Perhaps my cellmate has found home in the ceiling? That's fine, I'm satisfied with floor.
Let evening come! Rest, meditate, bend time, distort my sense of time or whatever.
You rest on the floor, curled up and not at all comfortable. It will do for now, however. At least it's dark and quiet, you guess. You close your eyes, producing absolutely no visual difference, and try to rest. It sort of works, and you begin to relax. At least nothing is going to trouble you for the foreseeable future.
At least, until something drips on you in a most dissatisfying manner. One drop... two drops... and then the third drop, which is exponentially and larger and more solid, being your cellmate who appears to have lost her hold up on the ceiling. Must have been tiring on her, really. Not that you are in much of a mood to show understanding, as she yelps as she falls on top of you, which startles you hard enough to send you into uncontrollable flailing, which she answers with more uncontrollable flailing. This causes something of an arms race as you try to outflail one another.
The resulting cascade ends only when you manage to flail each other into opposite corners of the cell. At this point your cellmate has a few moments of thinking time, and she considers her words carefully as a result.
"Er, my apologies," she says in a faltering voice between bouts of heavy breathing. "I get uneasy sometimes, you see."
I'm sure nothing bad could come of this. I try to meditate or something to help the minder girl do her thing.
You're not sure how one opens their mind. It's a simple thing to envision conceptually, of course. Your mind is closed, and you must open it so a little girl can go rooting around in it for some unknown purpose. The obvious greatness of this idea, however, does not appear to translate into actual results. The girl looks at you intently. She massages her temples. She takes up a dramatic stance, as well as tries any number and combination of other impressive-looking movements she has observed her teachers do once or twice. This takes a good while, actually, since she appears to have a frankly amazing repertoire of minder choreography for someone her age.
The end result, however, can be summed up in one word: odd.
When asked to elaborate, the girl explains that your mind is not really any harder to get into than, say, that of the average random person. There is, however,
something else in there, too, near as she can tell. A lot of something else, in fact. It kind of hurts her when she tries to touch it, though. That's pretty weird. She doesn't think people have that, usually.
"Huh. Okay, thanks. Where's this circle thing?"
Go to the circle thing after getting directions.
Well, when he said "over there", he wasn't exaggerating. It's right there on one side of the courtyard, right next to an abomination of architecture spawned of the cannibalization of the nearby chapel. It's really just a bunch of similarly-sized stones placed around a central, larger stone slab that seems to have had a bit of chocolate spilled on it. Or is that dried blood? Or something even worse?
Looking closer as you step that way, you think it's a pretty crusty kind of stain. So probably dried blood. And there's a similarly crusty cobblestone-looking thing lying next to the slab, showing telltale signs of being nonchalantly dumped there. You get a slightly ominous feeling, like you're being watched by some unknown f-
"Very nice, isn't it?" asks the man with no shirt, who appears to have followed you here. He explains that there's nothing going on here presently, of course. It is not the time yet. The time is usually dusk, as it happens. Which shouldn't be too far off, actually. It's slowly starting to get dark already. Maybe gathering the group might be a good idea. By the way, would you be interested in attending? They're a very friendly group, he says, and they're always up for more attendees.
"Well FINE!"
Time to go bribe the cleaning staff. Go see whosit what takes care of the room the mirror be held in yo.
You locate a servant, a heavyset teenager with a thin beard and an enterprising look to him. Seems as good a choice as any. They're probably mostly interchangeable anyway.
He seems to be quite interested in your gold coins, asking about how shiny they are. You show one to him, and he seems critical at first. That's not very shiny at all, says he. Well, you show him by giving it a quick spit-shine - the dust comes right off and voila! The fellow seems impressed, too! Coins like these will be most adequate, yes. Might trap a magpie or maybe even a crow! Wouldn't that be something, asks he rhetorically. You smile and nod politely.
When you ask him if he's the whosit what takes care of the room the mirror be held in, yo, he pauses a moment to wonder of his exact qualifications. He settles on "I'm probably close enough, yeah" a few moments later.
Eric Codeburn, COMPUTISTICS SPECIALIST
- Wounds: 1
- 12 gp (non-sequential)
- Perforated Burlap Sack
- Inscribed Brick ('Water')
- Anglefork Castle: Minister of Moronic Affairs
- The Impromptu Prophecy: A Plea
- Sun-Priest's Robe (worn)
- Adherents of the Great House: Enemy of Memory
- Well and Truly Narked Upon: 1
- Friends in Low Places: A Mercenary Servant
Benny Calverly, Barber
- Naked
- Finally Out Of The Damn Hole
- Finely Crafted Knotted Sack-Club
- Rat Pantheon: Enemy of the Gestalt
- Tower of the Mind: the Mistress' Assistance
- The Mind, It Goes A-Wandering: 3
Leif Erikson, Miner
- Reappropriated, Clean Skirt
- 1 gp
- Anglefork Castle: A Different Sort of Confinement
- The Box: the Volunteer
- The Prison Stone
- Elongated Affairs: The Magical Idiot
- Elongated Affairs: A Noble Task
- Elongated Affairs: The Numbers of the Stoat
- Wounds: 1
Eileen Minett, Vinyl Collector
- Queenly Garments: the Humble Dress
- Sticks: 0.95 (total)
- Rat Pantheon: Disliked
- Traces of Mischief: Mouthful of Blackness
- Anglefork Castle: the New Queen's Confidant
- Doomstones: An Interest
- Tower of the Mind: A Preliminary Diagnosis
Jack Daniels, Karate Man
- Gravel-Ridden
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: the Sword of Destiny
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: Something Profane?
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: Something Priceless?
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: Something Purple?
- The Apron of Mediocrity
- The Man With No Shirt: An Invitation
- Doomstones: the Time of Approaching Truth
Missed two days of updating. Inexcusable! I shall redouble my efforts in the future.