Lucinda Darkeyes's page

Sebastian wrote:

Hey, why are the rails going that way, but the current trend of the thread is going towards that gaping flame-filled maw of nerdrage and bile?

Uhh, maybe you need to go to the dentist?

Okay, I'm out of here before that maniac with the jellyfish shows up...

Hey, play nice to the pretty pony!

<materialises in a puff of yellow smoke, accompanied by a stench of brimstone>

<looks sinisterly amused>
You do realise that if this thread isn't ignored and dies very quickly that it's likely to devolve into personal attacks and flame-wars, don't you?
Oh well, good intentions and all that... Carry on. On behalf of the dark lord, Asmodeus, and Hell I give this thread an official rubber stamp of approval.
<vanishes in another puff of smoke, with futher sulphurous fumes>

<arrives too late>

Post indicating confused attempt at pursuit.

Slapstick with jellyfish in faintly disturbing manner which suddenly gets a lot more disturbing if the reader starts to worry too much about double-entendres.

Faux innocent wandering about.

<Opens monster manual at random>
Cosmo.
<Opens monster manual at random again>
Bella Sara Unicorn lawyer.
<Does double-take>
Hey! Not fair! Cosmo versus Sebastian; That's a documentary, not fiction.
<Wanders off to find an Nstrivaxon to bother>

<runs from thread also, pursuing Nstrivaxon, throwing fish, and whooping wildly>

No! They're EXTRA LARGE HALF-DRAGON JOLLYWOBBLER PIRHANAS!
<beams, open sack, and starts throwing vicious blue-green, bulgy eyed fish at Nstivaxon; as they fly through the air, some of the fish slobber and drool acidic goop>

Hi, Nstrivaxon. Yes it's me...

<skips into thread dragging a sack of fish and wearing a large jellyfish>
Did someone call me? What's that? What's wrong with Pathfinder? Well, I haven't seen any rules yet for using starfish as weapons. I mean I know there are the improvised objects rules, and all that, and you could probably rule of thumb it, but what happens if it's a five armed star-fish, and what happen's if it's not because it's damaged? I mean there's a whole world of difference to the things when you're throwing them depending on whether they're complete or not.
Plus there's the poison. Some starfish are poisonous, and they're reflexes and grappling abilities vary wildly. Throw a Elysian Bluestar at someone, and the knobbly bits will slice and graze them, but then the starfish will just flop to the ground and not do much more. Throw an Abyssal Whelkstar at someone on the other hand, and whilst it's a bit unwieldy, if it hits them in the face odds are it'll latch straight on and start chewing them away with a bite laced with the third most toxic starfish venom known to man. (Obviously, though, those men are a bit lazy as there are plenty more starfish more venomous than that. They probably spent all their time down at the Hagfish Arms chatting and swilling Old Gurfkins instead of properly researching these things.)
Starfish don't get anywhere near enough love and attention in my opinion.
<starts to sulk, then notices Nstrivaxon, and brightens up>

Charles Evans 25 (edited 's' word wrote:

Silly questions:

Did giving 4E its own subforum stop the edition wars or just concentrate them in super-vitriolic form in a few places?
Is it reasonable to draw an analogy asking if giving 'serious business' its own subforum would stop certain posting, or just concentrate it in super-vitriolic form in a few places?
And, off-topic, I suspect that the poodle cabal and other groups would take something called 'serious business' as a challenge for as much threadjacking as possible. For that matter, some of my own aliases might be tempted to wander in...

I resent that remark! All my activities are by definition incredibly serious business.

<Slaps archfiend with jellyfish>

Haven't you even seen the Summoner threads recently? Eidolons with tentacles everywhere. Little half eidolons crawling over the feet of Wes Schneider. And anyway, I got better. Or, umm, something.

...<further diabolic laughter>

<fishslap... well actually more of a slap with a clinging octopus, of the lovingly wrapping tentacles around your throat, trying to choke you whilst trying to chew your nose off with its beak>

<Wanders in trailing jellyfish, and with an octopus on her head.>
Persistence is good? Oooh, yes, I love seasons two, three, and four, of Heroes and the way that the output keeps getting even better and better. And I don't at all understand why a few nasty people snicker behind their hands when I mention this - well not unless they're unprincipled Asmodeus worshipers. Or should that be principled Asmodeus worshipers? Do they have principles or not, if they're lawful?
Ummm....
<Wanders out leaving a trail of damp seaweed.>

Lucinda Darkeyes wrote:

I hope that Rob realises this means that he is going to be consigned to the torment and suffering of having his work critiqued and commented on like an unending RPGSuperstar contest for the next however many years of his life....

Soon he too will be put through the agony of having his every comment about hippogriffs, dwarves, flumphs, or clerics in heavy armour misinterpretted, overanalysed, be the cause of flame wars, or just generally be smurrrrphed upon that is the daily lot of the Paizo editor. Soon he too will need to send for an ice bath for his arm, after spending hours signing autographs at a convention, or groan at his expansing waistline as yet another lorry load of pizzas arranged by fans rolls up outside of Paizo HQ...

Yes but there are some down sides to his new position too.... Although one fewer if he actually didn't need that soul which he just sold.

<Jellyfish whips the fiend.>

I hope that Rob realises this means that he is going to be consigned to the torment and suffering of having his work critiqued and commented on like an unending RPGSuperstar contest for the next however many years of his life....
Soon he too will be put through the agony of having his every comment about hippogriffs, dwarves, flumphs, or clerics in heavy armour misinterpretted, overanalysed, be the cause of flame wars, or just generally be smurrrrphed upon that is the daily lot of the Paizo editor. Soon he too will need to send for an ice bath for his arm, after spending hours signing autographs at a convention, or groan at his expansing waistline as yet another lorry load of pizzas arranged by fans rolls up outside of Paizo HQ...

pres man wrote:

When Zombieneighbours uses the word "evidence" the meaning is "objective evidence". Certainly someone could have "subjective evidence" that something existed and not have "objective evidence". The question then is, if there is no "objective evidence" but there is "subjective evidence" for someone, is it irrational to follow one's own "subjective evidence"?

The subjective experience an individual experiences that would lead them to believe in god such as 'hearing the voice of god', feeling with utter certainty, esq all. is functionally indistinguisable for the subjective experience of paranoid schizophrenia or psychotic delusions.

If i started to feel like good was watching over me, i would treat it with the same sceptism i would suddenly knowing that i had a electronic bug in my teeth.

We know that out subjective experience can be wildly wrong, about all sorts of things. Based on that, i have trouble accepting that forming your belief systems on Subjective experience alone is irrational.

<Pops out of a wardrobe, dusting snow off and picking pine-needles out of her hair.>

<Sighs and retroactively removes really amazing thought on the basis that it might have too high an anti-baker count on the standard LC Index...>

<Heads out of the thread, a beatific smile on her face...>

<Wanders into thread trailing jellyfish and looking slightly singed.>
Grumble, mutter, mumble, flame-wars.
<Looks around. Does a double take.>
Do you know, I'm getting the weirdest sense of déjà vu here? Oh well. Let's get on with this.
<Draws deep breath.>
[best Luna Lovegood conspiracy theory voice] I would just like to state, for the record, that it is blatantly clear that Scott Rouse was in fact the head of a consortium of Jelly Beaners who had infiltrated the US gaming industry and that he was planning to open three casinos in every state, under the 'Dice or Die' brand name.
Furthermore, he had clones of four twentieth century dictators with moustaches in his basement whom he used to play 'Dumbledore: Anarchy at Hogwarts' with, was taking backhanders from the secretary-general of the UN, and had bribed the Norwegian-Swede claret-butt conspirators to make sure that Barack Obama got a noble peace prize this year instead of Bob Geldof.
He also regularly chain-smoked uzis filled with oil, and as a secret identity was a lawyer who juggled kittens with chainsaws.
Oh, and he had a secret base under the polar icecap which controlled laser-satellites made from diamonds and had the capacity to fire newspaper headlines at submarine bases. He may have had an eye-patch, a sinister Russian accent, and a tendency to say 'Goodnight Mr. Bond' whilst stroking his pet goldfish.
He was an atheist evolutionist who believed in god and was in league with the devil and creationism. He had a team of genetic scientists who were trying to breed an invincible army of Tarrasques from flies found in chewing gum at Madison Square Gardens, whose hide could also be used to make special 'cheaty' baseballs from. [/best Luna Lovegood conspiracy theory voice]
Okay, I know I've forgotten some bits, but I hope that clears up the real reason why Scott Rouse had to go...
<Wanders off.>

<Wanders into thread trailing jellyfish and looking slightly singed.>
Grumble, mutter, mumble, flame-wars.
<Looks around.>
Oh good. He's not here yet.
[best Luna Lovegood conspiracy theory voice] I would just like to state, for the record, that it is blatantly clear that Scott Rouse was in fact the head of a consortium of Jelly Beaners who had infiltrated the US gaming industry and he was planning to open free casinos in every state, under the 'Dice with Death' brand name.
Furthermore, he had clones of four twentieth century dictators with moustaches in his basement whom he used to play 'Hogwarts: Who's the Best Wizard?' with, was taking backhanders from the secretary-general of the UN, and had bribed the swede-norwegian Malmsey conspirators to make sure that Barack Obama got a noble peace prize this year instead of Bono.
He also regularly smoked rifles filled with petrol, and as a secret identity was a lawyer who juggled kittens with chainsaws.
Oh, and he had a secret base on a ship in the pacific which controlled laser-satellites made from diamonds and had the capacity to fire nuclear submarines at missile bases. He may have had a slight limp, an eye-patch, and a tendency to say 'Gooodniight Mister Bond' in a sinister manner.
He was an atheist evolutionist who believed in god and was in league with the devil and intelligent design. He had a team of genetic scientists who were trying to breed an invincible army of dinosaurs from flies found in chewing gum at Jurassic Park, that could also be used to make special 'cheaty' baseballs from. [/best Luna Lovegood conspiracy theory voice]
Okay, I know I've forgotten some bits, but I hope that clears up the real reason why he had to go...
<Wanders off.>

I disagree with my poor deluded colleague. Except for the bit about the aristocrat. The aristocrat definitely need illustrating, and she looks suitably magnificent in that gown, fresh from a Chelaxian ball or gala-evening at the theatre to perhaps watch the latest production of The Six Trials of Larazod. Frankly all those ghastly outer planar races needed to go. They were so chaotic and untidy, cluttering the place up - if I weren't a devil I'd be quite unable to remember how to spell 'slaadi' - and (besides being legally correct) it was quite right of the esteemed messieurs Bulmahn and Jacobs to put them out of their misery.

Although Lamashtu is a bit of an eyesore actually, come to think of it, not at all like our own beloved Lord Asmodeus; the poor thing is an embarrassment to demonkind.
And to see the chance to devil-worship in organised play is marvellous. Go Cheliax!

<Produces a wet haddock from somewhere and fishslaps Nstrivaxon with it.>

Best changes? Oooooh. I know. The picture of the aristocrat.
Worst changes? Who let Asmodeus in? <Pouts.> I mean at least Bane you knew where you were with and as a former mortal (at least before they killed him and replaced him with Iychatu Xvim in a suit of armour pretending to be him, but he was a former mortal too, and so you could work around him) you could tempt him to go to town with you and spend an evening in a bar. Asmodeus is just a dreary devil, and he shows off that key, too much. I mean all the time, it's like 'look at me, I'm Rovagug's jailer', so full of himself, and he gives the poor little kiddie-winkies the wrong impression about Pathfinder. I mean Dungeons and Dragons was clearly a fun game, with baatezu and tanar'ri and slaadi and morons - uhh modrons - all over the place, but Pathfinder is this dreadfully serious game with po-faced devils like Asmodeus and demon-goddesses like Lamashtu - I mean what does she think that she's doing going out like that with hardly anything on, except for a three-skull swimsuit which is so dreadfully like-three-ages-of-the-world-ago? And the poor dear thing looks dreadfully unhealthy, so pale like that, although maybe she is trying to get a tan going around dressed (or rather under-dressed) to that extent, which might explain a thing or two...

Eeep!
<Flees thread in terror.>

Hey! Me too.
<Wields jellyfish.>
Uh-oh. Not good....

Lucinda Darkeyes wrote:

Nstrivaxon, the Cunning wrote:

I would like to see more instances of Paizo subscribing to the ethos of Cheliax and 'correcting' history.

Absent-mindedly slaps the devil across the face with a pseudonatural octopus.

You! Hurhk! Struggling with octopus. All coy and demure, pretending you were just another Chelaxian lass. Just wait till I get my talons on you, Ilsandra!

Absently toying with a jellyfish.

I would like to see more instances of Paizo subscribing to the ethos of Cheliax and 'correcting' history.

Absent-mindedly slaps the devil across the face with a pseudonatural octopus.

Kobold Cleaver wrote:

lynora wrote:

To clarify what I'm doing right now with LJ, she's about to get bumped down to demigoddess. The idea being that Linna's soul was arrested mid-transformation, and now it's trying to finish that transformation, but first it has to get rid of all the foreign energy its been forced to harbor. She's keeping the healing and the Songs, but the phenomenal cosmic powers are going bye-bye.

And the wards?

*Acts uninterested*

I didn't say that power was disappearing. :)

Looks like Djuhah is getting a promotion. His temperament is definitely much better suited to watching over the cosmos.
But, no, she won't be in control of them anymore.

Oohhh, does that mean that just like Uatu he's not going to directly interfere in anything?

<collects her lettuce and sea-slugs and wanders off>

<wanders into thread trailing jellyfish>
Why is everyone talking about 'burying'? Burying is soooo vintage edition a term. These days the text on 'Terror' reads: Destroy target nonartifact, nonblack creature. It can't be regenerated. Look. Check it for yourself if you don't believe me: *link*
Ummm, we were talking about Magic: The Gathering here, weren't we?

ericthecleric wrote:

Shame you forgot to plug it in. [phew!]

Electricity free technology...

Ummm, what about the people wearing tinfoil hats? It doesn't seem to do very much to them except wreck their haircuts.

Busies herself tying up the dragon with several miles more purple tinsel, adds a number more shiny green stars, and then wanders off, to find more trouble elsewhere....

Lucinda Darkeyes wrote:

Sharoth wrote:

taig wrote:

Sharoth wrote:

~pokes taig with one of my claws~

Ow! Quit it!

POKE!!!

You look sad, Mr. Dragon. Where did all your -mon go? Did that irrascible Kobold Cleaver steal them?

~POKES Lucinda Darkeyes~ Don't ever mention that rat!

Takes the opportunity to respond and wraps some purple tinsel around the claw and hangs a big shiny green star off one talon.

It's okay if you poke....sometimes.

Do you poke like the lovely sad dragon does, or do you do it differently, because you do it less?

taig wrote:

Sharoth wrote:

~pokes taig with one of my claws~

Ow! Quit it!

POKE!!!

You look sad, Mr. Dragon. Where did all your -mon go? Did that irrascible Kobold Cleaver steal them?

taig wrote:

yoda8myhead wrote:

taig wrote:

yoda8myhead wrote:

** spoiler omitted **

Oooh...I think you'd better delete your post before Sharoth sees it. He'll definitely take it as a challenge. :)

I've been ignoring that silver menace this long without any problem. I am not afraid of him. He hasn't shown up yet, has he? ~looks around~ Nope, no Sharoth here.

Wait, how can you not see him? He's a big dragon, and he's poking you.

Oh, I get it...

~pokes taig with one of my claws~

<Skips around singing and dancing, decorating the dragon with pretty flowers, and painting his talons luminous pink.>

The reason that James Jacobs and his cohorts do not want to let you have any flumphs is very simple. They want them all for themselves.
In fact they need them all for themselves, as I shall very shortly explain.
James Jacobs is known to be a Cthulhu fan.
Look at *this* image of Cthulhu, and compare it to *this* image of a flumph. Notice anything? Any similarities?
Yes, that's right, Cthulhu is a pseudonatural, half-dragon, half-fiend, dire-flumph. And that explains just why James Jacobs wants all the flumphs for himself - he is trying to breed his own Cthulhu from flumph seed-stock.
Long and arduous have been the experiments, and at last James Jacobs is nearing success. More urgently than ever, he needs every last flumph which he can lay his hands upon.
The goal is noble, admittedly - James Jacobs and Paizo need a Cthulhu of their own to maintain their secret illuminati grasp in the world-domination stakes. Much of James Jacob's recent commitment to this end has been passed off as 'GenCon preparations', and strange noises have been heard emanating from the Paizo basement; an intern has recently disappeared. Does the excuse that Paizo put about that the intern departed a dream job at Paizo because of mere financial hardship seem credible to you?
And then of course, there was the 'office move', necessitated by the increasing bulk of James Jacob's experiments. Unlike Wizard Whatley, James Jacobs could not remove internal partitions from the building to accomodate his creations. Modern building requirements are a bummer for the ambitious mythos fanatic of this day and age. He needed larger premises, and so Paizo had to move.
Enough is enough; Paizo should not be keeping all this madness to themselves, but should share it with the community. We need the release of flumphs to the Paizo fans to experiment upon, and I have no doubt that with many minds working upon this endeavour, before long the first CR 30+ flumph will rise from the foetid waters, as the world reverberates to the cries of Ia, Cthulhu, Cthulhu ftaghn! I call upon you to support this noble petition and to aid Paizo in their quest to bring about the end of the age of mankind.

Err, do you think that was too rational by my standards?

Who is this 'Dave'? Why is the nice black dragon Mr. Schneider letting him go, instead of eating him? I thought that black dragons ate most things which crossed their territory?
Or at least on Golarion?
Or is this a different world, where black dragons are happy, bouncy, bunnies, that hop and skip and play with unicorns, and are attended by dozens of fey maidens?
Ohhh. Maybe this is one of those worlds, and Dave is a unicorn stallion?
Wanders off trailing what she thinks are fireworks going off behind her, but which are in fact vicious, maximised, delayed blast fireballs.

Let me just say that PaizoCon Azlant was/will be much better than any of your terrestrial PaizoCons might be. We dined on the high-king's terrace, a number of elven soothsayers did turns predicting doom and armegeddon (which particularly amused the Thassilonian guests), and it finished with the prettiest rain of meteorites out of the sky that you could ever hope to see and some truly monstrous tidal waves.
It was a party to end all parties, and I am a little saddened that it will not be easy to repeat it, pretty much the entire continent having sunk as a result of the special effects.
My particular thanks, by the way, to the aboleths who arranged that dramatic end to the convention.
Studying my six dimensional map, I see several interesting conventions featuring though, such as one in Galt just as the Chelish oppressors are being evicted, one being hosted in Korvosa by Queen Ileosa Arabesti, and a big event being hosted by a drow priestess of Abraxus round about 4708-4709 AR.
I probably should mention a number of parties being hosted by a warlord named Kazavon, but frankly, being a devotee of Zon-Kuthon he seems likely to be a little too strait-laced for my liking.

Post describing an eldritch evil giving a hot soapy bath to a scruffy little poodle, and tying pretty pink ribbons in the cutest bows on the poodle's tail and around its neck.

The Lucinda Fallacy:
A swarm of jellyfish float through the red, a pretty luminescent shade of green, and with tentacles poisonous enough to paralyse a kraken.
A swarm of trilobites scuttle along in their wake, scavenging creatures dropped by the jellyfish.
A pretty woman in dark robes with a hood pulled well up over her face watches the aquatic ballet.
Actually, I'm wearing a coral gown, and with a cute hermit crab nestling in my hair. I just think I'm wearing discreet and secretive robes. The same way that Charles Evans 25 imagines that I'm an alias and doesn't realise that he's a product of my imagination, to distract me from yet another bizarre day in the OTD threads. I mean if you had days filled with drow, dragons, and only-the-eldest-elemental-evils (whom I don't speak to these days) know-what, you might imagine a fantasy character who is rather humdrum and boring whom not a lot ever really happens to.

Solnes wrote:

Couldn't it be argued that everyone who RP's has identity issues?

Probably. It is after all a great way to try out being someone else for a little while without any messy repurcussions on your real life. :)

Wait a moment: You mean you actually believe that you're not just a fantasy dreamed up by Lynora-Jill to get away from the demands and stresses of her day-to-day life?

Ooh! Such cute itty-bitty little lemmings. I love the athletes who climb up walls and then parachute. And it always brings a tear to my eye when they all start counting down, and blow up in synchronised detonation.

You're lucky I'm busy elsewhere, otherwise I would show you 'trashed'.

Trashed? You call this trashed? Harrumph.

Empress Melusine - heh

Are you telling me that that 'Map of Jorgenfist' wasn't a non-Euclidean map and that I need to go back and try again? Given it had (Runelords #4 spoiler)

Returns, her barges empty.
Right, well I was worried I had gone off-target, but I checked on the streets, and the place was certainly Sandreef.
Back to my limpet hunt now.

Sandreef, approximately 15,000 years before the present, and quite possibly in a parallel dimension.
The dark basalt spires of the imperial capital of the realm of Orl rise far enough above the seabed that the uppermost reaches of the tallest spires break the surface of the sea, reaching like twisted claws towards the skies, and with floating piers and jetties attached so that vessels bringing tribute from vassal states on land and plunder by spelljammer from the stars might have somewhere to tie up. Down below in the depths of the towers, in vaults half a mile below the seabed, are the forges, arsenals, and fiend-summoning chambers that have seen this become the heart of one of the mightiest empires in existence.
Great gongs resonate to the infernal powers from the city’s red marble temples with every hourly sacrifice, and armed guards with spears and fiendish shark companions herd schools of slaves through the streets.
Gold leaf is ostentatious in highlighting the decoration of buildings everywhere, and the grotesque faces of carvings of the lords of the hells leer from corners.
On the edge of the city a minor skirmish between the vast and well-drilled armies of the capital and a minor group of ‘bright-spear’ rebels is taking place, the final act of the latest hopeless rebellion against High Lady Melusine Devilborn, Supreme Empress of Orl.
Lucinda hovers in the waters above the imperial capital, a little uncertain if this is the correct place. It certainly seems as gloomy as the Sandreef she left a short while ago, but down in the streets she didn’t have any idea that it was *this big*.
She pops down to the streets and after making some inquiries discovers that this does indeed appear to be Sandreef, and even if she can’t find the bank where she made her deposit there are certainly several others filled with just as impolite staff, so she heads back upto where she has left her invisible dimensional barges moored, mid water column, above the city – Lucinda never likes to come under-prepared to any party, which frequently results in ‘overkill’, but on this occasion it looks that there will be ‘just about enough to go around’.
She gives a mental pull on the latches on the bottom of the first of her barges and the barrels start to tumble towards the city below, delivering the first of the goods much needed, Lucinda feels, to cheer the place up.
And as spires start to crumble and fall in such pretty patterns, and people start dancing around, obviously excited that such a dreary place is being livened up, Lucinda feels a warm glow of satisfaction at a job well done…

Finishes packing the last of the barrels into her fleet of dimensional barges, and prepares to set off for Sandreef.
I do hope I have this map the right way around...

I can read Euclidean maps really well. I can read non-Euclidean maps amazingly well. It's just that I often get mixed up over whether a map is Euclidean or non-Euclidean and end up somewhere else entirely other than where I was aiming to be.
I often just turn up in places. I find out that simply arriving somewhere is much easier than trying to rely on reading a map the right way to get there.
I mean there was the one occasion I was supposed to deliver a troupe of black-dragon hatchlings to a place called Atlantis, to help the rulers keep the floodwaters out, and ended up somewhere else called Azlantis eight thousand years earlier on a different world altogether because the dumb map turned out not to be non-Euclidean. And the people there had some sort of important crisis like the sky was falling on their heads, and they were very impolite about fifty odd black-dragon hatchlings showing up in the middle of it.

Pauses in midst of task of checking barrels.
Sandreef? Oh that's a place with annoying bankers, which really needs cheering up. Well I have some special presents here...
Pats barrels.
I have some really pretty alchemical goo in several of these which is green and sticks to things and slowly dissolves them making wonderful 'bloop, bloop, bloop' bubbles as it does. And in another one, there's a formula which does something with all the ox-y-gen in the water or something weird like that, making it react and turn into more water. I'm not too certain on the alchemy of it, but apparently it makes it really difficult for people to breathe underwater, so they gasp and their eyes bulge, and they flap around a lot in a really comical manner before falling over.
And, once everyone's finished enjoying those, I have some prismatic sea-slug eggs in the last barrel, with magic on them so that they hatch and grow to maturity, really fast.
They charge around the streets of a place, shining their rainbow lights at everything and the really fun thing is that they're immune to salt being sea-slugs. I mean it's always a shame when nasty people sprinkle salt on normal slugs and they curl up hurting like that....
Now if only I could remember where Sandreef is... Somewhere underneath the Great Eyrie of Ancient Bazaars, was it?

Somewhere on the abyssal plain of an ocean floor there is located a bank run by and mostly for aboleths.
The average aboleth not being short of a brain cell or two firing synapses, and ones working in the aboleth equivalent of the financial sector being well above the modal aboleth in terms of intelligence, the aboleths running this particular bank realise that they are in trouble when what appears to be a normal woman in a coral dress and with a hermit crab nestling in her hair strolls into the bank without any apparent magic functioning, and in despite of the fact that the water pressure down here should be sufficient crush her to bloody paste.
She is very upset, they learn, and looking for a tank of limpets which she placed on deposit a while ago in a bank in Sandreef.
The news that the limpets are not being held on deposit here, but have been relocated elsewhere does not please her either.
At which point, a junior aboleth, on work-experience placement, makes the mistake of calling security.
In defiance of most natural and arcane laws, the bank is suddenly full of air, and certain legendary creatures.
Oh, how wonderful. You have some pet common-or-garden-snarks! Lucinda exclaims. Oh, oops, no, her hand goes to her mouth. My bad. They seem to be boojums.
She leaves the aboleths to deal with the sudden catastrophic incursion of snarks of the genus boojum and goes to look elsewhere for her limpets.