The Shop

>Don't let this get you down. Saxophone music in the dark, you dig?

>Maybe if we make this one extra emotional, the items might stop fighting

>Throw a Dramatic Rock at the eye

>Search frantically for the other two volumes of Magical Lore You had one Right There. If you can Volume 3 again, All you need is the First Volume which is also, paradoxically, the Final Volume

Get a pile of things. Then try to pile them by color, size, shape, weight, smell, material of construction, and see if that helps! It's time for SCIENCE damn it!

> Hey, if they're sentinet, why not.. just ask them to group together? They might not like the way they're being grouped.

>Don't let this get you down. Saxophone music in the dark, you dig?

>Maybe if we make this one extra emotional, the items might stop fighting

In the dark, you play an emotional song
Behind the melody, the sounds of scraping and shuffling furniture can be heard.

>Throw a Dramatic Rock at the eye

You take a rock from its bag and throw it at where you think the eye is.
It screams dramatically as it hits its mark.



Rock B:
"MARTHA."




The lights return.

> Hey, if they're sentinet, why not.. just ask them to group together? They might not like the way they're being grouped.

Asche:
"Now I don't mean to alarm you but..."



"Everything's gone."



"Shelves, items... THE EXIT...
But you know. No reason for alarm. At all."

>Even we're at a loss how we screwed up this badly.

Um... Doot?
Try to attract attention from whatever's lurking here

>Someone's gonna take the fall for this, but it ain't gonna be you, see? Pin this all on that patsy Asche. Berate the pinhead for messing up so badly. Also, you're a 1930s Era mobster, for some reason. Got a fedora?

>"listen here you dumb-wooden-cyclops-lookin ass bitch shiz door, I'll fuckin honk ya into the gosh dang statosphere if you don't stop this black magic, witchcraftian shit, you flat fuck."

>Examine Incubator while threatening door.

Damn right there's no need for alarm, Your job here is done. Doot ye up an exit hole

>Even we're at a loss how we screwed up this badly.

Asche:
"Ok, let's take a step back. Think things through, yeah?
The things here might be petty, but they aren't aggressive. I mean, not without reason.

So — Let's not aggravate them any more than we need?"

>"listen here you dumb-wooden-cyclops-lookin ass bitch shiz door, I'll fuckin honk ya into the gosh dang statosphere if you don't stop this black magic, witchcraftian shit, you flat fuck."

Asche:
"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?!"

>Examine Incubator while threatening door.

The incubator has shattered.
In its place is a Lesser Wing of the Black Sun.


Lesser Wing of the Black Sun has joined your party.
Gem of Transmogrification has been returned to your inventory.

Asche:
"Huh, and who's this cute fellow?"

>Someone's gonna take the fall for this, but it ain't gonna be you, see? Pin this all on that patsy Asche. Berate the pinhead for messing up so badly. Also, you're a 1930s Era mobster, for some reason. Got a fedora?

You berate Asche, astounded by the incompetence he has displayed so far.

Asche:
"Excuse you? I'm not the one bloody throwing things about and trying to START FIGHTS WITH THE SCARY DOOR."

Um... Doot?
Try to attract attention from whatever's lurking here

Asche:
"Oh."

Damn right there's no need for alarm, Your job here is done. Doot ye up an exit hole

You attempt to doot a tear in the fabric of reality.
However, it seems you yet lack the skill to do this.

>slAP HAND "nO, you do not touch my beautiful lock of real hair. Buy me dinner first, take me to a godamn movie. Chill."

>The shadow hand dispenses the worst punishment imaginable. A wet willy and a wedgie. Serves you right.
Or
>Alert the shadow hand that it was really Asche that drove you to your outburst. The hand thanks you and goes after Asche.

>Look door we can do this the easy way or the hard way
>and we're really hoping you pick the hard way, cause if theres one place that can handle our worst its this empty void right here.

> *doots of fear*

> Vicious headpats await.

Name Lesser Wing Frank.
Use Transmogrification Gem on a Saxophone. Transmogrify it into 2 saxophones

Name Lesser Wing O'pinion, then release one of your saxophones from your servitude and observe what it does as a new resident of the Storeroom

Name Lesser Wing O'pinion, then release one of your saxophones from your servitude and observe what it does as a new resident of the Storeroom

Is that a bird joke? Because if so that's hysterical and I second it.

Is that a bird joke? Because if so that's hysterical and I second it.

Everything is a bird joke.

> *doots of fear*

>slAP HAND "nO, you do not touch my beautiful lock of real hair. Buy me dinner first, take me to a godamn movie. Chill."

In panic, you violently reject the door's hand.

>Alert the shadow hand that it was really Asche that drove you to your outburst. The hand thanks you and goes after Asche.

Asche has been knocked out.

Name Lesser Wing Frank.

Name Lesser Wing O'pinion

The Lesser Wing is now named Frank O'pinion!

Use Transmogrification Gem on a Saxophone. Transmogrify it into 2 saxophones

The gem is unable to fulfill this command. It patiently rests inside one of your instruments.

Release one of your saxophones from your servitude and observe what it does as a new resident of the Storeroom

>Look door we can do this the easy way or the hard way
>and we're really hoping you pick the hard way, cause if theres one place that can handle our worst its this empty void right here.

The door waits in silence.

Um!! Don't violence in front of the kid!! We have little Frank to take care of now!! Let's teach it our name

Welp, you asked for it door.
>Mildly forbidden doot time
(Since actually forbidden doot might have terrible consequences for the poor schmuck over there. And our robot here.)

>give the door pinkeye by farting on his eyeball. "Biological warfare, motherfucker."

Time to get smart! Whip out a sax and play the SONG OF OPENING, it's only four notes, it's simple! E. C. E. D. Then play it backwards to close the door, so it knows who's boss. D. E. C. E.