Jack looked at the mysterious bauble in his hands, seeing the dim purple glow make faint whirls within it, only visible in the darkness of the room up close. It was clearly magical, and unlike anything he had ever seen before. It as obviously part of one of the energy beam traps that had blasted so many people as they tried to cross the room, and since it had failed to shoot anyone, was clearly inactive for reasons beyond his understanding. Elf-Girl would probably know more, but he wasn't about to talk to her about anything, after that childish fire stunt the day before. The last thing he wanted to contemplate was that child in possession of yet another deadly bit of magic she could use carelessly. ... Clever girl could probably use it though, he thought to himself wryly. He liked Clever-Girl, and she seemed to be having a rather difficult time with using her powers; Clearly they took a lot out of her. Perhaps a magical oddity would help her out.
He looked at the bauble more closely, examining the socket in the back of it. It was complicated and not straight-forward at all. He doubted anyone but its creator could glean anything just by looking at the empty hole in the back, so he set to work trying to extract the connecting piece from the device, wrestling with it in the dark for several minutes. The Metal Knucklehead with the big mouth clanked past him, and through the broken and smoldering door upstairs while he was working, but his efforts were for naught. The device was seemingly all one big piece. Sweaty and irritated, he decided to take the whole damn thing.
It was essentially an ornate metal shaft, worked with wire filigree and and strange relief. It was made of the same metal as the receptacle on the back of the orb, and resisted any and all attempts at deformation, or disassembly. If he had some tools, perhaps he would have better luck, but for now the best he could hope for was to remove the whole device from the flooring. The polished marble-like stone would probably break before the device would, given how resistant it was. Wedging his walking stick under one of the ornate "toes" of the contraption, he bounced up and down on the wooden shaft until the floor tile the device was anchored into began to crack and split. He then lied down on the ground, and kicked at the toes of the contraption, until the split stone flooring completely came apart, and the device, anchor bolts and all, came free. All things considered, the entire mechanism was about the same length as his walking stick, just a bit unweildy in its current state. He took off his hat, wiped his brow, then put the hat back on.
After examining his prize for a moment, he slipped it into his bag as far as it would go, about half of it hanging out the open flap, slung the bag over his shoulder, leaned on the wall for balance for a moment, then began his slow shuffling along the wall back to where Clever girl, the old goat, and Mama were still waiting. Behind him, he could hear other people ascending the stairs. As he went, he carefully passed the mangled, shattered, and partially melted remains of two identical mechanisms, careful not to stub his feet on them, before reaching the spot where the Old Goat, and Clever Girl were still talking to one another.
Timidly, he cut into their conversation.
Hey uh... Uhm.. I uh...
He was terrible at this. He was not very good with pleasantries, and had no idea how to word what he wanted to say. Where to begin? Thank you for helping him and Mama the day they had set out, when she did not have to? Thank you for helping Mama get that awful thing out of her head? Thank you for doing your best? He was no good at these things, but he still felt indebted.
I managed to get this here thingmabob off that doohickey back o'er yonder... he finally managed.
I figured ya could use it bettern' I can. I uh.. I pried the whole darn thing outta the groun' back dere-- Prolly busted what good, but I figger we can oogle it la'er... Maybe figger out how the darn thing [expletive deleted] works. Figgured ya might like sommat that shoots bright beams o purple death aroun'... Ya wan' me to hol' onta it for ya, or ...
he trailed off, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
Or.. Should I jus' throw the whole darn thing out, or what?
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Topic: Mystville [Game Thread] (Read 119871 times)