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[Harry Baldman]

Test how far I can control the thing. Move it over an empty space inside the walls, then continually ascend it until I lose control or it gets really small.

After that, try to infuse the moonstone with the FIERY POWER OF THE SUN.

"If this works I'm totally calling it the Eclipse... something."

You flick the moon-boulder this way and that with but a set of well-placed thoughts. It feels light as a feather when you do so, though the wind its movements produce lead you to suppose that this is probably just more magic. You decide to raise it up to the skies as far as you can to test out exactly how far the control stretches - not very far, as it turns out. A respectable distance, you would say. A hundred and fifty feet or thereabouts. But beyond that it seems to get a little queasy about going further, edging back even as you push it forward. You sense it becoming agitated as you do so. Perhaps an upgrade is required.

SUN

[Word: 5]

High above you the boulder begins to shine brightly, becoming as a second moon in the sky, illuminated by nuclear flame, unusually cold for its proximity. You don't quite see the stoatmen's reaction to this, so you peek up from cover and confirm that they seem to be gawking at it with expressions of confusion and, in the case of the wiser few, abject terror.

You look back up at the stone. It seems to have inched slightly to one side. Then it inches to the other. It seems to be expecting you to do something with it.

Okay, magical powers. Let's see how this works. I climb out of the well, point at the naked man, and say "HUNGER."

You climb on out and look around for the naked fellow. He hasn't moved much since you last saw him, fortunately. Hopefully he won't move out of the way now, either.

HUNGER

[Word: 3]

He blinks, looking around for a second before his eyes settle on you. He smiles as he approaches, seeming relaxed, but stepping with great calculation. As he comes closer, you consider stepping back, and almost as if sensing your thought the naked man stops, his grin lessening, teeth no longer visible. He tilts his head, staring at you silently with odd eyes, pupils dilated to make the whole eye appear black.

"Hmm. What if we sacrificed him, then? But not tell him it's for the sun and moon until we've done it so he goes willingly?

Oh dear that's a rather large rock."

Engage in preliminary backstabbery, move out of the way of the floating rock.

Well, that does defeat the entire purpose, doesn't it? You can't call it a proper human sacrifice if the sacrifice in question is not a volunteer. It's simply murder in that event. Anathema to all religious creeds, murder. And while the death of the bone carver would be rather grand in its own way, the priest cannot in good conscience advocate it to any adherents of the Sun and Moon. It'd be giving the man far too much credit and respect to murder him religiously.

SUN

Really, best drop the idea. Forget he said anything. If there is actually anyone around here who would willingly give their life to the Sun and Moon, the Sun-Mouth sure as shit hasn't met them. Bloody pack of fair-weather chapelgoers.

Oh no, it's more fun to control it. "In immortal words of... very smart dude: I'm the captain of my soul, the master of my fate, the lord of free vodka!"

It would be problem if the sea of ethanol were to ignite. That would be end of my wonderful state of intoxication. So! The church must be up higher! Churches are naturally built next to high cliffs, or at least this one is. Will be. Is now. Much like this. Nice tilted island. Swim to the shore. Sit on that nice golden bench. Open another bottle.

"Maybe I should bring Valhalla here, then gods would be much closer and easier to reach..."

There are no bottles in the boundless Vodka Grapeachfruit Ocean, you silly goose. Only delicious vodka-filled grapeachfruit. You have one anyway as you sit down on the inviting beach of solid rock. It's a bit of a climb, as you might imagine (and actually did imagine, now that you think about is as hard as the imaginary booze in your system permits).

This would make a pretty nice vacation destination for the residents of Valhalla, most likely. Heavier on the booze, lighter on the fighting. Give people some time to recharge that murderous energy.

Thomas sighed.  Maybe if he went at it the other way...

"Okay, so... where's this place again?  What's nearby?  Where's the nearest big city?"

Pester pester ask ask

This is, er, Anglefork Castle, the majordomo says. The, uh, de facto capital of Benzerwald as far as he knows. Did you somehow- no, no. That's impossible, clearly. Nearby is Anglefork. And the nearest big city would be... the Free City of Elizabeth if he recalls correctly? Not that it matters. Nobody's going anywhere, remember? The surrounding area is crawling with stoats.

You ask how exactly stoats are relevant to the passability of the surrounding area, and the majordomo looks at you oddly. Stoats... kill people, don't you know? He starts to look less intimidated and more actively concerned for your mental health.

The upstairs has settled for the moment. You think you hear somebody coming toward the stairs. The servants begin to rapidly scatter, the majordomo excepted.

Spoiler: Status (click to show/hide)

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
- Adherents of the Great House: Enemy of Memory
- Well and Truly Narked Upon: 1
- Friends in Low Places: a Successful Transaction
- Subordinate Sun-Moon Stone (in orbit, 2 tons)
- Army of the New State: 600 Stoatmen

Leif Erikson, Miner
- Reappropriated, Clean Skirt
- 1 gp
- Anglefork Castle: A Different Sort of Confinement
- The Box: Teachings of the Minders
- Phantom Inebriation: Overpowering
- Induced Lucidity: A Skerry In The Alcoholic Ocean
- The Prison Stone
- Elongated Affairs: Beneath Contempt
- Elongated Affairs: A Noble Task
- Elongated Affairs: The Numbers of the Stoat

Eileen Minett, Vinyl Collector
- A Word: HUNGER
- Queenly Garments: the Humble Dress
- Sticks: 0.95 (total)
- Rat Pantheon: Disliked
- Traces of Mischief: Mouthful of Blackness
- The New Queen: ?
- Doomstones: A Disinterest
- Origins: Witness to Dissolution
- Tower of the Mind: Confusion
- Gross Incandescence: Highly Illuminated
- Inscribed Brick ('Water')
- The Voracious Dark: the First Deal Made

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 Clothes: an Asset
- Doomstones: a Delay
- The List: the Hidden and the Unnecessary
- 2 rats, crushed
- 1 rat, strangled
- 1 rat, live
- Gross Incandescence: Unilluminated
- Travels In The Fourth Dimension: Sunday ± 2 Days
- The Impromptu Prophecy: Thinking With Sacrifice

Thomas Minstep, Insurance Agent
- Anglefork Castle: Deluded Resident
- Traces of Mischief: Sandy Groin
- Gross Incandescence: Partly Illuminated
- Tight Leather Pants
- Travels In The Fourth Dimension: Friday, July 23rd, 409 S.D.
- The Majordomo: You Poor Thing

[Toaster]

Thomas had had quite enough, at this point.

"Look, sir, I admire your dedication to... staying in character, I believe, but please, this is a most urgent matter.  I simply MUST see Mr. Munderly!  This is a most important matter!  If you won't step out of your role, then please point me to someone who will!  The future of the company may depend on this meeting!"

[AoshimaMichio]

But I had bottle of delicious vodka recently on the hand. I remember imagining it! So I imagine it again!

Though I really should stop imagining my inebriation so clearly. Tone it down few steps. Otherwise the lady of the castle might grow worried.

[Dermonster]

Requesting distance between walls and stoat men.

[Harry Baldman]

Requesting distance between walls and stoat men.

Inconveniently long. Somewhere between three hundred feet for the lookouts and crossbowstoats and six hundred for the furthest signs of stoat activity that you can see.

[penguinofhonor]

Crap crap crap. Uh, let's see if I can point him in another direction. "Hey, HUNGER for something else!"

[Dermonster]

"Alright, here we go. I CALL UPON YE, OH HEAVENS! ANSWER MY CALL!"

"SUNSET CANNON!"

My idea here is that the Sun/Moon rock will fire a sweeping explosive sunburst laser across the Stoat lines.

[Xantalos]

"Well, can't hurt to try, now can it? Besides, your prophecy guy seems to have things well in hand here. We can try to convince the bone carver or maybe someone else to give their lives for the Sun and Moon. We both seem like fairly persuasive people, I'm sure we could pull it off.

...
aaaaand just as the remotest of possibility, if we don't manage to convince anyone ... surely the Sun and Moon would look kindly upon a priest of theirs that gives themselves up to them, right? I mean, all those marmots are out there, and surely defeating them would be a task most holy.
But that's only a last resort, so let's not focus on it for now. C'mon, I'm sure there's someone down there who won't be able to resist our combined rhetoric."

Wheedle.

[Dermonster]

"Any chance you could just go take on the damn heavenly task and not sacrifice people? You'd be halfway done by now."

[Xantalos]

"Dude, sacrificing people is part of my task. I need a profane thing."

[Tomcost]

((Hey, Derm, I think that the rock will explode. I would rather use the word MOON and hurl it away in the direction of the stoats))

[Dermonster]

((Hey, Derm, I think that the rock will explode. I would rather use the word MOON and hurl it away in the direction of the stoats))

((Well that's what I'm going to try NEXT if this doesn't work.

Don't act like you don't know me. My first instinct was to katamari some motherfuckers.))

[Tomcost]

((I just said that out of fear that it may explode on you. I'm as lost as you))

[Harry Baldman]

Thomas had had quite enough, at this point.

"Look, sir, I admire your dedication to... staying in character, I believe, but please, this is a most urgent matter.  I simply MUST see Mr. Munderly!  This is a most important matter!  If you won't step out of your role, then please point me to someone who will!  The future of the company may depend on this meeting!"

Step out of his role? Are you mad, man? One cannot simply step out of their role in a time of crisis, the majordomo snaps at you. This is a trying time, but that just makes it all the more important that the roles be kept to, and duties fulfilled! Look at yourself, man! You've gone stark raving mad, haven't you? Running about in someone else's pants, divebombing crowds of serving staff, ranting about some person that doesn't live here!

There is no escape, says he! There is only survival! There is hunger! And there is waiting! There is-

You notice two fellows appear in the staircase, one an elderly fellow wearing a suit of chain, the other an unblinking, shaven individual with what looks like a scarified eye on his forehead and a sizable cut across his chest. They appear to be urgently dragging a third individual by his feet - pale, hairless and seemingly unconscious, dressed in rags and visibly malformed, limbs shortened and torso lengthened like some sort of thalidomide quasi-victim. The servants that haven't scattered yet observe with fearful intrigue, and so does the majordomo, turning his attention away from you, mouthing an 'oh dear' as he regards the scene.

The two men stop in their dragging, looking at the rest of the room. The elderly fellow declares that the disturbance has been successfully addressed, and security is no longer compromised. As they speak, you spy a teenaged girl in the back of the stairwell, gazing at the person being dragged out with a look of barely comprehending horror.

But I had bottle of delicious vodka recently on the hand. I remember imagining it! So I imagine it again!

Though I really should stop imagining my inebriation so clearly. Tone it down few steps. Otherwise the lady of the castle might grow worried.

[Fruits of the Imagination: 6]

You consider where your bottle of vodka might have gone, and realize you made a slight error. You don't have a bottle of vodka on hand, actually. Your hand is a bottle of vodka. No wonder you couldn't find it for a second! You look at it for a moment. Probably shouldn't drink from it any more, it's true.

It's a bit too pretty to drink, you console yourself. You appreciate the artistry of your arm's arteries pumping blood into the sealed bottle, filling it up completely until what's getting pushed into your veins becomes a mixture of deoxygenated blood and dilute ethanol. A moment passes and you feel like it's starting to have an unusual effeckhhgrblpffhrmmmmm

Crap crap crap. Uh, let's see if I can point him in another direction. "Hey, HUNGER for something else!"

HUNGER

[Word: 2]

Hunger, yes. You speak the truth. You understand each other. He steps closer. The sky flashes unnaturally white.

Say it again. Hunger. You have such a beautiful voice.

"Alright, here we go. I CALL UPON YE, OH HEAVENS! ANSWER MY CALL!"

"SUNSET CANNON!"

My idea here is that the Sun/Moon rock will fire a sweeping explosive sunburst laser across the Stoat lines.

SUN

[Word: 2]

The stone seems intimidated when you say it like that. The word makes it agitated. You shouldn't shout at it like that. It's a little frightening. And the energy is already a little much for it to bear, could you just maybe point where you'd like this destructive beam to go exactly, because it's a little difficult to concentrate and the pressure certainly doesn't help. I mean, having an inwardly focused nuclear explosion at your core, kept in check by a physics-defying application of stony will that can go wrong with even the slightest moment of inattention is a little-

[Stone's Cooperation: 1]
[Extraordinary Dodge: 1]

You fly off the battlements, the white light impacting you like a tidal wave, your robes bursting into flames, your skin boiling as you plummet headfirst into the ground, your body nearly coming apart as you hit the ground painfully, your flying form setting a nearby house aflame from ten feet away.

You stir lightly, feeling like you're more ash than man. It doesn't hurt mostly because the majority of your relevant nerves seem to have been burned up. It is, consequently, a little hard to move.

The shining stone rushes up to you, still glowing brightly. Sorry! So sorry! Are you all right? It was just a millisecond's lapse of concentration! It won't happen again, promise!

"Well, can't hurt to try, now can it? Besides, your prophecy guy seems to have things well in hand here. We can try to convince the bone carver or maybe someone else to give their lives for the Sun and Moon. We both seem like fairly persuasive people, I'm sure we could pull it off.

...
aaaaand just as the remotest of possibility, if we don't manage to convince anyone ... surely the Sun and Moon would look kindly upon a priest of theirs that gives themselves up to them, right? I mean, all those marmots are out there, and surely defeating them would be a task most holy.
But that's only a last resort, so let's not focus on it for now. C'mon, I'm sure there's someone down there who won't be able to resist our combined rhetoric."

Wheedle.

[Extraordinary Dodge: 6]

You have a feeling right as you mention Mr. Codeburn. A powerful sensation of a massive jinx. A jinxation, if you will. You look at the Sun-Mouth as you trail off without finishing your wheedling. He doesn't seem to realize yet.

SUN

Yep, only one thing to do. You dive off the battlements, trailed within seconds by an unfathomably powerful flash of light that, judging by the sheer blackness of the shadow your falling body produces, would probably not have been healthy to see, much less experience. Not that the gravel-covered ground that awaits you at the bottom is very pleasant either, your joints cracking and your bones becoming very upset with you as you test their durability, but you decide to count your blessings as you see Mr. Codeburn's far more crispy fate. You're not exactly sure how he's still alive, to be honest. Or even how you know he's still alive. Maybe the way his 2-ton doom boulder seems to still be hovering over him, looking oddly apologetic in its terrifying radiance. Come to think of it, this may be a better time for running than questions.

Spoiler: Hot Tip of the Day (click to show/hide)

Stacking Words atop one another creates more power, and a correspondingly higher possibility of said power getting wildly out of hand. Choose your Words wisely!

Spoiler: Status (click to show/hide)

Eric Codeburn, COMPUTISTICS SPECIALIST
- Wounds: 4
- A Word: SUN
- A Word: MOON
- Anglefork Castle: Minister of Moronic Affairs
- The Impromptu Prophecy: Child of the Sun and Moon
- Adherents of the Great House: Enemy of Memory
- Well and Truly Narked Upon: 1
- Friends in Low Places: a Successful Transaction
- Subordinate Shining Stone (in orbit, 2 tons)
- Army of the New State: 600 Stoatmen
- Army of the New State: !!!
- Gross Incandescence: Extra Crispy

Leif Erikson, Miner
- Reappropriated, Clean Skirt
- 1 gp
- Anglefork Castle: A Different Sort of Confinement
- The Box: Teachings of the Minders
- Phantom Inebriation: Doos Dronk
- Induced Lucidity: A Skerry In The Alcoholic Ocean
- The Prison Stone
- Elongated Affairs: Beneath Contempt
- Elongated Affairs: A Noble Task
- Elongated Affairs: The Numbers of the Stoat

Eileen Minett, Vinyl Collector
- A Word: HUNGER
- Queenly Garments: the Humble Dress
- Sticks: 0.95 (total)
- Rat Pantheon: Disliked
- Traces of Mischief: Mouthful of Blackness
- The New Queen: ?
- Doomstones: A Disinterest
- Origins: Witness to Dissolution
- Tower of the Mind: Confusion
- Gross Incandescence: Highly Illuminated
- Inscribed Brick ('Water')
- The Voracious Dark: the First Deal Made
- The Man With No Clothes: Lovely Words

Jack Daniels, Karate Man
- Wounds: 1
- 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 Clothes: an Asset
- Doomstones: a Delay
- The List: the Hidden and the Unnecessary
- 2 rats, crushed
- 1 rat, strangled
- 1 rat, live
- Gross Incandescence: Unilluminated
- Travels In The Fourth Dimension: Sunday ± 2 Days
- The Impromptu Prophecy: Everything's On Fire, Argh, Oh God, Someone Help Me

Thomas Minstep, Insurance Agent
- Anglefork Castle: Deluded Resident
- Traces of Mischief: Sandy Groin
- Gross Incandescence: Partly Illuminated
- Tight Leather Pants
- Travels In The Fourth Dimension: Friday, July 23rd, 409 S.D.
- The Majordomo: a Breakdown of a Breakdown

[penguinofhonor]

What have I gotten myself into? Thinking more, I focus on the ground beneath the naked man's feet and imagine it swallowing him up. "Earth," I say, "you HUNGER."