The City of Pax Septimus was looking a bit stranger of late, but a consensus had yet to be reached on whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. Instead of its usually gloomy and gritty atmosphere, the so-called “City of Blood’s” art deco architecture had been soaked in bright, vibrant colors, creating a cheerful and rather whimsical atmosphere evoking a cartoonish beach resort. It wasn’t [i]quite[/i] as childishly cringey as that time reality got broken and the world wound up looking like a child’s crayon drawing in that one episode of Teen Titans (the 2003 version, not the shit version), but it was pretty close. The trappings of this harmless, vacation atmosphere were even extended to the city’s populace, and with it also came a complete ban on violence of any kind, which was greatly appreciated by some, and greatly loathed by others. Yet, there were a few residents that were entirely unconcerned about the recent drastic changes, one of which being the elderly proprietor of a quaint little shop in the city’s historic district, Torvald’s Tomes and Trinkets…

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Of course, since old Torvald had been around the proverbial block several thousand times, he had already encountered this particular peculiar enchantment (and the being responsible for it) before, and so was well-accustomed to its relatively harmless effects. That said, there were still a few things that needed checking up on, and as the now [url=https://images2.imgbox.com/8e/72/jjE9s6Tw_o.png]beach-attired sagely shopkeeper[/url] took note of the most pertinent sea-side alterations made to his various wares, he did not notice the twin tears in the plenumic fabric which opened above his front counter and deposited upon it what appeared to be several broken toys, before closing once more. This was undeniably for the best, for, had Torvald seen the distinct yellowy-green arcs of crackling lightning that outlined those tears, he would have recognized them as being the work of someone that he knew to be very [i]very[/i] wary of. But, as it was, he did not see, and so, upon turning around, he was pleasantly surprised to find the new merchandise waiting for him.

“My my! What have we here?” Torvald wondered aloud as he looked over the new arrivals.

The first was an action figure of a swordswoman in a black bodysuit over which was worn more traditional Japanese attire, although, somewhat distressingly, her head was no longer attached to her body. Even more distressing was the condition of the second toy. A large, eldritch tentacle creature, it had been sliced cleanly in twain, as had the small collection of lesser toy creatures that were clearly part of the same “set”. Finally, there was what looked to be a bionicle mask of some sort. How odd. Tapping his spectacles (which had become a pair of sunglasses), Torvald ran a full diagnostic scan on the assorted playthings, his eyes widening as knowledge was gleaned.

“Ah!” the sage exclaimed, an exited grin spreading across his wizened features. “So you’ve arrived from another reality plenum, have you? How delightfully fascinating! In fact,” he added, taking an even closer look. “It appears you’re resonating with [i]multiple[/i] plenumic signatures! Multiverse traveling toys… What a grand novelty! And what tales I’m sure you could tell! But now is not the time for that! No, first you need some patching up, and I have just the tools for the task!” Torvald declared with a chuckle as he retrieved his repair kit from below the counter.

While once a polished wildwood case with gilded glittergleam edges, it had now assumed the form of a colorful plastic tackle box. Thankfully, the various tools within remained unaffected by the whimsical magic permeating the city, and Torvald swiftly set to work mending the mangled playthings. “I’m no stranger to sudden arrivals to my humble shop, you know,” he told the toys as he went about his work. “Or departures,” he added with a chuckle. “Why, I quite vividly recall one such instance, long, long ago. It was in another world, in another age. An age of adventure…” 


[hider=Torvald’s Tale]


At the time, I was dwelling in a small town built in the crumbling shell of a once great city. The settlement’s sole purpose was to service adventurers, brave seekers of knowledge that dared to plumb the depths of The Warrens, the greatest dungeon in the land. My shop was no exception. Indeed, I can confidently say that it was the foremost establishment for those who sought items of a more esoteric nature than the usual assortment of mundane provisions. One particularly notable knowledge seeker was a female goblin by the name of Zig. Since goblins who raid dungeons are so rare as to be nearly nonexistent, word of her exploits had naturally spread throughout the land, and I was only too pleased to provide assistance to such a renowned individual. Yes, even if other, smaller minded merchants refuse to have dealings with members of so-called “monster races”, my wears are available to all knowledge seekers, no matter what otherwise unfavorable characteristics they may or may not be said to possess. Thus, after purchasing no small number of highly helpful items from me, young Zig set out into The Warrens’ dreadful depths. 

However, it was to my considerable surprise that, only a day later, my shop was visited by a [url=https://images2.imgbox.com/2e/7d/g5fcaKXK_o.png]second goblin.[/url] One goblinoid customer was a rare enough occurrence for any place of business in that realm, but two in the same span of days? I strongly suspected that it was no mere coincidence, and I was soon proven correct. The fellow informed me that he was Zig’s brother, Zag, and he was on a quest to locate his sister. He went on to say, in the crude and blunt manner typical of goblins, that after Zig left their tribe, word of her adventures reached the oversized ears of the warband’s leader, Big Boss Zug. He had been none-too-pleased to hear about Zig’s troublingly unorthodox behavior, and in a fit of furious rage, banished Zag as punishment for allowing his sister to malign goblin-kind’s reputation in such an appalling manner. He would only be allowed to return if he managed to put a most permanent stop to Zig’s adventuring, her severed head serving as ample proof that he had done so.

Now, while I abhor violence myself, what a knowledge seeker does with the knowledge I provide them with is a matter of their own choosing, and a matter far beyond the scope of my services. As such, I was quite forthcoming in telling Zag all about his sister’s daring attempt to reach the very heart of The Warrens, and how, if he wished to venture into its depths in pursuit of her, then he would surely require no small number of useful items, items I was only too happy to provide. Unfortunately, as is the case with most goblins, Zag had little in the way of currency, and so an arrangement was reached in which Zag would provide me with the remains of any of the Gruesome Gardner’s necro-botanical amalgamations he managed to defeat, as I was very interested in studying them firsthand (having up til then relied exclusively on oral recountings of their attributes). Once Zag had given his agreement to this very generous deal, I began presenting him with an array of mystical items, from Izocqh’s Amulet of Insight to Everrond’s Elixir of Excellence, making sure to carefully explain the proper use of each pendant and potion.

I had just finished enumerating the myriad attributes of Caprella’s Collapsible Campsite, when nearly a dozen members of the town watch barged through the front door, creating quite the ill-timed interruption! Yet, before they, or I, could say or do anything further, the panicking Zag promptly ingested every last potion, while simultaneously activating every last enchanted item, I had given him. The combination of so many unfathomable forces never meant to act in concert could have very likely wiped the entire town off the map, but fortunately, all it actually accomplished was to suck poor Zag into a swirling, interdimensional vortex, and create a miniature campsite atop my front counter. That’s not exactly something one witnesses every day, I can assure you! I’ve yet to learn where Zag ultimately ended up, but against all odds, Zig did, indeed attain the goal of her own quest. But I think that’s a tale for another time, hmm?

[/hider]

“Well now, it looks like you’re all good as new!” Torvald declared triumphantly as he gazed down at his handiwork, before putting his tools back into their case. “And I think I know just the place for you,” he added, gathering the repaired toys and placing them on a shelf between a set of voodoo dolls and several wooden marionettes.

Pleased with their placement, Torvald returned to the front counter, unaware that the head of the swordswoman action figure had slowly turned to track his departure…