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Author Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written  (Read 262357 times)

penguinofhonor

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Re: Our Salvation: Maybe Just Omit The Human Sacrifice
« Reply #2085 on: March 20, 2017, 06:53:49 am »

"Oh, don't you remember? We talked about it earlier. You were giving her some fashion advice, telling her how to fill it out better. If you've decided you want it back then we can return it to you right away."
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Toaster

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Re: Our Salvation: Maybe Just Omit The Human Sacrifice
« Reply #2086 on: March 20, 2017, 08:31:22 am »

Pause and assess the situation.  How climbable does up look here?  Is there a better path farther along the cliff face?  Is that tunnel still visible?
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
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Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Maybe Just Omit The Human Sacrifice
« Reply #2087 on: March 20, 2017, 05:59:39 pm »

Daniels contemplates the inquiry - it's quite a unique one, and something he'd rather avoided asking himself for fear that the answer wouldn't be to his liking. What if he really was the original Daniels, and he'd just vanished from earth one day? Seems like it'd be somewhat of a shock to his family ... well, that which he'd had, and friends, of which there were all of two.

It didn't really matter, did it? If he did want to get back to Earth there was no doubt a way to do it, but did he really want to? This world was so much cooler than the earth he remembered, and he didn't really have all that much to miss from his home. Or anything at all.

"Well, it's difficult to say whether I'm the original Jack Daniels, or if I'm just a stencil of his mind stapled onto this form in order to be able to effectively interact with humans. I don't think I could answer that question without hard data. However, regardless of whether I'm the original Jack or not, I think my relationship to him as I may or may not be is basically the same as that of any person to themselves. I still have Jack Daniels' personality, memories, appearance... for all intents and purposes, I'm him. I don't see any particular reason to muddy things up by speculating whether my existence has merit or whatever - I'm here now, and I'll make my way through life much as I did before, if with significantly less physical restrictions. Earth ... to be honest I never found the part I lived in very interesting. There were some neat aspects, like the karate and such, the things people could push themselves to do, but on the whole the stories people generated there presented a better reality than what really existed. I always had a hard time connecting with people there when the stories we told about our world outweighed it to such a great degree. I'll miss the people I knew there, sure, in a vague sense, but not really. I'm happy to stick around in this world - the experience of adjusting to a truly foreign place is interesting to me, and the Vault is a good way to see this world in a less haphazard way than I have been up until now."

It wouldn't be a problem to look into a solution for getting you to wherever you came from if you would like, Peaks says, or maybe even visiting for curiosity's sake. If people like you come from there, no doubt there is something peculiar about the place.

Though you are only halfway from there, Two Shores adds, or at least so it would seem. Beneath your merely foreign intellect hides something truly alien - what your friend from the well would call the substrate, the thing your own mind seems to limit and channel toward productive ends, sometimes with less success than others would prefer.

Why would it be you though, Peaks asks a little rhetorically as her gaze is locked on you as if trying to pierce the mystery by sheer stubbornness. Is there some sort of criterion that made you suitable, perhaps even preferable? The interest in stories, a certain detachment or disinterest toward reality? A lot of room for conjecture, you'll surely agree.

Perhaps the tendency toward martial arts, Shores says a little admiringly. It could be that discipline and mastery of one's own body is what makes a personality like yours so eminently helpful to your patron.

Or that you never quite seem to ask the right questions about what you are or where you belong, Peaks chuckles. Usually a valued quality in a minion, but less so aboard the Vault. Being true to one's own ambition is what will make you rise along with your crew, should you join.

What of the others, Shores asks, her expression drawn as Peaks gives her a cheeky grin. She recites the names you told her, though you're unsure how you knew them yourself for the most part: Mr. Erikson the so-called viking? Ms. Minett the improvisational sorceress? Mr. Minstep the insurance agent? And what of Mr. Wilde, your short-lived rival in the affections of a North-addled blacksmith? Do you feel that they are of some significance to you, perhaps, if only as potential rivals in achieving whatever the purpose of your existence here may be?

"Yeah, I'll stick with Moths since I'm apparently honorary member now. Don't remember when that happened, but apparently it did happen. Great god damn party!"

Praise Moth's party skills some more and pop a vodka fruit.

"I assume you got your business with Great Moth done before I found you guys, or was it other way around? I wasn't exactly in clearest state of mind after eating half of these... what were these called again, happy-hags?, and getting my limbs lopped off by that damn bird. I hope it died painfully."

Chat more with Lee, try to get her open up now that she got home ground advantage. What there's to do? How Moths make their living? Any eligible bachelorettes around? Gotta think about future, you know, after getting that box into its intented grave. Is Lee herself a bachelorette?

She did manage to make a full report about the south, yes. The elder was most interested, and congratulated her on a job well done. She has proven herself as a scout and is permitted to speak on matters of the stoatmen and their state before the council when her expertise is required. It is a high honor for someone her age.

[Moth's Flight: 5]

You notice she doesn't seem particularly proud as she speaks of this. Vaguely embarrassed, perhaps, or even ashamed. You're tempted to push on it, but get the strange feeling she might not be in the mood to discuss it at any particular length. Instead you redirect the conversation as you pop a vodkafruit into your mind. It takes what little remained of your hangover away in a heady swoop of mental burn.

Lee herself is glad enough to change the subject that she is moved to explain in quite a bit of detail as she continues her lunch - the Moths dwell exclusively underground when they can, and emerge only for particular business with the other clans or for specific events such as the realignment of the northern stars (to record their new positions) or the sky's approach (to let the old, sick or incredibly tired touch it and be carried away). Sometimes due to unfavorable cavern conditions as well (the underground's waking, she rather cryptically calls it, and also the blue blooms).

What the Moths do while underground is apparently cataloguing tunnels, gathering particularly flammable fungi (the blue flames seem to rise from an oil they make from a specific breed that flourishes along the edges of true abysses) both for their own use and for trade with the other clans, hunting for bizarre creatures that crawl in the sunless lakes and rivers of the deep, seeking treasure unearthed in the thrashing-pains of the earth, seeking passages to hidden and forgotten places (most of them not useful, Lee says, but sometimes...). They travel almost always, lest the earth swallow them before their time.

Lee goes on at what could be considered some length in its own laconic kind of way about this before you lead into the next natural question: what's the dating scene like in the dark underground?

[Eligible Bachelorettes: 4]

She nearly chokes on one of the last meager scoops of crab as realization hits her all at once. She looks rather displeased as some of its fermented aroma backs up into her sinuses.

Mm, she says after taking a long moment to get her bearings. You're a self-centered, impulsive, babbling, drunken lunatic minder who is debatably human. You possess frightening powers you do not fully comprehend or in fact even know how to use with particular discretion. You blew up the dividing line between north and south by accident, killing hundreds. Your average level of foresight encompasses approximately nine seconds in your immediate future.

So, you say a little defensively. So you are not what she would call a "hot commodity", she says with appropriate finger quotes. Even in this miserable climate.

Hey now, you say. It might be true that you possess an assortment of both well-attested and thus far undocumented character flaws vast and varied enough to accommodate a whole Norse pantheon in its own right. But you're not about to let that get in the way of yourself being reasonably good-looking, charmingly foreign, in very good shape and overall a hoopy kind of frood who's never short on booze or entertaining anecdotes about amusingly named deities.

Lee pauses, having a sip of something that looks but absolutely does not smell like goat's milk, her eyes briefly taking you in. When you put it that way, she sighs, it is almost a shame she knows better.

"Oh, don't you remember? We talked about it earlier. You were giving her some fashion advice, telling her how to fill it out better. If you've decided you want it back then we can return it to you right away."

[Never To See The Light Of Day: 6]

Oggie pauses, eying the doctor carefully. Mm, she says. She has recollection, thinking further. It would not fit, it is true. And she gave it away. Just like the rest of it. She examines the doctor again, stalking slowly in her direction. Does look better on her, she grumbles, then looks back up from the cave.

She has taken some things, and so have you. This is permissible, Oggie says. But the rest she will not leave for scavengers and vultures, she says as her sensory hairs bristle with renewed vigor. You must go up the hill and make the rest safe from theft.

You pause a moment. You look back on the hill as you step away from the cave entrance, the manor looming atop it. Does she have some kind of security solution in mind?

Yes, Oggie makes a simian grin of rounded, pebble-like teeth that gently grind on one another. Burn it all.

Pause and assess the situation.  How climbable does up look here?  Is there a better path farther along the cliff face?  Is that tunnel still visible?

[Where Witches Went Mad More Than Once: 6]

Based on your understanding of the usual risks of mountaineering, you dare say you're very glad your own insurance policy is relatively airtight and would probably cover you falling about a hundred feet and breaking approximately half of the bones in your body (probably including your spine). So there's a bright side to all this at least.

That said, you don't think going up about fifty feet would be that difficult as long as you don't look down and, most importantly, don't get kicked the feck off and fall a hundred and fifty feet and break approximately 75% of your bones upon impact, not accounting for the following tumble down the hill you'd doubtlessly experience, oh my.

You suppose you could go sideways - the cliff does grow a bit less sharp some fifty feet to the side where the collapse wasn't quite as pronounced. Almost hospitable in comparison to the unfriendly angles of the half-destroyed ruins of some ancient civilization, worn down by time and earth into barely recognizable stumps of buildings and rooms.

Additionally there are indeed some tunnels that the latest landslide appears to have uncovered, a few of the non-collapsed tunnels dotting the cliffside. A couple look deep enough to climb into, certainly, though where they would possibly lead, you cannot say.

In fact, you discover as you start nudging along the alcove you're presently occupying, you're fairly sure there might be a tunnel in this here alcove as well - behind the bit you're hiding in, actually. It'd require a right kicking to get through, you'd imagine, but despite being quite stony you also get the sense that it might be rather thin. And a bit smooth, you notice as you run your fingers along it.

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Toaster

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Re: Our Salvation: Maybe Just Omit The Human Sacrifice
« Reply #2088 on: March 20, 2017, 06:17:25 pm »

Well, it's right here.  Could just take a peek?

Sure, kick it in.  Give the resulting tunnel a good visual inspection.  Don't go out of sight of the entrance for the first peek.
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
God help us if we have to agree on pizza toppings at some point. There will be no survivors.

Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Maybe Just Omit The Human Sacrifice
« Reply #2089 on: March 20, 2017, 07:32:55 pm »

"Eh, where I come form's nothing special - reality's much more stable there than it is here, so there's basically just ordinary physics-bound beings doing things there, no magic or odd beasts or whatever, and the only warped geometry is in funny styles of illustration. Maybe in the far future I'll want to visit again, see where exactly the well intrudes upon the place."

Jack muses for a bit.

"The substrate is ... it's an odd thing, to say the least, as you surmised. I've been told its fundamentally indestructible, and it's only this form that's vulnerable to harmful forces. I only look like this and interact with physics like I do because I make a better research probe that way, evidently. I'm not sure why I in particular was chosen, or any of the others really. We didn't seem to have anything in common, even the ones that died. Personalities were as different as you could get, there didn't seem to be any real gender bias, not that the well knows what that is... seems like it was random."

Daniels briefly produces the rats he's been carrying around before setting his hand down and forgetting about them again. "Those used to be part of another guy, never met him. And I know there was at least one more, some guy who fulfilled some astronomical prophecy early on. I dunno if he's dead now or not. But I'm guessing that the substrate is more of an ... aspect of reality, or configuration of spacetime that only the well can call into being, given how it can apparently be constructed out of rats. I know it has some odd effects on my subconscious mind too, I've taken some inward trips and it gets weird if you look too close. Probably something to do with how I knew the names of the others, and they mine. Like recognizes like, I assume."

Daniels briefly pauses speaking to slowly click his neck over to one side, then the other.

"Whatever my connection to the others is, I don't really think it has any bearing on much beyond letting me recognize them easier. Funny you should mention my purpose, Two Shores - I don't really think I have one. From all my conversations with the well, it really only seems to want data about what entities independent of it do to each other and themselves. Can't say why it does, but unless I'm completely off the mark that's it's only motivation. I'm not even really beholden to it from what I can tell, it just incentivizes 'collection' with cool gifts. So I'm free to do pretty much whatever I want, which begs the question: what do I wanna do? I'm not dependent on pretty much any biological need save maybe breathing, I haven't tested that yet, I have no ties in this world, I know pretty much nobody, and I have no obligations. It's funny, I was chasing this sort of freedom back home for a long time but now that I have it I'm not revelling in my freedom or whatever, just sorta drifting along. It's why Rainbow's attempt to get me to pull a coup on you guys didn't go anywhere. What need have I to care about politics? I'm effectively immortal if not killed and material rewards don't really make a difference to me. Hell, I have 14,033 gold coins on me right now, they don't hold a conversation."

He sighs slightly.

"To tell you the truth, I think I'm starting to understand the whole 'bored vampire' trope they had going on back in earth's media. I have the capacity to do pretty much anything I want, but no compelling reason to pursue any particular course. That's actually what I wanted to sign on for - I figure getting invested in some part of the world, getting to know people, actually socializing without engaging in mindless violence or having some ulterior motive, that sort of deal, it'd give me a bit of a purpose. You realize they're alright to have when you don't have one."

Ramble like only an emotionally detached being from beyond the fourth dimension can.

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penguinofhonor

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Re: Our Salvation: Maybe Just Omit The Human Sacrifice
« Reply #2090 on: March 21, 2017, 07:42:25 am »

"I like the way you think," I say and flash a grin. I do feel like letting off some steam. Or smoke, whatever.

I look over at the doctor. "We're burning down the house."

I walk up the hill toward the house and begin preparing myself to invoke synthesis. I make sure I'm on a side of the house that's not near the alchemy lab. "Oggie, brace yourself for magic."
« Last Edit: March 21, 2017, 07:51:48 am by penguinofhonor »
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AoshimaMichio

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Re: Our Salvation: Maybe Just Omit The Human Sacrifice
« Reply #2091 on: March 21, 2017, 12:44:55 pm »

"Heh, I can always aim to improve. Although given my nine seconds of foresight it will be a challenge, so I do need someone to assist me. And isn't that what partners do? As common marriage vows back in home state; "from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part". It's a life long project. Anyway, guess I have to keep eye out for anyone who likes challenges, because after I have that box buried I'm free of any obligations."

"Talking about boxes, shall we go and hunt it down?"



Now to think about, Lee didn't exactly elaborate why she was in that box I found her in first place. Perhaps her reluctance to talk about boxes is related. I feel like I shouldn't ask about details, but she might not appreciate it. I feel there may be some relation.
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TopHat

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Re: Our Salvation: Maybe Just Omit The Human Sacrifice
« Reply #2092 on: March 22, 2017, 05:19:02 pm »

"How vexing. Just like.... Sisyphus, I think he was called, and his boulder. A very old story where I come from. Have you tried anything to stop it? We could try tying it to a post, or I might be able to rig up some sort of handbrake system if you'd like."

Parallels to Greek mythology, that's a definite plus to the insanity theory.
Magic cart or no, this should be nothing a little ingenuity can't solve.
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I would ask why fire can burn two men to death without getting hot enough to burn a book, but then I read "INEXTINGUISHABLE RUNNING KAMIKAZE RADIOACTIVE FLAMING ZOMBIE" and realized that logic, reason, and physics are all occupied with crying in the corner right now.

Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Maybe Just Omit The Human Sacrifice
« Reply #2093 on: March 23, 2017, 12:12:19 pm »

Well, it's right here.  Could just take a peek?

Sure, kick it in.  Give the resulting tunnel a good visual inspection.  Don't go out of sight of the entrance for the first peek.

[Tear Down This Wall: 4]

It takes a little bit to figure out how exactly you could kick in the wall of an alcove that barely fits you, but you manage to work out a convenient solution - you'll hold on to the edges, start kicking and not stop until the stone wall gives before the might of your foot. You give a kick! And then another one! And yet another one! In fact, you kind of need to keep kicking for a good long time before there is a sudden breakthrough!

That breakthrough is, of course, the realization that you might get more purchase out of this wall with your sword. You draw it quickly - one can't help being a little disappointed at being pointed at a mere wall, you understand, but one supposes that there should be a certain amount of give to a relationship as hopefully fruitful as yours.

The gray blade goes slightly into the wall with a bit of effort - you dare say your previous kicks appear to have solidly cracked it in places. You shove it in as deep as it will go, a few inches or so, and this is apparently enough as you hear a considerable crack and notice a slight outpouring of what seems to be explosively growing dental enamel, rooting itself into the stone and sending a crack spreading every which way.

Try now, one ventures to suggest. You do, and the wall suddenly gives underneath one last solid kick, bits of stone breaking off as the enamel framework beneath them suddenly breaks, opening what looks to be a very narrow little crevice in the stone, just about your size if you went into it sideways, spiraling upward and to the left as well as downward and to the right.

[Whistling In The Dark: 3]

As the dust and noise clears, you think you hear something very briefly. A shuffling, perhaps, or even a skittering. You're not quite sure if this is a good sign or a bad one.

"Eh, where I come form's nothing special - reality's much more stable there than it is here, so there's basically just ordinary physics-bound beings doing things there, no magic or odd beasts or whatever, and the only warped geometry is in funny styles of illustration. Maybe in the far future I'll want to visit again, see where exactly the well intrudes upon the place."

Jack muses for a bit.

"The substrate is ... it's an odd thing, to say the least, as you surmised. I've been told its fundamentally indestructible, and it's only this form that's vulnerable to harmful forces. I only look like this and interact with physics like I do because I make a better research probe that way, evidently. I'm not sure why I in particular was chosen, or any of the others really. We didn't seem to have anything in common, even the ones that died. Personalities were as different as you could get, there didn't seem to be any real gender bias, not that the well knows what that is... seems like it was random."

Daniels briefly produces the rats he's been carrying around before setting his hand down and forgetting about them again. "Those used to be part of another guy, never met him. And I know there was at least one more, some guy who fulfilled some astronomical prophecy early on. I dunno if he's dead now or not. But I'm guessing that the substrate is more of an ... aspect of reality, or configuration of spacetime that only the well can call into being, given how it can apparently be constructed out of rats. I know it has some odd effects on my subconscious mind too, I've taken some inward trips and it gets weird if you look too close. Probably something to do with how I knew the names of the others, and they mine. Like recognizes like, I assume."

Daniels briefly pauses speaking to slowly click his neck over to one side, then the other.

"Whatever my connection to the others is, I don't really think it has any bearing on much beyond letting me recognize them easier. Funny you should mention my purpose, Two Shores - I don't really think I have one. From all my conversations with the well, it really only seems to want data about what entities independent of it do to each other and themselves. Can't say why it does, but unless I'm completely off the mark that's it's only motivation. I'm not even really beholden to it from what I can tell, it just incentivizes 'collection' with cool gifts. So I'm free to do pretty much whatever I want, which begs the question: what do I wanna do? I'm not dependent on pretty much any biological need save maybe breathing, I haven't tested that yet, I have no ties in this world, I know pretty much nobody, and I have no obligations. It's funny, I was chasing this sort of freedom back home for a long time but now that I have it I'm not revelling in my freedom or whatever, just sorta drifting along. It's why Rainbow's attempt to get me to pull a coup on you guys didn't go anywhere. What need have I to care about politics? I'm effectively immortal if not killed and material rewards don't really make a difference to me. Hell, I have 14,033 gold coins on me right now, they don't hold a conversation."

He sighs slightly.

"To tell you the truth, I think I'm starting to understand the whole 'bored vampire' trope they had going on back in earth's media. I have the capacity to do pretty much anything I want, but no compelling reason to pursue any particular course. That's actually what I wanted to sign on for - I figure getting invested in some part of the world, getting to know people, actually socializing without engaging in mindless violence or having some ulterior motive, that sort of deal, it'd give me a bit of a purpose. You realize they're alright to have when you don't have one."

Ramble like only an emotionally detached being from beyond the fourth dimension can.

You do have a purpose, Shores moves to correct, as does everyone. You are simply not aware of it yet.

More specifically, Peaks grins, you were clearly created rather than born like any other unfortunate - this would imply that you have a function that you are intended to fulfill. Whether that's your ultimate purpose is of course an entirely different matter. Gets a bit philosophical there, you see.

Many would sympathize with your aimlessness nevertheless, the first mate goes on. It is common in those who have not yet established their capabilities and potential, and it is for these that service is ultimately meant. To become a true master, service is first required.

They could pay you a lot like your good friend in the dark does, Peaks offers. Answers and favors. Slightly more generously than it would, she smiles, if perhaps not to a godlike standard of excellence. She could toy with your substrate if you like. It seems like an interesting substance indeed if even a complete numpty like the blacksmith can make it do strange things.

There is also much to learn about other matters, Shores hastens to say. Fighting, for instance, and how to apply your talents to it. You have a very adaptable array of weapons, good sir. It would be an honor to see that they are put to optimal use.

And if it's friends you want, you will no doubt find some - if not in the Vault, then surely on the way. El is maybe not all things to all people, but it is the closest thing in the world that can be said to fit the bill.

"I like the way you think," I say and flash a grin. I do feel like letting off some steam. Or smoke, whatever.

I look over at the doctor. "We're burning down the house."

I walk up the hill toward the house and begin preparing myself to invoke synthesis. I make sure I'm on a side of the house that's not near the alchemy lab. "Oggie, brace yourself for magic."

The doctor's eyes widen, then she looks at Oggie, who appears dreadfully enthusiastic as much as she is enthusiastically dreadful, rubbing her oversized hands together as her mouth hangs open, eyes almost on fire from sheer sense of agency alone. The doctor then looks at you. She'd say that this maybe isn't the best idea, but she supposes she did put you up to this. You're burning down the house then, she guesses.

The three of you walk up the hill, Oggie surging ahead and the doctor following a little meekly behind. You hang around the middle and begin to intone the Word, readying it to be deployed at a moment's notice.

[Fire In The Blood: 6]

Thoughts of matter shaking violently and tumbling back and forth storm through your mind as you focus on each syllable separately, the inside of your mind shaking as the potential barely allows itself to be contained as nuclei superimpose on each other and in a moment of cosmic incaution blend together, defective mass attaining the shape of energy, so much raw energy. You start to shiver as the Word's anticipation blazes in you, dearly wishing to be let loose on the fragile laws of existence.

[Lean Times In Anglefork Town: 4]

You bump into Oggie and nearly say it as you've come up to the side of the house from a relatively inconspicuous angle, the manor looking considerably worse for wear since last you saw it, mostly on account of a good chunk of its roof collapsing inward and the structure itself making its unsteadiness much more apparent than previously (though you admit this might just be your own experience within the house speaking).

Such a fine house, the doctor says. Would be a terrible shame to destroy it when there's so much stuff still in there. Oggie, meanwhile, seems to be loping around the nearby area and looking for ways to start a fire, sitting down for a moment to experiment with a dry stick and some random detritus.

As you try to retain your focus you also hear the alleged owners of the house - the beaten farmer and his guardswoman wife, and their collective children, still apparently camping a little ways from the front entrance. The wife appears to have come back with a bit of firewood to feed some sort of cooking fire.

You look at the house. You feel like something disastrous should happen to it, and soon. Your flesh and mind demand it, lest they burn as well.

"Heh, I can always aim to improve. Although given my nine seconds of foresight it will be a challenge, so I do need someone to assist me. And isn't that what partners do? As common marriage vows back in home state; "from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part". It's a life long project. Anyway, guess I have to keep eye out for anyone who likes challenges, because after I have that box buried I'm free of any obligations."

"Talking about boxes, shall we go and hunt it down?"



Now to think about, Lee didn't exactly elaborate why she was in that box I found her in first place. Perhaps her reluctance to talk about boxes is related. I feel like I shouldn't ask about details, but she might not appreciate it. I feel there may be some relation.

You can improve, this is true. But the task falls to you, not whoever decides to inflict you upon themselves. Trying to make people change is the surest path to misery. But enough of this, Lee says as she notices you looking thoughtfully at her. Breakfast is finished, she declares as she downs the last of her strange drink. It is time to hunt down your delivery.

[Caverns of the Great Moth: 3]

You clear out of the room in short order and begin your search. The first logical thing to do would be to retrace your steps, which Lee insists would lead you over to the great chamber where you were examined, which now looks a lot like the site of the first clash of an enormous battle, two score of the sorriest lightweights of the Moth Clan has laid out along the walkways and the seating areas. A few have managed to get as far as the exit, giving you and Lee embarrassed stares in between bouts of nausea as they stagger away. Lee gives them a practiced glare that makes them move that much faster.

A few more, naturally, are dislodged as Lee goes on to check if maybe the box fell down around here someplace. No such luck, obviously. There is a fellow on the ground a little more coherent than the rest, perhaps fifteen years old at most, smaller than you'd expect a boy his age to be, nursing a thin stubble in the hopes of one day obtaining a beard. He mostly appears to just be resting here, not quite up to going anywhere else in the state he's in.

He looks up at you as Lee starts to ask him increasingly pointed questions about what he's seen and if he knows where Lee put a box. Ah, he says as he fails to pay any mind or particularly respond to Lee. Big man in camp. He knows you, he nods after a second as Lee gives him a gaze both very familiar and almost murderous.

Yeah, he says and slowly sits up, very much sore from passing out on the stone floor, you tell his sister that he's not speaking to her.

He tries to get to his feet as Lee narrows her eyes, but slides back on the ground with a groan. Ugh. Could you maybe give him a hand as well? Can't drink like he used to. You know, back in the day.

"How vexing. Just like.... Sisyphus, I think he was called, and his boulder. A very old story where I come from. Have you tried anything to stop it? We could try tying it to a post, or I might be able to rig up some sort of handbrake system if you'd like."

Parallels to Greek mythology, that's a definite plus to the insanity theory.
Magic cart or no, this should be nothing a little ingenuity can't solve.


[Ingenuity of the Ancients: 6]

He wouldn't want to stop it entirely, mind you, rolling down inclines and smashing into places gives it about the closest thing to happiness it seems able to achieve.

Of course, the teamster pauses to think, you could tie it up somewhere for a while. Surely it couldn't expect a permanent monopoly on a man's attentions? He hasn't had a break in... well, quite a while. Time does rather fly when you're working hard, have you noticed?

If you do have an idea, do feel free to put it to use! A reprieve does sound very refreshing. But for now, he has to be off. Have a nice day!

And with that, the teamster runs along down the slope at a breakneck pace, sprinting easily out of view and into the depths of the side alleys.

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« Last Edit: March 23, 2017, 12:15:19 pm by Harry Baldman »
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Toaster

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Re: Our Salvation: Maybe Just Omit The Human Sacrifice
« Reply #2094 on: March 23, 2017, 12:54:43 pm »

Well, gotten this far with it.  No sense turning around.  "Friends!" called Thomas down to any listening companions.  "There is a tunnel here; I'm going to try it!  Heading in the upward!"

Head in, slowly going the upward way.  Don't go too far; not so far that the light is gone.  Just enough to check it out.
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
God help us if we have to agree on pizza toppings at some point. There will be no survivors.

AoshimaMichio

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Re: Our Salvation: Maybe Just Omit The Human Sacrifice
« Reply #2095 on: March 23, 2017, 02:40:23 pm »

Leif faithfully delivers the message. "He refuses to talk to you."

"Sure thing, boy!"
Leif lifts the boy up his feet carefully and supports him until he can stand up on his own. "Sister, you say? Nice to meet you. We probably met and greeted yesterday, but I'll be damned if I remember anything right, if at all. Say, Lee misplaced something of mine, a brass lockbox. Do you happen to have any idea where it might be, or who may know more?"

Questioning, poking his mind if some fresh memories are present and available for recalling.
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I told you to test with colors! But nooo, you just had to go clone mega-Satan or whatever.
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Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Maybe Just Omit The Human Sacrifice
« Reply #2096 on: March 24, 2017, 11:29:19 am »

Daniels cracks a smile. "That all sounds perfectly agreeable to me. Are there any other questions you have, or is that about the sum of it?"
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Sig! Onol
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XANTALOS, THE KARATEBOMINATION
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TopHat

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Re: Our Salvation: Maybe Just Omit The Human Sacrifice
« Reply #2097 on: March 25, 2017, 04:16:02 pm »

Well, I'll think about that a little whilst he goes and gets the cart. In the meantime, let's check out that wizard's shop. I suppose technically I could be classed as one, now.
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I would ask why fire can burn two men to death without getting hot enough to burn a book, but then I read "INEXTINGUISHABLE RUNNING KAMIKAZE RADIOACTIVE FLAMING ZOMBIE" and realized that logic, reason, and physics are all occupied with crying in the corner right now.

penguinofhonor

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Re: Our Salvation: Maybe Just Omit The Human Sacrifice
« Reply #2098 on: March 26, 2017, 05:46:32 am »

I imagine the house covered in unstable, spontaneously flammable phosphorous powder. The heat of the sun would be enough to set it ablaze. With that image firmly in my mind, I begin SYNTHESIS.
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Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Maybe Just Omit The Human Sacrifice
« Reply #2099 on: March 26, 2017, 06:34:44 pm »

Well, gotten this far with it.  No sense turning around.  "Friends!" called Thomas down to any listening companions.  "There is a tunnel here; I'm going to try it!  Heading in the upward!"

Head in, slowly going the upward way.  Don't go too far; not so far that the light is gone.  Just enough to check it out.

[A Fine Example: 1]

They're a hundred feet down from you and you don't get the feeling they're awfully keen to go up a cliff empirically proven to be unstable. Gamble makes a start of it before it becomes very clear nobody's about to go after him, at which point he rather embarrassingly climbs back down and shuffles over to the others. They all still watch, of course, even if they walk back down the slope a bit to get out of the way of any more potential landslides.

[A Light Shining In Darkness: 1]

So you go and explore the passage anyway, and no sooner have you moved a reasonable distance inward than there is a round of more seismic instability as you feel a good portion of the cliff begin to collapse with you still within it!

[What Words Rhyme With Buried Alive: 1]

Which, quite unfortunately, does lead to the passage you're in rather abruptly closing right on you like a set of enormous stony jaws as you are encased head to foot in what feels like rubble. This feels much like you would expect being buried alive to feel - you can't move, your bones are slowly being crushed and you've just realized that it's not just liquid substances that human beings can potentially drown in as you inadvertently start to breathe in fine dust and altogether coarser bits of broken stone.

Leif faithfully delivers the message. "He refuses to talk to you."

"Sure thing, boy!"
Leif lifts the boy up his feet carefully and supports him until he can stand up on his own. "Sister, you say? Nice to meet you. We probably met and greeted yesterday, but I'll be damned if I remember anything right, if at all. Say, Lee misplaced something of mine, a brass lockbox. Do you happen to have any idea where it might be, or who may know more?"

Questioning, poking his mind if some fresh memories are present and available for recalling.

Yes, Lee glowers at you, she heard.

You help a brother out and pull him up to his feet. He takes a moment to settle into a stable configuration as you start to tell him all about your quest for a very particular lockbox last seen in Lee's possession. He stares at you with one eyebrow raised.

[The Chain: 4]

His thoughts are split by the expected sort of headache, but despite this you sense a great deal of activity as he keeps looking around and his eyes glisten with mental fireworks as he deeply relishes the mere notion of being needed. Particularly by Lee. This wasn't looking like a good morning at the start, but damn if it suddenly didn't get really gratifying.

A lockbox you say, he scratches his chin. He's pretty sure he's seen one of those, he says after a second (or he's sure that you don't know better than him where to look). Lee brought it back from that whole expedition dealie, yeah (it's probably that one, she must have got drunk and lost it). You nod. Well, he continues, you're lucky you came to him. He knows everyone (what he knows he tells everyone, what he does not he lets them guess).

Tell you what, he says, he'll leverage his own considerable skill at detection to help you out, o mighty hero (this is his greatest idea yet). He'll get your lockbox back by the end of the day or his name ain't Eagle-Eye Bruce (maybe he needs to come up with something catchier though).

Nobody calls him that, Lee murmurs half to you, half to herself. This was a waste of time.

Don't listen to Negative Nancy over there, Bruce boxes you on the shoulder (negative Lee? thinking negative-Lee? nah, too lame). He's worked cases like yours before (he loses things a lot actually, so that's not even a lie), it's all a matter of questioning the perps and cornering them before they give you the slip (luckily he got a good look at all of them before they got out of sight of Losertown).

Daniels cracks a smile. "That all sounds perfectly agreeable to me. Are there any other questions you have, or is that about the sum of it?"

You can consider their professional curiosity satisfied, says Two Shores, and your employment assured should you still wish to take advantage of it.

And don't worry about your friend Alphonse, Peaks Ever-Crumbling says jovially, they'll make sure he's well taken care of and made as good as new. Bit of a sorry state you brought him here in, but she guesses that's the way it is when you pick them off the street.

She will check with the captain to see if their plans of departure are altered by your appearance, Two Shores nods, and tell you if there are changes. If not, they set off tomorrow for El.

For now they'd suggest you enjoy yourself, Peaks says and gets up. Go find Big Dipper, maybe. Give him the good news about his promotion! He'll be sure to treat you for that. You can have Rainbow's students as well, as a side note, she assumes they're corrupted in some way, though maybe not unproductively so. Or just relax and get yourself that supply of juggler's foot you were promised. Today's the last day of shore leave, might as well enjoy it!

Before she forgets, Shores says, she would require the head of the unfortunate ghoul. The captain will want to see it. By which she means do fun things with it, Peaks adds.

Well, I'll think about that a little whilst he goes and gets the cart. In the meantime, let's check out that wizard's shop. I suppose technically I could be classed as one, now.

[Let's Visit The Shoppes: 3]

You find it to be quite A Wizards Shoppe indeed - the spelling doesn't particularly improve inside as you examine the back-to-back shelves of painstakingly collected farm animal and, in the more expensive cases, sometimes even woodland creature parts that the labels rather irresponsibly identify as draggon hearts, bassilissk eyelashes and, in the case of one bewilderingly misplaced donkey testicle, a cocktrish's eyeball.

The most correctly labeled thing in the shop is doubtlessly the stuffed alligator hanging over the entrance, and that's probably because instead of a label it's been given a formidable coat of varnish. It smells very nicely of pine and, you would say, really ties the rather cramped ground floor foyer together in its own idiosyncratic way.

Next to where this architecturally unimpressive place of residence has been fatally pierced by a much more ambitious and sinister wizard's tower is a counter, bare except for a small service bell, a little tabletop stand filled with samples of endearingly duplicitous exotic pipe tobacco and 'tribal' charms. There's also a cheap-looking snowglobe off to one side holding only a screaming, but otherwise indistinct figure in a poorly stitched white robe, and finally what seems to be some kind of guestbook with a bright red quill pen used as a bookmark in case it should inadvertently close. Its impressive page count belies the three names found among its sea of epithets that detail frankly unlikely adventures.

Behind the counter is a tall and forbidding oaken portal, the gargoyle above it long lost to time and tide and its stump covered up with a stupefyingly ugly handcrafted wooden mask. Rather unlike the front door of the shoppe and indeed most of the display cases it seems like it's locked, or at least by all rights ought to be.

I imagine the house covered in unstable, spontaneously flammable phosphorous powder. The heat of the sun would be enough to set it ablaze. With that image firmly in my mind, I begin SYNTHESIS.

You feel you're at the brink of something really special here. You let the Word come out and do its terrible work as your two companions suspect all too little of what you are truly capable of.

SYNTHESIS

[Word: 6, 3]

Your eyes take on a silent, powerful radiance as you encompass the house with the Word, bringing about an irresistible, unnatural attraction between all things you behold and some things you do not - oxygen meets wood precipitously and it catches fire all at once, air rippling with heat as flames spread first to the clay shingles that abruptly burst into a bright white conflagration that threatens to sear your eyes, and it does not stop there.

Stone is the next to burn, then the metal scattered through the house, and finally seemingly the air itself becomes an ionized, incandescent miasma of energy violently spilling outward as you find you can no longer breathe safely.

[I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire: 1, 1]

The doctor begins to run as she is bowled over by a rush of rapidly expanding, searing air that sends her tumbling downhill, and you faintly see Oggie briefly consider the notion of coming to grab you before she instead leaps away from the death explosion you appear to have created. You, having something of a first row seat to the happenings, do not have the privilege of even so much as attempting to escape before you are suddenly licked by a tongue of flame that feels like liquid lightning streaking across your flesh, burning a great black vein diagonally across your body from which black hairline cracks of charred flesh seep every which way, flanked by boils and still-crisping skin as you fall back and look up at your handiwork going up in horrifyingly pure fire.

It rises up into the sky nearly forever, though in actual time perhaps it takes a minute or two at best before the earth under it gives way and the castle of light you built sinks into the ground beneath the evaporating bedrock, leaving behind an abyss of gently weeping glass as the smoke clears and you, having attained a newfound respect for the plight of jacket potatoes, unsteadily rise to your feet and look down.

Odd, you do think you see a light at the bottom - and not the kind your fire made.

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