Re: The Phenomenal Fracas! (GBS2G6): [Round Two: Witch's Haunt]
10-25-2010, 04:14 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-21-2013, 07:24 AM by SleepingOrange.)
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
Blackmask was frustrated; it wasn't even as though he had a very good idea of what he needed or what he needed to do for this séance or exorcism or whatever it was or was going to be, and he couldn't even find things that matched the vague ideas he had. Where were you supposed to find a sword in a manor like this, anyway? After several minutes of banging around through the various rooms on the first floor, the pirate found himself back in the entry hall. He tapped his mask pensively, pondering his next course of action; he wasn't immediately struck by anything, but something did gradually dawn on him.
Hadn't he kicked in that door? What was it doing, then, standing tall and intact as though it hadn't been touched since being installed? A few moments later, the lack of any sand on the floor became apparent as well. He was certain that there had, just a minute ago, been a small pile of ominous sand scattered at the base of the stairs, and now... Nothing. Everything in this room was as pristine as it could possibly be. Ripper grunted and tapped his foot, thinking, then moved to the entryway and experimentally kicked over the umbrella stand. It sat there, unmoving and with its contents disgorged across the floor. Just as the pirate had given up and was about to get back to his search, though, it quivered for a moment then righted itself; several of the umbrellas and canes swung in a wide arc as they returned to their resting place, barking Blackmask's shins before sliding smugly back into the stand.
Muriegro's footfalls were the only sound as he approached the lake. He approached the shore and waited for something to happen; when nothing did, he simply sat down next to an outcropping of reeds and waited. It would have been peaceful and a pleasant rest were it not for the unignorable unnatural silence and the slight sense of tension that permeated the house and its grounds. Laguja found itself wondering what the witch had brought them here for if she was just going to stay silent in her weedy grave, letting fish suck on her face.
If pincushions could blink as something suddenly dawned on them, this one would have. Not a bird or insect could be found near the manor, not a single squirrel chittered in the trees or mole tunneled through the gardens; nothing lived or moved here but silent, perfect plants. But the lake had been full of fish. Even a glance at the shallows confirmed that little glittering minnows were darting between the shadows of lily pads. It was... Well, it was weird, but it didn't seem particularly relevant or helpful. No frogs though, it noticed, or dragonflies either. Nothing you'd expect to see near a body of water like this, just the stuff in it.
As the weapon idly mulled this over, the priest trailed the tips of his fingers through the cool water. Moments after he began doing so, a faint voice floated over the lake. It was difficult to make out what it was saying, but Laguja reasoned it could only come from one person. Maybe her powers didn't extend past the lake for some reason. Ghosts and the like do sometimes have strong attachments to the place of their death, especially the ghosts of young or weak-willed people. Sighing inasmuch as it could, the pincushion had Muriegro wade into the shallows; the voice became louder and a bit more clear, but it was still impossible to get one word in three. A bit more mental nudging, and the obedient man was moving into the deeper areas, treading water as best he could in a robe.
The almost-shrill tones of a little girl's voice filled Laguja's consciousness again. "Oh, good, you're finally here! I'm so excited, aren't you? It's going to be so nice to get out of here finally. I mean, I loved this lake, but it gets soooo old after a while, especially if you drowned in it, you know?"
For the first time, Laguja actually contributed to the conversation. "What exactly do you intend to do, and what did you need me for? I was under the impression that as far as you were aware, you were just a normal little girl."
The response was odd. Two voices replied, both the same voice and both speaking at the same time; someone less adept and practiced with mental communication might not have been able to make out either, but Laguja was easily able to separate out:
"What do you mean? I am just a normal girl. I just died is all. I asked you to come here because my idea was to let you figure out what to do!"
"Things become clearer in death. I brought you here to I could borrow some of your power and let me be more than a soul bound to a skeleton."
The pincushion was equally taken aback by both responses, as well as by the fact that there had been two responses at once. It stopped to form a reply, but before it could get one out, it felt a slight draining sensation. Before it could say anything, the sensation was gone; not wanting to take any chances, however, Laguja ordered its servant back out of the water. Muriegro complied, and before long he was standing on the shore again. He shook himself, trying to get at least some of the moisture out of his waterlogged robes and turned back to the lake.
Things were as still and calm as they used to be for several minutes as Muriegro sunned himself and Laguja thought. As they did so, though, a small hand appeared on the shore of the lake. The priest leapt to his feet, and a little girl hauled herself onto the ground. It wasn't what the pincushion had expected: she was a normal-looking girl in a yellow dress and white pinafore, curly brown hair pulled back into two tight pigtails. There was nothing skeletal about her at all as she beamed up at the hooded figure in front of her and bubbled "Thanks! I don't know what you did, but it sure worked!".
Laguja gradually became aware that if it didn't focus directly on the girl, it could see her as she really was: an ambulatory skeleton with scraps of slick flesh hanging off her and the Endorphic Core lodged in her ribcage. But as long as the focus was on her, she was just a cute little girl in nice but slightly old-fashioned clothes.
Lily clasped her hands and smiled broadly. "What should we do first?"
Blackmask was frustrated; it wasn't even as though he had a very good idea of what he needed or what he needed to do for this séance or exorcism or whatever it was or was going to be, and he couldn't even find things that matched the vague ideas he had. Where were you supposed to find a sword in a manor like this, anyway? After several minutes of banging around through the various rooms on the first floor, the pirate found himself back in the entry hall. He tapped his mask pensively, pondering his next course of action; he wasn't immediately struck by anything, but something did gradually dawn on him.
Hadn't he kicked in that door? What was it doing, then, standing tall and intact as though it hadn't been touched since being installed? A few moments later, the lack of any sand on the floor became apparent as well. He was certain that there had, just a minute ago, been a small pile of ominous sand scattered at the base of the stairs, and now... Nothing. Everything in this room was as pristine as it could possibly be. Ripper grunted and tapped his foot, thinking, then moved to the entryway and experimentally kicked over the umbrella stand. It sat there, unmoving and with its contents disgorged across the floor. Just as the pirate had given up and was about to get back to his search, though, it quivered for a moment then righted itself; several of the umbrellas and canes swung in a wide arc as they returned to their resting place, barking Blackmask's shins before sliding smugly back into the stand.
Muriegro's footfalls were the only sound as he approached the lake. He approached the shore and waited for something to happen; when nothing did, he simply sat down next to an outcropping of reeds and waited. It would have been peaceful and a pleasant rest were it not for the unignorable unnatural silence and the slight sense of tension that permeated the house and its grounds. Laguja found itself wondering what the witch had brought them here for if she was just going to stay silent in her weedy grave, letting fish suck on her face.
If pincushions could blink as something suddenly dawned on them, this one would have. Not a bird or insect could be found near the manor, not a single squirrel chittered in the trees or mole tunneled through the gardens; nothing lived or moved here but silent, perfect plants. But the lake had been full of fish. Even a glance at the shallows confirmed that little glittering minnows were darting between the shadows of lily pads. It was... Well, it was weird, but it didn't seem particularly relevant or helpful. No frogs though, it noticed, or dragonflies either. Nothing you'd expect to see near a body of water like this, just the stuff in it.
As the weapon idly mulled this over, the priest trailed the tips of his fingers through the cool water. Moments after he began doing so, a faint voice floated over the lake. It was difficult to make out what it was saying, but Laguja reasoned it could only come from one person. Maybe her powers didn't extend past the lake for some reason. Ghosts and the like do sometimes have strong attachments to the place of their death, especially the ghosts of young or weak-willed people. Sighing inasmuch as it could, the pincushion had Muriegro wade into the shallows; the voice became louder and a bit more clear, but it was still impossible to get one word in three. A bit more mental nudging, and the obedient man was moving into the deeper areas, treading water as best he could in a robe.
The almost-shrill tones of a little girl's voice filled Laguja's consciousness again. "Oh, good, you're finally here! I'm so excited, aren't you? It's going to be so nice to get out of here finally. I mean, I loved this lake, but it gets soooo old after a while, especially if you drowned in it, you know?"
For the first time, Laguja actually contributed to the conversation. "What exactly do you intend to do, and what did you need me for? I was under the impression that as far as you were aware, you were just a normal little girl."
The response was odd. Two voices replied, both the same voice and both speaking at the same time; someone less adept and practiced with mental communication might not have been able to make out either, but Laguja was easily able to separate out:
"What do you mean? I am just a normal girl. I just died is all. I asked you to come here because my idea was to let you figure out what to do!"
"Things become clearer in death. I brought you here to I could borrow some of your power and let me be more than a soul bound to a skeleton."
The pincushion was equally taken aback by both responses, as well as by the fact that there had been two responses at once. It stopped to form a reply, but before it could get one out, it felt a slight draining sensation. Before it could say anything, the sensation was gone; not wanting to take any chances, however, Laguja ordered its servant back out of the water. Muriegro complied, and before long he was standing on the shore again. He shook himself, trying to get at least some of the moisture out of his waterlogged robes and turned back to the lake.
Things were as still and calm as they used to be for several minutes as Muriegro sunned himself and Laguja thought. As they did so, though, a small hand appeared on the shore of the lake. The priest leapt to his feet, and a little girl hauled herself onto the ground. It wasn't what the pincushion had expected: she was a normal-looking girl in a yellow dress and white pinafore, curly brown hair pulled back into two tight pigtails. There was nothing skeletal about her at all as she beamed up at the hooded figure in front of her and bubbled "Thanks! I don't know what you did, but it sure worked!".
Laguja gradually became aware that if it didn't focus directly on the girl, it could see her as she really was: an ambulatory skeleton with scraps of slick flesh hanging off her and the Endorphic Core lodged in her ribcage. But as long as the focus was on her, she was just a cute little girl in nice but slightly old-fashioned clothes.
Lily clasped her hands and smiled broadly. "What should we do first?"