THE DUNKER feels that perhaps attacking or at least violently ignoring the extremely violent magical person is a poor idea, and is not afraid to say so.
"Hmm. Well, I am a believer in prudence and donuts. Therefore, I believe it would be prudent for us to retreat from this man for the moment so I may consult my donuts. If I still have any left. I think I do."Hungry Pete shrugs, rolling his eyes.
"Well, if you insist on being all sensible about this! Move yourself away first, I shall cover our retreat!" he says, jutting his shield forward as THE DUNKER does not hesitate a second in retreat. After he's gone back into the stairwell, Hungry Pete quickly follows suit. The psychopathic fellow in the hallway, for his part, does not seem to have any intent to follow.
Once they're out of sight, THE DUNKER immediately tries desperate measures.
~Dear voice in my head, I would be most appreciative if you were to provide me with a spell that aids in the slowing or entangling of things. I believe I may be in dire straits, or indeed very much dead in the near future if I do not get something of this nature immediately, or at least soon,~ he states in as earnest a voice as he can manage. And it does seem to work, as he is met with quiet contemplation on the part of the voice, with a 'hm' interspersed here or there.
~Hm. Well, dude, normally I'd tell you that this isn't how it works, and that you're silly for trying to get me to bend the rules like that for spurious reasons. But then there's that thing you just saw, and yeah, you're pretty much fucking dead if you don't have a little something-something on your side. So I'm going to throw you a bone. Not necessarily what you asked for, of course, 'cause where's the fun in that, but this I'll guarantee - you won't get any shitty "agitate high heels" effects or anything this time around. Only the fun ones for you.~That'll have to do, he guesses, immediately chowing down on one of his donuts.
[THE DUNKER's mind roll: 6-->4+1]
He is now something a tad different than he was before, as is usual - more unusually, though, he is a finger. Not a *finger*, mind you. An actual finger. Admittedly, it's a really massive finger, one massive enough to not only exert a significant force of gravity, but also one to naturally develop sentience simply due to the complexity of sensors and peripheral structures within it. It's not a very elaborate sentience, naturally, but it's something - he knows that he likes brushing across soft things, and does not enjoy things with a lot of friction, at least not on most days. He hates his fingernail and wishes it would just come off sometimes, since it's not doing any good to anyone. He can also recognize things that are interesting, and even figure out what some of them mean. Like, for instance, a non-Newtonian fluid, liquid nitrogen and other fingers are all things he finds interesting. That and these little tingles as he moves through the bits of the universe - recording these little tingles and sending them to all his friends and relatives is something he loves to do, not even vaguely suspecting that his colleagues consider him an annoying twit for doing such a thing, not to mention his habit of storing these tingles and replaying them later for personal amusement. He's got quite the collection, too - some are menacing, some comforting, some merely perplexing, and a lot of these have undergone secondary processing in the form of replies from his friends. But then there's a few he's kept purely to himself - these are the truly meaningful ones, the ones he needs nothing more to understand, where primary reasoning is enough. Today he will replay this collection, he thinks. All at once, perhaps? No, too unpredictable. Maybe at selected times? He could weave an entire symphony of these five notes he has.
Yes. He thinks that last part is something he might do today. No doubt his friends will appreciate it greatly - he has the feeling they will understand it just as readily as he.
1. Platoon of Foreign Pork Queens
2. Tornado of Self-Replicating Lard
3. Transmute Margarine Into Undead Lottery Ticket Vampires
4. Wall of Enchanted Traffic Lights
5. Detonate Cow
Now this is the best you're likely to get from me in the near future. As a one time thing. Pick any you like, but don't ever ask me to do anything like this again unless you've got the actual powers for it, okay?
As he gets back to the mortal world, Hungry Pete seems to be staring at a nonsensically vandalized pamphlet. Looking away, he examines his friend.
"Ah! You have returned from your explorations! If you have any interesting methods, feel free to try them - I shall remain behind a moment. I just remembered something!" he says, then looks back at the pamphlet. His stare becomes glassy, and THE DUNKER immediately recognizes that the man appears to be researching similarly to him.
* * * * *
Larry tries his best to explain the effects of particularly interesting divine pornography on mere mortals.
"It's pretty much 'fwoosh, ash.' Pretty quick like. Like smiting or some shit," he states eloquently.
"But yeah, here ya go."[Larry's affinity roll: 6-->3+1+1]
And from his mouth, aimed at the least precipitous location in plain view, streams out a massive load of magazines containing only the very best of holy smut. His feet lift off the ground as his lower jaw nearly detaches itself from his skull, but some extremely wonky physics save him at the very last moment, and he lands without any sort of facial or gravity-related trouble, absolutely coating a nearby walkway with a great pile of mags, some streaming off into the bottomless pit, but most remaining on the walkways without issue. Almost immediately, a few tentacles seize a good portion of it, then a few more grab the rest, disappearing into the darkness.
"That'll be great inspiration, I'm sure," his host says.
"Now, unless you got some great ideas on lighting that just occurred to you, what say you we go take a look at the Wondrous Manse? And yeah, I did name each house individually. I didn't have quality literature to distract me until now."* * * * *
Dave, long years of conditioning having persuaded him that the first stop for interesting things is no doubt the weather, starts to envision underwear weather. How would it work in a plane of dentures? What would move it? What could one do with it? Does he know enough about meteorology to not be a complete clot and actually suspect the interesting answers to these questions?
Fortunately, he believes it likely that he does indeed have something in mind - it will, of course, require copious application of awesome magic, but what good solution to a problem does not require this?
* * * * *
Eta, still slightly shocked by murder in this age of death and tragedy, quickly comes up with several potentially sensible, civically responsible things to say.
"Oh! Oh my! Really? And I spent so much time with a murderer? Oh dear. We- We must do something. What are we going to do? I- Should I call the police?"Little Tay stares at her for a moment.
"Police will not help much. Maybe will make things worse. Instead, questions. Magic. What is it exactly, how does it work?"* * * * *
John, having been provided with a bit of background by Mr. Pilton, courteously does the same in return.
"Ah, yes, Mister Lee. Well, he did recruit some people from the Lower Esplanade. But they went somewhat rogue on him. Then he took me and two others, gave us one of those magazines and sent us to find the previous recruitees. Long story short, my two companions went braindead, I only managed to find two of the previous recruitees and we went and took over a leyline together. Then we got tortured by a magical mancow, then the two, Trey and Luz, went to kill Mister Lee and I didn't stop them because I was depressed, drunk and a coward. So, shit happened, Lee is dead, Trey and Luz got a fate worse than dead by the mancow, I befriended the mancow whose name was Menkau and mister Lee's neighbourhood got blown to bits. I'm not sure the blowing up part has anything to do with his death, though..." he explains.
"Oh yeah, and I then tried to drink myself to death, met a man named James, and lost all track of Menkau. Man, in hindsight, the last few days have been pretty hectic.""Sure sounds like it," Mr. Pilton says, a little disturbed.
"Magical mancows and elaborate plots. Things sound fucked up on the adventure-y side of the fence. And it kinda sucks that he's dead, though I guess when magical mancows are involved, shit happens as a general rule."He thinks a bit.
"But yeah. Sounds like you've had a way crappier time of it than me thus far. Makes me feel a bit inadequate, really. So-"Before he can get to whatever he was about to say, the waitress interrupts him. Looking at her, John notices that she is distinctly frazzled in appearance, and her oval glasses and angular features give her a rather bookish look.
"Excuse me, uh, but I couldn't help but overhear..." she begins, casting a look around the empty bistro,
"that you were... talking about magic? Is that what's happening around here? Magic?"There is a distinct sense of curiosity and wonder in her eyes, predominating over the slight quantities of fear.
"It's not really a problem, I guess," says Pilton, shrugging.
"I mean, if you can't help it, you can't help it. And it's not like magic's a terribly well-kept secret, right, John?"
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Topic: The Forgotten Art: Approaching the Nexus (Read 271052 times)