Mokley

The Helium Frightful

Two doughnuts, then a third, quickly found their way into Stone's stomach -- but this was only an appetizer.

Lucky -- after several acrobatic feats of death-defiance, retrieved the lost Dotsie from the waddling-thing's back, where the Bobbling community had surely been looking after her.

The Witnessed Day drew slowly closer while the birdsong was brought to an end.

Stone, out of doughnuts, entertained the thought of biting into the Helium Frightful, but instead collapsed in pain at The Witnessed Day's telepathic introduction. When it ended she leaped up, and mistaking the Bobblings for mushrooms snatched up a few, her mouth open to receive them.

An unfamiliar voice hissed, staticked, out of Whisper's mask into The Witnessed Day's mind -- but Whisper himself chose not to acknowledge it.

While the Bobblings wriggled and babbled urgently in Stone's eager grip, Golby appeared beside her and very deftly slipped a small meat pie between her teeth instead. It was still warm, and spiced with something exotic and delicious. Where it had come from, no one may ever know.

"It's a blast to finally meet you all!" Golby laughed as he gently removed the Bobblings from Stone's reach, cradling them against his chest. "I'd sent out twenty invitations but didn't expect as much as one of you to actually show up. This is fantastic." He deposited the Bobblings atop their waddling-thing, which he gave a good-dog pat on the head. He then very carefully removed their leader from his pocket, and he let Krita down among his community.

"Now!" He turned on his heel with a sudden shout for attention. "We've got an urgent call for heroism, but before we board there are a few things you all should know: meet Krita and our mechanics." He gestured to the community on the waddling-thing's back. "We'll be in trouble if anything happens to them. Anyone who's got a sensitivity to telepathy, I've got a HOBO mod for that." He gestured excitably with a doughnut in one gloved hand, though it was unclear when he had actually pulled it out. "Learn the radio settings if you want to live. Broadcast every call for help. Do what you can, harm only when you must, and always be kind."

He took a bow, then whipped out his HOBO (the doughnut was mysteriously missing) and poked it.

The Helium Frightful circled once more overhead, then hummed contentedly and floated like a deflated balloon to the ground.

While the great beast raised its head and puffed its chest, a fan of spines at its throat pressed together and folded down into a very solid and smooth loading ramp. More spines raised up toward the sky and exposed a huge, arched metal door that slid open with one more tap of Golby's HOBO.

The frightening monster had, in less than a minute, seemed to transform into a creature-shaped mound with a ramp and a doorway in its ribcage.

Golby scooped up the blaring radio into one arm and gave a flourished gesture onward. "All aboard! Claim your rooms while I take us up -- no takebacks!"

He rushed forward ahead of them, leaped his way up the loading ramp and rushed into the bay and up the stairs inside, his boots clanking on the floors, the radio music amplified by the acoustics of the loading bay until he disappeared into another hall, leaving the new crew to find their own way around the ship.

Indeed, as soon as they stepped through the fur-lined doorway there was no longer any indication that this was anything but a cargo ship. The loading bay was illuminated by thin yellow beams along the ceiling, and a metallic female voice echoed from somewhere within, repeating:

STORY, AGE TEN, LAST SEEN FOUR SIX SIX THIRTY FIVE, ENTERING HARBINGER ESTATE, SOUTHEAST OF DOWNSTREAM. COMMUNICATION ATTEMPTS HAVE FAILED. ENTRY ATTEMPTS HAVE FAILED. PLEASE HELP. STORY, AGE TEN, LAST SEEN FOUR SIX SIX THIRTY FIVE . . .

Somewhere, engines whirred. A heartbeat thrummed in the walls. Occasionally a grumble or a low huff sounded alongside the hum of mechanical workings.

As the last crew member entered the bay, the loading ramp separated once more into spines and the metal door slid closed with a clank and a thump. Immediately the room took on a strange weightless feeling, like a boat on water. The repeated distress call stopped, replaced by the murmurs of the ship and the faint tinny sound of a different song playing from the cockpit. There were a few small windows throughout the ship, cleverly disguised on the outside but perfectly clear from within. The blue sky tilted and the newly re-destroyed ruins of a once-magnificent city slipped away; they were taking off.

The Helium Frightful

I was actually considering shortening the 7-day rule to 5 days or even 4. A week is feeling draggy, personally -- but the reason for the 7 days is to accommodate anyone who can only post on certain days of the week, for example.

The Helium Frightful

Maybe even today! Was thinkin about it! :D

LANTERN (redux)

@Cairo@drewccapp@Virgil@Girlie1Bomba@WittyReference@c3p-0h@baraquiel

Here ya go, a post! :D

I just went ahead and dumped a general description of Woondaly here, to be used (or ignored) as you wish!

LANTERN (redux)

Izzy disappeared over the rise of piled rocks, her bare back turned on the rest.

Temp stood her ground despite her fears, determined to defend Golde until the weakened girl could stand on her own.

Thomas interrupted the monster's attack with a shriek and a wild swing of his sword. The monster, too, screeched and abandoned its attack on Ifor, skidding to face this new threat; black blood leaked from the horror's side, where Thomas' expensive sword had cut a long and deep, dead-looking gash. Ifor was forgotten in that moment; haunting bright eyes flickered, enraged, to Thomas and his dangerous blade.

It was pause enough for Ifor.

A fist connected with the monster's distracted face -- and immediately Ifor was upon it in a fury of merciless attacks.

Ifor was strong, but the monster was fast. Sand kicked up, Ifor's fists flew, claws and teeth flashed, leaving long bloody gashes on Ifor's arms and hands, bludgeoned dents and burst veins on the horror's face and chest. With a lucky grab and a powerful thrust, the monster was thrown to the sand where it caught itself with a crouch and a skid. Inky, gelatinous blood oozed from the beast's wild eye and its grinning mouth and the gash in its side, and the monster poised there in the sand on all fours, hackles raised.

...don't leave...pocket, pocket, get up, stand...

The low, crackling, hissing voices of those gathered arose out of the monster's throat, even while Varric chucked stones and insults from the dunes. The monster wasted no time, but echoed Varric's words even as he still uttered them -- only in a far more sinister tone.

...cretin...war the trees...bastion...merciful death...

The monster's shining eyes -- one shattered and full of dark blood -- finally broke from Ifor and focused sharply on Varric instead. Its fangy grin dripped black ropes of blood.

go home.

Like a cobra, it was on him. With sudden speed the monster sprang out of the sand and was instantly upon Varric, who would find himself pinned back against the dune with the strangely light weight of the monster on his chest -- it smelled of moss and tree sap and rot -- looming over him, claws pressed into his arm and his scalp, teeth sunk deep into the fleshy part of the old man's shoulder.

Varric would hear a small, quiet hissing -- but not the beast's voice. It was a chemical, acidic sound.

Just as suddenly the monster leaped off of him, scrambling away in a panic, shrieking in shock, scratching away the dribbles of Varric's sizzling and bubbling red blood from its chin; it scooped up handfuls of sand and shoved them in its mouth in a pained frenzy to rid itself of the last traces of an intended meal. The monster skittered and leaped to avoid the inevitable attacks by Ifor and/or Thomas, flung past them all and bolted across the sand -- back to the rocks, where it disappeared into a well-hidden crevice.

The ocean water breathed and fanned, frothing, at their feet.

Meanwhile...

As Izzy rounded the crest of the rocks -- behind her the shouts and scuffles of battle -- she would be greeted by a wide, rocky field that expanded for miles. There was nothing here but a flat landscape, like a sea of little rocks and thick moss and clusters of generous mushrooms that glinted in the low moonlight. Should she look carefully she would see where the mushrooms had been picked or bitten by hungry goats. In the distance, to her left, there were a few scattered trees and a forest beyond them -- and a single huge mountain that loomed dark and foreboding over the island.

To her right, the goats' bells rang.

A small herd of goats galloped away from her, over the moss and mushrooms, accompanied by the boy who ran with an awkward creaky limp.

They rushed toward a sprawling town just ahead.

Little shacks made of lopsided wood and stones dotted the perimeter, many with smoky campfires burning and dogs tethered outside. Each of the shacks featured an impossibly tall tower of stacked rocks and bricks and refuse balanced atop its chimney, as if the residents had an ongoing contest for the highest stack --

-- but these were no match for the spires of the town proper. Beyond the shacks, the architecture became more permanent and sprawling, painted clean bright colors, pink and orange and yellow -- and throughout the town's rooftops rose thin towers or antennae reaching up toward the clouds and beyond them, like a forest of spires to the sky. Many of the towers were decorated by pinwheels and whirligigs and bells and spinning bits of bright paper that swirled on the quick winds, and curious mechanical things that gleamed and turned and changed shape with the breeze.

Turning windmills dotted the landscape closest to the town, all of it illuminated by torches and hanging lamps -- but brightest of all by far was the lantern. It was an unassuming thing, boxy and crude, but it had been set up high upon an ornate mosaic column in the middle of a stone-fenced wheat field -- the only farm to be seen. The lantern's light was powerful and clean as pure sunlight, hard to look at directly. The wheat grew tall and healthy under the light of the lantern ... and nothing grew anywhere else.

The town and the shacks and the windmills and the farm were all bustling with activity; people were hard at work or gathered round fires, preparing food or tinctures from mushrooms and moss and fish, hauling grain to the windmills, telling stories and laughing. Many sat on the roofs, admiring the spires or working them higher.

The boy and his goats rushed into the sprawl of poor shacks, just outside the bright light of the lantern ... which would shine slightly brighter as Izzy drew closer.

LANTERN (redux)

@drewccapp *hugs* Take care, we'll be here! <3

LANTERN (redux)

I regret to inform you folks that I will no longer be able to participate because I'm about to start traveling again, first to a gathering in Kentucky, and then likely back to California.

Thank ya'll for having me. I wish I could stick around, was starting to have fun!

@YungTweak

Aww sad to see you go -- but have fun and take care! And if you ever find yourself returned from your travels and want to pick up Liliana again, we can totally write you back in anytime. ;) Thanks for being here! :D

LANTERN (redux)

Good question! How about write out your intended actions and their goals and we'll assume things happen in the order they're posted. I'll jump in now and then to confirm what's happening. Maybe with a quick die roll on my end. :D

LANTERN (redux)

A sick, retching noise was thrust from the monster's throat as its brittle bones snapped audibly. With the impact it was flung to the sand in a crumpled heap --

-- but with a cracking and a slither it rose again, glowing eyes widened with rage. In retaliation it launched at Ifor, long sharp claws ready to gouge him, jaws wide for the bite.

LANTERN (redux)

In the interest of avoiding a stopped-time moment I'll respond with a tiny post!

Edit: HE STARTED IT! x3