Youare examines the great tree and plaza through the eye of his needle, before finding the most convenient spot to sit under it. He tries to think himself into the role of Elias, and sits back in the most natural way possible, trying to see where his gaze naturally lands. What was Elias looking at?
Name: Youare A. Homunculus
Description: a wiry man, elderly but still trim and strong, long grey hair tied back in a ponytail.
Nature: Functionary
Status: robed, clean
HP: 7
Inventory: one robe enchanted to PROTECT ("like a big chainmail dress in terms of weight and flexibility: heavy and awkward but not impossible to move in"), one pair of gloves, and one big ass needle
Fate Points: 0
Youare walks around the great tree, looking both at the tree and out at the area around it. He's looking for a good place to sit and he finds several. Metal benches, stumps and root clusters, even a giant pillow or two. But what gets his attention is that giant slab they saw before. There are no chairs there, nowhere to sit, but its surrounded by living candles in somber attire, wax mourners with flicking flame heads. They're gathered quietly around the slab in a semi circle, but part as Youare walks closer. The slab is 10 or so feet tall, deeply buried in the roots, but its surface is pristinely clean. There's signs of recent care: flowers left at the foot of it, plants trimmed back. The slab has no markings, but on closer inspection its clear that its not actually a single slab but a giant box, a stone sarcophagus.
He looks through the eye of his needle at the sarcophagus and sees, faintly, a small body within.
Name: Drip
Description: Drip has memories of being water. Surely that's not a thing, but he insists it is. Water.
Nature: Anagramist
Status: Helping again!
HP: 6
Inventory: Purple Eye Robe, White Eye Gloves, Needle Spear, Dangerous-looking Bone "Key"
Fate Points: 4
Drip is glad to help!
"Hey Drip. I noticed you were struggling with that key earlier. Have you ever tried turning it?"
Drip hasn't tried that! Good idea!
Follow along to the door. On the way, try to unlock own chest. Stop if any vital organs look to be falling out.
[6]
Drip turns the key. It turns easily and painlessly, all things considered. And then his chest opens up like a goddamn treasure chest. The entire thing just hinges open. But instead of pulsating and unpleasant life sustaining goo within, what he sees is a room. A room he knows. The training room back in their cavern, where he first stabbed himself.
"Okay than let us find him a see what he thinks, also my name is Debby I might to have forgotten to mention that and I also forgot to ask what your name is."
Follow the others to the door on the rock, and find out what the fox's name is.
Name: Debby
Description: Looks like a regular human woman but with the head of a deer.
Nature: All-Tounges
Status: No longer flopping around a freaking out.
HP: 9
Inventory:
purple robe
white gloves
big ass needle
Fate Points: 2
The fox's name is Elizabeth Audrey Foxington.
“Oh, good! Now we get to see Allen.”.
The Speaker begins walking towards the door. When he reaches it, he knocks on it.
“Is anyone home?”, he asks.
Name: The Speaker.
Description: a small man with black hair that is speckled with gray and a small gray goatee.
Nature: All-Tounge
Status: Knock knock! Allen? Are you home?
HP: 7
Inventory: A purple robe with a large red eye embroidered on the back, a pair of white gloves with a similar eye on the palm, and what appears to be a 4 foot long sewing needle made of black iron. The needle’s sides are blunt but its tip is deadly sharp, and the “eye” has knurling around it so that it can be used as a handle.
Fate Points: 7
"Thank you Drip. That was helpful."
Step into the scenery. Look about for signs of disturbance / foul play as I approach the boulder. Wait a moment for a response to Speaker's inquiry. If none come, open the door and peek inside.
Name: Genesis
Description: Classic 80s action hero looks, kinda quiet. think Kurt Russel from the movie Soldier (only probably less mute)
Nature: Pureblood
Status: Newly decanted
HP: 10
Inventory: Robe, gloves, walking needle (glowing oil-slick rainbow style with charged magical energy.
Fate Points: 4
<snip>
Grey advances with The Speaker and Genesis to the door, ready to use his needle in defence against any magical traps. If he reaches the door unmolested, he looks inside with Genesis and examines whatever he sees through the needle.
<snip>
walk up to the door and look at it throughthe eye of my needle
<snip>
Seeing others looking through the eyes of their needles, The Speaker does the same using his own, curious as to why they are doing it.
Name: The Speaker.
Description: a small man with black hair that is speckled with gray and a small gray goatee.
Nature: All-Tounge
Status: Knock knock! Allen? Are you home? Why is everyone looking through the eyes of their needles?
HP: 7
Inventory: A purple robe with a large red eye embroidered on the back, a pair of white gloves with a similar eye on the palm, and what appears to be a 4 foot long sewing needle made of black iron. The needle’s sides are blunt but its tip is deadly sharp, and the “eye” has knurling around it so that it can be used as a handle.
Fate Points: 7
walk up to the door and look at it throughthe eye of my needle
Name: Master of the Lambent Flame
Description: A messy-haired albino with a desert kepi as an extension of their lifeforce. Keeps an aloof expression when not having a delusional outburst.
Nature: Pureblood
Status: dispassionate
HP: 10
Inventory:
Purple Robe
White Gloves
Needle
Makeshift eyepatch
Pocket ash
Fate Points: 0
Name: Drip
Description: Drip has memories of being water. Surely that's not a thing, but he insists it is. Water.
Nature: Anagramist
Status: Helping again!
HP: 6
Inventory: Purple Eye Robe, White Eye Gloves, Needle Spear, Dangerous-looking Bone "Key"
Fate Points: 4
Drip is glad to help!
"Hey Drip. I noticed you were struggling with that key earlier. Have you ever tried turning it?"
Drip hasn't tried that! Good idea!
Follow along to the door. On the way, try to unlock own chest. Stop if any vital organs look to be falling out.
"Okay than let us find him a see what he thinks, also my name is Debby I might to have forgotten to mention that and I also forgot to ask what your name is."
Follow the others to the door on the rock, and find out what the fox's name is.
Name: Debby
Description: Looks like a regular human woman but with the head of a deer.
Nature: All-Tounges
Status: No longer flopping around a freaking out.
HP: 9
Inventory:
purple robe
white gloves
big ass needle
Fate Points: 2
Bob, disappointed at the lack of effect his cheering had on opening the door, knew how he could help. He would have to step up his game. And that, of course, required more belts.
Use 1 HP and 2 Fate points to grow a belt.
Name: Bob
Description: An average-sized human-looking male homunculus with a beard of belts.
Nature: Elemental (Belts)
Status: Bruised and sandy in uncomfortable places, but mostly ok
HP: 8
Inventory:
Robe
Gloves
Needle covered in wriggling belts
Wolf Titan belt
Fate Points: 6
[3,5,2][-1HP]
Bob...Well he can't grow a belt. But when he looks down at his body he can visualize aspects of it as belts. Hmmmm. Bit of weight around the midsection, a band of adipose...or perhaps one could say...a belt! With a triumphant hoot he grabs his belly, reaches a thumb into his navel while his fingers press in from the other side, and rips a belt of fat straight out of his flesh. "Ah ha!" He shouts triumphantly. Then, with a bit less triumph, he shouts "AAAAAAAAAAOW FUCK!"
”Gross, dude.”
Grey advances with The Speaker and Genesis to the door, ready to use his needle in defence against any magical traps. If he reaches the door unmolested, he looks inside with Genesis and examines whatever he sees through the needle.
Name:Grey
Description: A hairless pink colored man with lacking facial features, little more than a pair of eyes, two holes for a nose, and a line for a mouth.
Nature: Verbomancer (Maintain)
Status: Sandy
HP: 10
Inventory: Purple robe, white gloves, giant needle, magic feather shaped saber
Fate Points: 1
The group advances carefully into what had been a wall a few moments ago. They walk through carved woodlands, past skittering wooden insects and prancing wooden deer. They look for signs of a struggle and find nothing. When they reach the door they look through their needles and see the curving root wreath around the doorframe and the maw of roots in the door. They knock. No answer. They knock louder. No answer. They press ears to the door. Dull clicking within and nothing else. Finally, with some final trepidation, they try the handle. It turns, slow and heavy but smooth. The bolt opens with a clunk and the door swings freely into the room beyond.
The room beyond is something like an old Viking hall: Much longer than it is wide, with a sharp vaulted roof and many crossbeams. It smells powerfully of wood, as though all the boards and beams were freshly cut despite being dark and worn with age. At one far, back end is a large throne set into the wall. Dark wood accented with gold and sliver, it seems to be growing out of the boards themselves. It is covered in swirling, knotted designs of roots and branches with creatures moving within. Literally moving, like the giant door from before. At the other end, a large open balcony, something like the prow of a ship, complete with an old "Wagon Wheel" style ship's wheel, brass telescopes and instruments, and what looks like a figurehead. They can see from here that the wheel is damaged, one of its hand holds is missing, broken off. The 40 or 50 feet between these ends is filled with a huge collection of stuff. There are shelves lining the walls with books, fossils, scrolls, potted plants, preserved specimens, animal carvings, piles of old swords and axes, furs, silks, gold coins, maps, glazed pots, glass bottles of colored liquids, and all manner of other random things that someone might collect. Among this museum of oddities, near the center of the room, is what apparently passed for Elias' bedroom: a single large bed in the center of the room, small end table beside it, desk and chair next to it. There's a feeling of a life confined to a very small area, of a great deal of time moving only a few feet between these monumental furniture islands. Seclusion and claustrophobia in a mansion of dreams.
The man himself is laying about halfway between front of the room and the bed, sprawled out and silent. He seems to be the only one here. His back is to them, but they can see blood discoloring the wood near him.
Author
Topic: Magnum Opus: Welcome Home. (Read 124155 times)