THE DUNKER decides to have a donut after revising his list of suspects to actually include somebody. In a swift motion, a donut enters his mouth, and as it is chewed, nothing short of pure magic releases itself into his mind.
[THE DUNKER's mind roll: 6-->6+1]
In the great dusty nebular formations devoid of light and human virtue beyond all the known stars live the Gremlins of Hoag, creatures that would be mythical, were they not immensely obscure as well. Floating in space, they group around whatever larger objects they can find, seeking things to feed on, live on and learn from, then deconstruct for further study and their own amusement. One such object is you, the Mouth. Blooming in darkness, your open maw asks for sacrifice, and the Gremlins of Hoag comply, throwing things they would not miss at you to see how you react - you roar, and the Gremlins of Hoag seem to take a message from this, bringing you things that matter now, objects that in their minds they have declared valuable, things they have built and invested effort into. You roar once more. They then bring you sacred things in the hope that you will gift them with your love, for this is what they have wished for the entire time, and when that fails to satisfy your cackling, plaintive maw, some begin to throw themselves in. They believe various things - that they will become part of you, that they will transcend their bodies, that you represent a gate into another world or that they, even for a moment, will make you a little bit happier.
All of these thoughts, you could tell them if your speech was understandable to anything even remotely close to their level of intelligence, are wrong. What enters your maw becomes nothing. It ceases to exist, and gives you no pleasure at all. You are unsure if pleasure is something that even means anything to you at this point. All you know is repose, though the actions of the Gremlins of Hoag intrigue you a tad. Issuing a massive spacetime creak, you move for the first time in millions of years, and from the Place Above and Below you stir, your mouth moving forth as the rest of your emerges into this world, its sheer size pulling in dust and deluded little gremlins, your pitch-black mass and nigh-infinite form filling all avenues of perception for billions of miles around. As the nebula disappears within you, becoming nothing along with the Gremlins of Hoag, as was inevitable, you ponder the universe. Where will you go next, and will they think of you the same way as the Gremlins of Hoag, whose true name you have erased along with any who knew it?
Moreover, does it matter to your eternal mind at all? This is the question you pose to yourself before infinity recedes, and you find yourself in the bar once more.
1. Curse of Cacti
2. Emit Scandalous Dentists
3. Coffee Mug Blast
4. Stuffed Hogweed Blast
5. Goodify Cocaine
6. Repel Moisturizer
7. House of Self-Replicating Dentures
How's that for a space adventure? Take any spells you like, and remember to have fun!
* * * * *
Halesey, it need not be said, is beginning to lose his patience.
"Jesus Christ, you fecking gobshite! Just behold the fecking potato! Can you summon fecking vortexes? Call me a fecking dumbass again and I’ll show you a fecking chest-vortex a fecking whale could fecking jump into!" he snaps, then lapses into fervent prayer. Prayer that doesn't really do him any good. He guesses the presence of gobshites like this guy takes away a bit of the magic, to say the least. No matter! Proceed he shall anyway, and nothing will stop him!
[Halesey's affinity roll: 6-->2+1]
And a vortex filled with just as much rage as Halesey himself, and slightly bigger than him as well, blocks the entrance immediately. The man at the counter nods appreciatively, then slides his ass over the counter, jumping off next to Halesey.
"Well, it's still just a hole, but I guess I'll take what I can get," he says without a trace of nervousness or emotion. He then sprints wildly into the vortex, leaping forward without a second thought, flying into its tubery grasp in a carefree, though still ambivalent manner. And immediately as he disappears, a different, homogenously pinkish and powdery figure with thick, dark hairs growing dispersely from its surface leaps out from the vortex.
"Fuck yeah! Who's the king! I'm the king!" the figure yells, sounding oddly familiar for some reason, then turns to face Halesey.
"You!" he continues in a dramatic fashion, pointing at the potato acolyte.
* * * * *
Dave, his curiosity piqued by the sound of an Invasion of the Undulating Porcelain Gremlin Kings, tries to use his mind to find out more about the strange spell, poking it with his mental apparatus inquisitively. Getting a feel for the spell, he realizes that it seems to be sort of a gate spell - somewhat random, frequent, powerful. And behind lie the minds of the Undulating Porcelain Gremlin Kings, reaching out to his.
They seem to wish for many things. Subjugation of mortals and machines alike. Deconstruction of the complex. Learning of the structures of things, and getting inside the workings of complex things. And also obtaining some porcelain, but they're willing to compromise on that, it seems.
* * * * *
Eta, having just obtained a fresh spell that would be perfect for this exact circumstance, calls upon the pit of blue skeletons to surprise the unfriendly carrion eaters and prevent them from defiling any other mortal remains.
[Eta's affinity roll: 1-->2]
And the pit does indeed appear, suddenly beginning to expand beneath her own feet!
[Eta's body roll: 3-1]
It does so far too quickly for her to escape it, in fact, and she plummets right into it, a loud crunch being emitted as she lands on the blue, crawling mass of human skeletons at the bottom - they seem remarkably animate, she notices with no small degree of disturbance. And the pit is fairly deep, too.
* * * * *
Larry knows that this lack of focus can really only be ascribed to one thing - lack of focus. There simply is no other reasonable explanation. So he addresses... well, himself in many iterations.
"HEY all you Larries out there! Focus on the task! Yes, even you getting lucky there!"They don't exactly listen, being in different iterations of reality, but it does seem to occur to them that focusing on magic might be a useful thing to do right now, and more Larries pull out their binders and take long looks at them in the hopes of some fine angel magic.
[Larry's mind roll: 4+1+8]
And his many minds finally react, moving through many avenues of magical knowledge all at once, stimulated by each other's experiences and moved to achieve greater heights of information gathering than previously thought possible. A wealth of possibilities opens up to him in a universe of many colors, and the magical secrets flooding through his many minds meld together in a single sphere of enlightenment, the refined, angelic glory of which each and every Larry gets to partake in.
1. Aura of Cheese Angels
2. Evoke Fluoridated Rouge Angel
3. Thought of Bilious Soup Angels
4. Ghostify Angel
5. Blue Smut Angel Boomerang
6. Amuse Angel
7. Shatter Angel
8. Bless Angel
9. Engulf in Thundering Buffalo Angels
10. Engulf in Loud Salsa Angels
YOU ARE LUCKY I AM THEORETICALLY INFINITE, MORTAL, AS OTHERWISE YOU WOULD BE PUSHING YOUR LUCK QUITE A LOT WITH THESE QUANTUM PHENOMENA AND WHATNOT! BUT WHAT THE HELL! HAVE ALL THE SPELLS YOU DESIRE!
As the Larries return to reality, the presence of the Oldthinker becomes more palpable.
"Oh, I thee. Outthider phenomena. Giveth me an idea. Thay, Larry, you know any outthiderth?" his voice asks in many of the iterations.
* * * * *
John, recognizing the fact that it is getting pretty late right now, heads on home with James, who seems to have no problem with staying at his place. The walk back through the neighborhood is uneventful, though John does observe quite a lot of police lines on the way to the central parts of the Lower Esplanade - fortunately, his building doesn't seem to be included in the cordon, and so he heads on there, up the stairs with James, unlocks the door and walks right in.
And right there, right in the middle of his couch, currently watching TV nervously, yeah, right there's the cowman. Mancow. Whatever. He-she-it is there, and as soon as John and James notice it, its head swivels back to take a look at the two in return.
"Moo!" it says.
"Or, rather, hey! Hi, John! Hi, other guy! What's up? How's it going?"
Author
Topic: The Forgotten Art: Approaching the Nexus (Read 256094 times)