I offer an explanation: "Magic."
Why is my mind all over the place? Get back in my head, please.
"To north we go. Straight like an arrow. The box is fine, I assume?"
[Riding the Waveform: 4]
There are no doubt many reasons she would refuse to come along, not least of all an ancestral well-founded fear of the unknown, or the increasingly dubious and destructive nature of your sorcery, or even the fact that you clearly know even less about where you're going than you initially appeared to.
However, what it comes down to is this - she needs to be on the other side. She is carrying the box. You also need to be on the other side. So whatever arguments are made, inevitably they crumble, and all that's left is you, forging ahead on your bridges of memory, trying to stuff these wayward recollections back into your brain on the way - no need, really, they disintegrate perfectly well on their own if not made particularly durable by a very understandable purpose. And behind you is Lee, carrying the box for safety, treading as lightly as possible on these constructs of imagination and suggestible matter, batting away the moths that keep accumulating on her dress with extreme caution.
And in not too long (or very long indeed, all you know is you're ultimately there) it is done, and you find yourself hopping off on the other side, giving Lee a hand as she jumps off after you, your last suggested platform turning to tumbling grapefruits that erupt into hissing scorpions, a solid mile and a half of bright canyon now opening up behind you as time reasserts itself properly.
Right, you say as you turn to Lee, and note her walking very rapidly northward. Better move quickly, she says. Put as much distance behind
this as possible.
Thomas stands there with his mouth open for several moments, before distracted by the show coming in. "Uhm. Er. Yes, air show! My, this performance keeps one-upping itself, would you not agree?"
An ancestral memory tugged at his arm, and Thomas pulled out the sword. "Isn't this quite the show? Yes?"
Unsheathe.
Somebody would agree, clearly. You don't quite see who, a bit absorbed at the moment. But you do draw your sword in its full length, pointing its blade up at the incoming airplanes. What shiny airplanes they are.
One would go so far as to say, in fact, that they are quite an interesting piece of material. Would you do one a favor and step closer? It looks like they are going for a buzz. Imagine if one could touch the bottom of the plane in passing - what a tale that would make, surely.
No!
I imagine a powerful current pulling her and the birds underwater, and shout "SEA."
You wonder if it works better from the inside.
SEA
[Word: 2]
The pond begins to wave and whirl as your Word resonates through it, the reflection distorting momentarily as the shapes of the swans become indistinct.
[The Sensation of Magic: 5]
There is a feeling that accompanies the deployment of a word, the feeling of meaning and purpose and subtle alteration (normally overshadowed by greater alterations yet to come) - simple enough for a human to explain away, or even ignore. But an animal, least of all a northern one, can ill afford not to fear such things, and both the swans, realizing in an instant that certain nesting spots probably aren't worth the bother of the water itself potentially betraying them, take off with a wild beating of wings, webbed feet tapping for an instant on the disturbed water's surface before they disappear into the swamp, presumably.
The fisher swims back to you in a lopsided manner, her shoulder considerably wounded by the vicious beaks of the swamp denizens - she swims to your side and floats up to the top, letting herself rest against it for now. Very close, she says. Would you believe? Two whole swans, about to make a nest. Very dangerous when approached alone. Many thanks for your help.
She straightens out. It is good to know for sure that you are a white mermaid, and that her good feeling did not lead her astray.
"So. In the wake of that. If. I. MAY."
Grab the container from Wilde and smash it on the ground.
He's already put it away, which means you're gonna need to search. Sigh. You shimmy up to his back and lean forward!
[Excuse Me, Sir: 1 vs. 2]
You go up to Mr. Wilde and are about to plunge your hand into his back, but he just puts his hand on your face and pushes you backward, causing you to double over and nearly tie yourself into a knot before flopping down on your face. Seems he's not in the mood for this kind of supernatural fuckery. Got magic shit of his own to do, mate!
Speaking of, what's that Mr. Minstep's got? Looks... very abnormal. A sword, but also something else? It makes your eyes tingle just looking at it!
"Idiot."
Is there a forest or some other cover nearby (not the castle)? Because these people should be running towards it. Encourage them to do so. Oh, and ready the measure. Could work.
[Sage Words of Retreat: 3]
You advise this rather motley crowd of people to start evacuating, pointing to the approaching bits of exploding countryside as evidence that things are about to take a marked turn for the worst. This is in and of itself perfectly reasonable, and quite a few folks present start running down the road as soon as you suggest it. Quite a few more perceptive others, though, are looking at Mr. Minstep, who appears to have drawn his very familiar-looking gray sword as he looks up at the sky. That, says Nately, is the look of somebody about to make things happen! Surely it wouldn't be wise to miss that!
Fortunately, only a couple more people seem to feel the same way, and most of the others do begin moving toward Anglefork - maybe they can get some raiding done before the day is through, the commander suggests, and the royal guards, some of them ushering ahead the queen, a few others going off to scout for any potential resistance, most others filing out in an orderly and organized fashion, notably among them Deirdre herself, who feels it best to maybe watch from a distance, if not head for Anglefork entirely.
That just leaves you, Mr. Daniels, Nately, a tall woman arrayed much like a knight, the old captain of the guard and a few of his associates, including a fellow with a shaved head and a scarified eye in his forehead, Mr. Minstep, his rather unnerving sword, and right next to you a somewhat grubby, barefoot woman wearing a rather tastefully folded and pinned sheet much like an evening dress, a smaller and much lovelier young woman dressed considerably more modestly tugging on her hand as she urges her to come along more than a little drunkenly.
[Excuse Me, Sir: 2 vs. 1]
In any case after warding off a peculiarly amorous advance from Mr. Daniels by grabbing him by the face and pushing him handily onto the ground you step forward, roughly in line with Mr. Minstep and the armored woman by his side as you bring out the measure. You stare ahead at the approaching figures. One great boat tumbling and waving through the sky, descending closer like a plane about to crash, a giant on a glacier of light riding not far behind. There is little doubt they've seen you. They begin to charge from half a mile, soon to bear down upon you!
Leif Erikson, Miner
- A Word: INEVITABLE
- A Word: APOCALYPSE
- Body Count: 52
- Wounds: 1
- Mead of Poetry (5 shining revelations remaining)
- Enders' Friend: The Grave of Red Clouds Parting
- Reappropriated, Clean Skirt
- Inscribed Wooden Stylus
- Iron spear
- 1.03 gp
- The Box: ?
- Induced Lucidity: the Aftermath, or the New Beginning
- Compatibility: Minding
- Tricks of the Mind: Perception, Memory
- Tricks of the Mind: Engagement, Negation, Abstraction, Prestige
- Tricks of the Mind: the Self, the Other
- Gods of the Underground: Did You Just What
- A Visit From The Stork: Is What You Yes
- The Voracious Dark: Two Deals Made
- The Voracious Dark: The Promised Sixth
- Moth's Flight: Not In Her Wildest Dreams
- An Ancient Sea: The Hedonist's Inspiration
Eileen Minett, Vinyl Collector
- In Living Memory: Yeah She's Probably Dead Isn't She I Think She's Dead Yeah
- Wounds: 3
- Traces of Mischief: Drowned
- The Mirror-Fisher: White Mermaid
- The Doom Guard: Consorting With The Enemy
- Exotic serrated zweihander
- White silk bandeau and loincloth
- Inauspicious Day: Off Into The Horizon
- Giant White Mushroom
- A Word: SEA
- A Word: HUNGER
- A Word: CHAOS
- A Weapon: Explosive Cysts
- The Voracious Dark: Three Connections Given
- Tower of the Mind: There's Something To Remember
- The New Queen: And Something To Forget
- Body Count: 1
- The Impromptu Prophecy: ?
- Sweet Little Children: Fond Farewell
Jack Daniels, Karate Man
- Naked
- Red and gold vest and breeches combo
- Leather boots
- Traces of Mischief: 90% Boneless
- Wounds: 2
- 14033 gp (in sack)
- The Flip Side: Uh, Yeah
- The Queen's Guard: Unusual Troublemaker
- Powers of the Beyond: Gardener of Thoughts
- Dusty Wooden Speaking-Trumpet
- Crossbow Bolt (in throat)
- A Word: REND
- A Word: SILENCE
- A Weapon: Murder-Thought
- Uncoupled: Strength
- Wooden Door (held)
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: Back To The Drawing Board
- Tower of the Mind: Endless Well of Mystery
- Induced Lucidity: A Garden Well-Tended
- Elongated Affairs: Enemy of the New State
- A Place In History: Vastly Unreliable
- Anglefork Castle: the Great Worm
- The Obsolete Class: Suggested Victims
- 2 rats, crushed
- 1 rat, strangled
- 1 rat, live
- Travels In The Fourth Dimension: Sunday ± 2 Days
- The Impromptu Prophecy: There's A Mountain Higher Than We Knew
- Doomstones: So High Up But Such A Bitter View
- The Majordomo: A Great Divide Between Us Now
- The Voracious Dark: Decreasing Demand
- The Voracious Dark: More Specific Requests
- The Good Doctor: A Recommendation
- Body Count: 3
Thomas Minstep, Insurance Agent
- Troubles In Anglefork Town: Bearer of the Sword
- Wounds: 2
- A Word: ABSENCE
- A Word: GOODBYE
- A Weapon: The Sword They Fear
- Traces of Mischief: Nausea's Depths
- A Bowl, Black and Knobby
- Anglefork Castle: From Another Time, Another Land
- Gross Incandescence: Partly Illuminated
- Tight Leather Pants (worn)
- Incredibly Tight Blue Dress (worn, mutilated, mildly provocative)
- Travels In The Fourth Dimension: Sunday, July 25th, 409 S.D.
- The Majordomo: Busy Morning
- The Good Doctor: House Call
- The Queen's Guard: A Reward Well Earned
- Make A Man Out Of You: A Crowning Achievement
- The New Queen: Lasting Gratitude
- Tower of the Mind: Advice Given
- The Obsolete Class: Let Them Be
- The One They Fear: A Satisfactory Contract
- A Place In History: A Worthwhile Associate
- The Box: Absolutely Delightful
- The Flip Side: One of Them
- Body Count: 2
Oscar Wilde, Chemistry Teacher
- A Word: REVELATION
- Wounds: 1
- The Serpent's Egg: Dissemination
- Body Count: 4
- Time-ender's measure (wrapped, yawning)
- 10 m of rope
- Half a candle
- 1 rat, skinless and smoked
- 6 gp
- Poor Misshapen Dice
- Lock of Hair (unidentified)
- Iron nail, unused
- An Inauspicious Key
- Burlap Foot Wrappings (worn)
- Burlap Hand Wrappings (worn)
- Moth-Eaten Hat (worn)
- Respectable Brown Skirt (worn)
- Old Brown Waistcoat (worn)
- Bright Yellow Tunic (worn)
- A Wealth of Burlap Ribbons
- An Obsolete Class: Trustworthy Individual
- The Flip Side: The Most Dangerous Friend
- The Doom Guard: The Inquisition Moves On
- Tower of the Mind: Get Away
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: The Less Dangerous Friend