Serious Plots 8: Rawr serisaurus!

[Lord Magtok]

TBC - MagQuest

Purple wasn't expecting this, wasn't planning on letting his guard down and enveloping Libitina in his arms so soon, or possibly ever again. He's been having a lot of defeatist thoughts lately, been thinking about this whole adventure more as a series of three-dimensional chess contingencies, tricks, and schemes, all of them aimed at countering a variety of hypothetical scenarios, to prevent Feia from sacrificing the goddess and reshaping the world. Y'know, as opposed to something much simpler, like a plain old quest to slay a dragon and save the world. He's assaulted himself with all sorts of painful scenarios where Libby is forced to sacrifice herself to save him or the world, so that he might be ready to prevent her from doing anything of the sort. It's been very stressful, but this embrace does a lot to clear that fog of restlessness and anxiety. It's okay to believe in himself again, to hold her close and hope things will only get better. She's here and he still has a chance.

"I'm taking you home," Purple promises, eyes alight with a sort of immutable determination that was once so very common to his kind. "No matter who stands in our way, be they gods or kings or all the armies in the Nexus." Or just one really annoying dragon, I guess.

In the meantime, Orange sprinkles some burning incense on one of the bodies, and moves it beneath an overturned cafeteria table for some semblance of privacy. Not one of the soldiers, but rather, one random nobody selected from the pile of corpses that were beneath our crew's feet upon their arrival. Someone more likely to cooperate with his questions than a soldier who had been shooting at him only moments ago. Speak with Dead, he casts, eager to see if such magic still functions out here, if anything useful at all can be gleaned from the dead before Purple reports back with whatever Libitina knows, and Blue finishes up doing...whatever it is that Blue is going to do once that Hold Person spell wears off.

[Morty]

[Fairy Mountain]

The troll is hit by the ball of fire, which sears and boils its flesh. It opens its mouth and makes a... sound. Like a his, or perhaps a croak, before digging its fingers into the rock, tearing a chunk of it off and flinging it at Damon with considerable force.

"Just kill it! We've never managed to capture one and-" She turns to look at Ilpholin. Sing? At this point she's willing to give it a try. She really didn't expect to see two envoys of an ancient Lord from a faraway land helping them fight off a troll. "Well, go on! Sing!" she yells to the soldiers, who look equally confused but break out into a rather uncoordinated chorus of some kind of elven song. A bawdy soldier one, by the sound of it.

The crystals seem to react to it somewhat, vibrating and carrying the song onwards, distorted and strangely changed. The troll's first response to it is to actually make a proper sound for the firs time. A slithering hiss, filled with pure, frustrated anger.

[Murkus]

[Gem Mountain]

Well that certainly isn't the response Tina was expecting. She rolls with it. "Heh. Are those guys out in the hall your guests too? Guess we skipped the line."

[Reinholdt]

[Gem Mountain - First Floor]

Reinholdt somehow manages to not immediately open the box. He's curious, but he's also suspicious. So why then is he reaching for the box exactly like he is going to open the box?

Solely to gauge their host's response as he does so, an eye kept on her. He isn't going to open it, but if she reacts at all, it could tell them a lot.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[TBC - MagQuest]

How quaint. It's like a crude version of what Affy's doing!

He steps in for a moment to attempt to correct the equation. That seems like the simplest, and quickest solution on that front - a little amendment to make it reinforce reality rather than destabilising it.

Unfortunately, reinforcing it according to his perception of reality ought to have a similar effect against magic anyways. This is likely not going to buy any more time in terms of maintaining Needs' spell.

Time is short.

Affy works quickly. But weak fleshy bodies (yes even if they're half-metal) do not.

With the layout of the explosive mechanism now visible, Blue gets to work on safely disabling it (assuming there is a safe way to do so). He doesn't have anything particularly fancy to work with, but Affy wasn't going to let his host go anywhere without at least a few tools at his disposal. Hopefully it's enough to get the job done. But probably not quickly enough.

"Hey, if you're done with your touching reunion, do you maybe wanna get over here and restrain this guy before the spell wears off? Otherwise we'll have to spoil one of our surprises early!" Get helping now, or Affy's coming out.

*****

[Fairy Mountain]

Gargoyles are not the most nimble of creatures. Or, at least, this particular gargoyle-esque creature that Damon previously consumed wasn't particularly agile in the air. He does his best to get out of the way, but the rock still clips a wing, sending him into a spin that causes him to crash into the wall. He lets out an angry hiss as claws dig in, anchoring him against the rock while one wing hangs limply behind him. An arc of black fireballs are thrown blindly behind him in the direction of the troll to try and buy him time for his next move.

[Chaotic Bob]

[TBC - MagQuest]

This particular bit of computational equipment is relatively crude, compared to anything Affidavit is actually capable of, so altering it really isn't that difficult.
Unappreciated by the soldier, undoubtedly, but not difficult.
Likewise, this wasn't meant to be an exceptionally complicated means of explosion either. Just have to separate the trigger mechanism from the explosives. Done.

That paralysis will be ending pretty imminently though, with all this interference...

Which is obviously a great time for Blue to be both practical and a jerk, by interrupting Libby and Purple!

Libby, who is currently both very touched by his assertion and pleased that he's rediscovering some important Magtokness, will take Blue's comment relatively in stride.
A squeeze and a murmured "I believe in you," later, she reluctantly releases her grasp on him and moves towards the downed soldier.
"We'll need to keep him steady for...probably another 15 seconds or so. At least. We can figure out what to do next based on what happens then."
Vague and foreboding, whatever she's talking about here.

Over by Needs:
There is a...strange resistance in casting the spell. Not in a way that threatens to keep it from working, but in a way that seems to be slowing down its effect activation.
What should be a relatively snappy response in the corpse, takes at least twice as long.
Which isn't a problem with the corpse. It seems to be a problem with necromancy, in this area.

[Lord Magtok]

TBC - MagQuest

Necromancy is weak here Orange reports, scowling. Should he have dug the anti-magic bullets out of the cadaver's chest first, or is the area of effect around the cafeteria itself? Are the souls of the deceased lost or stolen away within Feia's domain? Hrm...

Meanwhile, Purple decides to follow Libby to Blue and the downed soldier, standing a few feet back from the both of them with his shiny new rifle trained in the general direction of the inert captive. Something is going to happen soon, and it's going to be bad and unexpected. He's sure of it. Could just as easily originate from their captive as behind him, though.

"Can I ask you about...you said Asq, I think?" He's not sure if now is a bad time to ask her these things, or the only time. He's not even sure if Asq matters at all, in fact. There's so many unanswered, unspoken questions floating around in his head, and hardly any time to figure out what he does and doesn't need to know. What about Venmaunt, Delilah, Old Lady Feia? Do they matter? How many shards of Libitina are out there, and which ones are actually needed for Feia to enact her wicked agenda?

[Shadowcaller]

[B][TBC - Pyramid of the Cosmos]

Looks like the group has decided on plan "everyone mush through Jaahlyn's portal at once".
Very good.

It's almost possible to see Syncope smirk as Norael completely disavows the teleporter and throws in her lot with the other portal.
"Good luck."
And she even offers a very slightly more genuine sounding missive as they all pile through!

There were no immediately repugnant magical effects waiting for them here. Just that spooky darkness and peculiar background noise, which has gotten louder as they entered the piping room. Doesn't seem to be coming from the pipes, though, but rather the door beyond.

At some point, whoever ends up sticking their hands in a pocket next is going to find a small, credit card sized purple envelope has appeared in there.

[TBC - Pyramid of the Cosmos]

Jaahlyn can't keep the portal open for very long so it closes once they've all gone through it but just being able to open it here meant there currently wasn't a global anti-portal effect on the pyramid. That could change though...

"I'm afraid we are all in need of your magic detecting abilities once more, miss Jones." She remarks while turning to Norael. Of course, if there is no immidiate hostile magic or mechanic connected to the door or beyond it, the satyr will move forward to glean it open and peek outside. Unless of course people had better alternatives like spectral scouting eyes.
Jaahlyn couldn't see magic per say but she is instictively in touch with other spirits so she could detect them along with effects made by them.
She glances at the door to make sure there weren't any obvious malicious contraptions on it before she starts to actually move into the room. Provided of course there wasn't a death machine on the other side. She is using the orb on her tail to light her way forward if it happens to be dark in the room.

[Earl of Purple]

TBC- Pyramid of the Cosmos

"I've got detection magic, as well. Perhaps not as effective; my magic is typically quite weak, unless I've got an external power source. I didn't want to give Syncope much clue about my abilities." Though the fact he's wearing robes made from human skin might give away the fact that he's got some kind of magic of his own. As he speaks, he's drawing a symbol in white lines before him, creating a lens that he can look through. He can move the lens about, and will use it to examine the room. Through the lens, any triggered magical effects will glow, though it doesn't show passive effects or mundane traps and so on.

[Reinholdt]

[Fairy Mountain]

Ah, there it is. It may be foolish to enrage a troll, but it may also be exceptionally distracting.

Ilpholin steps forward once and begins to loudly sing as well. Hers is a popular art piece among the drow warning of the dangers of betrayal through love. She seems to have inherited her bardic father's capability for the arts. And for a while, she was actively training her voice to sing, as per Darcy's suggestion. Ilpholin hasn't really sung since Darcy died though and started her training late. She's a good mezzo-soprano, but rusty.

[Morty]

[Fairy Mountain]

The troll does indeed seem to only grow angrier as Damon pelts it with fireballs and Ilpholin's voice joins the chorus that sends the crystals vibrating in a way that it, for some reason, hates with every fibre of its being. Despite a fresh barrage of pain assailing it from Damon's side, the underground giant turns away from him and charges Ilpholin, emerging from the blackness with fists swinging. She will see the burns and injuries Damon has inflicted on it, but the troll seems heedless of them - though that doesn't mean it can't feel them.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[TBC - MagQuest]

Tinker tinker, safely disarm, etc.

Hey, you know how Magtoks are always feeble and wimpy and generally pathetic? Yeah, they're mostly just really bad at this, y'see.

With the armour disarmoured, Blue will use his metal hand and a little dose of Affy know-how to get it working properly, and put the soldier's arm in a crushing grip.

See Magtok? If you didn't keep sabotaging yourself, you could maybe even be halfway-decent at this combat schtick!

*****

[TBC - Pyramid of the Cosmos]

First person to put their hands in their pockets? Well, that'd be Magtok of course! Not like he's got much to do at the moment while all the magic-y people do magic-y things to analyse the magic-y stuff in this place full of magic.

"Where's Needs when you need- huh?" He pulls out the envelope and stares blankly at it, slowly going over the events for the day, trying to figure out if he ever put that letter here or if some other Magtok or Magbot or one of those people running around the MagCave (why does it always get so busy? We didn't even put up signs telling people to go away this time! Wasn't that what attracted everyone all the time? Like moths to a flame loudly protesting against the existence of moths) could've snuck it at some point or-

Nope. Pretty sure that letter shouldn't be here.

"Hey, I got mail." He says, waving the letter in the direction of Norael. "Could you scan this as well to make sure it doesn't explode or turn me into the Thing or something when I try to open it?"

*****

[Fairy Mountain]

That wasn't supposed to happen. The singing distracted the troll too well! Well enough to just entirely stop caring about the guy chucking fireballs!

As soon as the troll turns tail, Damon drops to the floor with a wince as the damaged wing scrapes against the wall. He de-gargoyles, the flames covering signs of scarring marking the cost of wounds taken in other forms - shapeshifting doesn't grant him infinite durability, though the natural resilience of the gargoyle means it hasn't had much of an effect. Still hurts though.

"Ilpholin, look out! You've sssung your way into the troll'sss sssightsss!" He shouts, hopefully giving Ilpholin at least a little bit of warning before the troll is upon her. Taking a moment to rebuild the flames around him, Damon charges off in pursuit, axe in hand.

[Chaotic Bob]

[TBC - MagQuest]

While we're not entirely sure how far Orange's magic detection prowess is these days, with the recent vocation shift, it wouldn't be terribly difficult to test any other little necromantic tricks he has. To similarly mitigated effect.
Not so much souls being unreachable themselves, as there is...a filter of sorts, getting in the way of the spells themselves. Ultimately letting them through, it seems, but not quickly.

Meanwhile:
The soldier cannot really do anything about the arm grabbing, save for acquire an even more hateful look in his eyes. He's very clearly planning some form of violence, when his paralysis wears off.
Soon.
But before that....

Libby has stopped only a few feet away from the soldier and Blue, staring rather intently at the former.
This staring does not stop as she starts ticking down the fingers of her left hand and answering at least part of Purple's implied question.
"Asq is a demon, helping me overcome my, ah, survival deficiencies."
This place, this entire death trap of a realm, is not kind to mortals without significant abilities to support themselves. Libby is lacking in this department.
"We can talk about it later-"

Because something is happening.
Small, grapefruit-sized orbs of red light have risen from the chests of each other soldiers, dead and alive, stopping about a foot and a half up.
One pulses a dull shade of blue around its edges, then the next, and the next. All the way around each soldier.
Once. Twice. Thrice.
Like a quick roulette wheel, it cycles around its options, before pulsing brighter over the paralyzed soldier and the entire orb turns an icy shade of blue. The other orbs promptly vanish.

This has taken perhaps five seconds.

Spoiler: A Mostly Empty Room

Show

A blue-tinged gray in every direction, as every other time.
She's sitting in her chair nearby, as every other time.
No book, unlike every other time.

He is not paralyzed here, in this ward within his mind, but the soldier feels no less stripped of agency. There has never been any move he can make, that bridges the few feet away she is. He doesn't know what he would do if there was such a move.

...

Syncope has a perplexed look as she stares at him.
"I know you all relied on the necromancer, but you have never done this poorly, this soon before. I would say I was disappointed, but we crossed that threshold quite some time ago, hm? New lows, new lows.
Some interesting, anomalous readings that presented when the rest of your men died again. What were you up to? Shall I take a peek?"

He says nothing. She's not even trying that hard to bait a rise out of him. Must actually be curious.
He doesn't know if this is a reason for hope or deeper dread.

Another second.

From Libby's sleeve: the hollow voice of Asq once more.
T h e S u c c e s s o r c o m e s.

Judging by her flinch, this can be safely labeled as "a bad thing". Backing away from the paralyzed fellow is probably a good supporting evidence.
"Maggy, dears. If you wish to keep your anonymity and surprise, you should leave in whatever way you arrived immediately."
They probably won't. But maybe they will.

Magtoks Orange, Blue, and Purple have moments to decide, before a young woman in a pair of tan slacks and a red button-up polo shirt, seated in a plain wooden chair exists about five feet to Blue's left. For just a blink of a moment, space had shifted as if a series of misaligned mirrors were placed in the spot, before the effect normalized and she appeared.
There is still a little name-tag on her shirt, and it still says "Syncope".

But that's probably not what the assembled trio of heroes are likely to care about.
It's that calculating look in her eyes, as she immediately takes in the scene in front of her and the pursed expression on her face from the moment she appeared.

They're very familiar.

[Reinholdt]

[Fairy Mountain]

The warning Damon gives is both ample and welcome as it spares Ilpholin any embarrassment of getting caught off guard. Instead, she leans forward, moving as troll emerges. Each step she takes matches the tempo of her song, which has admittedly accelerated past its original intent, as if she were leading the song rather than the other way around. Her arms both become energy blades as the nymph nimbly ducks under the troll's wild swings. She lashes out herself with surgical precision at the high note in order to attempt to sever the tendons in the troll's legs. Predicting a kick counter, Ilpholin's attack dances by rather than attempting to dig the blades in as deep as they could go.

[Morty]

[Fairy Mountain]

Ilpholin's blades bite deep into the troll's legs. Its body is tough, wiry and resilient, but the weapons do still manage to cut in. The creature's legs buckle and it staggers forward, clumsily trying to kick Ilpholin just as she predicted. It's not out of tricks, however. As Ilpholin dances away from it, the troll swipes its hand... but not towards her. They sink into the ground below, rippling it like water and sending a shower of shards and pebbles at the nymph.

[Chaotic Bob]

[TBC - The Pyramid of the Cosmos]

The surprise mail looks and feels just like a standard greeting card in an envelope should feel like. Per magical analysis, there are lingering effects of some magic on it, but as they are fading this is probably just from whatever put it in his pocket. Nothing else!
Opening it (as they presumably will eventually) reveals what essentially amounts to a lineless index card with a very simple message:

I can help.
Impress me.

The various scanning powers that be are free to analyze the room to their hearts' content. No deadly traps here.
Getting really close to the pipes will get a muted response of some form of energy, but nothing really detailed. Whatever is in them seems to be sealed up pretty well.

Which brings us to that door.
Now, Jaahlyn is probably rather careful with opening it, regardless of any indications to the contrary that it is safe. It means she'll get a good look at the general ambience of the other room long before she sees anything else.
Imagine that haphazard lighting effect, cast upon the walls around a large indoor swimming pool. Scattering and constantly shifting smears of light moving hither and yon.
Now paint them all in electric yellows, flaming reds, glacial blues.

From a cracked door, the only angle of view she has is on a wide, inward-curving stone wall scatted with this dizzying array of colors, and a floor that seems to be made of very wide and shallow steps, moving downwards and out of sight.

Then something breaths.
It's subtle, but quick. Jaahlyn's view distorts and bends towards what is down those stares, stretched out as if all the colors and walls and floor were being pulled away.
And then it's just black.
Not the black of darkness, but the black of nothing. It stops at the door's threshold, but is as absolute as a wall of its own.

There is a faintly hissing exhale and all the color and vision blinks back into view.

If she hesitates here and refuses to open the door further, nothing significantly changes.
This event repeats itself fairly regularly, every several seconds, but it never varies in presentation and never crosses the threshold.

Similarly, none of the group's magic seems especially keen on passing over this threshold either. Whatever effect is keeping the darkness from crossing over appears to be a two-way deal.

[Lord Magtok]

TBC - MagQuest

Spoiler

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[TBC - MagQuest]

Another second.

From Libby's sleeve: the hollow voice of Asq once more.
T h e S u c c e s s o r c o m e s.

Judging by her flinch, this can be safely labeled as "a bad thing". Backing away from the paralyzed fellow is probably a good supporting evidence.
"Maggy, dears. If you wish to keep your anonymity and surprise, you should leave in whatever way you arrived immediately."
They probably won't. But maybe they will.

Magtoks Orange, Blue, and Purple have moments to decide, before a young woman in a pair of tan slacks and a red button-up polo shirt, seated in a plain wooden chair exists about five feet to Blue's left. For just a blink of a moment, space had shifted as if a series of misaligned mirrors were placed in the spot, before the effect normalized and she appeared.
There is still a little name-tag on her shirt, and it still says "Syncope".

But that's probably not what the assembled trio of heroes are likely to care about.
It's that calculating look in her eyes, as she immediately takes in the scene in front of her and the pursed expression on her face from the moment she appeared.

They're very familiar.

We can afford to lift the second veil at this juncture, Orange opines before Syncope's arrival, receiving a nod in agreement from Purple as they stay put where they are. Anonymity and surprise aren't everything. The plan is to march into Feia's lair and murder the **** out of her; you can only expect so much subtlety out of a plan like that.


"This is the successor?" Purple raises an eyebrow upon her arrival, voice dripping with skepticism and derision. "Is there a manager I could speak to instead?" he adds, speaking that contemptible, irritating query that retail workers across the known multiverse have come to loathe and abhor. Now, yes, obviously she's more than just some teen working a summer job as a MagMart cashier. Asq and Libitina seem to believe this Syncope is a pretty big deal, and he's inclined to believe them. Syncope is very likely a greater threat than any of those soldiers were, given how casually she shifted reality to enter the room, despite all the itchy trigger fingers waiting for her.

However, there's a lot of powerful people who get mad when you patronize them like this. There's a lot of people who get sloppy when they get mad. With so much on the line, you press for weaknesses at every opportunity, you take your advantages where you can find them. Purple drums his fingers against his rifle's stock and watches for a response. Meanwhile, Orange stays put where he is, discarding his prior necromantic intentions to instead focus on preparing a few new spells instead. Loathe as he is to just let a spell fizzle out prematurely like that, there's more pressing matters at hand. Syncope is a dangerous unknown; anyone with eyes can see that.

"Try to stay close to her, Aff. Proximity will probably inconvenience her," Purple passes along without a spoken word, not even sparing a glance towards Blue, lest his facial expression alone somehow betray them both. Huh, is he actually taking this whole thing seriously? Why the change of tune now, when he was content to just complain and let Blue and Orange do all the work before?

[5a Violista]

[Gem Mountain - First Floor]

"Oh. Hello," the woman responds. She doesn't turn around because she can see Tina in her mirror. Turning around would prevent her from finishing her blush. "How did...you got here much quicker than I expected. Would you mind waiting for a few moments so I can finish getting ready? It's not suitable to treat a guest while being only half-ready." She appears to only know there's one person here, so it looks like Tina's distraction is working.

Reinholdt can check out the box.
It feels...warm.
Not, like, the unusually warm that the earlier corpses were.
Instead, it feels like 'this is body-temperature' warm.
Lifting it up will get the feeling that it's half-filled with a liquid, and that there's some other object floating in the liquid - it's not a hard object.
It's a fancy box. Very treasure-like. Its dimensions are about a hand-span's in each direction? roughly.
There's no magical or supernatural compulsion related to it that would make him interested or disinterested in it, either. Just normal curiosity.

Maybe he should open it?

[Gem Mountain]

Well that certainly isn't the response Tina was expecting. She rolls with it. "Heh. Are those guys out in the hall your guests too? Guess we skipped the line."

[Gem Mountain - First Floor]

Reinholdt somehow manages to not immediately open the box. He's curious, but he's also suspicious. So why then is he reaching for the box exactly like he is going to open the box?

Solely to gauge their host's response as he does so, an eye kept on her. He isn't going to open it, but if she reacts at all, it could tell them a lot.

[Gem Mountain - First Floor]

The host doesn't even seem to notice Reinholdt moving to the box.
So it seems her sight, in this room at least, is limited to what she can actually see. It's possible she could see through those flame-zombies earlier but her subtle reactions suggest that she only knows that Tina is here. If she knew there was someone else here, she'd probably be adjusting a mirror to keep an eye on him, right? But she's not, and she's not reacting in any way to Reinholdt's actions.

So...hm. That's strange. It's entirely possible she doesn't even know there's two adventurers here at all.

"Minions, actually. They were supposed to slow you down enough to give me time to get ready. I wasn't expecting a guest, after all. Again, I apologize," she says, finishing up with her make-up. She realizes Tina said the word 'we' and then adjusts one of the smaller mirrors to give her a look around the room, while pretending to still be checking her make-up. "Introductions require a certain...pizazz and atmosphere to them and I've never been one to half-heartedly go at it."

Regardless of whether she saw Reinholdt or not through the mirror, she adds: "Okay, I'm ready." She snaps her fingers and the fires around the room go out - and green flames appear in her hands. It eerily casts shadows across her face.

[Rebonack]

[Sneak's Milk Bar]

there is a shack on the outskirts of sneak's property. over it blinks a neon sign portraying the name that is coincidentaly the same as this thread. the doors are the standard-issue cowboy double-swinging type. the jukebox is blaring rock, and the bartender is the quiet but helpful type. the walls have certificates from people like the emporers seal of approval and the official blessing of sneak. and a mask with llama hair on it. the tables and chairs are decorated with dragons teeth. there is a quiet child with pointy ears, blonde hair, and wearing all green in a corner.

you are greated by the kender, who manages to incorrporate the rules of the game smoothly into the following paragraph, "welcome friends! this is a safe-for-all-ages milk bar ment for avatar-based role-playing! just like Sneaks House and Mortia, this is for free-form role playing with the participants of the above mentioned threads. people can come here and chat about the game, and barfights do happen now and again. but overall, this is a safe (if chaotic) bar ment to have fun."

"please, sit down and enjoy!"

Or that's what it was, at least, some point in the distant past. But now it's day long since perished.

What sort of maggot grows in the corpse of a day? What feeds on the detritus of people and places when they've been forgotten? Raril had a vision of it, once, several years ago. A vision that shook him to his core.

Sneak's Milk bar is... well... to say it's around isn't quite correct. It's possible the mere act of seeking it out brought it back from the brink. The old western saloon style building just run down. Yes, the wood is grey and weathered. Yes the neon sign has long since lost its glow. Yes the swinging door hangs loose on one side and has fallen in on the other. Yes many of the windows are broken and the facade defaced with spray paint. But it's more than that. Like a wormy apple discolored holes have been chewed through the building, leaving a vague void in its place. Once inside our heroes will find chunks of wood, broken stools, and empty milkshake cups drift through the air inside the building as if even gravity has forsaken this place. The half-devoured jukebox is no longer blaring. Instead it whines out a pitiful, grating cacophony of discordant sounds like a toy with dying battery. A kinder stands near the door in a once cheerful outfit, but now drained of all color. Dust is thick upon his permanently dead-time form. Most of the dragon's teeth appear to have been stolen, likely by wizards covetous of rare magical reagents.

And the whole back of the building?

It's simply gone.

Lost to the Nothing.

A heavy sense of melancholy, forgetfulness, and nebulous dread hangs over this place.

There are a number of things inside that are probably worth investigating. That llama mask on the wall. The framed certificate. The mostly-ruined jukebox. Half a milkshake machine drifting through empty space. The frozen kinder and that elf child standing in the corner with their face against the wall. Out the back of the store drift several bits of floor with jagged motes of earth below them, floating platforms hanging in the void. One could probably use them as stepping-stones to travel deeper into the Nothing, but that probably isn't wise.

[Deathkeeper]

[Sneak’s Milk Bar]

”Oh.” breathes Sam Bacon into the stagnant air.
There’s not much he can think to say. This is just...horrific. Sam has seen a few corpses in his day, but despite that this just feels like a knife through the gut to every dream he’s ever had of opening his own restaurant. But he can’t stop just for that. He has more important things to do. Save everyone.
Sam walks through the door, trotters muffled by dust. He is immediately beset upon by the horrible noise of the machine, which he would smash to pieces right now, but the sight of people immediately rearranges his priorities.
”Um, hello? Are they...okay?” he asks of the forms. They don’t look okay. In fact they look rather dead. But in a way that also isn’t dead.

[Artemis97]

[Sneak's Milk Bar]

Raril follows Sam inside and looks around with a hollow, haunted expression. "Not again..." He whispers.

Seeing the Kender and the elf child in the corner, he shudders. "It's dead time. Usually, you can shake it off, but... it gets people. Sometimes it takes months, or years, but I think it'll get everything eventually. Used to happen more often, people would get caught in it, and you'd just move on without them until they snapped out of it again. But sometimes... they never come back." The drow says grimly, his eyes falling on a familiar looking mask.

Raril walks over to the spot on the wall where the Llama's mask was, to run a hand over it. He hadn't seen Atreyu in ages. Would he ever again?

[Shadowcaller]

[TBC - The Pyramid of the Cosmos]

The inverse goat-like eyes of Jaahlyn's doesn't widen, as they don't quite work like that, but the shock is still apparent in her face as she peers out. It wasn't that she was unprepared, quite the opposite really, but there was no way to account for surprises.

"Hello? Excuse me?" She inquires, seemingly into the breathing void. Then, unless there is a reply, she takes a step back with the door remaining open and glances at the others. "Sounds like a monster, looks like a void. Does anyone have something to bypass this or do we have to get more creative?"

[Gnrlshrimp]

[TBC - MagQuest]

Well, this is a development of some sort, isn't it?

But this is Magtok's expedition, Magtok's great heroic quest. He's the leader here, he's the one calling the shots.

So even though Affy would really really like to be the one antagonising Syncope, it's all left up to Magtok to decide how they proceed.

So, as directed, Blue rather nonchalantly wanders over with an unimpressed look on his face and leans against the wall a short distance away from her. None of the Magtoks are taking her seriously. Or, well, they're outwardly not appearing to take her seriously anyway.

That slight irritating feeling at someone casually denying magic might get to her a little bit, maybe. Unlikely to be a pleasant feeling anyway.

*****

[Fairy Mountain]

Damon comes charging out of the darkness a few moments later, aiming to take advantage of the troll's focus on Ilpholin, with a low axe-swing to try and hack into the troll's heel. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, right? Most bipedal creatures have some equivalent to the achilles tendon there, and taking that out tends to severely impede their ability to walk.

[Rebonack]

[Sneak’s Milk Bar]

The kender, who happens to be closer to the door so we'll assume Sam is looking at that one, remains absolutely and completely motionless. Dust has collected heavily on them and aside from their motionlessness and color loss they look like they should still be alive. They don't respond to be spoken at. Nor do they react to Sam's kinda offensive ozone smell. There does appear to be something sticking out of the kender's pocket, though. Something that hasn't been color bleached like everything else on their person.

Sam might recognize it as a random small object he was carrying with him.

Kender kleptomania transcends even deadtime, apparently.

Raril, meanwhile, examines the llama mask more closely. It appears to be wooden with woven wool glued in place on it and, of course, a little black cloth strip glued in turn over the eye-holes. It's a pretty great llama mask, all things considered. A masked llama mask, even. Oddly, Raril may notice that the wall seen through the eye holes does not look weathered and worn and cracking. In fact, it looks just as pristine as it probably did when people still visited the Milk Bar on a regular basis. Curious.

Rather abruptly there comes a sound of a record scratch from the jukebox, shortly before a new song begins to play. Clearly. Softly. The milkbar is filled with a slow, haunting melody.

Hello darkness my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

[Chaotic Bob]

[TBC - MagQuest]

Insults and casual disrespect. Excellent opening social gambits.
Libby is, for her part, just casually drifting her way slightly closer to Orange with her eyes locked very resolutely on Syncope.
Her looking nervous isn't the most common thing in the world, but mortality tends to bring a degree of nerves along with it. She'll be fine.

Blue earns a little side-eye from Syncope, before her gaze slides back towards the only person here actually addressing her: Purple.
"Management doesn't parlay with the walking dead. Can I take a message?"
One would imagine this banter to have an accompanying amount of snark to it, but instead just a trace of exasperation.

Her focus slides over towards Libby and Orange, where it darkens somewhat.
"I don't have any of you flagged for this particular area yet. You are ruining my data sets."

No explosions yet...perhaps this won't immediately degenerate into violence?

[Reinholdt]

[Fairy Mountain]

Ilpholin's sword arms expand outwards into shields, though a little slower than she expected the troll to follow up, the outside of her arms and legs cut and bleeding black blood with consistency closer to oil. They look worse than they actually are, being shallow and distant from vitals. Seeing Damon attacking low from the back, Ilpholin goes for high in the front, crouching and springing towards the troll's face with a powerful jump. One of her shields turns into a spear, focused on a thrust attack looking to skewer her opponent.

[Artemis97]

[Sneak's Milk Bar]

"That's strange..." Raril says noticing the wall behind the eye-holes of the mask was still lively, in a way. He tries to pull the mask off the wall, to get a look underneath and to, he suspects, look through the eyes of the mask itself.

Then the song begins to play. Raril actually liked that particular tune, but today it was a bad sign.

"Sam, I think we'd better be quick here, whatever we do."

[Deathkeeper]

[Sneak’s Milk Bar]

Sam’s smell is not offensive! He showers all the time! He would only really stink if he was working up a sweat, which he hasn’t today. Yet.
”Three minutes, Raril. I don’t think I want to still be here when the song’s done with.” He looks down at the kender and frowns before snatching back the little tube he keeps on him in case he runs into any herbs while wandering around.

[Rebonack]

[Sneak's Milk Bar]

The mask is removed from the wall without any difficulty. And once it's in Raril's hands? The wall looks just as pitted and worn as everything else in the restaurant.

Putting ON the mask, however...

Raril is granted a vision of how things were at the height of the milkbar's popularity. Everything is shiny and clean with an air of that invincibly optimistic 50's style. The echos of patrons moves past, shades of those who once were. They dance, they talk, they laugh, they drink milkshakes. It's a grand old time.

Yet...

Only an phantom.

But if our heroes are trying to find things that are lost? Things that were forgotten? Such a mask could prove useful.

One particular thing might strike Raril as disquieting, though. While he can see the kender near the door as he was in the past, alive and well and not locked in stasis? That elf girl standing in the corner does not appear within the mask's vision.

Sam pulls his property out of the kender's pocket. Hopefully he doesn't somehow manage to steal something else as soon as Sam takes his eyes off the little scamp.

The song continues to play.

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
Beneath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

When Raril lowers the mask the elven child is now facing into the milkbar.

From the torso up her skin is broken as if she were a hollow doll, revealing a gulf of indistinct blackness.

Of Nothing.

Points of neon light, red and purple and orange, swirl and flash where the child's face ought to be.

[Morty]

[Fairy Mountain]

The troll's legs finally buckle under Damon's slash as it focuses its frenzied assault on Ilpholin. This leaves it open for her final thrust, which bites deep - but with difficulty, as the creature's skin and muscle are still tough, leathery and stiff. The troll croaks quietly and sinks to its knees, the body finally giving in to the multiple injuries it has suffered. The troll's blood, trickling from its wounds and mouth, is thick, viscous and dark purple.