you march in the dark, little lamb to the slaughter (part the first)
{Roleplay entry--yeah, it's been a while since one of those, innit? They're going to start up again...}
I sort of hit this one running, so to speak. My Duke told me he'd traveled to a certain mysterious island, and offered to pull me through the nearest portal, which happened to be the somewhat permanent one around the newspaper box just outside a local club. I arrived midway through a conversation about dimensional shifts, and tried to find my footing. I found my leopard Duke in human form, as he'd recently acquired some spells of shapeshifting he'd been experimenting with.
As we were conversing, one of the residents approached, wearing a decidedly quirky set of pink overalls, and bid us good morning. Then next the horse- and sword-mistress. The dreaded--and thankfully brief--infestation of spectral clowns was discussed, which thankfully were easily banished, and that's when the island's artist--and his pet pygmy goat--showed up.
The conversation turned to local disturbances in the time-space continuum, a recurring concern, and several of us agreed, something should definitely be done...at some point. And that, dear readers, is when the Duke mentioned finding a mysterious door.
I admit, technically, I found it, but I didn't realize what it was--I'd been stripping old wallpaper off the offices walls, and uncovered what looked, for all of me, as a series of old slats. I left a note for the Duke and then had to leave for parts elsewhere, and farther forward in time.
So by the time I remembered, the Duke was already bringing it up to the island doctor--and real estate operator--that he had a mysterious door in the office, and no key. Did the doctor have the key?
And nothing else would serve but that all of us, apparently, trooped over to the voodoo shop and climbed the side stairs to the office.
While we walked, the doctor told us that the French Quarter on the island actually dated back to the days of pirates and high seas smuggling. We were unaware.
By the time we reached the office, it was a mini parade. But we all crowded in, and everyone looked at the door. And it looked much more like a door than it had previously. That concerned me. But I held my peace as the Duke asked the doctor for the key. He carefully turned it in the seemingly rusted lock, fighting the tumblers a bit, and stepped back.
The door did not open.
We pondered waiting for the houngan who owned the shop--who I'd thought was off on the far side of the island, researching rumors of zombies. In the end, though, he directed the doctor on one side, prying open the door, with the other lass on the other side, tugging on the doorknob, and with the dint of much effort, it opened.
Spilling rugose, pulsating tentacles around the Duke, who was of course standing in the path of the open door. Because where else would he be?
He cried out for me, or--at least I thought he did? It was something like, "Emmfls--"
And then all hell broke loose, if one doesn't count flailing tentacles as hell already. The doctor readied syringes and throwing daggers, I ran to the desk on the far side, wondering if I had any tome on the island that would send...whatever that was...away...
It started to shred his clothing, the suckers attaching to bare flesh, while I frantically went through the books on the floor. One of the women made sly remarks about Hiro's new pet while the doctor went to the heavier sedatives.
Several daggers later, the doctor reached for the last two things in her bag. Setting one aside, she loaded in one she said were horse tranquilizers. Oh, if that didn't work--
"Come on, your glorified seafood dish--time to go to sleep and leave him alone!" she yelled. I tended to agree. But, sadly, I had nothing that would work. I stepped as close as I dared and tried to pry tentacles off him, but it was a straining effort--they did not WANT to let go.
The doctor watched for signs of slowing, and there did seem to be some, but not nearly enough. She held up the last vial, a mix of pureed Japanese fugu liver and cyanide. While she prepped that, I heard a thunk on the desk behind me and turned. That book was...not there before. And not one we owned.
Hoping against hope, I grabbed it, flipping to the page with the most tentacle drawings, read through the language and thought I'd do it well enough, and began to intone words that should never be heard in the light of day. I had to bat tentacles away to do it, too--they curled across the room, trying to steal the book!
Meanwhile, the artist wrote on the little noteboard he carries everywhere, "On this very day, a courageous battle ensued in the Voodoo House."
And finally, finally--the door closed. The Duke collapsed, the doctor moving to his side, clucking over the wounds. They weren't deep, but they were numerous, and--most disturbing--weren't even bleeding for the most part, covered as they were with some sticky, translucent fluid.
He looked up weakly from the floor. "This isn't coming out of my deposit, is it?" I just sighed and tossed the book on the desk. The doctor echoed the sigh, saying she would ask the island's governor. As if any of that mattered, right now!
I walked over to the door, knowing a grimace marred my visage. I tapped at it, and heard, dimly, a disturbing echo, as if there was a great deal of...space...behind the locked wood. I shook my head. "You know, Hiro, there is going to be a time where spellcraft is NOT going to get you out of these things."
Meanwhile, the doctor opened up the package the artist had fetched. Some bags of plasma, some transfusion equipment, a medical bag, and something she covered up quickly that looked...surprisingly heavy, with a dull sheen.
And then all hell broke loose AGAIN. The Duke began chanting, in a strange, uncanny tone "Coronzon, zacare ca od zamran, odo cicle qaa, zorge lap zirdo noco Vovin, hoath drilp! Yolcam ialprg iaida!" The artist shook his head. "A smell of savagery lingers on the air," he murmured. The doctor just set to work on the worst of the wounds.
"Yolcam ialprg iaida!" chanted the Duke again. "Maybe he has been possessed by that demon monster," the artist helpfully added. I walked to the doctor's side, leaning in.
"If that's isotope-based," I said to her quietly, "that might cause some...confusion...in forms for him." For all that I'm a born shapeshifter, even spellchanged shifters have occasional problems with certain substances.
"Zacare, ca, od Zamran! Odo cicle qaa zorge, lap zirdo noco Mad, hoath laida!" Hiro yelled. The artist stepped forward. "He speaks the language of the creature, we must shove him inside the door!"
I turned rapidly to the artist. "Wait, what?" And the doctor shook her head, spooling silk thread on a curved needle. "No, no no, we don't want to open that door again, period." I tended to agree.
"Cure him, Doc, exorcise the demon from this poor defeated man!" I stared at the artist in numb horror, then turned to the doctor, who just shrugged, looking at the Duke. "You are just lucky your friend did not eat the goat."
The lady in pink looked around, frowning behind her dark shades. "Where's that priest when you need him?" The doctor answered that he was off fighting zombies. Because of course we don't just have temporal anomalies and mystical portals and occasional infestations of dancing clowns, we now have zombies too!
"YOLCAM GMICALZ VOVINA LANSH!" shouted the Duke, followed by what sounded like fervent cursing, and I quickly knelt, clapping my hand over his muzzle. This was maddening. We shut the door, why was he still--
I looked at the doctor. "Should I just take him home?" At that, he passed out.
The artist said, unhelpfully, that we should jail him, in case he transformed into another iteration of the tentacled beast. Miss Esther shook her head. "These sorts of things are not as easy as they appear. Diagnostics are required prior to any exorcism. Damnation may well be a pre-existing condition in this and similar cases, complicating any exorcism of current troubles."
My eyebrows went up. Clearly, she knew more than I'd assumed. The doctor knelt next to me, as I stroked my hand through his fur. "Clearly, I should not have left you here alone," I murmured. "I see that now." A soft nudge from the doctor drew my attention, and she quietly extended a small vial, wrapped in a tracery of silver vines, the entirety softly glowing. My eyes widened, looking up, just in time to see Hiro phase through the floor.
Oh, what now...
(Continued in part two!)
I sort of hit this one running, so to speak. My Duke told me he'd traveled to a certain mysterious island, and offered to pull me through the nearest portal, which happened to be the somewhat permanent one around the newspaper box just outside a local club. I arrived midway through a conversation about dimensional shifts, and tried to find my footing. I found my leopard Duke in human form, as he'd recently acquired some spells of shapeshifting he'd been experimenting with.
As we were conversing, one of the residents approached, wearing a decidedly quirky set of pink overalls, and bid us good morning. Then next the horse- and sword-mistress. The dreaded--and thankfully brief--infestation of spectral clowns was discussed, which thankfully were easily banished, and that's when the island's artist--and his pet pygmy goat--showed up.
The conversation turned to local disturbances in the time-space continuum, a recurring concern, and several of us agreed, something should definitely be done...at some point. And that, dear readers, is when the Duke mentioned finding a mysterious door.
I admit, technically, I found it, but I didn't realize what it was--I'd been stripping old wallpaper off the offices walls, and uncovered what looked, for all of me, as a series of old slats. I left a note for the Duke and then had to leave for parts elsewhere, and farther forward in time.
So by the time I remembered, the Duke was already bringing it up to the island doctor--and real estate operator--that he had a mysterious door in the office, and no key. Did the doctor have the key?
And nothing else would serve but that all of us, apparently, trooped over to the voodoo shop and climbed the side stairs to the office.
While we walked, the doctor told us that the French Quarter on the island actually dated back to the days of pirates and high seas smuggling. We were unaware.
By the time we reached the office, it was a mini parade. But we all crowded in, and everyone looked at the door. And it looked much more like a door than it had previously. That concerned me. But I held my peace as the Duke asked the doctor for the key. He carefully turned it in the seemingly rusted lock, fighting the tumblers a bit, and stepped back.
The door did not open.
We pondered waiting for the houngan who owned the shop--who I'd thought was off on the far side of the island, researching rumors of zombies. In the end, though, he directed the doctor on one side, prying open the door, with the other lass on the other side, tugging on the doorknob, and with the dint of much effort, it opened.
Spilling rugose, pulsating tentacles around the Duke, who was of course standing in the path of the open door. Because where else would he be?
He cried out for me, or--at least I thought he did? It was something like, "Emmfls--"
And then all hell broke loose, if one doesn't count flailing tentacles as hell already. The doctor readied syringes and throwing daggers, I ran to the desk on the far side, wondering if I had any tome on the island that would send...whatever that was...away...
It started to shred his clothing, the suckers attaching to bare flesh, while I frantically went through the books on the floor. One of the women made sly remarks about Hiro's new pet while the doctor went to the heavier sedatives.
Several daggers later, the doctor reached for the last two things in her bag. Setting one aside, she loaded in one she said were horse tranquilizers. Oh, if that didn't work--
"Come on, your glorified seafood dish--time to go to sleep and leave him alone!" she yelled. I tended to agree. But, sadly, I had nothing that would work. I stepped as close as I dared and tried to pry tentacles off him, but it was a straining effort--they did not WANT to let go.
The doctor watched for signs of slowing, and there did seem to be some, but not nearly enough. She held up the last vial, a mix of pureed Japanese fugu liver and cyanide. While she prepped that, I heard a thunk on the desk behind me and turned. That book was...not there before. And not one we owned.
Hoping against hope, I grabbed it, flipping to the page with the most tentacle drawings, read through the language and thought I'd do it well enough, and began to intone words that should never be heard in the light of day. I had to bat tentacles away to do it, too--they curled across the room, trying to steal the book!
Meanwhile, the artist wrote on the little noteboard he carries everywhere, "On this very day, a courageous battle ensued in the Voodoo House."
And finally, finally--the door closed. The Duke collapsed, the doctor moving to his side, clucking over the wounds. They weren't deep, but they were numerous, and--most disturbing--weren't even bleeding for the most part, covered as they were with some sticky, translucent fluid.
He looked up weakly from the floor. "This isn't coming out of my deposit, is it?" I just sighed and tossed the book on the desk. The doctor echoed the sigh, saying she would ask the island's governor. As if any of that mattered, right now!
I walked over to the door, knowing a grimace marred my visage. I tapped at it, and heard, dimly, a disturbing echo, as if there was a great deal of...space...behind the locked wood. I shook my head. "You know, Hiro, there is going to be a time where spellcraft is NOT going to get you out of these things."
Meanwhile, the doctor opened up the package the artist had fetched. Some bags of plasma, some transfusion equipment, a medical bag, and something she covered up quickly that looked...surprisingly heavy, with a dull sheen.
And then all hell broke loose AGAIN. The Duke began chanting, in a strange, uncanny tone "Coronzon, zacare ca od zamran, odo cicle qaa, zorge lap zirdo noco Vovin, hoath drilp! Yolcam ialprg iaida!" The artist shook his head. "A smell of savagery lingers on the air," he murmured. The doctor just set to work on the worst of the wounds.
"Yolcam ialprg iaida!" chanted the Duke again. "Maybe he has been possessed by that demon monster," the artist helpfully added. I walked to the doctor's side, leaning in.
"If that's isotope-based," I said to her quietly, "that might cause some...confusion...in forms for him." For all that I'm a born shapeshifter, even spellchanged shifters have occasional problems with certain substances.
"Zacare, ca, od Zamran! Odo cicle qaa zorge, lap zirdo noco Mad, hoath laida!" Hiro yelled. The artist stepped forward. "He speaks the language of the creature, we must shove him inside the door!"
I turned rapidly to the artist. "Wait, what?" And the doctor shook her head, spooling silk thread on a curved needle. "No, no no, we don't want to open that door again, period." I tended to agree.
"Cure him, Doc, exorcise the demon from this poor defeated man!" I stared at the artist in numb horror, then turned to the doctor, who just shrugged, looking at the Duke. "You are just lucky your friend did not eat the goat."
The lady in pink looked around, frowning behind her dark shades. "Where's that priest when you need him?" The doctor answered that he was off fighting zombies. Because of course we don't just have temporal anomalies and mystical portals and occasional infestations of dancing clowns, we now have zombies too!
"YOLCAM GMICALZ VOVINA LANSH!" shouted the Duke, followed by what sounded like fervent cursing, and I quickly knelt, clapping my hand over his muzzle. This was maddening. We shut the door, why was he still--
I looked at the doctor. "Should I just take him home?" At that, he passed out.
The artist said, unhelpfully, that we should jail him, in case he transformed into another iteration of the tentacled beast. Miss Esther shook her head. "These sorts of things are not as easy as they appear. Diagnostics are required prior to any exorcism. Damnation may well be a pre-existing condition in this and similar cases, complicating any exorcism of current troubles."
My eyebrows went up. Clearly, she knew more than I'd assumed. The doctor knelt next to me, as I stroked my hand through his fur. "Clearly, I should not have left you here alone," I murmured. "I see that now." A soft nudge from the doctor drew my attention, and she quietly extended a small vial, wrapped in a tracery of silver vines, the entirety softly glowing. My eyes widened, looking up, just in time to see Hiro phase through the floor.
Oh, what now...
(Continued in part two!)
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