RP:A Nasty Fungal Infection
This is a Mage's Guild RP.
Summary: Pilar, tasked with dealing with a fungus monster by the Mage's Guild, travels to Gualon. Galladon joins in and gets more than he bargained for.
NPCing by Kreekitaka.
The Fungus Brewery, Gualon
Pilar stood before the brewery, letter in hand. She had been sent by the administrator of the Mage's Guild to deal with some sort of fungus monster running amok. A pair of orcs were milling about outside the doors. Guards? Taking a breath to calm herself, she walked up to the orcs. "Um... Excuse me? I, uh, heard you were having a... problem? With some sort of... creature?" The orcs towered over her, and looked at each other. 'Can you believe this shrimp?' their looks seemed to say. One orc snorted then spat away from them. "Nothin' we can't handle," he said. Pilar looked at her letter. "But, um... I was told, told that the Governor asked, uh, the Guild--the Mage's Guild--to, uh, take care of... it?" "You don't look like no mage," the second orc said. It was true. She was dressed in a plain tunic and pants, rather than robes, and held no magical items. She fiddled with the paper. "Uh..."
Galladon was a travelling man and a travelling man liked to wander. He liked the sun, too, the nice warm sun. A swamp like Gualon was nice and warm, the city itself surprisingly contemporary and modern: streets paved in black marble and a sense of society that one wouldn’t expect from the orcs. Well, people unlike Galladon obviously. The orcs had a society, people just had to look deeper. People who wore war paint were appropriating the culture of the orcs. Galladon had tried to campaign about war pain awareness in his youth but to little avail. Oh well. As he strolls on by, he overhears the orc guards tell Pilar that she doesn’t look like a mage at all. With a prance – yes, a prance – in her direction, Galladon spreads his hands and watches as the shimmer of magic radiates from his fingers. “Gentlemen! I am Galladon the Great, Conjurer of the Conjugal Visit,” he winks just for the lads, “and most magely mage in the land. This is my good assistant!” he claps his hand upon Pilar’s shoulder now, “And we’re here on magic business.”
Inside the brewery, a strange noise began to arise. Like a pained gurgling--or a giggling--or a gagging? Maybe all three at once? The building trembled slightly--not enough so that it could be seen, but just enough to feel through the ground. Also bizarre was the peculiar lack of tour staff. Maybe they'd all been evacuated already. Something smacked against one of the nearest windows of the brewery--a person, gazing out with eyes as wide open as possible, jaw open wide as well--wider than should be possible. The person's hair was writhing at first--and then, for just a moment, it slumped, lifeless against the window, before suddenly becoming as animated as a marionette and jerking away from the window again with an unnatural shuddering motion. The person left some kind of foul stain on the window which seemed to rapidly evaporate away.
Pilar jumped, Galladon's arrival startling her. Who was this dude?! She raised an eyebrow at him, then looked back at the orcs. “Um. Yes. Magic business. Creature.” It was then that the group heard that awful sound, and the ground began to shake, and a body slammed against a window. Pilar shrieked. There was a deathly silence after the body vanished. The orcs looked at each other, then at Pilar. “You really wanna go in there and deal with it? Be our guest.” They unlocked the door and stepped aside. Pilar gulped. This was... not going to end well, was it? She looked at Galladon, then took a step toward the door. Slowly, she opened it, and a foul stench assaulted her sensitive nose. She stumbled back, gagging.
Galladon had, initially, thought that this was a ploy in order to get some free beer which is why he was all ‘oh magic biz, you know, I’m so cool’. He did not sign up for this! But… then those wise words of wisdom came to him: “don’t be a scrub” and he knows that he has no choice but to go forth and do whatever it is mages do. Galladon is nowhere near as gallant as his name semi suggests. “So… uh…” he didn’t want to do it! It stinks! Do you know how hard it is to get a stench like that off these hand stitched fabrics when you only want to use sustainable herbs and dyes? But then again, this is an opportunity to impress people. Impress a woman! “Have no fear, citizens!” there are no citizens around, “We got this! Yeah! We! Got! This!” He is not confident. At all. They are going to die. Upside down smiley face emoji. With a rather elegant gesture towards his own face, it seems as though a little bubble of air has latched onto his nose to filter out the bad smell. The bubble would gradually change in colour once assaulted by the fungal spores within the brewery. He steps forward, pushing open the door and looking at Pilar as if to say ‘oh, you are dying with me, girl, do not think for a second you’re not’. Who knows what awaits them?
Everything here was wrong. Fluid sloshed all over the floor--some kind of thick blue gunk which clung to things and pulled on them before releasing with a wet popping noise. It moved in waves of its own volition, occasionally sprouting tentacles which fanned out, testing the air. The fluid bubbled out of the huge brewing vats, which had been completely encased in slime. The worst part, however, was the staff--they lurched about like unnatural puppets, tending to the vats--stirring them, or scooping some out to give it more space to grow. As they watched, tentacles exploded from a vat and tugged in one of the humans--he didn't scream, or fight back, or react in any way. Just vanished with an obscene sucking sound and was gone. The fungal slime was trying to grow roots--little tendrils dug into the floor, into the humans it seemed to command, into the walls. Where it met wood, bizarre coral-like structures expanded outwards into strangely beautiful formations. After a few seconds, there was a dreadful pause. Everything stilled. Then a bright blue glow surged through the slime, up into the humans. As one, they turned and looked at the intruders, opened their mouths, and made another ghastly noise. This time, however, there almost seemed to be... words mixed in with the sound, as though it was trying to communicate.
Pilar looked to Galladon, worried. She hoped he was a capable mage. Even if he just looked like a douche. She went to the door as he opened it, and gasped at the sight. “Gods...” she breathed. She watched the man disappear into the vat and held her arm out helplessly. “No...” As all eyes turned to them, she squeaked. “What... what are you...?”
Galladon was definitely not a capable mage at all. If it weren’t for the fact that he had walked up all confident like, he would likely apologise for interrupting the fungus and shut the door behind him before running for miles and miles and miles. As the man is peacefully whisked up and deposited into the vat, Galladon cannot help but softly gasp. He may look like a douche but he has feelings too, you know. As Pilar asks the collective workers a question, Galladon tilts his head to look at her like ‘are you outta your mind?!’ He can feel a flutter in his heart. He’s getting nervous already. “I would say he looks like a fun guy but… this isn’t the time,” he tells Pilar quietly. “We come in peace!”
The mass shifted. Three of the human workers jerked mechanically and flew across the room as if tugged by some giant invisible hand. They landed in the muck in front of the two, and took lurching steps towards them--only to falter and collapse the moment they left the ooze. Tendrils emerged from their bodies, all over, searching wildly until the blue slime was located, and then they jerked like before and were yanked upright again. Where they had lain, some additional ooze had spilled out of them, and it was slowly expanding--the stuff was actively engaged in growing. Another sound, this one accompanied by a bizarre, alien shriek from the throats of one of the humans. More of those coral-like growths were beginning to push themselves out of his body, but the blood that dripped wasn't red--it was more blueness. It might have been trying to communicate, with its groaning and gurgling and whispered nonsense, but it certainly wasn't doing a good job and it definitely wasn't something you wanted on you.
Pilar backed up as the people collapsed before them, leaving the thick ooze in its wake. She grabbed at Galladon's arm with the intent to pull him behind her. She swallowed nervously. “If... If you can understand me... Nod your heads.”
Galladon is beginning to think this thing can’t understand people and it wants them to join its weird collective. Blue isn’t Galladon’s colour, really. Pilar has grabbed his arm and he won’t complain if she wants to die first, but it was a noble gesture in its own way. “I don’t think this thing is friendly,” he told Pilar in a quiet voice because, you know, what if it heard him and didn’t like that? “It’s growing… it reeks. But it’s from the vat so maybe it’s a fungus,” he’s trying to rationalise it in his head and learn what this thing is so they can deal with it properly! “What kind of magic do you do?” he hissed in Pilar’s ear.
It didn't quite seem to be capable of understanding, as nobody's head nodded. Arms reached out, however. One of the people began to swell up and turn even more blue, as gunk started pouring from his tear ducts and mouth. The other two people grabbed hold of their inflating partner, one hand and one foot each, and swung him back as if preparing to hurl him at the two. Behind them, the slime began changing shape, bunching up into strange knobby -things- which began to harden, to crystalize. The coral was spreading more rapidly over the surface now.
Pilar glanced at Galladon, then looked back to the ooze. “I... Illusions, some--” She stopped when she saw the fungus beginning to go on the attack. The time for talk was over. She held out her arm and a wall of flame appeared before them, only barely touching the ooze. She was defending, not attacking. “What about you?” she asked, turning to Galladon, eyes wide.
Galladon cast his eye at the wall of flame as it suddenly erupted, slapping his hand lightly but rapidly against Pilar’s back, “No! No, no, no fire! Heat makes a fungus grow!” he growled, not wanting this blasted thing growing any quicker even though nature was amazing and he respected it so hard, he really needed to kill this freak of nature right now. Galladon is casting his eyes around from behind Pilar – a funny image of a big handsome man near cowering behind Pilar – in the search for something remotely useful in this fight. “Keep it busy with an illusion, Miss,” he’s off to find something useful! Galladon prances out from behind Pilar, hopping away from the blue goo and doing his best to avoid as he eyed up the massive vats that are housed within the brewery. What could beat a fungus…? Well, if this is a fungus brewery, there must be things here to combat a rampant fungus that is making a bad batch, right? While the sign to what looks like an office is partially obscured by some of that strange coral, it’s where he’s heading off to!
The flames were eagerly set upon by the ooze, the bloated man's tossing would have to wait as the fluid stretched out and unfurled a sail around the flames, trying to warm itself and send more energy to the rest of its body. Crackling noises erupted from some of the growths and puffs of blue gas were hurled into the air towards Pilar. --In the office, there were a few things--an antifungicide, meant to help break down a bad batch, but it wasn't a particularly large dosage--it might help, however. There was also some lab equipment for analyzing the brew, and lamps for investigating the fungus caves down below, as well as a ledger--a book of numbers detailing prices. The various tendrils all over the walls began slowly extending towards Galladon, and though they were not fast, he might not want to stay too long in this room.
If heat wasn't good, then maybe cold was better. Pilar snuffed out her flames and summoned instead a wall of ice, just in time to block the gas. She turned to watch Galladon make a break for the office, and she held out her other hand, forming a wall of ice from their hiding place to the office door, in an attempt to shield him from the ooze. She didn't know what to do. Why had they sent her, a novice, to handle this?
Galladon is not a picky guy, so he grabs the antifungicide and brings it over to the desk hosting the ledger with the numbers. He’s scanning quickly for any kind of peculiarities, “Okay, okay, I totally forgot how to read for a second but I have this, hopefully she’s not dead out there, cool, cool, cool,” he tells himself. The ledger indicates prices and one particular fungus that was pricey and imported. Imported! Hah! An alien fungus, you couldn’t make it up. A tendril wiggles towards his face, causing Galladon to recoil while screeching ‘nyeeeeh!’ with disgust. He lifts the near empty jug up and scans for ingredients on how to make it up but he doubts he has the time or ability to make more. With audible ‘ewww’ and noises of disgust, Galladon squirms his way out of the room and back to Pilar: impressed by her wall of ice. “Listen up!” he tells her, shouting for no reason other than PANIC. “I’m going to make a cloud! A! Cloud! You take this,” he shoves the near empty jug into her hands, “You’re gonna go up! To the cloud! You’re gonna use your magic and *thin* that for the rain to soak the brewery and the air! Yeah? Okay! Off you go!” He offers her a thumbs up.
The fungal fan recoiled from the ice, though the gas clung to it and began to… change it somehow. The ice slowly turned blue, spreading out from the impact zone where the gas touched it, and began to sprout more of the strange coral, though it had a decidedly more crystalline, frozen look to it. Different structures began to emerge within the ice itself, and pulses of blue light began to surge through it. The wall held the main entity at bay, but whatever was going on inside of it didn’t seem to be particularly good for them either.
Pilar fumbled with the jug. “I... what?” Thin it? Thin it how? She didn't know how to do that! Did she...? She looked up to the catwalks above, then sighed. She created a platform of ice about halfway between the ground and the catwalk, and took a running leap to the top. She nearly slipped and fell on her ass, comically flailing about before she steadied. She took another impressive leap (vampire powers, whoo) and grabbed the railing, pulling herself up onto the catwalk.
Galladon doesn’t have time to be impressed by Pilar and her antics nor answer her questions! Cue mystery mage face of solemn dignity and duty. Also similar to his face of ‘trying so hard to listen but really thinking about how to look at ladies while respecting them as people’. Galladon is feel very afraid right now, though, he can feel the tingle in his fingers of his magical ability threatening to escape the realm of his control and that’s a rather embarrassing thing. He’s no mage, in truth, he has no training either. His magic is a natural gift. With a deep and shaky breath, Galladon stretches his legs and assumes a more sturdy stance: arms performing gentle but elegant motions, his hands reaching for the sky before centring at his chest and extending as he exhaled slowly. Galladon rolls his hands in elegant but elaborate gestures, summoning wisps of air to the centremost catwalk until those wisps began to form something a little larger and a little chunkier. Like a baby cloud! Galladon, in perhaps his most gallant moment, would ignore the creepy tendrils of the fungal creature that threatened to overtake the brewery and focus on stretching out and making the cloud as large as possible. Yet with the ‘tip-tap’ of a blue tendril upon his loafer, the fear shudders up his spine and the brewing cloud darkens considerably as if threatening rain; a crack of thunder emanating throughout the building.
Up on the catwalk, one of the vats would suddenly surge with light for a moment before out came... something. It was human-shaped, but covered in those coral-fans and dripping with blue--and also bore a passing resemblance to the man who had been tugged into the vat earlier. The human-shaped thing would stretch out its arms to her and vibrate all over, and in the shifting of papery protrusions against each other, one could actually--there was no way-- "You don't understand," it said. The fungus in the ice was extending back towards the rest of the mass, and when it met there was a colossal surge of blue light and the wall began changing and dissolving more quickly. "We will help you. Let us cure you."
Pilar watched the cloud form and looked at the jug. What the hell was she supposed to do? And then, that thing crawled out of the vat. She backed away from it, her eyes widening as it spoke. “C-cure us?”
Galladon isn’t sure how long he can maintain the cloud in this relatively close to stable state. “Now!” he yells, but Pilar is suitably distracted by the talking fungus. The thunder is growing worse and Galladon is leaning to one side, as he struggles to keep his magical ability in check. Was that a bolt of lightning or simply a vat exploding from over capacity? It’s hard to tell with so much going on in this brewery. “Lady!” he yells again in the hope she’ll do what must be done. “MAKE IT RAIN, LADY!”
The fungal-man-thing shuddered and jerked mechanically, taking another step towards her. "You are finite," it whispered, slowly, as if the concept was hard to translate. "All things are finite. Broken. Disjunct. Limited. We can cure this. We can make all things whole. Perfect. United. Infinite. You cannot understand. Witness." It pointed down. Down below, where the wall... unfolded. Crystalline structures shaped themselves into something which looked vastly more organic. The ooze began to spread again, but at the same time its overall structure was changing as well--adapting to the conditions of the ice, integrating it. "We are change. Evolution. Eternal. Completion. Perfection. Let us cure you."
Pilar backed away again. “No... No, that's not right. You're wrong.” She looked down at the jug. How was she supposed to get this thing into that cloud? A lightning bolt burst forth and struck a vat, causing Pilar to jump and drop the jug. The antifungicide began to spill out, dripping through the grate. “No!” she cried. She was beginning to panic. What was she supposed to do?! She held out her hand, reaching out into the ether with her magic. The liquid froze in midair, bowing to her will. Think of it like that poison, Pilar told herself. The poison she'd pulled from Iblis. She willed the antifungicide towards the cloud, where it would mix with the vapor.
Galladon cannot hold on for much longer, not with all this stress and fear surrounding him. As the fluid was willed towards the cloud and forced to mix with the vapour, Galladon roared with effort – or was it relief? – as the cloud finally burst and the anti-fungicide infused rain began to pour all over the brewery.
Once more the building shook as the toxin began to disperse. Different pieces of the fungus tried different things to escape it--some parts tried to solidify, like the crystalline ice part, but they couldn't hold it for long and melted. Some parts tried to isolate the poison within necrotic masses, and appeared to form swiftly-growing tumors within itself. But as the poison continued to rain, the tumors continued to grow... Other parts began exploding into particles of dust, trying to escape the toxin by spreading as many spores as possible before succumbing. "You do not understand!" said the man-thing, as it started melting away. "We are the Cure! We are completion! We--we--wrblglgpd," its voice trailed off as it melted away, joining the rest of itself, dying, dissolving into inert matter. The blue gas might be a problem, though--what was left of that experiment had transformed into fans, and was trying to usher the gas out of a window, hoping that if only some particles could escape this senseless destruction, it could continue to bring its cure to those disjunct.
Pilar threw out her hand and froze the window shut. The gas condensed, fell to earth, and was dissolved along with the rest of it. Pilar watched the fungus melt, and a tear rolled down her cheek This stuff... Could she have reasoned with it? It wasn't evil, it meant well, it just... was going about things the wrong way. She sniffled and wiped her eyes, then leapt to the ground. “Come on... let's go.” She lead the way outside, Galladon on her heels, and started the long trek home.