Name: Jerry
Soul: A Dandelion
Incarnation: A Black Hole (It Technically Fits in the Car) A Treant Mage
What He's Good At: Controlling the Location and Form of His Reincarnation, Magic
What He's Bad At: Not Dying Lying (Misdirection's Fine)
His Hopes: Jerry doesn't really know what he wants yet.
His Fears: Being Unable to Reincarnate Himself
What He Needs to Survive: Light
What's In His Pockets: Jerry has a spellbook strapped to his back.
I want you to think real hard about the words you are saying to me right now.
As you do that I'm gonna sharpen an ax and look meaningfully from it, to you, and back to it.
Groan loudly and attempt to clamber to my feet.
You stand up, slip, flop, grunt and groan and eventually crawl off the tile and over to the carpet, where the goo presents less of a problem to standing. You get up and start trying to wipe yourself off against the nearest sofa.
Yawn, stand up, and toss "pinky" a cigarette on my way out. Light a cigarette for myself.
You grab and unlit cigarette from your pack and toss it over your shoulder at the doll as you walk out, lighting another for yourself. You wakka wakka into the lobby and look around at the sorry state of affairs while blowing smoke rings. You notice the dead Manager, blink and then take another hard drag on the cigarette, wondering what the law enforcement is around here, if anything.
Get up and keep from dry heaving from the sight of the dead body. Then head outside and look around.
You run outside, covering your mouth and nose to stop the acrid odor of insect juices from making you sick. How exactly a skeleton can be sick, you're not sure, but you certainly feel it. Luckily for you, there's a pretty good sized parking lot and paved road to walk around on. The area around the motel appears to consist of great while sand dunes that are, on closer inspection, made of countless tiny eyeballs; which are of course looking back at you. There's an indistinguishable smell, sort of a salty heat, on the air, with a faint tinge of burning rubber. It's still early morning, the burning fetus is low in the sky, but it's already hot as balls. Your bones feel chalky and warm.
Get up groggily and dust off my robes. Then cautiously explore the hotel in case there actually was anyone else there. I remember swearing something, to do a thing? Shit, shouldn't have had so much whatever the hell they serve.
You ignore the rest of the...people, or whatever the heck you wanna call them, and walk out into the parking lot. The motel is one of those cheap ass style people lockers, with two levels of rooms, accessed via doors that lead straight out into the parking lot. There are a couple other cars here, so there's probably other guests, though you don't see any around.
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Topic: The Infinite Heavens: More than one way to skin a cat. (Read 352260 times)