>RAM: "find a disguise"
The scholar's motions lose their sense of finality as this room loses it's silence. It sounds like he decided that locking and wedging the door wasn't good enough; he was going to barricade it. You listen to the halting scrapes as he moves something large, heavy, and wooden from your right, to right behind you. You judge he made it halfway, and is now panting loudly enough to be heard through the door. He seems quite willing to exert himself to keep you out, when you were apparently both in his custody and running from him.
Drip.
You have this feeling that you picked the wrong door. The man starts moving his heavy object again, and it finally occurs to you to talk to him. 'Stop that!' He stops. 'What do you think you're doing?!' Nothing, then you hear scraping again. 'Hey!' you say. His voice, even muffled as it is, sounds soaked in fear. 'You're dead,'▬ Scrape. 'and can't get out!'▬ Scrape. 'You can be useful'▬ Scrape. 'and light yourself on fire.' Clunk. 'Maybe you can burn the whole place while you're at it.' Three seconds later you hear the other door again.
Like you'd want to be useful to Krasure, he deserves all troubles that come to him. Although... 'Burn the world, somehow that sounds like a
fantastic idea.'
You are thirsty.
You are very hungry.
You feel tired.
You feel too cold.
You itch moderately, especially on your torso.
> [A thousand years worth of white noise, transmitted over a second or so.] [(Artificially) Truncated 99.99%.]
You hear a combination of a chirp and a screech, both loud and nearby. Well, he inferred you'd need fire, probably for that thing in the dark, along with seeing. You of course lack any kind of fire starter. So, you begin quietly moving along the wall away from where you made your last sound. As you move, you become increasingly aware of the itching over your belly. Aware enough that you notice the sensation comes from
in your belly. You don't stop moving because of this, intent on reaching the corner.
You slip and fall, landing hard, by stepping on an wet incline of stone. You mutter an insipid curse as you slide down the incline, some 4 meters, and splash into a probably large body of what is probably water. You find it shockingly cold and you want to find shore as fast as possible. You whip your tail to swim back, but your are greeted by the incline in the form of bricks splashing into the water, and bashing into your side. You thrash your body away from the debris, just in time to hear cracking and crumbling mortar.
A pause, and then you are sent under by a sudden deluge, coming from the direction of your fall. You learn the water isn't very deep, as you touch down with your hand still touching the surface. An opposing wave passes through a couple seconds later, after which you resurface and clear your nostrils loudly.
Despite all this, what now occupies all of your attention is the severe itching your guts are enduring. It has gone far beyond "potential urge to scratch" into the territory of "definite urge to remove innards forcefully". Instead of forgetting it would be suicide and giving in, you scrounge together the concentration to invoke mage sight. As some part of you figured, this shows the problem.
The tattoo itself was only partially damaged, but the magical "tattoo" has been completely shredded. The mess of vague glowing shapes extends from the tattoo into your body, and ends in a single string coming out your back. The string extends a short distance into the air before unwinding and disappearing from your perception. You are certain it does not simply vanish, because it is both taught (it has a strong link to something else) and there is a constant flow of power running into it. Flowing into mechanisms rent apart, and spilling into your flesh. The itching has turned to pain now, and you feel heat building.
[Excised quote.]
> ...Why?
"Because, they obviously didn't want to give me the control that using my strength would offer. However, with their work broken like this, I can make use of it." As you talk to yourself the string's energy and width jump; pain making it obvious this thing will kill you before long. You focus on doing something with the excess power, something good, something useful... Fire. 'Fire. That which illuminates the world.' You roll onto your back in the water and use your tail to stay steady. Holding your hands above, you 'draw the shape to draw the power to draw my art upon the world.' You see the spark, then the flame, banishing the dark with your claim. It eats, and grows, taking the magic burn and giving you true warmth. You enjoy it.
(
...)
> begin feeling your way through this room, looking for a light of some kind on the walls.
'Hehe.' Right about time.
< "What have you been up to, oh great odious ones?"
(The gate opened partially; guess why.)
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Topic: Text you can play; you are somewhere. (Read 19689 times)