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Ah, I was right! Good, I'm starting to recall characters' names now.

I fully support overburdening PN with an excessive amount of players. Feel free!

Quote from: Helgoland on January 16, 2015, 07:40:35 pm

And sadly we cannot solve the problem like they did in the Hitchhiker's Guide...

Do you mean put the power in the hands of a detached skeptic who doesn't know he has power, or do you mean build a machine that annihilates people's egos and strikes them dead with sheer existential horror?

whynotboth.gif

Easier? Bah. Real men can stomach a light walk, he chuckles.

Not gonna ask what an Inari is considering it's likely some sort of fox tailed thing or something.

Canonically there were no beastmen before Lordgeonome invented them, but whatever.
But yeah if she tries to betray the group Racism-Powered Super Ghost will be happy to crunch her.
once I level up and put some points in vitality

Xan resists the temptation to lick his lips at the sight of someone's skin flying off.
"Wonder if he's still alive. Hmm."

Cautiously go toward Jack and poke his foot to see if he's still alive. Keep an eye on any vent openings in case that skin tries ambushing me.

Stay away from anyone else doing things with their potions.

Amidst a ruin of rock and bone, the wizard rose on unsteady legs, using the nearby wall, gritty and damp, as support. He coughed and groaned before he spoke, the low magical level of his surroundings paining him with every breath. He glanced at his apprentice, a tall boy for 13, who looked pale and shaken, but not nearly as bad as he was.
"Concerning that today's literature even comes close to mentioning such entities. Best leave them unsaid, lest their attention is drawn. But I can tell you more about that particular god back home. Safer. Something more important occupies my mind, Matthew - what closed the portal?" He stared intently at his apprentice, his eyes boring into him. To his credit, the boy didn't flinch, even though his thoughts must surely be drawn to that thing that had - appeared was too feeble a word - that had happened. Even now his mind would not let him directly view it, even the thought of the memory of it caustic to his mind.
"Honestly, Merlin, I have no idea," rasped Matthew, bringing his attention back to the present moment. "There were those crazy cultist fuckers and they were chanting, and the one lead one was saying something about an Angel and an age of Fire and the gods and how they were man and mighty and stuff like that. My head felt funny, so I didn't catch much of it. Then they all started holding up some fucked up things to the air - I saw the spy bug I came here to find, but there was other stuff, there was a gasmask and some cracked glass, and a dead lizard and a bunch of other stuff. It didn't really seem like much, just a bunch of crazy people. Then they all started calling out to ... to something. Their Lord, they said."
Matthew paused, one hand held to his temple, the other clutching his staff, which began to faintly glow red as he progressed. "Then you came along, you and that other guy."
"There was another with me?" Merlin interrupted.
"Yeah, some guy in a fedora and trenchcoat. He had a gun of some kind, and he somehow didn't look like a jackass like the clothes would on another guy. You and him came storming in, and I've never seen such complex spellwork in my life. You were casting so fast I couldn't even see your lips moving. Then there was ... that thing. It - there was a portal. It stepped through. And I could feel the magic in the room ... just vanish. You went down, and you were screaming and screaming. The people here didn't look like people anymore, they looked like birds. Bird skulls in black cloaks. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't anything but watch. I thought I was gonna die. Then ... then I passed out. When I woke up, it was gone and we weren't dead."
Merlin narrowed his eyes imperceptibly. He'd heard ... something in Matthew's voice when he'd said he passed out. That and the odd question he'd posed earlier made it seem like he was hiding something, but as his head started to sing with pain he realized he wasn't up for analysis of that conundrum now. Later, maybe. "We'll talk of the cloaked man later, Matthew," he coughed, beginning to hobble toward what remained of the crude altar these ... cultists had built. "For now, we should leave. Not leave any record of our being here. In fact, this whole place must go," he said, sweeping his arm about to indicate the entire room. "It still reeks of hate and gunfire, and there's almost no magic here. We'll take what we can - some of the guns and sundry they had - and burn the rest." His lips quirked upwards in a wry smile. "You say they mentioned an Age of Fire?"
"Well yeah, but only in the meaning that they were going to put it out."
"Then I suppose we'll have to show them the meaning of flame."

There was no talk after that; a search was conducted, anything of interest went into one of their many voluminous pockets. The rest was left to burn and be cleansed.

Null Act: Merlin and Matthew scavenge anything of interest at the cultist site, including any ritual objects, things of significance like the missing spy bug, etc. Also taken are some of the guns and supplies that were mentioned.
Null Act: M&M set Bogmoglov Estates ablaze, arranging the guns, ammunition, etc that they didn't take to ensure the building is razed to the ground. This is of course after anything of interest is taken.

---

Normality can sometimes be more distressing than the most tense situation.
After their methodic retreat from the nightmarish complex and Merlin's long conversation with the passed-out guy in the shop, Matthew expected some sort of talk to happen between the two of them. It would be following the normal pattern of things - Merlin liked to talk, and whenever something even mildly significant happened, he would invariably at least give a long-winded explanation about his reasons for doing that thing, or the consequences of doing a certain action, or sometimes something not related to the subject at all. But there'd be a talk about something, and what with ... what had happened in there, Matthew certainly expected one. But none were forthcoming. Instead Merlin spoke less than ever over the last few days, and he seemed furtive and preoccupied when giving lessons. It was all very unnerving.
This helped to explain the almost painful silence at the table at present, where the two of them were ostensibly having dinner, but in reality were more preoccupied with snatching glances at each other without having the other seem to notice. This exercise had been going on for the better part of an hour, and so the Shepard's pie had gone quite cold when Merlin apparently decided to stop abiding by the rule of silence they were following and began speaking. "You've been rather quiet tonight, Matthew," he said while chewing a mouthful, somehow sounding quite clear even through the food in his mouth. "No questions for me like you usually have?"
Matthew snorted. "Me quiet? You haven't said five words to me in the last two days! I should be asking you that question."
Merlin got a contemplative expression on his face at that, and after swallowing his mouthful of food, muttered, "I suppose you're right about that..." His face perked up then, as if he'd hit on an idea. "True, I have been rather reclusive over the last few days, haven't I? I do think I have something I haven't told you yet, however. Did I ever mention my father to you?"
Matthew, for whom the issue of Jules was still prominent in his mind, started slightly at that. "N-no, but weren't you, uh... the son of Satan or something?" At Merlin's raised eyebrow, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "That's what it says in most books about you anyhow, when it even mentions your parents. Mostly they just have you appearing out of nowhere and kickstarting the plot or giving a random bit of advice to the hero... which isn't too far off the mark far as I can tell."
Merlin chuckled at that. "No, I'm not the son of a demon, though I'm not surprised I was painted as such. No, my mother was a farmer's daughter, his middle child and the apple of his eye, as it were - long auburn hair, rosy cheeks, big eyes, all that. One day when she was around 17 or so, she took a local boy from her village she was hoping to marry out for a walk in the woods - she was going to take him to a certain pool of water in a beautiful glade some ways in. What she intended to do with him there I can guess but can't say for certain, but she never quite got the opportunity to, for somewhere along the way to the pool, my father took the place of the unfortunate lad, who wasn't ever seen again. She was apparently smitten when she first looked upon his face, and to be perfectly honest, I'm not surprised she was - a Sidhe Lord is always generally beautiful to look upon, whatever face they choose to take. Now, being a Summer Fae, there was only one real reason why he was there, and he laid with her. Quite vigorously, for when she returned to her homestead, she was already six months pregnant, but had been gone for three. The villagers were understandably anxious about this, which wasn't abated when my mother died in childbirth. My grandfather and his other children raised me, more for her sake than mine, until I began displaying magical abilities around the age of 6 or 7. Then the village ran me out for fear of bringing more reprisal onto them. I can't blame them, honestly."
Having fully gone into Old Man Ramble Mode, Merlin gazes off into space as he recalls his early childhood.
"I remember wandering through an endless expanse of trees so thick I could hardly squeeze through them, always spurred onward by some ominous sound or sight or other behind me. It was a while - a day, I think - before I happened upon the pool where I had been conceived and met my father.
He was sitting at the shore, skipping rocks across it, but when I entered the glade he saw me and knew me for what I was. We had the same eyes, you see," he expounded, pointing to one of his own strangely colourless eyes. As Matthew began to wonder about the similarities of his own eye colour to Jules' he continued, "Now Donneræch may have had hundreds of children begat on mortals, that's just how Sidhe are, but he felt a vague sense of responsibility towards them and thus me, and so instead of drowning me in the pool or some other horrific thing he brought me to an acquaintance of his that owed him a favor. His name was Wyrlon - a rather eccentric wizard, even by my standards. Lived in an apple tree and raised pigs all around it. He took me in, and though his outward appearance was shabby to say the least, his skills were second to none."
Merlin then stopped speaking for a time, contemplatively staring into space. Matthew broke it after a minute, venturing, "So did you ever see your dad again?"
Merlin snapped out of his reverie. "Yes, several times - I once duelled him, actually, but he was part of my life from time to time. As I grew up of course, I was a little resentful of him for not taking responsibility for me, but as I got to know him I realized that it was pointless to expect him to act human because he wasn't. He may have looked vaguely human, but his mentality, his thought process was utterly different. You'll get used to it in time - having a supernatural parent can give you useful connections but it can also be a hassle at times."
Matthew blanched. He knew? How could he possibly know? He probably didn't know. "What d'ya mean, having a supernatural parent? Far as I know, I'm completely human." He tried to keep his voice steady, but from Merlin's eyes he could tell he must have slipped up. What he said only confirmed it.
"I think you know what I mean."
"...how did you find out? I hardly knew myself up until a little while ago."
"That your father is Jules? Truth be told I didn't suspect it until recently, but the talk with Johnny out everything into place. Your half-brother has your eyes."
Matthew snorted. "The guy passed out in a pile of vomit is my half-brother?" At Merlin's continued staring, he sagged slightly. "I'm starting to get what you said about parents being a pain."
"You'll get used to it eventually. You did do a good job of hiding your affiliation with him. I hardly suspected a thing. When did you learn?"
"Just after whatever happened at Bogmoglov. He closed the portal ... somehow. I just knew, ya know?"
Merlin grinned wryly. "I do." He sprang up from the table, rubbing his hands together. "So! Do you think you could get in touch with him?"
Matthew was still feeling confused by Merlin's contrary reaction to the whole 'son of an evilish god' situation, so this didn't help. "Eh? What for?"
"Jules is near to the heart of things that have been transpiring, and you're of his blood. No doubt he has an agenda to keep secret until later, but whatever hints we can squeeze out of him sooner the better. Additionally, it'll be good for you to have a talk with him. I know that better than most."
"Wait wait wait, 'things that have been transpiring?' What d'you mean by that?"
Merlin furrowed his brow. "I haven't told you about what I discussed with Johnny, have I?"
"No."
"Best get to that, then."

They stayed at that table late into the night, the food vanishing untouched.

Null Act: Merlin discusses Matthew's parentage with him, as well as various other topics. Plotting ensues.

---

Matthew heard a small explosion and blinked. He leaned over to the far side of the desk, where a sheet of paper was lying. He wrote a large X on it inside a box titled 'Shop Today?' At this point he wasn't even going to wonder what it was that Merlin was doing in there. He went back to reading the veritable grimoire that Merlin had produced, containing whatever knowledge he had about Jules and various other gods.

Null Matthew Act: Matthew researches the subject of gods, particularly Jules, using Merlin as a reference base.

---

Meanwhile, Merlin was busily violating reality. This wasn't nearly as bad as it sounds.
Merlin stood in the exact centre of the shop. The blinds were closed, the front door was shut while the door into the mansion gaped open, and on every surface in the store, a tattoo of darkness pulsated out slightly, waving akin to nightmarish grass in an intangible wind. The room stank of the scent of magic, almost akin to ozone before a lightning strike, yet there were no objects of ritual as there had been in the past, no chalk sigils, no arcane runes, no incense. Those were purely to direct the wizard's mind along the necessary path, to give him or her something to grip to and focus the raging torrent of power into as they directed it to suit their needs. But mental foci such as those worked best when the desired effect was some sort of physical change to an object or a place - certain runes that the wizard associates with fire and sensitivity create a trap that exudes a jet of flame when stepped upon, trees could be coerced into growing into a grand house with the correct gestures and amount of time, a soul could even be bound into the framework of a building to act as a security system. But Merlin had no implements of ritual to focus his magic into the physical world because what he was about to do was not necessarily to do with the physical world. In some sense.
Merlin closed his eyes and opened his third. His physical eyelids were shut, yet he saw the shop as it truly was - a sleek conglomeration of shining essence, the immaterial stuff that gave it shape and form and substance, the immutable lines of connectivity that determined it's place in physical reality. The security system was like a great loop of rubber entangled in dense barbed wire, yet it flowed like wax, exuding black tendrils every which way. Of course this was only as he would see it through his own lens of interpretation; each magic-user saw the world a little differently, and this affected how the spirit realm looked to each. Disregarding such trivialities, Merlin did what he had set out to do - he reached down into the depths of his being and withdrew a wellspring of pure power. He channelled this energy into himself, into his mind and his viewpoint shifted - now he was above the shop, and he saw how each building had a unique magical signature to it that defined what it was, how each brick in a wall metaphysically supported each other to create a true wall, one greater than the sum of its parts. Everything was interconnected if you looked at it the right way.
Merlin reached out and changed that.
His hands, only recognizable as such by virtue of having fingers, never mind them pointing in impossible directions and being both longer and shorter than fingers should be, grasped all eight corners of the building-construct that made up the shop, five fingers to each. As they began their work, the strands of his beard, appearing as silver strands of light shining with an iridescent blue glow, stretched out and interwove themselves over the walls of the building in a complex pattern, anchoring into the beams of light that made it up. His fingers finished their work moments later, undoing the anchors that kept the shop tied to its specific place in reality, leaving only his will and the connection with the mansion to keep it from flying into quasi-existence.

---

Back in reality, inside the shop froze for a split second, then unfroze much like when a DVD skips over a crack. Merlin's hands were extended outward, as was his beard - it almost looked like he was playing with an invisible Rubik's Cube.

---

The shop was lifted from its anchor, yet it was still unmistakably metaphysically a store. With it held in place, Merlin took his hands to it and channeled the bulk of his energy through them, remaking it. It's signature, the thing that defined it as it was in reality, softened from its normally immoveable state and began to flow loosely. The shop did with it, back in the physical world taking on aspects of other buildings and other things; one wall was replaced with a fire hose and a duck's beak replaced one of the shelves, among other things. They snapped back to how they were when Merlin applied his will to it, forcing it back into its default state. Then he took the now-mutable signature and ... stretched it would be a passing verb to describe it, imbuing it with a measure of magic to seek and switch and adapt. Finally, he rebuilt the metaphysical latches that formerly anchored it in place, though he included a release mechanism keyed to him and him alone. After some further thought, he cast his gaze to the tube of light that indicated the connection between shop and mansion, and altered it toward his inclination. The shop may be compromised by Jules and possibly others, but at a thought from him it could become an eternal prison if need be. His work done, he sank back down into his physical body and opened his eyes. He felt a great weariness come over him, but he wanted to make sure what he had done had worked. He cast his mind over to the building he had wanted to test on, an abandoned warehouse slightly larger than the shop. He focused his mind in the required pattern and concentrated, and...
Suddenly the view shifted. Instead of the street that was usually outside the shop, instead it was another entirely! Laughing, he bade it go back to its original position and quickly stumbled into a nearby chair, quickly falling asleep.

Full Act: Merlin alters the shop further, unstrapping it from normal metaphysical reality, effectively turning it into Schrödinger's shop - it exists where it does only because it's anchored by Merlin's spells. At a mental command from him (only him, this is too dangerous for Matthew), it can reach out across a technically arbitrary distance to switch itself with another building around the same size - they can be slightly bigger or smaller because metaphysical bullshit. This effectively allows for the shop to be more truly the type of magic shop that appears out of nowhere and disappears just as mysteriously. As an additional component of this, Merlin can decouple the shop from all metaphysical anchors and have it and whoever's in it at the time be trapped in an eternal Schrödinger's box of sorts, between existence and nonexistence. Since this would essentially delete the shop and the area it's in from reality, however, it's a last resort.
Null Acts: Merlin uses the spy bugs and the shop's new capabilities to do three things:
-Search for other players - this would be Lloyd, Illumina, Red, maybe Nate depending on what magic he can detect, Robert, etc. If he finds any, he has the bugs deliver a note inviting them to a meeting at the Omega at the appropriate time on his behalf, signed by M.
-Search for any supernatural creatures, whether they're living in disguise, unaware of their true nature, etc. If any are found and seem nonmurderous, approach them and offer sanctuary in the mansion in times ahead.
-Be paranoid as hell and search for any evidence of him, Matthew, the shack, or the shop being spied upon.

---

Several days after Merlin completed his work on the shop, Matthew walked into it. It was nearly midnight and Merlin had been engrossed in watching the bugs for a few hours. He waited with his hands in his pockets for several minutes, until he felt the slight shift that indicated it was true midnight. Then he started speaking.
"Uh, Jules? I know you can hear me, I've been reading about you. You're still here, sorta."
Walking behind the counter, he put his hands on it and leaned forward, looking up at the place where Jules' face had been when he first entered. "I said a little while ago we should meet ... I think we should do it sooner rather than later. Merlin's told me some things he suspects and it seems shit's about to hit the fan, and in a big way, so we might as well get in a talk while we can."
He scratched the back of his head. It felt sorta silly talking to thin air, but at least he knew theoretically that Jules would hear him, right?
"I dunno where you'd wanna meet, but let me know. It probably shouldn't be here, since Merlin'll flip his shit if he finds you here, but ... somewhere, yeah?"
His piece said, he turned around to walk back into the mansion. At the doorway, he looked back for a moment. "I suppose you should leave a note or something to tell me where to go, like you did with the supplies. ...Guess I'll see you around... dad," he murmured! trying the word out. It felt strange to use.
Whether a reply was forthcoming was something to be seen.

Null Matthew Act: Matthew attempts to meet with Jules at a place of his choosing - somewhere safe, obviously. If successful, he asks Jules about a variety of things, including who his mother was, who Jules himself is, if there are other gods involved in the current situation, what exactly the fuck was that thing under the complex, why did those cultists rant about destroying magic, etc, etc. Plot-relevant stuff will likely come up in this conversation. He uses his status as Jules' son to try to wheedle stuff out of him if need be.

Null Act: Merlin continues to train Matthew in magical matters, but in light of the recent catastrophe focuses more on self-defense magic that's easily accessible even without a staff and practical applications of previously learned magic, just to ensure that he can escape if he's in danger again.