Look around, see who I can see.
If you're asking about the other PCs, well they're all in the same rough area so you probably can see all of them. If you're asking about the Nightmares then, there's the shopkeepers of the nearby stalls, the three that haven't been described thus far being your rotted, mutilated corpse which cheerfully oversees
Nazim's Blades and Cutting Implements, the two-dimensional cartoon penguin that works alongside it, and a stained-plastic window that summarizes the entirety of
War and Peace, which runs
Abercrombie Surgical Tools. The most salient ones in the crowd walking between the stalls would be a trio of self-similar figures, each clad in Maximillian plate with the marks of countless battlescars and which bleed from their visors. They carry oversized guillotine blades for shields and wield jousting lances which have had their front halves broken off in a manner that leaves them menacing with jagged edges not unlike that of a broken bottle. They are walking straight towards you.
Lily retrieves her mobile phone from the jacket's inner pocket, and checks the time.
When you turn it on, you find that the screen is just filled with white noise, like static on a television tuned into no particular channel.
"Well, that makes no sense whatsoever. Who would expect anything less in this insanity."
Throw the papers into the store made of fire. Go to that magecraft place
Just to be clear, if any of those headlines pique your interest, you can ask for a description of it's contents. If you still do burn it, you find that it burns as well as you'd expect of newspaper, being quickly devoured by the flames until naught but cinders remain.
You walk over to the magecraft stall outside of which someone with burnt trousers holds a familiar wooden helix. The shopkeeper greets you with a nod before speaking.
"Looking for anything in particular?"
"Uhh... Will this do?" She pulls out the business cards and the crime scene tape, offering them to the merchant.
The shopkeeper's tempo and pitch raise briefly in surprise when you take out the tape, and with a crescendo it informs you that it dares not barter with the proceeds of crime, while a subsequent duration of pianissimo wryly adds that if you were to sell it to, less scrupulous individuals, you'd likely have more than enough to pay for the goods. As its tune slowly builds back up to mezzo-piano, it notes that the business cards themselves are worthless.
If anyone was looking at the frozen anomaly, they would see that it is nothingness once more, reality is beginning to recover from the punch. With a deafening howl, air and blood rushes in to fill the void with a scarlet implosion. Very little remains of bridge, the reef, and the shrine.
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Topic: Overhang - Sorry (Read 30304 times)