Now, take some time to call security down. And try to distance myself from my unhappy customer.
(2)
You run into the nearest office and situate yourself in a corner you don’t think is visible from the HR desk. It’s close enough that Niz’thur still stands a chance of finding you, if and when he manages to get that gum off his face, but it’s a whole lot safer than where you were.
Calling the security hotline gets you put on hold for a solid minute, only to be transferred to what you think is an answering machine. The gurgling noises on the other end could easily be eldernet static, but there’s a beep, so you decide to leave a message and hope for the best.
Fill out the Perimeter Alarm Inspection Report accurately to the best of my ability while simultaneously training the Void Hands by making them mimic my work on separate sheets. If there's any time left after filing it, go look for one of those eldritch shorthand manuals.
(2)
You didn’t think you’d be teaching anything calligraphy when you signed on as an analyst, but there’s a first time for everything. After conjuring up the usual void-hands and setting them up with their own packets, you order them to mimic your work on the Perimeter Alarm Inspection Report.
You’re not quite sure what to think as you sift through their work after the fact. There is a marked improvement in the quality of their handwriting, but it looks like they also decided to learn an assortment of ciphers. The end results would make for some very secure messages, but they still aren’t something you could turn in.
Thank the entities for their valiant efforts in the war on paper, while searching through the 'reports' section of the paperwork, the part that Fill-In-The-Blank Daemons cannot actually do anything about, for anything important, or even just half a step above "infinitely tedious".
(3)
A few of the fractal-things nod, but most of the group continues to rumble menacingly. There’s still a good deal of paperwork left for them to complete, but you feel a little uncomfortable about what might happen once their contract expires.
Deciding to deal with that particular issue later, you grab the pile of reports and begin to page through them. Financial statement, book recommendation, perimeter alarm inspection report, progress update from some obscure section of IT…
A bundle of documents about “new and improved” summoning rituals are the first things to catch your eye. It’s difficult to puzzle out specifics when half of the report is written in scientific jargon, but mentions of Azathoth and Hastur are easy enough to understand. Whatever R&D is trying, it’s either a breakthrough or a catastrophe in the making.
Right. That was my part of the job. Page one of the managers and inform them politely of what happened in the front offices. ask them to call the cleaners to deal with the remains, and maybe IT to have them make sure the copiers are not infected with an eldritch software worm. Return to my post afterwards and make sure Bob is alright.
(5)
The place is probably safe enough for a cleanup crew, so you call your manager and kick the entire problem upstairs. You were perfectly willing to deal with the problem when it was emergency response, but the last thing you want is to be roped into moving printers and exterminating cockroaches.
Bob, on the other hand, seems quite fond of killing off giant bugs. Several of the things are floating within his mass when you find him, and he paces up and down the hall in search of more to snack on. He isn’t leaking goo, so you assume he’s in good shape.
Cooperate with the guards, but kindly dispute their claim. I have alarm registration forms in my desk, approved by my direct supervisor.
(6)
You open up your desk and grab the alarm registration form, a document which spans several hundred pages. The security guards take it and begin to leaf through it, but they remain in your cubicle for several minutes after you hand them the packet.
“Listen, dude, this thing looks really official, but paperwork isn’t our job. We’re just going to have to call some people from the Department of Horrors, and they can decide whether you're getting terminated.”
Wait back in my room for tech support to arrive.
(5)
You put the Mind-Manipulator 2000 back in your colleague's desk and return to your own room, where a few people from tech support are already examining your device. They spend about thirty seconds scrutinizing the circuit board before one of them seems to pinpoint what went wrong.
One of them explains that there the telepathy node is miscalibrated, which is usually easy enough to fix. You don’t actually see what they tinker with before putting the mind-controller back together again, but they deem it functional and tell you to be careful with it for a few days.
Look in the Necronomicon how to Banish an Eldritch Possession or something like that
(5)
The Necronomicon PDF doesn’t seem to have an index, but you scroll through it until you find a section about banishing and counterspells. You settle on the first cleansing ritual that doesn’t require exotic components, and use a spare set of wires to trace out the appropriate runes.
The router begins to smoke when you place it in the center of the diagram, and the flesh surrounding it begins to contort in pain. After several seconds of frantic twitching, the tentacles burn away, leaving behind a normal, albeit slightly broken eldernet router.
How many more could there be? Find an eldritch mop, wield it with my horse costume teeth and conquer all the wings.
(6)
As it turns out, there could be more wings. A
lot more. The janitors who clean fivenorth and downscream are easy enough to beat into submission, but you find that the unnatural geometry of EMBR’s headquarters houses an endless assortment of hallways and departments. More seem to appear wherever you look, in directions you can’t even to comprehend.
Trying to reach them leaves you with a skull-splitting headache and a scrambled sense of direction. The two new key rings are reassuring weights in your hand, but you’re having trouble navigating back to where you can actually use them.
Head back to work, suit up for gore. Gather trash bags, dumpsters, biohazard containment barrels and bags, long poles with pointy hooks, and a mop. head to finance. be sure to use the pointy hooks on any financiers that attempt to cause paperwork. And also hard to reach corpses.
Oh, and don't forget the wet floor signs and the "caution: massacre in progress" signs.
Name: Ide Alley Sum'at Pronounceable
Player: Ozarck
Appearance: portly, balding, scaly red gentleman with a bowler cap and monocle, bulbous nose surrounded by whiskers, and a double tail.
Position: Viscera cleanup detail.
Artifacts of Power:
Ru̠b̜̰b̫̗e̩̼r͎͉ g͉̬͞l͖͘o͔͔v̢͔̦̳e̜̕s̞͔ (Eldritch, mind-altering, potentially homicidal).
Schrodinger's beer (dregs).
Pager (beeping).
(1)
You make you way to the killing field in the Finance Department, threatening to impale several accountants carrying piles of paperwork. The stacks of forms they were carrying probably weren’t meant for you, but it pays to be careful. The last time an office worker pinned you down, you ended up filling out damage estimates and massacre evaluation reports for an entire week.
When you reach the site of the massacre, an office labeled “22B,” you set out the warning signs, close the door behind you, and s͏t̵̵͘o̶̡͜p̸̛. You can feel a violent, hungry presence prodding at the edges of your mind, urging you to soak your hands in the blood.
Distribute Fluids.
(6)
You sprint from one wing to the next, shoggoth-driven cart in tow. The rows of drinks vanish almost as quickly as they came, and the orders only continue to flood in. You’re serving a cauldron of nutrient slurry to several of the lesser archons when you realize that you’re actually running out of drinks. Blood bottles are the first to run out, followed by Zalgo-Cola and water from the river Styx. The cart will be empty in minutes, and you’ve only covered half your planned route.
Author
Topic: Roll to Ǫ̸̛ff͟i͢c҉̀ę̕: Paperwork in Five Dimensions (Read 8759 times)