RP:The Indignities of Being Eaten By a Book
Background
This is part of the arc: The Mystery of the Wandering Grimoire
Ranok || Overhead, the airship was offloading the pile 'o corpses that were promised to Redhale. A large amount of ogres, in varying states of decay, burnination, or pieces, were shuttled by the undead lackies so thoughtfully supplied by Red. They truly were handy. Of note was the insistence on having retrieved a hundred skulls, each, in Ranok's mind, counting towards the apparent debt levied against the smith by the illusionist. Nevermind that there wasn't enough material to actually make a hundred undead ogres, but Ranok was banking on the fact that he could quibble and mince the debt away. The man himself was on the ground supervising. The cranes were finicky, and the undead fellows didn't have the brains to troubleshoot, and Ranok wasn't exactly going to order some poor sap to stand on the ground instead. This also gave Ranok the opportunity to poke around the graveyard. Over his shoulder bobbed a trio of electric blue motes of light, which seemed to be carrying out a conversation with Ranok in another language. For the sake of convention, the words and their reply will be transcribed as Common for those that may be interested. Words seemingly echoing from everywhere, the trio of lights, heretofore referred to as Draeta, states, <The men supplied by the illusionist are quite the workers. Their fine motor control leaves much to be desired.> Ranok merely grunts in agreement.
Redhale 's grimoire lay in the graveyard, open to apparently blank black pages upon one of the stone slabs lining the area. As one of the undead workers passed it they dropped the body they were carrying and turned to stare at the temperamental tome. The line of men behind him began to stumble and drop their own baggage as they bumped into him and floundered about. The disruption continued to back up the line right to the point of drop off, where dead and undead bodies began to get mixed up as Redhale's soldiers fell into the pile of mutilated ogres Ranok had delivered.
Ranok wades into the backup, annoyed looking, scathingly said to his apparent conversational partner, "Hyu vere sayink?" The lights bob in what could be the equivalent of a shrug. Reaching the site of the disturbance, Ranok addresses the red masked undead in Common, "Alright, vat's de hold up? Kome on, pick on dat arm dere, hyu're gettink it kompletely dirty." Gray eyes shift from the undead, response or not, to the tome. An eyebrow is arched. "Dat looks a lot like dat book dat de masked fellow pounced on not too long ago." Sort of. The book didn't look like much to him, really.
Redhale 's tome turned one of its own pages over. The black paper rasped across the page beneath as it slowly revealed… Another completely black page. Still, it did -seem- different to the page which had previously been open, even if it looked identical. Curiously enough the leaf that had turned over didn't simply lie flat opposite as it should have, but instead slipped out with barely a whisper of a rip and fluttered off along the ground, turning about the tombstone opposite Ranok and making its way down the line of bumbling undead.
Ranok exchanges a glance with Draeta...somehow. For a trio of lights that didn't so much as flicker, they seemed to be fairly expressive. The book was interesting, and that demanded investigation. <Obviously magical.> Came the scathing reply from Ranok, "Hyu tink?" A moment's pondering. Magical meant dangerous. Probably. But, Ranok had handy the restless undead that may or may not listen to commands he gave. He gives it a shot, at least. Pointing at the nearest red masked undead, "Hyu dere. Pick up de book." The fluttering page was watched, not by Ranok, but by the lights, which were tracking its movement, arranged in a triangular formation to function as an eye to do so.
Redhale 's painted soldier turned his sallow face to Ranok as the command was issued. The beast stood still a moment, a tremor grasping his body, before shaking his head slowly but so firmly that upon the third turn his neck gave a distinct pop which apparently urged the being to bring one hand to his throat before slowly shambling to the back of the line to continue his job. The errant page had already made it to the pile of bodies and had begun to flutter upon some ghostly wind up towards the airship, bending and twisting as if it were flying there on its own accord. The book itself had closed and begun to roll awkwardly in the other direction, flip-flopping down the graveyard path and leaving a trail of inky black pages behind it.
Ranok releases a hiss of exhaled air. "Hokay. Plan B." He promptly looks for the longest stick he could dig up. No one said they all had to be Machiavellian plans, after all. Wielding the stick like the Instrument of Science it was, Ranok strides after the flip-flopping book to snag one of the errant pages with the stick to pin it to the cobblestone. The book would remain unmolested for now. However, the flying page was behaving oddly enough to warrant some sort of elevated response, <Boss...> Ranok looks up at the page flying through the air...or trying to. "Vat de hell...?" He had no idea what the thing was trying to accomplish. "It chust gets veirder und veirder...vonder if Red vould be heppy if Hy kaught his book." Not that he was gonna try until he could be sure that any and all digits laid upon the book would be safely gotten back.
Redhale 's grimoire flipped one final flop before vanishing down one curiously thin crack in the paving. The pages it had left behind didn't need to be pinned down by Ranok; they had already plastered themselves firmly against the ground, although the one Ranok -did- decide to mess with was apparently less solid than the rest (or perhaps not) and that stick would sink straight through it, or more accurately, into it. The stick was visible for a few short seconds before fading into the blackness of the page. The page in the sky had grown a little bigger during its trip and had now plastered itself over a significant portion of the airship, blotting out a large patch which seemed destined to grow as another page tore itself from the ground and began to flutter up towards the transport.
Ranok yanks out the stick if it were possible to, or if not, abandon the thing. There wasn't any time to inspect the Instrument of Science, the airship was being attacked...or consumed, or something. "Hey. Hends off de merchandise! It's a rental!" Not that it'd do any good, probably. Draeta bobs and weaves a little before saying, <Elevated response?> Ranok replies, "Elevated response." This, evidently, meant exactly what it said. Ranok takes a running start towards the airship and then *jumps*. Buzzing sounds through the air as the Draeta takes over. The sentient armor draws from the power stored and stolen from the blood of the blue dragon it had absorbed to grant it, and by extension, Ranok, flight. Fairly ungraceful by most standards, the man sails through the air on an intercept course for that second page that was fluttering its way towards the ship. The stick was brandished to simply whack it out of the air. Plan A, obviously. Or perhaps C, Ranok wasn't keeping proper track.
Redhale 's flying page was a lot bigger closer up, as Ranok would find out when his approaching it with plans of hindering its mission. The black hole in the sky was at least ten feet wide and still growing, but upon being battered it apparently decided that flight wasn't its calling, and instead began to wrap back around Ranok and his paltry stick. Any and all force met no resistance from the paper, and instead Ranok would find himself swinging through empty air in a black nothingness, the only sources of the faintest light being the openings at the top and bottom of the envelope folding around him.
Ranok only says, "****." in response. What else was there to say? He flips around, throwing off a wave of electricity as a byproduct of his chosen method of propulsion, and slams it in the other direction in an attempt to get back out of whatever had swallowed him. Only to discover that there was no other direction. "Oh, goot. Hy tought dis vas gunna be *normal*." He has Draeta cut out the propulsion, but slowly, functionally making him slowfall. No use burning energy. If there was a ground, he'd find it soon enough.
Redhale 's world was dark and silent, and it surrounded Ranok only moments after he had turned around. The shaft of light from above closed up, but below there was still a dull twinkling, a patch of silvery light which grew as Ranok descended upon it. There was no air to hush past the man's face as he fell, but neither would there be any trouble breathing, and the conditions in the black were apparently fine enough for a tree to grow for that was exactly what Ranok found himself standing next to as his descent slowed to a stop beside the source of the light: A great glowing tree, shimmering white and swaying in the not-breeze. Whatever Ranok was standing on was harder to define, as it was as black as the void which he had fallen from.
Ranok drops into a crouch near the tree, evidently the only feature in the void. A hand presses against the 'floor' to test the solidity of whatever it was he was apparently standing on. Seemed sturdy enough. He had larger things to worry about. Draeta was absolutely having a conniption, the lights swirling around in an agitated fashion. <Unknown location. No known landmarks. All references absent. Intermesh is dislocated. Highly probable that we have conjoined with another locus.> Ranok seemed to understand the status report. In summary: they obviously weren't in Kansas anymore. The armor possessed expanded sense ranging into sensitivities the man couldn't match, so he trusted its judgement. Even if magic didn't work properly, the voodoo that granted the armor life wasn't exactly sane in itself. Insanity plus insanity equaled something entirely different, no doubt, but it seemed to be okay for now. There was not-air to breath, at least, and ambient temperatures were survivable. The stick wasn't abandoned, not yet. Casting around for more information, Ranok would open his duster up to withdraw from the small of his back Mirabelle, the strange contraption. He was armed, at least. He wasn't going to be jumped in the darkness without a fight. The stick was, of course, used to promptly poke the tree to elicit some sort of response.
Redhale likely had all sorts of surprises hidden in his memoirs, some that Ranok may have been ready for, and many that he wouldn't have. The one that was presented likely belonged to both categories in different capacities, "Edgy," warned a little voice from somewhere nearby, "Wont make friends like that, come looking for a fight." a light-hearted chuckle followed, and a glimpse of something else could be seen moving behind the tree, "No friends for you here anyway."
Ranok glances around. Mirabelle wasn't lowered. "...no, Hy suspect not. Vere em Hy?" Right to the point. Feet carry the man in a careful circle, keeping that movement in his sight. "Vat iz de reason hyu hef brought me here?"
Redhale 's world seems to flex and bend, even in its complete darkness, as a small boy steps out from behind the tree to stare Ranok down. His skin and clothing matched the silvery glow of the tree, as if he were made of some kind of luminous crystal, "What is the reason you came here?" He retorts, "I don't think people like you belong in the forest. What do -you- think your purpose here is?"
Ranok doesn't aim the weapon at the boy directly. But he was ready to use it. Just in case. "Hy don' hef time for games. Hy vas abducted by dat book." A glance around, then up. "Vere iz 'here'? Vatever purpose Hy hef apparently been brought here for. My guess iz simple kuriosity."
Redhale 's occupant spoke older than he looked, "I have less time for games than you do, mister. Things are complicated enough in my life without strange folk falling from the sky." He turned about to survey the landscape around him, or at least whatever landscape he appeared to see, "This place, 'here', used to be home. Now it's… A little harder to define." As he turned about on the spot he showed only his back to Ranok, and the tree swung about with the boy as it's pivot, as did the forest which surrounded them: Hundred of trees swung into view, sprouting from thousands of shimmering white blades of grass which lined the ground like crushed glass. The boy completed his turn to face Ranok once more, "I like to think it's a little bit of everywhere."
Ranok drops out of his combat stance, just slightly. Enough to look around at least. "Interestink." Dreata swirls around Ranok's head. <Possible that this locus serves as a byways for a great many. It may simply connect to all of Hollow. Or it is utterly dislocated from normal space. I lack the senses to tell for sure.> Ranok glances at his inorganic companion. He finally drops the stick. The hand goes for his duster, instead. To reach into one of its pockets. Ranok's duster was a strange, strange thing. Its pockets were depthless, the space therein connected to some ill defined pinched off space or plane where time passed strangely and nothing seemed to touch the objects stored therein. Finding out whether Ranok could access his personal hammerspace would go a ways towards telling him just how close to Hollow this place really was.
Redhale 's world seemed content to allow Ranok to rummage through his pockets, and all of his other belongings, without trouble. The stick he had cast away, however, paled and began to glow with that same silvery light almost the instant it left his hand. The small boy let out a small tut at this, and bent down to pick it up, "Not even useful." He concluded after a short moment and cast it away himself, "I don't suspect you're here to stay yourself? You seem a bit too focused on your own troubles to really fit in with the rest of us." The only others that could be included in that 'us' seemed to be several ill-defined shapes wandering aimlessly through the far off-trees, some interacting with one another but most simply faceless shades, save for one: A bright red face carried by a now familiarly silver body. Its splash of colour wasn't the only thing that set it apart, for its own movement was much more directed, which is to say it was directed towards Ranok and the boy, at speed.
Ranok pulls out a box, a limelight. Might be useful in the shifting gloom. "Hy hef no interest in remainink in dis locus longer den iz schtrictly necessary." He clips the limelight to his belt for easy access should he need it. He points his now free hand at the stick in question, "Hy'll hef hyu know dat such a schtick iz a fine Instrument uf Science. SCHticks are useful. Alvays around, burn for varmth, lean ven hurt, hit tinks, or poke dem. Alvays karry a schtick around, trust me, boy." Eyes lock onto the red masked figure heading towards him at alarming speed. The man flexes his body and once again, *jumps*. Aided by a jolt of juice from Draeta, the man leaps to the side by a large margin. He had no idea what the Redhale lookalike was going to do, but he was playing it safe. Mostly by keeping a very strict area of clearance around himself, which was obviously becoming more and more difficult. "Hup!" Burning off his momentum with his landing, he turns to face the newest strangeness. Paranoia was the name of his game, obviously.
Redhale 's forest seemed to jump with Ranok, so that the man's point of view barely changed as he jumped from the ground. The boy didn't seem to even notice the movement, but the shift elicited a bout of cackling laughter from the red-faced one. As he drew closer it became apparent that the colour actually belonged to a mask he wore, and he drew closer quickly. It seemed that while the world worked against Ranok's movement it went to lengths to aid this one's; each hurried step he took seemed to shift him forwards much further than his legspan should have allowed. The boy didn't seem phased by this either, but it wouldn't have been outrageous to suggest that he had existed here for a long, long time.
Ranok was starting to get annoyed. When that happened, he usually began setting it on fire and letting it all wash out. "Hyu know, Hy'd be villink to bet de internals uf a book vouldn' react hall dat vell to fire, now, vould it?" Steps in any direction taken. Testing the limits of the tagalong world. A hand held like it was cupping something. Electricity arced in between fingers, a dazzling display. The Red masked figure gets much closer and it would be dealt a hell of a concentrated shock. Draeta had gone dim, diverting energy to the defense of the man who it technically enshrouded. <Be careful, Boss. Space is twisting on itself. You're likely to deal a bolt to yourself.> A glance at the lights, then Ranok stretches out his right hand, which held Mirabelle. The trigger was squeezed, and if all worked as it should, a muffled whoomp, a burst of light, and a kick later and a shell of crystallized magic shoots out, sailing way overhead. It was a standard white shell, which meant that on impact, it would explode into a hail of painful crystal shards, a flash of brilliant light, and a heavy wave of concussion. He wasn't aiming at anything in particular, a tree perhaps. It was more a test to see how this strange world behaved when he departed an object from himself instead of attempting to move.
Redhale ::The projectile Ranok had fired burst a great deal sooner than it was meant to, flaring into a great white ball of light mere inches from the barrel of the contraption, although releasing neither heat, though perhaps there was simply nothing to heat up, nor shards of crystal. A fuzzy black splotch burred the spot in which the projectile had erupted, either blurring vision or the world itself. The child by the tree spoke up again, "That was a little more useful… I think I know someone who would very much like to play with that…" He took a few steps towards Ranok, but before he could reach the man the bright red face of a grinning imp burst through the blurry blackness left by Ranok's testing, hands raised high above its head and wrapped around a simple, probably wooden staff. The weapon was brought down swiftly, and though its end swung cleanly past Ranok's face the motion nonetheless sent him falling again, as the tip of the staff had punched a hole right through the ground at his feet. The empty blackness sucked Ranok downwards once more, leaving behind the forest and a pair of screaming, glowing apparitions.
Ranok hisses as his experiment nearly blew up in his face. Instinct took over more then sensory input or rationality, when the figure erupted close by. Too late to do much more then stumble back and attempt to parry a blow that went through him. And then he would be falling again. But, he'd leave a parting gift. A jagged bolt of lightning bursts forth from his hand as he fell backwards, describing a fierce line in the darkness. Whether it, too, would be eaten, remained to be seen. The smith hoped that if it was, whatever did so choked on it. Downwards he goes again, expelling but a single, "Fffffffff-!" Following close after the smith, somewhat like a ball yanked by a rope, the trio of lights streaked. As the man falls, he flips himself around to adopt the freefalling position, then feet first. The slow fall enchantments in his boots might kick in, they might not. Who the hell knew? Ranok did not like this place very much, truth be told.
Redhale 's world descended into complete darkness before any effect of Ranok's attempt to disrupt things further could be witnessed, but Ranok's world looked to be growing a whole lot brighter as a window of light, and colour, rushed towards him from below. There was one moment where Ranok, even as experienced in air travel as he was, might have felt a turning stomach as he crossed the threshold between worlds and the direction of gravity shifted drastically. It seemed as though the page he had left from happened to be the one which had plastered itself to his ship, and Ranok found himself traveling horizontally through the air above the graveyard. At least he knew what he was falling towards now.
Ranok didn't really have time to sick as he was forced to deal with the ground rushing up at him in seconds. Right about then the slowfall kicks in. The enchantment wasn't supremely potent, merely enough to take a 'lethal' fall and turn it into a 'painful' one. Crashing into the, thankfully, soft ground he crumples into a really shoddy roll, mostly by sheer momentum and what experienced he possessed. When he was done rolling, the man simply lies there, just for a minute. Settling the sick feeling in his stomach, accessing the aches in his legs, and making sure everything was still present. All at once he sits straight up, "Vhere de hell iz dat book. Hy'm gonna burn it." He sounded pretty damn vengeful at the moment. Crawling to his feet, muttering a, "If Hy hed dat stick..." he shakes his head to clear the grogginess. At least he didn't try to vomit. That was a small blessing. He half walks, half stumbles towards the airship. He didn't care how much time had passed, though it would be noted by Draeta and filed away for later interest. At the moment, the man wanted the hell out of Vailkrin. Any remaining ogre bodies on the ship were ordered to be unceremoniously shoved offboard, no ifs, ands, or buts. Riding a winch back up himself, Ranok refuses to answer any of the questions from the crewmen about what had happened. Not yet, at least. Shortly after, with the snap of sails, the airship would begin making headway out of the darklands. Should Ranok encounter the book again...he would be more prepared. With something flammable if nothing else.