wierdw

[Closed] Lost RPG

Ember heaved a big, weary sigh.

"Being beautiful's my BUSINESS dahling. If you weren't at least a little intrigued, I didn't do a good job-- but from now on, mind mine and other's privacy-- rest assured, when I'm not sunburnt and seasoaked, the fire I conjure is a lot hotter than that little potwarmer dahling. Even a construct might find it unpleasant.'

Ember tilted his head discretely. He had head rumors of sentient constructs, and read treatises on simple ones used as 'anchor prostheses' for mages who had, through one way or another, been 'discorporeated'. Some magicians in poor health used them as proxies with powerful sending circles to do daily tasks while their withered bodies stayed home. Then there was the nasty business of killer magicians using them as disposable muscle. He discretely wondered which this individual was, but felt best not to pry. Surely one animated by a sending would just be written off, and a new one constructed... maybe this one was sentimental, or specially prepared somehow? Surely, this wasn't a mythical homunculus doll... surely not.

Artificial souls were mere conjecture!

'Oh well-- FINE. Just never do it again.'

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"Smouldering dahling... Smouldering..." ember cooed, despite the nausea. The nausea still made it into the tone, despite his best efforts. "... And I don't recall giving you a card--- Quite impressive though, a man in a chair, felling a tree like that."

He sucked in a deep breath. Slowly but surely, he could feel his own vigor returning.

"Sonia took a brawny bunch with her some time ago. I'd have joined them if I had been up to it, but sadly... That she-bitch of the saline persuasion took a bit more out of me than I imagined possible-- but I should be recovered enough to actually be useful here in a bit. Until then, I will busy myself with this light work."

[Closed] Lost RPG

@Pakde@A5G@Eviledd1984

Ember rubbed his head, then settled back in to nursing the cookfire. Despite his attempts to approach the horrid beggar woman, she seemed so much more vital than he did, and effortlessly evaded him without even attempting it. He would corner her and interrogate her later. --once his head cleared--

As for joining a search party, the idea of wandering off sounded both exciting in its prospects, as well as horrid in the same.

On the one hand, there was a chance at getting out of the sun, perhaps finding a natural source of water to wash off in, and generally an opportunity to shine-- the latter being something he very seldom shied away from.

On the other-- His head was swimming, he felt mildly nauseous, and he doubted very much that he could do much more than spurt some pretty sparkles from his wand at the moment. It would take him several hours of taking it easy to get back his proper vigor, at the least.

"You needn't worry about that too much, Sonia dahling... I wanted to apologize for my rash behavior; Rest assured, I'm already paying a heavy price..." Ember once more nursed his head, then poked another stick into the cookfire, before looking back up at Sonia. "I'll be quite content to say behind for the time being.. I'm afraid I've gone and tuckered myself out. I'd be more liability than asset, I fear-- but I can still make myself useful. I'll see what I can do with the resources we have-- such as they are-- and as my head clears, see that those we've found at least aren't wearing tatty rags..." Once more his thoughts drifted toward the spry beggar woman, and he fumed inwardly. He would find out where she got those from, for sure. Preferably once she returned, and that energy of hers had been used up, and his rekindled.

He leaned over to his more furtive companion in the goat-skull ensemble, and answered his query honestly, but discretely.

"I'm afraid not dahling. It will be some time before I'm ready to go off on an adventure. At the very least, I can keep an eye on the more ...unstable... of our number, and keep them out of trouble. Were you looking for something dahling? That was quite a show... I wish I had that kind of energy at the moment."

Despite his mild nausea, he knew he really did need to eat something. After a more than a moment of hesitation, he extracted one of the seared fish skewers from the edge, and timidly nibbled at it.

He sat still and silent by the fire, continuing to nibble, and sipping at the coconut vivian had given him, while the others formed a small party, and departed, leaving him and a number of other castaways behind.

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"... Ezekiel you say? ... A bit .. 'old-fashioned' isn't it?" mused Ember bemusedly.

"Well, once i've had a chance to rest up a bit, I could see about mending your robes dahling... I take great pride and care in the... care... of.. my work....."

Ember trailed off, completely taken by surprise by what had just darted in front of him. That filthy beggar woman that had been lounging outside his quarters aboard ship had clearly not only survived, but had clearly found one of his missing spring pieces.

Worse still, she was... smearing it with..... FISH GREASE.. like it was some common rag from the gutter. THAT WAS MEANT TO BE ON A HOTTIE'S TIGHT LITTLE BOTTOM, NOT ACCEPTING FILTHLY FISH JUICES!! AND THAT BUNDLE! THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE TIGHTLY WRAPPED AROUND A TASTEFUL SET OF BOSOMS, NOT SOME COLLECTION OF OLD RUBBISH!!

The surge of emotion combined with his weakened constitution, in a momentary darkening of his vision as his blood pressure spiked, and the vagal response kicked in, sending him to the sandy ground on his bottom with a thud.

Dazed, his head swam, and for a single blessed moment, he felt maybe he had just hallucinated it, and that he just needed to rest and drink more coconut water... But he rubbed his eyes, and looked again as his momentary loss of verticality dissipated. It was quite plain-- It was not a mere hallucination. Worse, the vile creature was picking her nose, and rubbing it on the bright orange trousers, along with the greasy fish juice. He felt nauseous, but summoned the power to get to his feet, then staggered toward the abominable visage of the woman...

"If you'll excuse me sir.... I need to take care... of some business...."

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Ember stooped pitifully near the fire, gently poking sticks into it every now and then, thankful for the fact, that for once, it was not something sustained entirely by magic.

He was positively drained, and probably couldn't manage more than a sputtering, and uncontrolled burst of pitiful flames had he been in the position to be trying that. The sticks were a perfectly tractable, and entirely practical, (if undignified) option, and he was very thankful for it being available.

"It sure beats sitting on the beach, in this insufferable sun all day. At least there'd be shade... Maybe we'd get lucky, and find a lake to get the salt off us. I can positively FEEL my skin puckering up like a priest of chastity at a bacchanal. We wont even discuss my hair..."

He turned to the 'very obviously a practitioner of the necromantic arts', appraising his tattered but still very apparent costume, and spoke in a hushed, private tone so that only the recipient would hear.

'I wouldn't dahling-- We have the superstitious types in our number.. The last thing we need, is a coup because somebody's dead husband is shambling around outside mucking out a latrine. If it were just us dahling, I wouldn't mind, but we must think about these things, given our circumstances. ...I'd rather not end up in a fire... Speaking of-- I never made your acquaintance-- I'm ember-- Transfigurist, and illusionist-- I specialize in fashion. ...Despite appearances... I can tell from your attire what your specialty is dahling--- I've designed similar numbers for some of my clients-- but I'm at a disadvantage for your name--"

[Closed] Lost RPG

Ember had heard enough. Sonia was trying honey, when what was needed was a bear. There was no reasoning with superstition and fear.

Sucking in his upper lip, he forced an iron composure on himself, then did his best to stride, (rather than stumble and stagger), toward Sonia and the unnamed woman, allowing his countenance to grow frightful and bewitching, working the more subtle of the magics involved in magical persuasion to fall into place around him. His appearance did not change at all, but the perception he was something powerful, eldritch, and otherworldly grew.

In the few moments it took to cross the distance, it had reached about as much strength as he had to muster, and he hoped it would do.

'Madam.' He said sharp and flat, the magic wriggling itself into the spoken words, turning them into a vehicle that drove them past the woman's defenses.

'Listen to the woman, if you know what's good for you-- There's only ONE witch around here, and it's ME.'

Terror gripped the woman like a vice, as pallor bloomed on her overexerted face. She made futile attempts at the talisman around her neck.

'That wont help you much here, madam.' Ember continued, pouring more strength into the invisible aura of terror he was projecting. 'Be careful throwing false accusations of witchcraft, my dear-- you might attract a real one, and they arent always as ... nice... as I.'

He relaxed the aura slightly before continuing.

'Madam. Powerful as even I am, i recognise when my talents are insufficient. The nice lady with the horns and piercing eyes, is just the sort we need--'

Protest and riteous anger welled in the woman's face, threatenting to overpower the magically induced terror trance, so he turned it back up again.

'Disbelieve it all you want, but it is so, Sonia here--Yes, she has a name, dahling-- is not magically inclined. That's MY speciality. No, she's a professional huntress, fur trapper, and monster hunter. The things that strike terror in the night? She dispatches them. It is often said that the divine works in mysterious ways, and that there is nothing that cannot be bent to serve its will. Does it not occur to you, that perhaps your prayer has been answered, and you are sending away your 'miracle'?'

Once more, he relaxed the aura slightly, giving the woman's mind just enough room to move again.

'Isn't curious, that when you washed up on this beach, you would find a person who is not only naturally hard to knock down, resistent to thirst or hunger, and most importantly of all, posessing the very skills needed to provide you with food, water, shelter, and those needed to find your missing gentleman?'

He relaxed the aura just a little more.

'Sure sounds like 'divine providence' to me...'

Then, just a little more.

'But what would I know about omens... i'm just a 'witch'.'

Then he relaxed it even more, now just berely projecting hidden menace.

'This nice woman may well be your ticket off this cursed island. I can guarantee you, life will be most harsh if you reject your 'miracle' dahling. I strongly suggest, that if she tells you to do something, you listen.

He turned to walk away, back up the beach, craneing his head over his shoulder.

'And if you positively MUST be in abject terror of somebody trying to help you, be in terror of the correct one. Terror is a horrid thing, and a powerful weapon, when weilded by those who know how. You would be well served, not to use that word in my presence again. Better served still, to overcome your fear entirely. Now stop endangering all of us with your disharmony, and come have a drink. Sonia found us some coconuts. I shall open one for you....DONT make me compell you again. We shall search for your man later.'

Then he released the aura completely, feeling the exertion of the effort taking its toll, but concealing it, as he once more, fought his body, harder this time, to 'stride' up the beach, and back to the encampment, leaving the woman and child in Sonia's company.

He would apologise to Sonia in private later.

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Ember's face contorted at the hysterical outbursts of the woman. He had not made her acquaintance, but her behavior rubbed him raw, and his nerves were shot to begin with. This woman being a rabid contrarian out of wild, uncontrolled fear and doubt would imperil all of them, not just herself or her child. He hated the idea of stealing Sonia's thunder; robbing her of the chance to take charge of this situation, as was required for there to be any hope of their living long enough to be rescued-- but permitting this transgression was not something to be entertained, no matter his foibles. He would formally apologize later, in private. Perhaps in public too, if it was necessitated. People could be dumb cattle some times.

He waited a moment, sucking in an angry breath, to see how Sonia would handle this, then gripped his wand and stood up...

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Ember held back the impulsive urge to rip the coconut from the girl's grasp and down it in one shot like a sorority girl at a drinking party, instead accepting it gracefully, then sipping it slowly, feeling the tepid liquid go down, and set to work on the burning of his insides.

He trembled a moment as it took effect, before looking obviously relieved.

"Thank you dahling..." he breathed, before setting the empty shell of the fruit down. "I must look like a ghastly sea-hag, dressed in this... .this...." he shuddered, and sighed, before turning behind him, flicking his wand at the encrusted trunk, which sent the kelp splattering to the sides and behind, as it flung open. Carefully, he appraised the insides, pleased to see that they were unharmed from their turbulent encounter with that salty slut of an ocean, and her temper tantrum. He extracted the hand mirror, opened it, then let out a mortified, almost shrilly inaudible shriek.

"Oh gawd.... It's worse than I thought!... Just LOOK what that bitch did to my hair!.... " Involuntarily, he pulled his fingers through the matted, frizzled, and completely soiled red locks, now devoid of any volume, bounce, or shine, as it clung wet and limp to his head and body in small streaks.

Seemingly invigorated by the small draught of coconut water he had consumed, the erudite mage gripped his wand with a stern faced intensity that just screamed "Fuck around and find out", then set to work transfiguring the mound of filth that still surrounded his foot locker.

Orange hued flares erupted from the sizzling wet kelp, amid puffs of steam, and angry hissing, as strips of the kelp were transfigured into thin strands of fiber that clung and fluttered gently in the light ocean breeze while he worked.

In a matter of minutes, the miraculous transformation of a good portion of the kelp into an undyed broad wrap and sunveil, with light fabric high boots was complete, but the mage seemed dissatisfied.

"Not my finest work..." he muttered. "Needs some color..Too plain..."

He cast an eye down at the sand of the beach, scooped up a handful of it, and rubbed it between his fingers.

"Well, let's see what we have to work with. Beggars aren't choosers, dahling....." he muttered to himself, before pointing his wand downward into the outstretched palm of his hand, where the wet ball of yellowish sand lay, sending it floating into the air. Moments later, he was holding his wand with two hands, focused intensely on the sandy ball, as it heated, fumed, hissed, and became encrusted in a white rind of molten calcerous mineral. He made a disgusted frowning expression. "Deplorable. I can get better from my back yard." he cursed under his breath, before giving the wand a flick, sending the hot, white rind of the orange-hot molten glob to the ground where it hit with a hiss. A small orb of molten 'something' still hung in the air, which he expertly twitched his wand at with subtle movements, causing it to deform, split in two, then reshape into ornate shapes, before cooling into an almost black shade of green glass, which he expertly wove onto the otherwise colorless gown as a pair of dark contrasting buckles for the cloth boots.

Fatigue suddenly made his hands begin to falter and tremble, and he abruptly sat down, sending the levitating clothing objects to the ground with a 'floof'.

"Curse this place..." he muttered.

After a moment of pouting, he leaned up, then set about helping vivian with fire tending, looking longingly at the new clothes from time to time, with a pained, saddened expression.

He desperately wanted to get out of these filthy rags, but dirty and brine soaked as he was, it would only serve to soil the new garments. He needed a bath, and was too tired to set about it at the moment.

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Ember made a scowl at the foul man's cheeky attempt at humor at his expense, and sent a sticky glob of the seaweed clinging to him in the man's direction with a forceful extension of his wand, while continuing his struggle to get further up the beach.

"Really, I hadn't noticed." he snarked, before continuing. "And thinking of such extreme, outlandish prospects is foolish. If it WERE another planet, I very much doubt it would look like anything we are used to."

and with that, he mentally tuned the man out. Seeing Vivian and her former bunkmate up ahead, his heart lifted. At least there would be some INTELLIGENT company to while away the time with. The memory that her companion was a professional huntress flicked in his mind, and it gave him a momentary bit of relief. He knew full well he had no clue how to rough it out here. ...

...Wherever "here" was...

He turned back at the stiff gaited man, now removing seaweed from the back of his head. Ember was positive this was NOT "another planet."

"Vivian, dahling--- I'm SOOO happy to see you--- And you too dear--- Sonia was it?"

Vivian was sipping water from a halved coconut,and he was immediately jealous. His mouth was parched, and his insides literally ached from having been full of seawater earlier.

"You don't have another of those do you dahling?"

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Ember awoke in a tangled mat of brown, slimy, and not pleasant to smell seaweed. It clung around and to him, in a mockery of the mermaid costume he had conjured up for his "Maiden voyage" send off.

Now, "Sent Off".

Groaning, and with aches in places he had no clue one could even ache in, he staggered to his knees, and reeled against the beating sun, as the waves lapped at his legs and feet. His skin was raw, and his pajamas were soaked, stained, and torn.

Feeling about himself, he found he still had his wand, though it too was completely enmeshed in the brown ball of gooey plantlife he found himself bound up in-- as if the ocean had heaved back, and coughed up a giant festering ball of snot, with him inside it.

He was still clutching the foot locker, but one would never have been able to tell. The weedy growth had nucleated around it, which is how he himself had become so entangled. Traces of the ice raft melted under the gentle lapping of the surf, as it swished the slimy mass this way and that around him.

Disgustedly, he retched, and heaved up a stomach of swallowed sea water.

He felt well and truly miserable.

Casting a dour expression out at the sea, he raised a fist at the now sublime and calm blue-green ocean, and raged at it.

"Blast you, you fickle, deep-trenched watery tart! Go and cough *ME* up in this ball of filth from your nethers, and not a single one of my babies! I'd tell you to go suck a whale, but you do it every day, you filthy whore! You've dragged more men down there than--"

He cut off, as he heard a strained, gurgling coughing sound coming from further up the beach.

"--DONT think I'm finished with you, you soggy strumpet! I'll have my vengeance yet!" he spat, then struggled to his feet, then up the shore, pausing only momentarily to summon the (still completely ensnared in seaweed) foot locker to follow behind him, illiciting an image of a demented seamonster slithering behind him, rather than a levitating trunk.

Wandering toward the coughing, ember lurched and staggered in the sand, with the undulating mass following in his wake.