John considers the offer of the gnome.
"So, the beavergnome did lie to me after all. But really, what's the worst that could happen when I put my hand in your mouth. I'm sure I really care anymore," he says, placing his hand in the foul maw of the tiny saurian creature. The gnome begins to say something, but then realizes it would be better served by keeping its mouth open. Its tongue feels up John's hand in an uncomfortable fashion, and then it snaps its jaw shut, sharp teeth pressing, though not quite puncturing John's hand. A brief instant of intense discomfort goes through his spine, and he closes his eyes.
When he opens them, he's in a familiar place. It's the park. The place where he took Menkau the first time, Greenblatt Park, placed on a hillside. It looks peculiarly normal, and John casts his eye about for a second to check for hideous beast anywhere. None present themselves, a couple small, rather peaceful-looking dinosaurs aside. Speaking of, the dinognome, or dignome or whatever the name is for this kind of thing, is nowhere to be seen. His hand, too, appears to be free now.
There's two people in the park as far as John can see. One is an ancient woman sitting on a park bench next to a public bathroom, looking absently into the distance. The other is a little boy who seems to have climbed halfway up a large gingko. And also what he thinks is a two-legged piglet suddenly falling out of a portal, getting covered in a mountainous load of false teeth in short order, the familiar portal above it closing just as suddenly as it appeared. Indeed, the event was so quick, he suspects nobody in the park other than him probably saw it happen. This is probably nothing out of the ordinary around here anyway.
* * * * *
Larry feels compelled to productivity, possibly due to the recent influx of power he's got.
"Now you're making up words. Let's go!" he says, charging toward the red front door of the house.
"Uh..." the guy starts to say, but Larry's already at the door. Into the door. Through the door, as if the door wasn't even there.
On the other side, Larry observes a mountain of glassy ice set in the middle of an icy desert, atop which stands a great gleaming dome of steel and glass. The skies remain clear, though no trace of the meadow remains on this side - the door still stands behind him, still closed, set into an inverted house with interiors on the outside. The cold on this side is intense, and within moments Larry begins to freeze, though he suddenly feels merely invigorated as the guy steps in through the door, followed closely by Tracey.
"That's a strange thing to have inside your house," she says, pointing at the mountain.
"Yeah. Kind of, uh, unexpected, I guess. And not permanent. But that's the way this... erm, plane works."
* * * * *
"Ah. Pete. I need you to kind of, revive, man. I think... I don't know why I feel this, but I think potato jihad is on," says
Halesey, since Hungry Pete's condition seems to be turning highly worrying. He'll probably snap out of it, right? Right, Halesey guesses, and turns to God.
"God, I shall do as you wish. But I ask you two things: first, can you make your three initiates appear before me, conscious, and inform them of this Holy Task? And second, will you please forgive me for the impertinence what I am about to do?""I may try on both accounts," says God as Halesey tries for the first time to exercise his powers of potato empathy on Him, perhaps unwisely for a first-time user.
[Halesey's affinity roll: 6-->2+1+1]
Halesey feels himself become small, smaller than anything he has ever known, as he starts to feel as God does, the center of all things potato, through every potato and as every potato, and through all four of His acolytes as well. The dreams of Nigel's uneasy sleep, the morbid curiosity of Cadwallader as he considers Anthony's offer deep inside the bowels of Hell in an office sorely lacking in oxygen, the difference made up with air freshener to provide a modicum of livability, the seething, murderous rage of Hungry Pete as his mind runs through the potentialities of potato, and the unified need of growth, proliferation and sacrifice that all potatoes are dominated by. The strange mix of curiosity and amusement as God regards this latest move on Halesey's part. And finally, almost outshining all else, a supernatural strangeness worming its way into Halesey's mind, filling him with riddles of existence, a feeling of the impermanence of reality itself, and a million other smaller, larger doubts that pull him in every direction, his mind beginning to fragment from information overload.
"That is rather impertinent," God says.
"But forgivable. Perhaps necessary."The connection abruptly cuts off, leaving Halesey with an immense potato-shaped void in his mind that dwarfs all he has previously known, and which he may now know no more. He feels incredibly small still, insignificant before the glory of God.
"Gah," says Hungry Pete, his eyes open, the potatoes calmer now.
"This may do for now," he adds, seemingly to himself, disregarding Halesey entirely.
"Now then, my prophet. Your task is clear, I presume. I have communed with the others as well. Hopefully they will see fit to assist you, though for two of them it seems unlikely."* * * * *
THE DUNKER takes the path of least stair climbing, as expected.
"I'll take the first floor. I can put a ton of those pork queen ladies on it to fight whoever tries to get up, except us.""Wouldn't rely on the pork queens, bud. They don't last very long," the fat guy says.
"But try anyway. Who knows, maybe there'll be an exception there someplace."With that, the other magicians leave to take care of their respective business, and THE DUNKER goes on to transform the first floor.
[Affinity roll: 4+2]
Firstly, to test the fat guy's assertion, he summons a platoon of foreign pork queens and sets them to oversee one of the back entrances, and tries making some walls next.
[Affinity roll: 2+1]
The wall turns out to be chest-high and kind of short, in addition to being placed in the middle of the area next to the staircase like a bit of cover for a shootout. It has a great sense of permanency about it, though, which seems nice. And the traffic lights even seem to be working!
[Affinity roll: 3+2]
The next wall, which THE DUNKER uses to wall off the loading bay entrance, appears to show up with an exact duplicate propped up next to it, not doing anything in particular. THE DUNKER briefly wonders if he could order it to go anywhere, but it doesn't respond.
[Affinity roll: 1-->2+1]
The next wall, which he places in the loading bay to further wall it off from the rest of the building, works rather well before he realizes he's still in the loading bay and is now walled off from the rest of the building. Hm. Wonder if there's spells that'd do the job faster here.
* * * * *
Their books received, the wizards-to-be in the Marigold Moore Public Library do as they have been told - burn a page, watch the flame. Severely lacking enthusiasm,
Samson is the first to give it the old college try, not bothering to tear out a page before attempting to light it with his lighter - it catches fire readily, and starts to burn in his hand - just the single page and no others, the flame colorless. Invisible, perhaps? A strange trick. Samson considers the flame carefully, and finds that he forgets himself, his mind wandering in the direction of...
[Samson's mind roll: 6-->1-1]
... eoliths. Eoliths are crudely chipped flint nodules first collected in England by some fellow who ostensibly enjoyed rocks way back when. Their resemblance to crude stone tools led educated blokes to conclude that they were made by people way back before the ice age, and from there on in eoliths were proof that other blokes lived there a long time ago for quite a few years before an enterprising Frenchman had the idea that a glacier could do the same thing with a piece of flint. Some guy named Hazzledine then checked the truth of this in what must have been an entertaining afternoon, and said this was a legit idea and that probably eoliths were totally natural, and later people agreed. Nowadays an eolith is just another funny-looking piece of chipped flint as a result of this groundbreaking research.1. Storm of Dancing Pugs
If you approved of this fascinating information about the eolith, you might also want to take a look at this HODGMAN-APPROVED... bugger, this spell actually seems entirely unrelated. Well! Take it if you want, or don't. I'm not quite sure how it got in here, really. Dreadfully sorry.
, similarly unexcited, tears out two of the pages of his book and rolls them up into a fine-looking cone, which lights readily and starts to burn with a deep red flame that catches Roger's eye in quite a transfixing, unique fashion...
[Roger's mind roll: 5]
He finds himself where he must be, but cannot bear - the city of Brazzaville, deep in the Congo, among the ranks of the Foreign Legion, many of them with as many regrets as he. Morosely emerging from the warm waters of the Zaire, his flawless physique glistening in the sunlight, he makes his way to a clearer area where he had laid down a towel with his uniform atop it. Whipping himself to and fro, shaking off the shimmering droplets from his muscular body and golden hair, he starts to get dressed, the feeling of the water sure to stay with him throughout the oppressively hot and humid day. Turning to face the opposite bank in reflection of the past two hours, he briefly spots a woman on the other side. For a fleeting moment, she looks incredibly familiar to Roger, his mind readily falling into a familiar track, his mouth curving into a smile, his arms rising to greet the woman, and for an instant, he can almost hear that voice again...
1. Control Pineapples
2. Blade of Poisonous Salt
3. Stop Sour Cream
Oh, Roger... why can't you let it go? Let one of my spells lay within you and forget the rest of me... move on with your life...
is next, readily pulling out a random page from the middle and setting it alight, the white flame filling her sight, blocking out all other thought, silencing the sounds of the dogs and the thoughtful gurgling of the other learning wizards.
[Tiana's mind roll: 1-->5]
There's a great deal of subtlety and chakraic possibilities when practicing crystallokinesis for emotional benefits, and especially noteworthy in this case is the location from which the crystal is obtained - many report feeling uneasiness, fear, a sense of alienation, and often rightly so, because most often their first choice is the same mail-order crystal that they would use for other purposes. The key thing to remember here is that 99.99% of all mail-order crystals have actually been mined in Africa by slaves in the very worst of conditions, and it is difficult to find much other than the miserable spirit of the land in them. So if you want to attain much in the way of benefit when performing crystallokinetic experiments, you need to contact a local supplier of crystals, such as Madeesh Associates on the East Coast or Millsworth & Dane - often this carries a greater cost due to the difficulty of locating energetic crystals in our vibration-negative environment, but we have extensively tested and found that they work up to five times better at channeling emotions of happiness, productivity and intimacy...1. Displace Dingo
Overseas alternatives of the wolf are often inferior to the kind you can get for top dollar locally, but the decreased price is quite often worth it: a spell such as this, freely available to all who seek it, makes the process streamlined, efficient and chakraically beneficial. It is yours for a trial period of eternity, and can be replaced at any time.
, who up until this point has been busy ascertaining that his book appears to be "science fiction" from 1961 written by somebody named "P.T. Kerning" and published by something called "Gnome Press". It's a hardcover, well-used, shelf-worn, still with a dust jacket, even, though that seems to have no synopsis on it, just a catalog of other books from this "Gnome Press" to be found in your favorite bookstore somewhere in NY with some seemingly reasonable prices listed next to them. Of special note on the front cover is a slight "and other stories" appended underneath the title. The dust jacket's front cover also features a wide-eyed, hairy man in a dark brown suit, flanked by astronomical phenomena on either side. Leafing through the book, Joel discovers a few blank pages, and carefully rips one out, then uses Samson's kindly provided flame to set his own blank page on fire. Sadly, though, nothing appears to happen as the page burns to a crisp, even as the other wizards stare at their flames and gurgle thoughtfully, snapping back into normality after a few moments.
"Now," the mistress of magic says slowly.
"Anybody got any questions?"* * * * *
Charles agrees to the bargain at last, and accepts the power of magic much like his predecessor/father/acquaintance.
"Okay then, let's get it done!"[Charles' mind roll: 2+1]
Charles' mind is momentarily flooded with sliding, gnashing, chopping teeth, running along him at speeds most extreme. Or is he running along them? Sliding on for a few seconds, he stops when he smashes into what feels like a pane of glass, shards flying everywhere, one particularly slow sliver slicing into his flesh and then staying there, markedly unlike the others.
1. Weaken Toothpick
Quick, dirty, efficient. Just the way I like it. Take your spell and get out of here.
As soon as he returns to what could loosely be described as consciousness, Charles notices the Denture God, still quite impatient, it seems.
"Done. Now, take a denture."A single horrendous jaw of teeth flies into Charles, burrowing into his flesh bloodlessly, but surprisingly painfully.
"And now, the portal."A portal appears beneath Charles, evidently leading to the world where Dave was from - who knows what it might be like? Charles, fortunately, gets to find out extra quick, as he is rocketed out of the portal and into what appears to be a park - he doesn't get to appreciate the view much before he disappears underneath a massive amount of dentures pouring down from the portal above. The pour, fortunately, judging by the lack of mounting pressure, seems to stop in short order, but this still leaves the problem of his burial in an unfamiliar place.
* * * * *
Eta feels some instinctive nervousness at the law-shade's finger, forgetting for a moment that her neck is probably thicker than a millimeter. She starts to slowly turn her head at the screen in the room, prepared for the worst, and finds herself not decapitated yet. Probably. The reflection's a little muddled and the room's a little too dimly lit to get great fidelity on the image.
"Hold still. I have not cut more than a single bit yet," the law-shade says, and elongates its finger further, pressing its razor-sharp edge to the back of her head along a surprisingly long straight line. The touch of the shade is freezing cold.
With another small movement, Eta feels the razor-finger run along the back of her scalp, for a very small distance once again, maybe a few millimeters this time. The feeling of lightness intensifies a little. With its other hand it quickly seizes the falling bit of red hair, and hands it to the other shade. Since she can't quite see what was done, Eta runs her hand through her hair to check what's missing, which turns out to be a perfectly vertical strip of hair on the back of her head, off the the side, just off the right ear, in fact. She shudders to think what it must look like.
"Very good," says the shade, grabbing what looks like slightly more than a handful of hair.
"Guy living opposite me calls himself Gef Rachin. You probably talked to him already, but a deal's a deal, no?"
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Topic: The Forgotten Art: Approaching the Nexus (Read 272003 times)