THE DUNKER takes a quick look around the loading bay he's currently busy being trapped in, and notes that there appears to be a brilliant location to place a stripper boulder - right at the loading ramp, inside a disused cargo container that appears to be standing at a slight incline atop a pile of refuse and assorted other crap - somebody's clearly lived in there once, but that's clearly beyond the man's concerns presently. All he really needs is to set it up
just right...
[Affinity roll: 4+1]
From his mind, a sphere of compacted strippers springs, taking up a precarious place next to the container, quite out of sight to any onlookers, but ready to roll out and crush any who are sufficiently unwary. Yep, this part of the level is probably sufficiently fortified against intrusion now. It's a pretty big part, too! There's really only two entrances left aside from this one, and one staircase leading up, plus a disused elevator shaft. Not that THE DUNKER is able to get out of this room for a recount, of course.
* * * * *
Halesey is excited by this new, strange power that Hungry Pete appears to be exhibiting.
"Sweet," shouts he,
"I have been looking for such destruction for many a... hour. Now let us turn the Holy Power upon the unbelievers!"[Halesey's affinity roll: 2+1+1]
[Halesey's affinity roll: 5+1+1]
From both his hands stream invisible rivers of pure potato, the left-hand river a mighty mountain flow while the right-hand one appears to be more of a creek, or perhaps a well-circulated ditch - no matter, both stream forward from his hands toward Hungry Pete and, upon reaching the man, catch fire like little streams of gasoline, trailing all the way back to where Halesey was a moment ago, blazing bright yellow and giving off a little explosive flash as the flame reaches the end, the area around the rivers slowly getting consumed by flame as well.
For some reason, though, he gets the sense that getting much closer to the firestorm happening in Hungry Pete's vicinity might not be the very best idea. He's already tumbling away rather quickly from it and he still feels rather hot. And the fire appears to be spreading greatly, feeding itself off the vortex's rapid influx of air from the material world. Hungry Pete, sweating and seemingly burning a little, turns to look at the potato prophet. He mouths some words, but Halesey can't tell what they are from this rather large distance.
"He is hesitantly appreciative of your contribution," says God genially.
[Hungry Pete's affinity roll: 4+1]
The river of flame draws back, rolling itself up like a massive whip as it moves toward the storm, Hungry Pete closing his eyes as it shapes itself according to his whim. He raises the two rivers, now joined into one, shaping it, wielding it like a weapon - a colossal flaming sword of incredible size, leaving a blazing trail of burning potatoes as it cleaves the tuber streams of Potato Hell in passing. Hungry Pete now appears to be holding the thing above his head, poised to strike with a blade that's a hundred times the size of him.
"Gaze at the blade, my prophet. Do you see what it represents?" God wonders idly.
* * * * *
As the airborne pugs dance around the reading area of the library, most try to do their best to ignore the spectacle.
Roger, for one.
"Days... gone? What?... Uh, dreams aside, I think I can definitely use this. Sure, tell us about this power we're gonna find. Mission, whatever. Power to fight power, I guess," he says after narrowly dodging a particularly sprightly little pug flying right at his face.
[Roger's affinity roll: 1-->2]
[Roger's body roll: 2+1]
This lapse of concentration as he attempts to cast his spell proves most significant, as he finds himself gripping a blade the very next moment - a blade that, as it happens, has no grip. It cracks in his hand and slices along the skin, burning like the dickens, which in turn signifies, along with the slight bleeding, that this particular blade appears to have drawn blood. Looking at the slight wound, Roger notices that the blood leaking out of it seems to look a little... blackish?
"Mistress... anything you ask will be done. You have shown me the path to power, and I will do anything necessary to continue down it," Samson agrees, enthusiastically leaning forward to listen to the words of the girl with enviable attentiveness. The mistress rolls on her back in response, looking at the ceiling.
"Okay, so... downtown there's this place called Esposito's. Hotel, full o' thugs and their whores, ya know - nobody important. I want you guys to... level the fucking place. Like... bam. Leave nothing standing. Do that - yeah, do that, then come back here... then I'll tell you where to find yer power. Understood?" she explains to nobody in particular, smirking faintly.
Tiana, only barely listening, chooses this moment to try something fun.
[Tiana's affinity roll: 3+1]
Right next to her on the rather dirty floor suddenly appears a surprisingly even filthier bunch of whitish pills. Looking at them closer, Tiana quickly identifies the thing on one of them as a blackish, rubbery muck she finds rather familiar, in that she remembers it from her first grade class. She's even less curious about what it might be now than ever before.
"Yeah, so..." the mistress continues, probably running out of worthwhile things to say.
"Anyway, do what I told you to, then come back, right?"Understanding the message perfectly, Samson nods and immediately gets to work.
[Samson's mind roll: 2-1]
There is, however, something that prevents him from making much progress. It's strange, an errant, intrusive impulse, a little vibration in the brain that he can't quite place, but that no doubt feels bothersome. Maybe he needs more privacy.
[Joel's affinity roll: 3]
Or perhaps he needs to spend less time around people like
Joel, who doesn't quite manage to see what conjuring up the thought of indestructible cicadas does aside from making people around him look a little thoughtful for a moment, and make the dogs a little nervous for some reason.
* * * * *
Charles stops messing around with magic and just gives old-fashioned digging another try - it still doesn't
quite work. But it does feel like it might begin to work, or has begun to work already - or is that the spell he cast? Progress might be happening, in short, though he still feels quite trapped. Fortunately, he's pretty sure he's moving up now due to the way he feels his oppressive load of dentures become lighter.
Author
Topic: The Forgotten Art: Approaching the Nexus (Read 271904 times)