In an increasingly blood-soaked hallway...Niklas figures he should try the less posh alternative to Narcillicus - his kid brother! At least, that's how he thinks Pacitarius works, anyway, and Arnold Q. Arnold seemed to agree. Getting down on his knees, he raises his head to the ceiling and invokes (well, mentally, at least) the most holy name of Pacitarius, godly child-emperor of all things natural. It doesn't take long for something to happen!
~Hey, hey, hey. Haven't heard from you before. You've reached the direct line to the Child of Nature, Friend of Man. Treasure the moment. I take it you want something, right?~ a gentle voice, childish in tone, yet with a strange mannish quality to it, says to him all of a sudden.
Niklas can't help but nod and think of various boosts and whatnot.
~You want a boon, huh? I guess I can help you - you sure seem like you could use some kind of assistance. Tell you what, there's a little something in the basement of this tower, in a long-forgotten, blissfully unguarded corner of a disused storage room filled with... flasks, I think? Anyway, it's right behind a loose, magical brick. This little something will probably help you in pretty much every way if used right. If you want, go get it - pretty sure nobody else knows where it is, at least not yet. Have a good one and all that,~ the voice of Pacitarius says, then cuts out quickly. Guess if Niklas doesn't want to slip on his own blood while going downstairs, he'll probably have to do a quick patch job with what he's got.
[Niklas' first aid roll: 3-
1]
Said patch job is hindered by a severe lack of arms to perform it with and an insufficiently flexible spine to render such a problem moot.
On a nice terrace...Scott, rather displeased by the way he seems to be dying, attempts to take it like a man and simply float on, looking for the others in his group.
"I am a tragic figure of death itself! I...SHALL...NOT...PERISH!" he shouts defiantly, his body twitching as the soul threatens to squirm out of it.
~perhaps we shall not move you yet!~ the gub suddenly say, and Scott feels something begin to happen.
~instead, perhaps we will make you not die instead!~[the gub's magic roll: 6]
His soul is suddenly forced back into place, and the sudden feeling of mortality subsides. Scott knew that fate was only bluffing this time! Reality is clearly too scared to eliminate him in any permanent fashion. Nevertheless, he looks around to spot any interesting beings around - the first thing he notices is a floating, brownish, otherworldly desk that, while he can't say he's perfectly confident about it, he'll just go ahead and guess is probably
Morton.
Morton is currently testing his ability to move. His first idea is to try and flail around in the air. This creates an interesting result - rather than any sort of more conventional movement, Morton observes thin, wispy brown arms - a variable number of them, somewhere from seven to fifteen, and each seems to be a different length - suddenly sprout from his form, grabbing at the ground and propelling him forward - slightly spooked, Morton goes still, and the arms withdraw back into his body. Huh.
Next, he tries to shuffle forward, then will himself to move forward, and these seems to work just as well, if less impressively than the previous method - he simply floats forward without any sort of sound aside from a very subtle, low buzz that may or may not be mostly be made up of infrasound.
~Good group Gub, I've returned. It was truly a short trip, and I believe it went most splendidly! I appear to be a desk once more, yet I float and give off a dim light. Most curious, I plan to investigate after informing good tailor Craig of the success. Now, after I inform good tailor Craig of the endeavor through the portal I will undertake your task of locating those of the magical-inclination. If it wouldn't be too much to ask, perhaps I could stay in this new form if that's quite alright? If it is unsuitable for the task, I'll be willing to transfer, but maybe the strange form is of more beneficial use?~~like we have mentioned, we find permitting you to do things very easy! so this is what we shall do! your body seems to be of the useful sort!~Good to know! Morton floats off, looking for Tailor Craig - fortunately, the fellow appears to not have moved much in Morton's short absence, regarding the most unwanted of his dresses with a slightly wistful look.
In the streets of Mothdale...Sigmund guesses he shouldn't provoke the gub too much. They seem unstable.
~This is getting ridiculous. Okay, make me travel to another body, but my lack of foci while performing tasks will remain your responsibility. I'm willing to continue this conversation when your mental state is far better.~It takes a moment for the gub to reply.
~we have a better idea! a more aesthetically pleasing one and hopefully one that will not make you useless peons complain for days on end how your ridiculous demands are not being met!~Hm, that sounds okay. Maybe Sigmund should somehow facilitate...
[the gub's magic roll: 1]
... getting himself killed? That's certainly what this feels like, what with the terrible sensation of doom and extremely hideous pain.
[Sigmund's will roll: 4]
Fortunately, this is hardly the first time somebody has tried to murder Sigmund with advanced necromancy today. Though it does hurt a lot more in a physical body, Sigmund does manage to hold on nicely and not die. At least, not in any easily apparent way.
~we seem to be discovering an interesting new side of magic! it is called unexpected, slightly deadly failure! it is fortunate indeed that the gub cannot die, is it not?~Mark, meanwhile, thanks the brave crystal princess that saved him.
"Thanks, Art. I'm just going to look around for some gear," he says, and Art just shrugs.
"It's all good, I suppose. Now, any of you want to be slightly protected from interference or whatever? Who wants to go first?"Mark would volunteer, but he is far too busy looking for weapons, and spends the next few minutes painstakingly extracting some metal fence posts from the ground - they seem fairly thin and metallic, as well as at least three quarters of his current height, and Mark does believe that metallic, swingable things you can hit people with are weapons - after all, what use is there for a fence aside from improvised weaponry, anyway?
Kevin, meanwhile, flops about gratefully, looking fairly ecstatic about not sharing a body with his worst friend forever. And he probably is ecstatic until he hears from the gub again.
~your current body will be of no use in your task! this we shall change!~[the gub's magic roll: 4]
Kevin is most disappointed when his soul is suddenly peeled away from his body, hurled through space in a matter of seconds and lodged into another body - this one seems to be located inside a building. Moreover, it seems to look mostly exactly like Mark's body. How strange.
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 519489 times)