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Glarifyur shakes the nervous feeling associated with his mind leaving his body and remembers that he is a Pathfinder now; gambling for one's life essence and leaving your body behind to adventure in dreams must be commonplace for Pathfinders.
"It's no stranger than the rest of what we have seen in this desert city. Let's get to it, then"
Glarifyur slings his shield over his back and takes a seat on one of the cushions laid in a circle. He cracks his neck side to side, and takes a deep breath as he closes his eyes and attempts to relax.
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Bugdip sits uncomfortably on a cushion, his bum sliding this way and that. "Is this thing essential to the ritual?" he asks at last, before discarding the cushion and squatting on the ground like a proper amphibian.
He also asks for a glass of water, and douses himself with it for good measure.
"Mindscape... such strange terms," notes Bugdip, equal parts nervous and excited, "Well, let's do it - or as the dwarves say, ның титанов ебать мүмкіндік!" For once, Bugdip gets it right.
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A sudden thought occurred to Vorathan as the group nestled into their positions around in a circle.
"So just to be clear Captain, we are going into a state of mind, and you will be able to 'see' what our minds project? If that be the case, please forgive any improper scenes you may discover on my behalf. It's true that I normally can filter my thoughts before words but it may be difficult to, let say censor my raw emotions, as it were and I hope to not to have my last image of a gorgeous woman fall prey to my charms becoming a distraction."
Vorathan says this with a coy little smile.
I can only image what's in store for us when sharing our minds, if Nugats' description is a preview for what's to come. What happens if we fall asleep? Do we dream? Would that be a dream in a dream or should that create a link moving our normal bodies?! .... Better focus on not doing anything indecent with our Venture Captain, that will kill any chance for sure.
"You know, Nugats, the ability to fly may come in handy. But hopefully the imaginations of our foes are not able to conjure abilities at will against us as well."
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Bugdip wrings his hands nervously at the delay in the ritual casting. "I hope everything's alright," he says to his companions.
"But I'm probably just being impatient. As Glory-Fur told me the Dwarves say, 'теңіз төмендесе, ал, тау күтеді. Қашан жел соққы жұмыс орны, оң жанартау атқылайды.'", he somewhat misquotes.
Eventually the pathfinders all sit in the arranged circle. Wulessa walks around the room, lighting candles and snuffing out all other lights. Several of Wulessa's assistants move into the room quickly, do a quick once over, and then leave. The sound of a deadbolt slamming shut can be heard, and the pathfinders feel a calming sense of security that while they travel through the mindscape, their bodies will be well defended.
At least from the outside.
Eventually Wulessa sits down herself, completing the circle. She unrolls a scroll from the archive before her.
"Please everyone, join hands." She says with a wink to Vorathan on her left, and Nugats on her right as she holds her hands out. Once everyone has linked hands, she closes her eyes and begins a sing-songy chant in a soft, soothing voice. She continues on for what feels like a very long time, but is, in fact, only a minute or two.
As Wulessa Yuul finishes her invocation, she bows her head over the unfurled scroll, and the room falls silent. The only thing breaking the quiet is the snapping of the curtains, billowing in a heavy wind. Curiously, the breeze does not stir any other fabrics in the room; even the Monadistic Archive’s scroll lies flat on the floor. The doors remain sealed, and there is no sign the seance achieved its goal.
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Wulessa holds a delicate yet firm hand out to Vorathan which he gladly accepts. He relaxes and tries to focus on the sound of her voice really not understanding what she is saying and half expecting a flash of mystical light or cloud of smoke to encircle the group whisking them away to a psychedelic colored dreamland where Nugats floats overhead playing a yellow tambourine. Vorathan can't help but have a slight grin at the thought.
Well I better keep it together, if this works there is no telling if thoughts become real in this plane of existence.
At the end of the chant everything is silent and Vorathan can help but look around with a semi-disappointed glance to the lack of great spectacle to the supposedly entering of the Mindscape.
Did it work?! Are we there? I didn't see anything happen...but what is up with the window dressings? I could have sworn the windows were shut when we came in, but I don't recall someone opening them.
"Did someone open a window? The curtains are about to come off the wall but yet the wind has not much effect beyond the window frame. Are we in the Mindscape? Nugats can you fly?!"
Vorathan says with a smile to Nugats, keeping in place and remaining still ahold of the hands of his comrades at his sides.
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Ah s+#~. Not next to Bugdip. His hands are probably slimy and gross and smelly, and I don't want to hold hands with a frog dude. Not Bugdip, not Bugdip. S@&#! Bugdip.
Smiling half-heartedly, the gnome reaches out and grasps the grippli's outstretched limb.
What the hell is it? A hand? A foot? A paw? What the ...
His thought left incomplete as the chanting of Wulessa creeps over Nugats. The rise and fall, the steady meter, all contribute to him falling asleep.
Soft snores can be heard from the gnome as his chest gently rises and falls in rhythm to her chanting.
As Vorathan turns to talk to him, the sudden sound bust startles him into an awakened state.
"Wha? Huh? Fly? Yeah, I can fly. Watch this."
Nugats moves to the highest place he can find in the room, and leaps off, arms fully outstretched.
And lands flat on his face in a sickening 'Thud'
The sound of his reply is muffled as his face remains firmly embedded in the plush Tien carpet.
"N-o-p-e"
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Bugdip smiles as Nugats warmly grabs his hand. He presses his finger suckers in to the gnome's flesh in the traditional way and smiles to his friend.
"Oooh, flying sounds like fun!" Bugdip makes a show of leaping up and down in the middle of the room. He then settles down and thinks for a moment, willing himself up instead of trying to move his actual limbs. He imagines the floor getting further and further away from his body, his companions still attached to the floor as they too become more and more distant...
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Picking himself up from the carpet, Nugats is just in time to see the end of the Grippli's acrobatic display. Blood and snot running down his mouth and chin from a broken nose, he wipes it with the hand that was holding Bugip's hand so we created a slimy river of snot, blood, and Grippli mucus.
"As my dad always said, Тас өздерін бұзуға жиналады емес."
Nugats moves over to the door and throws the deadbolt open.
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With all the commotion of face planting Dwarven eaglettes and dancing toads, Vorathan takes a closer look at the flapping window curtains trying to determine where the wind is coming from.
"Well Nugats, I sure your father would be proud that you fly much like a stone."
Unsheathing his short sword, Vorathan uses it to carefully move each curtain back to see what hides behind, taking care to notice any anomalies indicating an unwanted device. As he looks, he catches his reflection in the glass and takes the opportunity to inspect his appearance taking careful aim at his beard.
Ugh, it has been far too long since I have shaved, I'm starting to become unkept as an outcast halfdwarf beggar! May have to take a moment if this Mindscape journey has not began to right this most awful wrong!
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As Wulessa's chant comes to an end, Glarifyur sits in silence for a moment. He sniffs the air, gingerly at first, then in deep whiffs, but all he can smell is sweat, incense and a faint aroma of dragonfly puree. Without moving, he cracks his left eye open and surveys the room in time to see Nugats leap and fall ungraciously on his face and Bugdip stretched out to his full length, in itself an odd sight, apparently trying to levitate.
"Is this the effects of the Mindscape, Venture-Captain? Some of us go mad and believe they can fly? " Glarifyur turns to ask Wulessa as he stands and stretches. He takes note of the curtains and follows Vorathan to the window to investigate.
To Bugdip's dismay, he does not, in fact, levitate. However the stretch feels good on his amphibion muscles. The spector of Nugats lying flat on the floor is slightly unnerving. The gnome dwarf wiggles his face and shakes his sore nose as he stands up.
Nugats moves over to the door and attempts to throw the deadbolt, but finds that even though he can see it, it doesn't move. Actually, he can't even grab it, as it appears nothing more than a well done drawing, or artwork representing a deadbolt and door. There is, in fact, no door at all.
The curtains whip in the breeze, but interestingly, nothing else in the room moves from the air. Not even the scroll Wulessa was reading from that sits motionless in the center of the circle. Glarifyur and Vorathan find nothing hiding behind the curtains.
Wulessa continues to sit on the floor, slumped over and unmoving. She does not answer Glarifyur when he speaks to her.
At least for a few moments.
Suddenly the figure in the center of the room throws her head back, revealing ghastly nightmarish features. In an otherworldly voice she screams, "You have fallen into my trap, and now I shall feast upon your innards!"
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Stepping around his Grippli friend, Nugats extends his hands to his side, palms down. Earth shoots through the floorboards, dust coalesces off of the objects in the room, and all speed towards Nugats. Quickly the swirling mass of earth orbiting the gnome forms into a wedge-shaped earthen arrow head above him. Extending both hands towards his Venture Captain, the earthen arrowhead screams towards her,
"Hope I don't get in trouble for this, you still gonna write me a letter of recommendation when this is over, right?"
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Edgar nearly stumbles back in shock and fear. Had Wulessa been this creature all along, and hidden her true self from them, or had this place changed her somehow? He could not calm his brain enough to process either thought and instead springs forward toward nightmare made flesh. As he steps close, he pulls free the slender blade and lashes out. His mind as reeling as his arm thrusts forward, unsure if he and his friends should move against Wulessa and risk possibly hurting her somewhere beyond this dreamscape in the real world.
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It never fails! There's always a trap!!
The once cordial voice of the Captain falls away to this possessed darkened sound that reaches Vorathan's ears and makes him turn about just as his companions loose their magic on the beast. Rattus then steps in with a mighty blade slicing to and fro with a true swordsman's skill allowing Vorathan clean opportune for a strike of his own.
The rogue moves in to flank the threat before him, aiming his short sword with care to leave more than just a flesh wound.
"I was never one to enjoy striking a lady, but my innards are nay for feasting!"
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Of course... Magic always leads into trouble.
Whatever has happened to their surroundings, it looks like it's not too different from the normal world. At least his companions attempts for unusual means of movement had failed quite badly. Then, a fight is a fight, and Tybain feels right at home.
The man takes a quick step forwards, and dives at Wulessa, using a circular kick to make the creature lose its footing.
"What manner of creature is this? "
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Bugdip longs to streak into battle, but he realizes that - in this case - he is probably best served staying out of it. This is a strange sensation for the grippli. He always felt he was destined for the melee, like his hero Finarin. However, his skills are not on par with his companions - and his rapier does a pathetic amount of damage. He really needs to figure out how to add some spell-power to his blade when he strikes.
"I do not know," Bugdip shrugs in response to Tybain, "Most human-esque humanoids look alike to me. Pretty sure she's not one of those! Not anymore anyway."
Bugdip wrote: @Vorathan: Lockwood provided. @Tybain: Lockwood provided. @Lockwood: Look at your bad self, moving on your own. Shaddup :) I had to grow up sometime
-Posted with Wayfinder
The pathfinders swarm on the turned venture captain. Bugdip knocks her slightly off balance with his magical blast, and Edgar flashes in with his rapier. Vorathan comes up behind her, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. As soon as the hag is distracted by Edgar, he sticks his blade in her kidney. Tybain follows up with a sweeping kick to her calf muscles which causes the monster to fly up into the air.
All during this, Nugats summons his connection to the earth, pulling everything from bits of dust in the air to the sand and clumps of dirt from the floor. His earthen projectile is launched towards the woman just as Tybain kicks her into the air.
Stabbed, bludgeoned and flailing, the rocky arrow connects with the hags face all in one spectacular climax of a collision. Gore, dirt and bits of haggish flesh explode across the room, and things are suddenly as quiet and still as they were before she stood up.
The pathfinders all stare at each other, still wondering what happened, when the body of what appeared to be Wulessa Yuul slowly fades into nothing but a shadowy representation before disappearing completely. The wind continues to whip the curtains about, but otherwise, the room is silent.
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The dust cloud spun up by Nugat's devastating ground attack settles and the Pathfinders are now alone in the room.
"I would ask if everyone is ok but it seems we moved so swift, she or it, had little chance but to make a quick mention of her trap being sprung before exploding. Was that Captain Yuul and did she really trap us in this Mindscape? What of our bodies? Are we still....aww Nugats! You got psycho guts and dirt all in my hair!!"
Vorathan tries to wipe as much grime as he could off but realizes it's a futile task without a proper shower. He then looks toward the middle of the room and sees the scroll with a light glow to it.
"Anyone get a magical read on this scroll? Is it a portal?"
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"Wow," says Bugdip, very impressed at his companions' continued displays of prowess, "Would not want to be her! Vorathan, I do not think that was Captain Yuul... probably just something pretending to be her once we got here. Maybe our own minds are disguising things based on our personal experiences."
Bugdip inspects the scroll but can make neither heads nor tails of it [ooc](no spellcraft, no read magic - need to fix that next level). For lack of something better to do, the grippli magus casts detect magic and scans the scroll first, then the room. If nothing else presents itself, and no-one objects, he has a go at reading from the scroll.
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For a moment, Tybain stands ready to strike Yuul as she raises - only to find out this is not going to happen. His companion's assault was efficient enough to completely obliterate the Venture Captain. Or the creature pretending to be her.
"A trap well planned, but poorly sprung. Was this creature our Venture Captain all along? Why bring us here, in this mindscape? And more importantly, how do we get back?"
Many questions, but the answers unlikely are found from his team. Tybain abandons his battle stance, and moves on to study the room in detail. Apparently the door wasn't quite a door, and thus meaningless. So best start from the windows.
Is anything real in this place?
Bugdip picks up the scroll, looking at both sides. He knows it is magical, however there is no writing on it at all. As soon as he picks it up, he knows somehow instinctively what it is.
Almost as if his subconcious told it what to be...
Vorathan and Glarifyur take another look at the window and the wind-whipped curtain. Both are perplexed by the strange winds that didn't seem to be there before.
Tybain joins them as he searches the room, the three of them convinced that there is something odd, but unable to put their finger on what that might be.
Suddenly, it all comes into focus for Glarifyur. Or perhaps, out of focus.
With a gasp, Glarifyur tries to find the words to explain his epiphany. Before he can, the stone walls of Farseer Tower melt away, replaced by warm blonde wooden wall paneling and a plush, lemon yellow carpet. A canopied bed sits between two windows, through which the spires of an grand city are visible. A small army of dolls is pushed over to a corner, its slumping forms indicating some level of neglect. Instead, the preferred playthings in this child’s room seem to be books. A row of titles line a shelf on one wall, and several opened ones lie on the bed. Opposite the bed are a closed door and an elaborate vanity table. A mirror on the vanity reflects some motion not apparent in the room itself.
The pathfinders look around to take in their surroundings. On edge from their last encounter, everyone's first reaction is to look for threats, however none are readily apparent.
Nugats tries his trick on the door to the room, same as the last room, and finds that this door has the same trick as the last room. Where there appears to be a portal, upon close inspection, is merely an optical illusion. The wall is solid and smooth, no handle, latch or opening of any kind.
Vorathan and Glarifyur try to replicate their success with the window but find this time that their experience is the same as Nugats. The windows are not portals at all, though the city beyond them seems to be only separated by a pane of glass. They both shake their heads and try to focus, but nothing changes either the scenery, or the solidity of the window that is not a window, but in fact a wall.
Tybain applies his meticulous searching to the room, just like the last one, and notices something very peculiar about the books. They all seem to be styled as children's picture books, with bright pictures and big lettering. However as he looks deeper, he realizes that the text is far more advanced than any child could read. In fact, each is an issue of the Pathfinder Chronicles, or some other well-known arcane text. Which is saying something for Tybain's disdain of magic.
Bugdip, overcome by curiosity, looks into the mirror to see if he can locate the fluttering object that does not seem to have a matching source of reflection in this room. To his surprise, he sees the adult image of Wulessa inside the glass.
Bugdip moves his left hand, and he sees Wulessa move her matching reflected hand. He then waves his right, only to see Wulessa wave her right hand. He then squats slowly, and is surprised to see her mimic his movements. Or perhaps not surprised at all.
Bugdip jumps, high in the air, truly testing the reflection. This time, however, it does not oblige. The sudden movement seems to snap the image of the venture captain out of a stupor, and she gasps with surprise, peering into the room with the six pathfinders.
"You're here! I thought, with how things had gone wrong, that perhaps you weren't trapped in here as well. I... am sorry. I think I erred in my assumptions."
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Edgar spends a moment pacing around the room, looking at the stylized picture books and taking time to peer at each of the colorful images. Nearby his attention is drawn to Bugdip seemingly dancing in front of the mirror for some unknown reason. The grippli's actions would have been odd or out of place if it weren't for how weird this situation was already. It takes a moment longer for the youth to realize that it is not Bugdip's reflection he seems to be interested in, but that of their once host, Weessa.
"Venture captain," Edgar asks, stepping close and looking at the woman intently. "Is that really you, or is it another trick of this place?"
He turns to the others, pausing for a moment to look at the each in turn to gauge how they are reacting to seeing the venture captain again. "We had a bit of trouble with something we thought was you not long ago..".
"It was quite an ordeal for us, and I'm sorry to say, I thought perhaps we had killed you. But how are you faring?" he asks genuinely. "It must be tougher for you, as you seem to be by yourself, while we are together. Or, none of are actually together, and I'm simply imagining being with my friends."
"I don't know what to believe in this place."
The youth shakes his head and looks around confused.
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Seeming to be confused in their search for things out of the norm, the room with no warning begins to change as if a shark appearing from previously empty dark water.
Well at least that confirms we are in the Mindscape, or perhaps I should have skipped those mushrooms at lunch...they did taste kind of funny.
"It seems we are now in some child's room, female perhaps? This anyone's memory who needs to get something off their chest?"
Vorathan then sees Bugdip jumping about in front of the mirror, followed by the familiar voice of the Captain freshly slain.
"My dear Wulessa, so we are to be clear, you say you're trapped in here as well? And by us talking, is it safe to assume you didn't just threaten to feast on our innards just before Nugats sprayed your grey matter across my brow? Was that not your doing and if not, who's was it?"
Vorathan finishes his comments with a quick run of his hand through his hair causing some to spike up as if coyly styled and sling his hand downward flinging brain bits about.
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After what seems to be an age, but in fact is only a few days, Aaron sets his box of Cheez-its down and checks his computer, to see some fresh posts. The rhythmic staccato of his typing echoes in the night-time peace of his living room, which during the day is a cacophony of kids playing, dogs barking, and televisions mumbling and droning.
"I'm glad Steve finally posted to the game, let's see what's going on here..."
After agonizing over his post for 15 minutes, Aaron is finally satisfied with it's contents and clicks the Submit Post button.
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"What if I wasn't making Woo-Lease-Her move before," Bugdip says, pressing one hand's fingers against the other's and analyzing the result, "What if she was moving and that made me move. What if me leaping was the first independent action I've made since we've been here? What if... what if... not even that?"
Eventually, the grippli collects himself enough to return to the mirror. "Back up a bit guys," Bugdip says, "What exactly 'went wrong'? We didn't notice anything from our end... well, until you turned into a hag!"
The reflection of Wulessa turns to Rattus as he speaks to her. Perhaps to his surprise, or perhaps not, she responds. ”Yes! It is me! Though I believe it is another trick of this place at the same time. I can feel some entity controlling the archive—I was correct in that much. But invoking the scroll seems to have caused it to add me to the archive rather than granting me access. I can feel the days of my life being transcribed. Pulled from my body and stored here. I don’t know if there will be anything left of me when it is done. I can’t even move around. I’m simply trapped inside my own memories.”
”I have been stuck here since I entered the archive, so it cannot have been me that you had trouble with earlier. I strongly suspect it was a combination of whatever is controlling this archive and your own memories. Likely the entity was trying to defend this space, and the hag, as you say, was a mental manifestation created to do just that.”
With that explanation, all of the grey matter and bits of flesh that Vorathan was convinced were matting his hair disappear in a shadowy vapor, the illusion revealed.
Wulessa turns to the dashing youth, nodding quickly to Glarifyur’s astute observation. ”Looking at where you are, yes, this is a memory. It is mine. You are standing in my bedroom from when I was a child in the city of Quantium. As you can see, I preferred books to toys, apparently destined to be a pathfinder from a young age. I would lie in bed, reading adventure stories of brave explorers and warriors. Childish treacle, but still… I think that was what sparked my ambitions to be a Pathfinder.” she chuckles nervously, blushing slightly.
Lastly, she turns to the fascinated Grippli, still struggling with the implications of his dance with the mirror. ”What went wrong, Bugdip, is that the controller of this archive is adding me to the collection, instead of letting me read and observe like I had hoped. I am pretty sure you are all fine, at least for now. You were only riding along on my invocation. I think you are only here as a side effect. When the archive is finished...emptying me, you might be released into your bodies. Or you might be trapped in here. I’m not certain.”
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"Preferred books to toys, typical nerd. Like we didn't already know based on how into she the chest she was.
"What if we break the mirror? Think that will free you? And idea how to stop the scribing of your memories? Can you think of something else? Like being back home. Try to clear your conscious, and focus your subconscious into a mask like apparition of home, and normalcy - whatever that is to you. Just no marshmallows."
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"If we break the mirror, brother dwarf, we might lose our connection and line of communication with Wulessa. I think we should hold that action as a last resort."
Glarifyur takes a good look around the room, especially focusing on the vision of the city through the window.
He notices a picture book entitled "Famous Dwarves of the Pathfinder Society" and begins to look for pictures of his father Durifyur.
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"Smart thinking, Glarifyur," Edgar says to his friend. "We do not know what will happen if this mirror breaks...."
"It could free, Wulessa. It could sever our connection with her entirely. Or, it could do something else that we have not accounted for yet. But if we cannot find any other options, or begin to run out of time, we may have to take that step."
Now turning to Nugats, the youth nods in agreement to the gnome's (though he would never call him this directly) words. Perhaps Wulessa has some ideas on how to stop the scribing process that seems to be unraveling her very existence and transposing it into some prison of the mind.
"If this is a memory of yours, does that mean you are thinking of it now?" he asked, trying to collect his train of throught but becoming hopefully confused when trying to process the logic of this place. "Can you think of another memory, some other time or place that will put us all together again? I doubt you can control this place but maybe it's worth a shot..."
"That or we shatter that mirror and let the pieces fall where they may..."
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With a magical fade, the filth disturbing Vorathan has disappeared leaving his features much more to his approval.
An illusion huh, based on my memories...waaaaait.
"Hold on, so if this place is formulations based on our memories and I just 'imagined' my hair maimed by brains, which nicely melts away after the illusion is revealed, why could Nugats not fly?! I'm sure he believed enough since, last I check, diving head first into the floorboards is no new Dwarven pastime."
Vorathan takes a look around quickly and deduces deeper.
"Wulessa claims this place is adding her 'knowledge' to the archive thus this lemon level of hell we now abide, let's think why. True, this time must have been full of learning for her which explains the books abound and I doubt she herself consciously controlled it to bring the construct to this point in time. We entered and were quickly attacked by constructs of our present time. Wulessa is a common factor in both, granted she didn't fair too well the first part. Is this Wulessa we speak to in the mirror just that, a mirror image of the last foe? A chant brought us in, does its mirror bring us out? Bugdip, what about reading the scroll backwards? Does that ever work in arcane lore or is that just myth told at bedtimes?"
"I honestly don't know what would happen if you break the mirror. It might shatter, or it might not do anything. If there is a chance it will cut off our communication, I would rather you not try. I can feel an entity overseeing the transcription. This... archivist, for lack of a proper name, should logically have a presence inside this mindscape, at least during this process. You may be able to find the archivist and challenge or persuade it to stop. Hopefully that would release us all, and would be a better option than breaking the mirror.”
"I don't believe the illusions are based on your memories, based on where you are standing. I believe that we are locked inside my mind, and so the archivist must be using my memories to form something that resembles a familiar surrounding. Your minds need walls and a floor to function, and the archivist is using those places from my memory to give them to you."
"I'm pretty sure anyways..." She wrings her hands, not nearly as confident as she was before they entered the archive.
Suddenly she gets an idea, as she takes her previous thought to more logical conclusions, as well as a new realization in response to Edgar's question. "Yes. You are in a construct of my mind and memories. I don't have any way to help you directly, but you must have a way to move from one room to another. I just had an epiphany, like a door opening in front of me, revealing something. I can't explain it. Check the vanity, open the drawers!" she begins to get excited.
"How did you get to the room you are in now? You said you were in another room, and fought some illusion that looked like me? Perhaps there is a clue as to how you can travel throughout this place. Tell me more about what has happened!"
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Bugdip also gets excited. He rushes over to the vanity and begins wildly opening drawers.
"Oh, excuse me..." he says, flushing bright green in embarrassment as he discovers some underwear, "...Umm... I'll keep going."
Not sure what he's searching for, Bugdip opens drawer after drawer until something becomes apparent. Hopefully someone else would fill Wulessa in on what happened while he was doing so.
As soon as Bugdip opens the first drawer, a vial of some liquid materializes out of thin air. It is solid enough to pick up, and rests gently on a thick, modest nightgown sized for a child.
"I did it! That potion, I'm sure it is a potion of cure light wounds. I don't know what else I can do to help you directly, or even if we will be able to continue to communicate once you find a way out of this room, but I will do everything I can."
"If what you say about leaving the previous room is true, then I have a hypothesis. Look for something in the room that is out of place, or just obviously doesn't belong. Focus on that."
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Vorathan looks around in vain to find something out of sorts.
This whole place is out of sorts, Bugdip is pawing through panties while Garifyur seems to be projecting some inner thoughts of a girl he once knew, Erin did he say...or think? We are gonna need a miracle to get outta here!
"Ok, well Tybain found some picture books that I doubt were from your childhood, Captain, but you will have to be the judge of that. For all we know you have been an accelerated reader and dabbled in the arcane whilest others were playing with dolls. The other thing that has me curious is this city out of the window that seems to be just on the other side of the glass. What city is that?"
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How does one walk out of a room with no doors? Through the walls of course.
Nugats begins to pace the outside of the room, pushing against all the walls and the window, looking for an escape.
If I picture myself outside the room, will that work?
Unsuccessfully penetrating the wall, Nugats begins to focus on what does not belong.
Well we don't belong here. Nugats slaps Rattus on the butt.
That didn't work either. Is it the books? Or the dolls? Maybe the rug doesn't match the décor. Wow I sound like a pansy.
Nugats then begins to pick up the dolls and inspect them.
"Good thing this isn't Irrisen. Would hate to play with one of those dolls."
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"Of all the means of transportation, this is the most strange."
And coming from a pathfinder, that's saying a lot. Since no one really knows how this works exactly, all they can do is fumble blindly onwards. Already standing by the shelf of books, Tybain grabs one of the Pathfinder Journals. And without coming up a better idea how to concentrate on a book, he starts reading it.
"Yes! You are geniuses! That must be it, I was eager, but I was no prodigy. Look at those texts! There is no way I could have..."
As Wulessa exclaims her excitement that the pathfinders must be figuring out the key to traveling throughout this realm, Tybain is looking over Vorathan's shoulder. Nugats is pressing on walls and doors, finding only solid resistance behind his hands.
Whether it is Tybain's natural disdain for magic, or perhaps a latent connection he refuses to acknowledge, his inspection of the books triggers another meltdown of the walls as the pathfinders find themselves whisked off to yet another space, somehow not having felt like they had moved an inch.
The room shimmers and changes again. The shape remains the same, but the walls and floor resolve into a series of glass tiles that creates a checkerboard of luminescent blue and lightswallowing black. The door vanishes, revealing a passage filled with the same half-light. Opposite this, the room breaks away entirely. An entire wall is missing, leaving a jagged hole overlooking a void occupied by nothing more than deep purple mist, seemingly born out of and reabsorbed by the darkness. Somewhere in the depths, a tremendous crystalline shape flashes through the mist. The room is otherwise featureless, devoid of all angles. Even the floor has a slight curvature, melding smoothly into the walls.
The pathfinders have only a few moments to catch their breath and take in their surrounds before the lighted tiles begin to flicker and change their pattern.
The contrast of the light and dark create a crude pixilazation, and the image of an eye appears all around them for a few moments, shifting to a hand with a pointed finger, appearing to point at the group. The picture fades again in a dazzling display before reforming into a gently bobbing question mark.
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Definately noooo more mushrooms...is this the 'bat country' that old coot at the oasis kept hollering about after eating too much peyote?!
Vorathan carefully takes a look around while keeping his feet firmly in place. The shifting shape in the void draws most of his curiosity.
"A question mark huh, does that mean you have a question for us or we are to ask a question of you?"
Speaking at the shape in the void, Vorathan wonders if he really has lost it; for talking to shadows never bodes well.
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"Hmm ... eye or I .... finger ... or digit .... question mark ... or ink blot. I point question? No finger the eye. No! See the finger point to he way? Is it a word puzzle, or is it a pictogram, possible a coded message. Gibberish!"
Nugats continues to babble, unsure of what to do next.
I really want to jump into that swirling purple mass. I am sure there is some way to fly here.