Cracks were beginning to appear in the edges of Thomas's psyche. The prospect of what it would take to generate this sort of show and/or illusion were simply lost on him. He didn't feel able to process this all just yet.
Sit and watch for a minute just to see what happens. Then ask the rats their views, because why not?
"So, rats... do you have a name? Sorry, anyway, you seem to be rather... lively. Do you know what all this is?"
[The Labyrinth: 6]
It's mesmerizing to behold, the rhythmic arrival, departure and formation of the little bubbles around the golden spheres, dancing around the room in delightful swirling patterns before the hairy bubble intercepts a few - most brush on ahead, but a few stick to it for a moment and develop a soft golden glow and, it seems, a peculiar purpose as they are suddenly launched out of the room, but not before the bubble seems to pop into two, then four, then geometrically increase in number as you see it shoot down the left-hand side of the bipartite passage, which looks to be an outflow of some kind.
On the ground another story develops - little rootlike protrusions emerge from the ground where rubble has fallen, you notice after a second, wrapping around the bits of masonry several times in slow motion before enveloping it entirely - a few moments pass as you see a slight bulge travel up one of the roots, placing itself atop the minute stone and then pressing down, sinking to the ground, growing quiescent and then disappearing from sight as it sinks into the floor. The sheer amount of the rubble present seems to require a great many of these roots, and you watch as they repeatedly and fractally wind themselves around every bit of the rubble and break it down, the tons of rock shrinking slowly before your eyes.
[Educated Guesses: 6]
You look at the rats, who also watch with obvious intrigue - they do not seem to have names, merely Words. A Word each, a Word they are ready to use as needed. You have heard two of their Words already, and you see the third rat is excited to use its own - but not here, not yet, you need to go deeper in still, deep enough to try it out where it will do the most good. Until this moment you couldn't say you'd ever seen a manic-looking rat. It can barely contain itself. Go deeper, it seems to indicate, into the outflow - quickly now, rush onward, dive headfirst into where the bubbles go, find your way into the vents - yes, the vents, the vents are where you want to be.
As you consider this, you notice the roots have also reached out for your feet and wound around them several times, and even traveled a good distance up your shin before, unlike with the rubble, seemingly congealing and becoming elastic, sticking you to the floor like rubber cement.
[Words Fail: 5]
The bizarre tranquility of the chamber has so permeated you, however, that this doesn't bother you as much as it perhaps should. The roots, you realize, have died - sacrificing themselves to keep you in place for now, perhaps for something else to better get the measure of you. The hairy bubbles, you suspect. They will expect something from you, and from your observations a guess forms in your mind unbidden, nucleating in your brain serendipitously.
SELF
It begs to be said aloud, squirming within your head.
Daniels shrugs. "Sure, why not. An arm or something, I guess?"
Aquiesce to further science. While she's taking samples, ask what, if anything, she thinks I can do to amend the current situation with the captain, Shores, etc. My knowledge of proper ettiquite in this situation is rather lacking, as is probably evident.
A whole arm? Peaks immediately perks up - could you? It'd be perfect for a thing she'd like to try out. Can you regrow arms? You did something similar before, once, if she recalls correctly, the incident with the rubber mattress and all that nonsense. Do you think she could amputate your arm and then watch you while you sleep? She'll be a perfect young lady while you're out cold, she can guarantee you.
Completely having lost interest in whatever Mr. Fischgartner's grisly fate promises to be, Peaks leads you hurriedly to her cabin, which looks to be in mild disarray and slightly spattered with blood as well as full of sweet-smelling ester-rich fumes that the ventilation system appears to have given up on clearing entirely. She roots around her kit, currently laying on an alchemist's workbench, and retrieves a bonesaw (borrowed from the doctor, you suspect or at least hope, certainly seems clean enough to be a doctor's instrument).
Right, she says, do you want any anesthesia or not? She's got a small chunk left of a pretty good batch of morphine she made a while back to sell on the side, ought to take the edge right off that saw.
Wait, you say, you also wanted to ask her something. About Shores and the captain and, well... it's a bit of a situation, you explain, and you wonder if there's maybe something you can do about it so that, uh, you can fix this. You're not very good at this whole etiquette thing normally, and it looks like there's additional factors at play here too, so...
[A Lesson In Etiquette: 5]
Peaks holds the bonesaw thoughtfully, looking down for a moment before coming up closer. Well, she says, maybe this isn't the greatest idea, but suppose there is
one way she could help. A kind of object lesson, she slyly nods. She can teach you how to talk about the weather properly. Cornerstone of proper etiquette, the ol' weather.
You look at her a little suspiciously, but Peaks remembers herself and adopts a surprisingly foolproof poker face. A bit of conversation while she gets her work done, she says as she puts the saw on your shoulder teeth-down, feeling out the shoulder blade to get the full arm off in hopefully a single go.
You see, she begins to say with the saw drawing blood on your shoulder, you start with- hold on, did you want the morphine or not? It'll definitely make the polite conversation more bearable, she can guarantee you. Linda stands by you worriedly, holding her head.
I could probably survive that.
"... Sorry about that, I fatally misjudged her character. Please allow me to make amends."
Time to finally get some use out of that rope. Tie rope to something solid by the window, obtain an easier way down. As the one most likely to shrug off a fall, go first.
'Fatally misjudged her character', Cindy repeats and looks at you skeptically. Thought she was selling other folks' flesh for a living because she was a generous-hearted, patient and charitable pillar of the community, y'mean? She'd sure like to see the nunneries around the parts
you're from, because from what you're telling her it sounds like she's been looking for work in all the wrong places.
It doesn't matter, Ember hisses, you all need to get out right the heck now or you're dead! Like, really dead!
As you were saying, you repeat, you're quite sorry and you think you'll start making amends right away, such as by tying these thirty-odd feet of rope to the Madame's desk and putting the other end out the window - being a gentleman, you also volunteer to go first as you climb down the rope.
[Into The Deep: 6]
Unfortunately the rope isn't quite long enough to reach down to the bottom, or even illuminate the bottom terribly well. However, you do certainly feel like you're at least partly obligated to hit the ground first, considering what you know about your personal ability to survive hideous trauma all over your body. Thus you leap and plummet down about two more stories from the end of the rope, landing softly as something catches you on the bottom, stretching downward softly and slowing you down to a manageable velocity before you finally touch the ground. This feels like a nice bit of good luck right before you notice the little glimmering droplets of glue upon the silvery strands that caught you, the sight of which fills you with an uncomfortable sense of familiarity.
A similar, but distinct and far more intense uncomfortable sensation follows as you notice the corpse-spider standing on the wall slightly above where you fell, casting what is very much a "you again?" look in its many human eyes in your direction. Its manipalps spiral over its eyes instinctively, anticipating another blast of light as it backs up the wall a little bit.
You haven't started to scream before the gracelessly falling shape of Ember lands in the net next to you, rolling a little before she tangles herself in the web sufficiently to halfway dangle over you. She tries to raise her head but her wig nearly comes off as it too appears stuck to the strands, and she struggles feebly for a second before the third shape, which is Cindy trailed by a heavy bag of coinage and nearly thirty feet of rope as she appears to have untied it and just dropped the full five stories, lands a little ways off from you with a whoop of delight, taking care to struggle as little as possible to avoid tangling herself up too badly.
You have to love municipal safety measures, Cindy says in an elated tone, since they installed these there's a lot less limb breakage from the deadheads. Used to be they'd walk into the establishment all broken because they'd got it in their heads they'd take a shortcut. Look at her now, though! If this isn't the future of public transit, there's no future for it at all in her book!
[Social Safety Net: 1]
You remain silent, still staring in terror at the spider-thing on the wall as Ember, too, looks visibly disturbed in its direction.
What's the matter, says Cindy before looking at it as well. You there, she says without seemingly minding the look of it at all, come on and cut everyone free already, time's a-wastin' here, she's got places to be other than the bottom of this here trench. Such as in the merchant quarter, or maybe on the first road out of this damn tell.
The spider-thing responds by chattering in a way you can't help but perceive as deeply annoyed, wagging its manipalps and raising its front two legs up in the air, toes twiddling furiously on their feet.
Eileen Minett, Monster Hunter
- The Mind, It Goes A-Wandering: 1
- Monster hunter's silver badge
- Monster hunting license
- Distilled alcohol (in flask, partially depleted)
- Spirits of salt (in clay jar, partially depleted)
- Soaps of elk, bear, bat and snake
- 3 flasks of lamp oil
- Oil lamp (unlit)
- Linen stoat shirt (worn, plasma-scorched)
- Stoat trousers (worn)
- Comfy slippers (worn)
- Tooth-handled hunting knife
- Black leather boots
- An assemblage of amber and amethysts
- Silver thread-necklace
- Onyx spiral earrings
- 2 oaken rings
- Rusty, bloodstained knife
- A Word: HUNGER
- A Word: SYNTHESIS
- A Weapon: Explosive Cysts
- A Weapon: Nightmare Blade
- Grenade Jumping: A Solid Technique
- The Good Doctor: Last of a Long Line
- Sword of the Sand People: Cleaning Supplies
- Sword of the Sand People: The Services of a Minder
- Higher Tonight: There And Back Again
- The Old Mistress: Monster Monster Hunter
- Our Old Bridge Is Falling Down: Hero of the City
- She Who Fights Monsters: The Ghoul Vanquished
Jack Daniels, Karate Man
- Linda the peg-legged manikin (lively, joyful)
- Red and gold vest and breeches combo (worn)
- Leather boots (worn)
- Rubber mattress (filled with water)
- 14031 gp (in sack)
- Poor Unfortunate Soul: Forever Captive
- The Queen's Guard: Actual Asset
- Powers of the Beyond: Gardener of Thoughts
- Garden of Thoughts: the Stoat-Magistrate
- Dusty Wooden Speaking-Trumpet
- Crossbow Bolt (in throat)
- A Word: REND
- A Word: SILENCE
- A Word: EXECRABLE
- A Weapon: Murder-Thought
- Uncoupled: Strength
- Wooden Door
- Induced Lucidity: The Silent Garden
- Elongated Affairs: Enemy of the New State
- 2 rats, crushed
- 1 rat, strangled
- 1 rat, live
- 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 Vault of Heavens: Special Treatment
- Scars of Time: Unfortunate Business
- Process of Elimination: Pounds of Flesh
- The Night Sky: How Very, Very Quaint
- Fires, Pines & Day, Minions At Law: Dipper and Dan Double Duty
- They Call Me Doctor: Opportunistic Orderly
- Body Count: 3
Thomas Minstep, Insurance Agent
- A Word: ABSENCE
- A Word: GOODBYE
- A Word: WORM
- A Word: SELF
- A Weapon: The Sword They Fear
- Insurance contracts, signed in triplicate: 12
- Nobody Cares
- Helen Clampitt
- Lily
- Undine and Prosper Eke
- Silver
- Tabernacle, treefisher scout
- Treefisher elder
- 4 treefishers
- Make A Man Out Of You: Battle-Tested
- The Grip of Tharn: Insurance Against The Storm
- Ranging fork
- 2 feet of sinew-thread
- Tooth-needle
- A Bowl, Black and Knobby
- Tight Leather Pants (worn)
- Incredibly Tight Blue Dress (worn, mutilated, mildly provocative)
- The Queen's Guard: A Reward Well Earned
- The New Queen: Lasting Gratitude
- The Box: Absolutely Delightful
- The Voracious Dark: The Place of Lost Souls
- The Voracious Dark: Testing Run
- Proof of Concept: An Interesting Student
- Clans of the Northern Wilderness: A Distraction
- The Living City: A Threat To Elizabeth
- His Educated Rodents: Rat-Bearer
- Body Count: 12
Oscar Wilde, Chemistry Teacher
- A Word: REVELATION
- A Word: THANKS
- The Wicked King's Missive On Economic Reform (in massive silver scroll case)
- Traces of Mischief: Glowing Facial Rift
- The Serpent's Egg: Dissemination
- Body Count: 4
- Cornerstone Helm (worn, out of light, collecting)
- Bottle of aspirin
- Time-ender's measure (wrapped, processing? stopping?)
- 10 m of rope
- Half a candle
- 1 rat, skinless and smoked
- 4 gp
- Lock of Hair (unidentified)
- Iron nail, unused
- An Inauspicious Key
- Moth-Eaten Hat (worn)
- Old Brown Waistcoat (worn)
- A Wealth of Burlap Ribbons
- The Winding Path of Inspiration: The Less Dangerous Friend
- The King's Court: The Greatest Gift of All
- The King's Court: The North Wind's Gift
- The King's Court: Makala's Old Glory
- The King's Court: The South Wind's Gift
- The King's Court: The West Wind's Gift
- The King's Court: A Gift For The Wicked King
- Wizzards Bargins: Copper Springs from Old Bobbleparts
- Wizzards Bargins: A Roll of Your Finest Sticky Tape
- Wizzards Bargins: Styli of Ancient Plumbago
- In High Spirits: But Not Very Useful In The Lab
- Traces of Mischief: Missing Finger
- Wall-Breaker: A Generous Tab
- No Rest For The Wicked: A Daring Escape Plan
Rindle Fischgartner, Evolutionary Biologist
- The Mind, It Goes A-Wandering: 2
- High quality gilded paisley bathrobe and matching slippers (worn)
- The New Flesh: The Best Kind of Accident
- Lift Me To The Sky: One Microsecond At A Time
- Empty wooden mug