Jack's mind roils with disquieting thoughts of murder and blood. Who knows why, he certainly doesn't. Sure, he occasionally gets the urge to punch someone in the trachea and watch them choke on their own windpipe, or to jam his thumb into their eye and ram their nose straight up into their brain with his knee, or something of the like, but that was just the side effects of practicing how to kill people for a long time.
"Say shirtless guy, did you see what happened there, with the moon thing and all? Also did you mention you had a knife? Or does someone attending have a sharp stabby thing? I'm feeling very inspired for some reason."
Oh, the shirtless man has a knife, but not on him. He uses one for carving, but it seems a tad too elaborate for the sort of ritual he would like to engage in. The right honorable turnkey might have one, too, but he is very unlikely to part with it. In times like these, lending knives is a very uncommon thing. They are, after all, among the few things of real value in here.
MOON
As to what happened there, the shirtless man indicates the flying Mr. Codeburn, something like that. Except for the part where he crashes into the castle wall and the crowd starts to laugh, of course. You should have seen it - it was really quite impressive.
"To be honest, taxes are a trick, one by government though. Leaders can lead and issue orders without actually doing anything and live by taxes."
"Seeing I have nothing but time and my gods are mostly 'help yourself first' type, mind teaching me those minder meditations? A man ought to try new things occasionally. That, and making mead appear directly into my stomach sounds like a lot of fun."
Cultural adaptation is important. If they are nuts, pretend to be one too.
Oh, she could, she guesses. They're a great way to pass the time if you're feeling bored, she thinks. Of course, you're unlikely to ever master something like mental projection, to say nothing of spontaneous materialization, but aside from that it's... well, you'll probably see. She hasn't got much experience with teaching these to anyone, just as a disclaimer, so perhaps you should not expect miracles, but... well, you should begin.
The meditation is the creation of a place within your own mind, like a persistent waking dream. Anyone can do it, she says, but the ones who actually achieve this within a certain time frame are said to have talent for minding. A certain level of sensory deprivation is recommended, usually, as is a certain emptying of the mind...
Under the guidance of your cellmate, you think you do make some progress, visualizing a variety of basic images - varieties of fruit come most easily, with distinctive shapes, colors, textures and unmistakable properties. In the darkness of the cell you begin to see them, one at a time. They look real. They feel real. And they even taste quite good, if a bit insubstantial. Your cellmate seems pleased - you do seem to be getting the hang of this quickly.
This, however, is the simple part. Next one needs to work on simultaneous visualization. Divide their attention. Keep an image in the back of their mind while visualizing something else.
Well crap, magic is harder than I thought. I continue to observe the ritual circle and dancing shiny man, staying closer to the latter.
You may want to stay closer to Mr. Codeburn, but he appears to want to leave.
MOON
With a leap of great urgency, he takes off for the skies, the orbiting stone following him along right up to the point where he smacks into the castle wall and plunges out of sight to what you presume to be the hard, gravel-covered. A few people in the crowd begin to chuckle and chat to each other, wondering aloud if he'll one day return. The priest looks dismayed, running off to see if the poor man's all right.
Moon jump to the Ramparts! See how well I can actually control this Moonstone. Like, how far away can I send it, or whether I can swing it like a wrecking ball through many many many enemy forces.
MOON
You prepare to leap to the ramparts in a single bound, and bounce off the earth to a preternatural height, carried upward by the power of your words. That is, until the low gravity sees fit to wear off mid-flight, somewhat throwing off your leap's course, which is to say it redirects it from the top of the wall to an area slightly below it. As the word fails to come to you, seemingly shy of persistent use, you smack right into the stonework, flopping off the wall and about twenty feet to the ground.
As you impact the gravel, you think you hear something crack. Probably just those shards of mirror-glass, judging by the way you seem to have been punctured in several places by the drop. Your mood as well as your supply of blood are somewhat compromised as a result. You lay there for a moment, your moonstone dancing above you, making violent sweeping motions as you consider irrational vengeance to make yourself feel better, almost hitting your priestly associate as he comes over to check up on you.
Darn it! These folk are some of the best actors he had ever seen... what's the phrase... "staying in character" or somesuch?
...
That is a neat effect. Maybe this is one of those traveling magic shows?
Ask around to see how often this show comes around. Continue to look for clothing choices.
Presumably only when all looks darkest and the fate of humanity appears sealed, replies an astute-looking fellow. Seems like this whole thing is some form of prophecy if you believe the sun-priest. Not that anyone does, really, but you have to admit that with effects like these one could find themselves sorely tempted. You share a nod of understanding with the fellow, and ask if he knows where one could find some clothing. You're a bit naked, as you're sure he must have noticed.
MOON
The man admits that he didn't notice, actually, but looks around for your benefit anyway, taking a long look at the disappearing Mr. Codeburn, cracking a smile as he smacks into a wall, then directs you to a shirtless man wearing a set of leather pants. He seems to be more comfortable with nakedness than the average individual. It is a reasonable assumption that you could bum that set of pants off him too, if you don't mind your clothing being slightly used.
Eric Codeburn, COMPUTISTICS SPECIALIST
- Wounds: 2
- A Word: SUN
- A Word: MOON
- Perforated Burlap Sack
- Inscribed Brick ('Water')
- Anglefork Castle: Minister of Moronic Affairs
- The Impromptu Prophecy: Child of the Sun and Moon
- Robe of Mirrors (dusty)
- Adherents of the Great House: Enemy of Memory
- Well and Truly Narked Upon: 1
- Friends in Low Places: a Successful Transaction
- Subordinate Moonstone (in orbit)
Leif Erikson, Miner
- Reappropriated, Clean Skirt
- 1 gp
- Anglefork Castle: A Different Sort of Confinement
- The Box: Teachings of the Minders
- Induced Lucidity: Fruity Fantasies
- The Prison Stone
- Elongated Affairs: Beneath Contempt
- Elongated Affairs: A Noble Task
- Elongated Affairs: The Numbers of the Stoat
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: A Disinterest
- Origins: Witness to Dissolution
- Tower of the Mind: Confusion
- Gross Incandescence: Highly Illuminated
Jack Daniels, Karate Man
- 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 Asset
- Doomstones: a Delay
- 2 rats, crushed
- 1 rat, strangled
- 1 rat, live
- Gross Incandescence: Unilluminated
Thomas Minstep, Insurance Agent
- Naked
- Anglefork Castle: Dude, Where's My Car?
- Traces of Mischief: Sandy Groin
- Gross Incandescence: Partly Illuminated
Author
Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written (Read 262748 times)