Halesey ponders on the significance of the blade. Is it a sign? A portent? An object of art? A symbol, mayhap.
"Well... I hope it represents the two followers of potato joining together as one to spread your mighty word upon the planet Earth, but I am not yet entirely convinced. I believe I must gaze some more," he says, watching the blade start to stir again. An elegant movement. It appears to grow in mass as more flaming potatoes join it.
"Regardless, should this or any other sign herald my doom, I don't mind any longer, if my doom is in your service, O God. I feel like empathising with your very potatoness was possibly the most spiritual event to ever occur to any human that's existed, and now I feel both empty and whole. It's quite wondrous, actually.""Entirely possible, my prophet. I do seem to exist in a manner unlike that of any mortal or immortal creature I have spoken with. This is why the sword is important, you see," God explains. Hungry Pete minutely shifts, and the ever-expanding blade starts to come down slowly and ponderously.
"It seems I am about to find something out myself. Most exciting, wouldn't you say?"Halesey gazes as the sword picks up speed and mass. It seems to be growing exponentially every second. Hungry Pete starts to scream.
"Disciple Pete, I think it is soon time that we be going back to Earth to spread the word, no? Will you come? You have a lot to show those you left behind... Farewell, God. I hope we meet again," Halesey says, and opens up the binder when God elects to merely chuckle a little in response.
[Halesey's mind roll: 5+1]
Enlightenment comes with the sound and feeling of a breaking pane of glasslike sugar, bathing Halesey in tiny, harmless fragments of special effects magic, in a moment that simultaneously feels markedly unlike life, though not in any way bad - it feels better, in fact. A feeling of motion overtakes him, fills him with urgency as magic takes root in his brain. He feels a distinct urge to burst into arcane flame, and it takes him the utmost self-control to not let it take him over. For him, there can be no flame. There is only the noble potato, and its infinite understanding - an understanding that even now seems to inform his forays into the mystical.
1. Moony Pug Boomerang
2. Detonate Pigeon
3. Engulf in Intelligent Pillows
Choose quickly. Then prepare to dodge.
Coming out of the surprisingly quick vision, Halesey spots that things appear to have changed a little bit, though it takes him a moment to place how exactly. First of all, he would suppose the fact that the entire place is filled with ungodly, soul-shaking shrieks that no human could possibly make.
[Halesey's body roll: 1-->2]
And that no human ears could possibly take - Halesey, for his part, appears to already be bleeding copiously out of his eyes, ears, nose and mouth. It feels uncomfortable. And something feels missing, he thinks for a moment before it becomes clear what that particular thing might be. It's God - kind of difficult to see through the flames. Two Gods, actually, one of them presumably the real one, or both halves of a single whole, now orbiting one another, twisting and projecting white-hot potato tendrils all about as it writhes and twists. The realm of potatoes, meanwhile, appears to be catching quite a lot of fire, mostly on account of God's incessant flailing.
Hungry Pete, for his part, appears to be flying away from God at a very rapid rate. He's not quite moving. His sword seems to be missing, which is a little strange.
* * * * *
Toothpicks aren't going to help
Charles, weakened or not. This is a situation that requires magic, he figures. It's begging for magic. Asking for trouble, definitely! Well, joke's on this pile, for Charles is more than willing to deliver.
[Charles' mind roll: 2]
Though perhaps it's less a function of will than it is of not feeling so dang uncomfortable under all this garbage. He really is feeling pretty dang uncomfortable here, it occurs to him. Damn sky-portals, getting him into predicaments like this. It's almost like the Denture God wants to be a dick to him or something.
Of course, Charles' continuous squirming and attempts at wizardry might be entirely fruitless, but it does seem like they are attracting attention - not that he'd know this presently. For one, there's currently a rather ancient woman standing next to the pile, scratching her slightly fuzzy chin as she considers whether stealing a denture or two would be bad form. Next to her stands
John, looking at the pile and wondering if the weed's kicked in yet as he kicks at the pile, causing a minor denture avalanche.
"Kick harder," the woman advises him in a tinny, robotic voice, pressing a voice synthesizer to her throat.
* * * * *
THE DUNKER, still trapped and starting to border on being miffed, has a donut to enter a state of greater reflection on the problem, or at least some nifty spells that he can demolish all obstacles in his way with.
[Mind roll: 5+2]
The cold does wonders for one's continuing youth, it briefly occurs to him as he stirs underneath the mountain of ice that the very gods themselves dropped on him at the end of creation. The ice shifts a little, and cracks with a deep bellow. The lithosphere beneath him sways a tad, reminding him remarkably of a water bed. Though ostensibly intended as a punishment, he's grown to enjoy it, really. Used to be that he had so much to do, so many places to go, so many things on his mind! The cold and the crushing weight of the ice have done wonders to assuage his general concerns, like a glacier-based perpetual massage. Thinking about it that way, it almost seems like an act of charity, this little bit of entrapment he's experiencing. He's certainly never felt better in his existence, so detached and relaxed! And the runoff from the ice is really quite nourishing, too. Made him lose a bit of weight at first before he'd found the right streams, but now it's quite alright, really. He almost feels too content, to be perfectly honest, which is perhaps the only flaw of his current predicament.
Maybe a little walk will do him good? He could perhaps give the gods his thanks, maybe grab a continent to chew for a bit on his way back, then get right back under the covers. Just a quick nip there and back again, nothing quite
apocalyptic, right? Surely nobody will mind.
1. Locate Traffic Light
2. Blessing of the Traffic Light
3. Fell Traffic Light Boomerang
4. Banish Traffic Light
Dubiously useful and inane, just the way I like 'em. Take any you like.
* * * * *
The band of wizards, all as one (well, except for
Tiana, who's transfixed by the filthy drugs on the ground for some reason) try to obtain more magic, since none of them are quite equipped for demolition just yet. First and most enthusiastic, in a marked contrast to his initial reservations, is
Samson, looking for a page on lotuses, but finding that this Hodgman's Compendium appears to only hold entries for "E", which seems awfully restrictive. Best to just continue burning, probably, which brings him to...
[Samson's mind roll: 1-->6-1]
... Eix. Eix is a commune located in France, containing roughly 223 people and several houses. Its greatest claim to fame, aside from its catchy name, is that it exists. Its second greatest claim to fame is that Verdun is within walking distance. Little to no photographic evidence exists of Eix, which leads some blokes to surmise that it may very well not exist at all, although why exactly would the French government invent an entirely unremarkable settlement is unclear to say the least.1. Volley of Undead Ottomans
Despite it being entirely within the realm of possibility, there's absolutely no indication that an Ottoman has ever set foot in Eix. But it can be said, with 95% confidence, even, that at least one ottoman has been found there! Whether it has been plundered and destroyed, however, is unclear. In the meantime, have this spell, and consider the mysteries of the largely unexplored frontier of knowledge that is the sprawling French countryside carefully.
Next to burn a page after pausing to make a remark on his reserved acceptance of the quest is
Joel, who smirks as he stares at the flame.
[Joel's mind roll: 3-1]
Unfortunately, the smirk doesn't appear to be received well by whatever sentient principle guides this magic, for the page burns perfectly normally, and he has to drop it after a moment when it starts to hurt his fingers.
Last to try magic is
Roger, seemingly in good spirits despite the fact that he's bleeding black and probably more than a little poisoned by his own salt.
[Roger's mind roll: 3]
His friend laughs after finishing the anecdote, and the maid laughs with him, though probably more out of reflex than out of amusement. That said, the introductions seem to be going about as well as could be hoped for - though the maid and his friend have a rather clear age gap, her being about 10 years older, they seem quite comfortable with one another, and no doubt likely to get along rather well in the near future. A grand resolution indeed, and one that is definitely its own reward. His good friend and comrade is now far less tempted to get into trouble, for one. Second of all, the maid is unlikely to keep pestering him once she and the man each manage to come to a mutual understanding. Of course, if he hasn't jinxed it already.
Though, then again, it's not like he's about to stop visiting the maid entirely, though if any more introductions are going to be made, he may well need to hold off on returning entirely, even if that'd leave him with essentially no sure things to follow up when his other very fine friend happens to be busy on any given night.
1. Identify Coffee Mug
I still think of you up here, Roger... do you think of me? Take this spell, and perhaps think of me when you use it...
Author
Topic: The Forgotten Art: Approaching the Nexus (Read 271895 times)