THE DUNKER takes his first steps in making the ex-factory defensible against adventurous rabble. A creative bit of geography is in order.
[THE DUNKER's affinity roll: 6-->6+2]
He swipes his hand sideways, and from the deep below a brook of prostitutes viler than earthly possible bubbles upward, unseen as of yet, directed by the mind of THE DUNKER. The ground around the factory starts to rise - water and sewage pipes break, and the factory itself ascends most of all. And then, just like from a mountain spring, a stream of horrendous hookers blasts out of the ground at the top, eating through the concrete in record time as it rips forth with astounding force. Concrete cracks around the stream as it winds around, once, twice, three times, and then six more on top of that, each forming a perfect circle, giving the surroundings of the factory the look of a terraced pyramid, except much more circular in shape. Each circle is connected to the lower and the upper one by five streams projecting outward, and soon a series of nine concentric moats surrounds the factory.
The mechanism that governs the streams, aside from simple gravity, is one of strength - here on the outside, where THE DUNKER stands, is where all of the weakest, most diluted of the hookers wash up when they can't hold on in the competitive environment of the top, and they, while formidable and possessing glowing eyes, jet black blood and a cosmically horrifying lack of morals like any of their kin, are not quite comparable to their upper level counterparts by any means - as a traveler climbs upward, each circle hounds them with offers of increasingly heinous acts for increasingly reasonable prices (competition defines the upper levels, you see, and not just in the physical sense where a hooker must hold on for dear life to avoid being washed away, and swim upstream amidst a sea of people just as ambitious to retain their position even then). And if one of the people in the stream is incapable of holding their own even at the very bottom, well, then they go down into the spring, where they are to be remade to perform better, then sent upward once more. It's a very merit-based system, and one that handles new additions in the form of hapless travelers quite well.
Most fortunately of all, however, is that the inhabitants of the river seem to revere THE DUNKER sufficiently to allow him free passage upward, carried on the arms of his new subjects all the way to the top. This works surprisingly well, THE DUNKER notes, on account of the hookers all cooperating to do so. One wonders what they could achieve with cooperation like this if they kept it up all the time. But that wouldn't be very fell of them, would it?
* * * * *
Halesey quietly beholds Hungry Pete for a moment longer, repeating his name in order to not call him Derek again.
"Wow. Pete. I swear she told me it was Derek... Oh well. So, uh. The Potato God has granted me Ultimate Power, and in your defiance I saw that he might favour you too, seeing as how you have spirit, and intelligence. Will you join me in serving the Potato God, and thereby gaining Ultimate Power? And on a personal note, well done for resisting the... um. The gentleman's literature. You are the only other person who I have seen do that, so, respect, dude. Make the right move here and you could be destined for greatness, man. Crikey," says he, apparently most impressed. Hungry Pete gives him a strange look.
"The... gentleman's literature? Do you even know what you've shown me, profligate? What infinite significance a mere glimpse, milliseconds in length, relayed to my immortal soul? I..." he pauses.
"Never mind. First, there is business to take care of."He assumes a crucified position, head turned upward, eyes closed. Potatoes start to behave stormily in his immediate vicinity, leading Halesey to suppose he must be doing something awfully potato-ish.
This reminds him. Time to access the inner potato. Retrieving his binder, Halesey looks inside and thinks tubery thoughts.
[Halesey's mind roll: 3+1]
They come out more leafy than tubery, however, plants growing from his head, bearing useless, poisonous fruit, spiraling in untoward directions - his focus must remain on that which remains, the valuable unspent potato, a thing of infinite promise given the right circumstances - he finds two such things in his mind yet, harvested from the dense stream of concentrated potato-thought pouring through his filter-mind every moment. It is with one of these that he shall begin a new line. A new age, mayhap.
1. River of Invisible Potatoes
2. Enlarge Potato
Pick a spell, but only one. No more, no less. Diversify. And remain cautious.
* * * * *
John perhaps unwisely decides to take what the supernatural creature he just met has told him at face value, and heads off in the direction specified. He walks and walks, and then he walks a bit more, feeling increasingly lost with each step, trudging through undergrowth and errant roots tirelessly until he arrives at a significant-looking place.
He's not quite sure why it looks significant. Really, it's a spot like any other in the forest. But there's something about it. An air of importance and mystical relevance, and of dire anticipation.
* * * * *
Larry knows what to do at this point, obviously.
"Yes... it does. I want some," he agrees with Tracey as he attempts to approach it in a mental sort of way. He looks upon it intently. His mouth opens, a slight amount of drool escaping from its corner. He reaches out with his arms and closes his eyes. In his mind, he takes a step, then another one, and by that point he seems to be more than close enough.
The sun-like Source detects his approach readily, and its response appears to be a wild stab, impaling Larry most violently with a needle-thin tendril of transmission. Larry draws breath sharply as the white-hot power surges into him, and his saliva starts to turn to froth quickly. His eyes roll into the back of his head as images of the universe in its entirety spin through him, granting total perspective for a blinding instant. It is almost enough to drive the man mad.
And then, completely suddenly, the tendril draws back, breaking off a small fragment of itself in the pulling, leaving some portion inside of Larry. He looks down, and is almost shocked to discover that he doesn't appear to be bleeding to death from that.
Larry has attained some fresh holiness! He gets a new stat point, and he can additionally now teleport short distances at will with an Affinity roll, and can also choose Divine as a keyword in spell research!Feeling flush with newfound power, Larry looks around, and observes Tracey standing on the walkway above. A tendril appears to have totally missed her somehow, tearing off into oblivion, while she's standing there a little confused.
"I think I dodged that tentacle by accident," she observes.
"Is that supposed to happen?"* * * * *
Eta approaches the almost certainly filled sarcophagus and tries to get a peek inside before knocking - no luck, however. She then knocks on the lid, hoping to get the attention of whoever is inside.
"Hello? Anybody in there? Messenger with divine knowledge here."The lid opens sharply, revealing a purple-eyed shade inside. It jumps forth at Eta, stopping just short of her, and even that on account of her taking a step back.
"Divine knowledge! Tell me!" it says enthusiastically.
"It's for me, right? I hope it's for me!"
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Topic: The Forgotten Art: Approaching the Nexus (Read 272099 times)