaves with no regrets, sort of knowing his destination and managing not to forget his bicycle this time, and gets to Leonard's on Hewer after a bit of searching, which coincidentally puts him on the scene at exactly the right time to meet Mr. Pilton. The two immediately identify one another - John is the mildly inebriated fellow who arrived on the bike, while Mr. Pilton is the guy in the suit with the mop top and a look of dangerous boredom on his face who's already occupied a table and seems to have even gotten some food, which indicates he may have been here a while already.
"Mr. Deschutter! Is that you?" he says quite loudly as John enters. John sees no point in being disagreeable on this, nods and allows himself to be invited over. He, Mr. Pilton and a single depressed-looking waitress hovering around him shiftlessly seem to be the only people currently around in here.
"Awfully good day, is it not?"* * * * *
Eta tries her best to defend her questionable affiliations.
"Why? Is it a bad thing? Magic is one of the most interesting things going on during this time. Getting to know as many wizards as I can is the best way to learn more about it. Sure, some of them aren't the best kind of people, but I don't think that's because they have magic. If someone was irresponsible before they became a wizard, they'll probably keep being that way after that."Little Tay just shrugs, seemingly not caring all that much.
"Anyway, I think I have their names, or their nicknames at least. Joanie and the Dunker. I don't think I have their address though, so you probably can't send the bills to them. But if you go to Joanie's store when it's open, you could talk to her about any problems the Dunker may have caused."He nods, jotting down the names. Or, rather, just one name. He doesn't break eye contact as he writes.
"Let me check my notes real quick to make sure," Eta says uncertainly, getting the folder in her purse and checking through it. It contains several things, including, but not limited to documents confirming her to be a naturalized U.S. citizen, documents confirming her to be a naturalized U.K. citizen, documents granting her confidential security clearance around these parts, a whole bunch of birth certificates, a couple of death certificates, a couple sheets of blank paper, a GED, an MBA diploma, a bunch of references for fully and timely repaid loans, two sets of documents detailing two alternate genealogies of her ancestry in the U.S. and the U.K., neither of which she can exactly prove wrong from memory and both of which seem to paint her as the very genetic incarnation of a WASP, rather impressive resume variants if one is applying for investigative work, journalism or a combination of both, a set of authentic-looking quality news articles from a couple years back with her name listed as the author and finally a note that says "pick the ones you like, probably should burn the rest, or maybe keep for posterity?". All of these look entirely legit, it should be added, even if Eta's judgment of such things is perhaps not particularly informed.
No notes on other people, though. A shame. Pretty thick folder there, though.
* * * * *
Halesey wastes no time in getting to the main event - well, one of the main events.
"The Holy Potato is deep within my Brain – I shall spurt it forth, it shall wind its way into yours, and then we shall visit the Potato God! What say you? Yes, I hope, or I may become coercive. Ha! What am I saying, what kind of Holy Man would do that. Anyway – feel my Holy Potato, oh Chosen Disciple of the Potato God!""I can feel your Holy Potato!" the fellow echoes as a single potato from Halesey's vortex form splits off, contorting and flowing as if it had been left in unfavorably hot weather for a very long time, then slamming right into his newest disciple's body, disappearing within moments. His expression becomes slightly bemused.
"Okay. Now that that's done, can I maybe take a nap? It'd be right improper to go prostrate myself before the almighty potato in this kinda state. They wouldn't let me into a temple looking like this, would they?""Oh, it is of no import," God, who is still nearby (indeed, He is everywhere, is He not?), says nonchalantly.
"But it is good that you have such concerns. It is a mark of respect, and this I can appreciate. But nevertheless, consume alcohol in moderation, my disciple. Whatever it adds to your magical ability, it takes from your functioning in equal measure, and this you must remember."The fellow looks at the nearby planetato quizzically.
"It sounds like God is the planet-sized potato. God's the planet-sized potato, right?""Indeed I am, and this is but a mere reflection of my true glory, and you would do well to remember it, disciple.""Oh. Well, okay. Have you got anything to talk about with me, oh Lord? Any divine orders?" he asks.
"Not in particular, initiate! But I will have you note that your inner potato acts as a magical conduit - you may focus on it to partake of my gifts freely, and I may speak to you through it at great distance, even through the veil of dimensions.""Lord, may I ask a thing of you, then?" the drunkard intones.
"Yes, you may. But whether it will be granted depends on many factors, some of them beyond your ken!""May I sleep now without being disturbed, Lord?""Indeed you may!""Fantastic. I'm gonna do that now," he says, starting to swim away.
"Wait, initiate! What is your name?" God asks, probably wishing He had hands to gesture with expressively.
"Nigel. Would the good Lord know of any warmer, drier places in here, maybe?""This is as warm and dry as it gets, Initiate Nigel!""'Kay. G'night, Lord.""G'night, Initiate Nigel."Initiate Nigel then passes out, spinning away slowly.
Author
Topic: The Forgotten Art: Approaching the Nexus (Read 272560 times)