It's always the damn rocks. The smocat thought that, while chewing on the last piece of smoked salmon and idly studying the embroidery on his cushion. He pushed away the empty plate, letting out a frustrated sigh. He really, really hated the damn rocks. Out of the myriad kinds of gubbins in the world, minerals were the hardest to appraise. You never knew if a seemingly ordinary grey stone was picked up on the roadside and was worth zero Bishani, or fell down from the moon and was worth a thousand. Granted, Timur knew an amateur geologist in Marn, but he couldn't exactly run to him every single time he obtained a piece of weird mineral, which was very often. The smocat even considered getting himself a geology education, just so he could smoothly keep rock in stock, so to speak. Naturally, he still haven't even opened a book on the subject due to procrastination issues. Inwardly lamenting how his life was always so busy and stressful, Tamerlane slowly rolled over on his side and closed his three eyes. Just as he began dozing off, a loud and uncompromising voice pierced his brain.
"Boss, the store's closed, so I'm goin' to my room. That allright?"
Berke was standing in the doorway to the spacious back office of Things and Stuff - Tamerlane's unofficial place of residence. The swamp troll was also staying in the store; since he had always lived at whatever place hired him, he didn't have his own house. His "room" was actually a nothing but an old bed in the shop's storage area, but Berke wasn't one to complain about lack of comfort. Chagatai, on the other hand, lived in a big house with her wealthy father, so she wasn't usually staying at the store. Timur rubbed his sleepy eyes with his paws and asked what was on his mind.
"Yes, you may retire for the day. Has Chagatai went home?"
"She did. I love this place the most when it's closed, just 'cause she's not here then."
The troll gave a disdainful snort and walked off into the depths of the building, leaving his boss alone again. The smocat strained his legs and lifted up his body to go fetch some more salmon, but then gave up and sank back onto the cushion. He was exceptionally tired today. Unlike humans, Timur only needed a few hours of sleep every week, so the store's closure usually meant the start of his exciting nighttime adventures in smoke form. However, he just didn't feel like leaving his office tonight. The rock-related debacle earlier this morning was rather exhausting; that loud elf stormed into the store right after breakfast and demanded a refund for a piece of malachite he had bought last week, saying that it was fake. Like always, Chagatai had no idea what to do in such a situation, so she had to run to the back of the store to "check something" every ten minutes, so that Timur could teach her new lines to feed the annoying customer. The smocat was used to telling off angry Puradynes using Chagatai as a proxy, but it was still a butthurt every time it happened. Deciding that taking a short nap would refresh him, Tamerlane curled up on his cozy cushion and drifted off to sleep.
Mind's Eye
Re: Mind's Eye
A small song was being hummed as a purple clad wizard strode down an empty street. Everything looked somewhat blurry, and all the buildings were in a constant state of flux. None of it was real, of course. This was merely the fringes of a dream.
Tell held a hand out to the side and enforced his will over the area. His crystal ball appeared, the green one with the living fire within it. As he strode down the street, a nightmarish black mass gathered behind him, flowing like liquid from his hand.
As he came to the door of an inn like structure, the dream came into sudden focus. This must be the centerpiece of the dream, then. He would find the dreamer within.
Tell’s feet lifted from the cobblestone haze beneath them and glided to the front door. A simple thought sent the doors wide open. Tell levitated in the entryway.
Inside, a troll bashed a customer’s head against the bar. Repeatedly. The troll didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the screaming man, either. He just clutched the poor face in his four clawed hand and slammed the broken visage into the hard wood, over and over again.
The troll eventually noticed the draft. He turned to the entryway, and the repetitive bashing ceased. There was a long pause as the two stared at each other, the wizard looking faintly perplexed as the troll simply stared back, his fanged face unreadable. The only sound was the occasional whimper from the poor wretch in the troll’s grip.
“Just passing through, friend.” The wizard offered. The troll shrugged and resumed his merciless beating.
Tell closed the doors with a thought and put a hand to his chin. Tell began leaning backwards, much to far back to balance, but his crystal ball swerved beneath him to make a momentary seat. Perhaps he had been a bit off in his calculations.
Tell turned back to the inn, opened the door once more. He walked past the troll, which chose to ignore him this time. The victim’s face had exploded—it was quite messy—and the headless corpse was now lying bloody beneath the troll’s stool. Tell walked by with a small nod and opened the back door.
A bizarre tunnel was past the doorway, a portal to another mind. Tell stepped off of the solid wooden floor and entered the yawning abyss; his feet deftly landed atop his crystal ball as he spiraled down into the dream of his target.
Tell held a hand out to the side and enforced his will over the area. His crystal ball appeared, the green one with the living fire within it. As he strode down the street, a nightmarish black mass gathered behind him, flowing like liquid from his hand.
As he came to the door of an inn like structure, the dream came into sudden focus. This must be the centerpiece of the dream, then. He would find the dreamer within.
Tell’s feet lifted from the cobblestone haze beneath them and glided to the front door. A simple thought sent the doors wide open. Tell levitated in the entryway.
Inside, a troll bashed a customer’s head against the bar. Repeatedly. The troll didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the screaming man, either. He just clutched the poor face in his four clawed hand and slammed the broken visage into the hard wood, over and over again.
The troll eventually noticed the draft. He turned to the entryway, and the repetitive bashing ceased. There was a long pause as the two stared at each other, the wizard looking faintly perplexed as the troll simply stared back, his fanged face unreadable. The only sound was the occasional whimper from the poor wretch in the troll’s grip.
“Just passing through, friend.” The wizard offered. The troll shrugged and resumed his merciless beating.
Tell closed the doors with a thought and put a hand to his chin. Tell began leaning backwards, much to far back to balance, but his crystal ball swerved beneath him to make a momentary seat. Perhaps he had been a bit off in his calculations.
Tell turned back to the inn, opened the door once more. He walked past the troll, which chose to ignore him this time. The victim’s face had exploded—it was quite messy—and the headless corpse was now lying bloody beneath the troll’s stool. Tell walked by with a small nod and opened the back door.
A bizarre tunnel was past the doorway, a portal to another mind. Tell stepped off of the solid wooden floor and entered the yawning abyss; his feet deftly landed atop his crystal ball as he spiraled down into the dream of his target.
Re: Mind's Eye
There was a spacious, long corridor. Beautifully carved and laquered wooden cabinets lined the walls, reaching up to the tall ceiling. The floor was covered by a detailed parquet mosaic, and dim crystal chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling, giving the corridor the appearance of a prestigeous museum gallery. Indeed, the doorless cabinets were chock full of... gubbins. There was no better word to describe the assortment items on the shelves. Some were clearly fit for a museum: gilded weapons, extravagant clothes and jewelry, beautiful paintings and mysterious magical atrifacts. However, right alongside them were things one really wouldn't expect to see in a gallery: pieces of mundane-looking wood and stone, old rags, cheap tableware, dried flowers, and... chicken bones?
The bizarrely mismatched assortment of items, when illuminated by the weak and flickering light of the chandeliers, gave this strange gallery a sense of dignity. The corridor was incredibly long; it was impossible to see the beginning or the end of it. It almost reminded of the tunnel one sees before death, except that there was definitely no light at the end here. Along the corridor rolled a cloud of viscous grey smoke. It moved painfully slowly, pausing every so often as if to inspect the surrounding shelves, and then continuing on at the same pace.
Tamerlane had this dream almost every time. It was his dream when awake, and naturally came to him in his sleep as well. The gallery in this dream held one of every item in existence, and was virtally endless. It was not something even a king or an emperor had the resources to compose. In the real world, this dream would never come true. But here, in this world, anything impossible could be obtained merely by wishing for it. It was a pleasant dream, but the pleasure it brought was much less intense than the pain from waking up to harsh reality. That's why Timur didn't sleep any more than biologically necessary, which for him was rather little.
The cloud of smoke suddenly stopped. Something was wrong. The smoke was no longer alone in this gallery. Someone had disturbed its blissful solitude. There was clearly nobody in sight, and the only sound was the barely audible hum of candle fires in the chandeliers, caused by the weak draft in the corridor. Everything appeared normal... but the smoke knew. And it waited.
The bizarrely mismatched assortment of items, when illuminated by the weak and flickering light of the chandeliers, gave this strange gallery a sense of dignity. The corridor was incredibly long; it was impossible to see the beginning or the end of it. It almost reminded of the tunnel one sees before death, except that there was definitely no light at the end here. Along the corridor rolled a cloud of viscous grey smoke. It moved painfully slowly, pausing every so often as if to inspect the surrounding shelves, and then continuing on at the same pace.
Tamerlane had this dream almost every time. It was his dream when awake, and naturally came to him in his sleep as well. The gallery in this dream held one of every item in existence, and was virtally endless. It was not something even a king or an emperor had the resources to compose. In the real world, this dream would never come true. But here, in this world, anything impossible could be obtained merely by wishing for it. It was a pleasant dream, but the pleasure it brought was much less intense than the pain from waking up to harsh reality. That's why Timur didn't sleep any more than biologically necessary, which for him was rather little.
The cloud of smoke suddenly stopped. Something was wrong. The smoke was no longer alone in this gallery. Someone had disturbed its blissful solitude. There was clearly nobody in sight, and the only sound was the barely audible hum of candle fires in the chandeliers, caused by the weak draft in the corridor. Everything appeared normal... but the smoke knew. And it waited.
Re: Mind's Eye
Tell glided down into the smocat’s dream. His feet balanced perfectly on the curved surface of the crystal ball beneath him— a feat which was all but impossible in life, Tell accomplished it easily in the dream.
He melted through the barrier posed by the ceiling of a great hallway. The roof rippled like water as he slipped through it. The green light of his crystal ball did not clash well with the elegant light of the museum, producing an unhealthy light green pallor which covered the whole of the hallway. The light reflected from Tamerlane, turning his smoke an unearthy shade of pale green.
The chandeliers whispered and rattled as Tell slid past them. His descent brought him down into the center of the hallway. When his crystal ball touched the mosaic floor, an echo resounded out, a loud, ringing noise very reminiscent of a church bell. Tell stepped off of his unorthodox transport to place a foot upon the ground. The light tap it made was drowned out by the ringing echo of the first landing.
Once he had both feet on the ground, Tell examined the assortment of objects with a lazy, unimpressed glance. The ringing died down as his feet continued their humble strides forward; eventually, the ringing was silent, and the taps of his feet were the only noise in the pristine, warped hall.
Tell’s head abruptly swerved from the merchandise to stare into the cloud of smoke. His eyes waited there for a moment, looking at the creature which was perhaps unique on all of Pal Tahrenor.
“Your companion has lovely dreams.” The wizard said eventually, addressing no point in particular. His voice was dull and monotone as he continued, “most fascinating.”
Tell’s crystal ball swung up behind him. Tell slid backwards as it moved to create a seat for the second time today. His hands folded into his lap while he crossed his legs, a gesture of business and formality. “Almost as lovely as your collection here.” His voice lost its edge as he spoke, slipping into a more familiar tone which conveyed basic feeling. He let it take on a somber tone of regret. “It seems to me that your collection is missing something, even here, where the infinite is possible.” Tell’s hands spread out the sides, motioning to the whole of their surroundings. “I can help you. Are you willing to bargain, child of smoke?”
He melted through the barrier posed by the ceiling of a great hallway. The roof rippled like water as he slipped through it. The green light of his crystal ball did not clash well with the elegant light of the museum, producing an unhealthy light green pallor which covered the whole of the hallway. The light reflected from Tamerlane, turning his smoke an unearthy shade of pale green.
The chandeliers whispered and rattled as Tell slid past them. His descent brought him down into the center of the hallway. When his crystal ball touched the mosaic floor, an echo resounded out, a loud, ringing noise very reminiscent of a church bell. Tell stepped off of his unorthodox transport to place a foot upon the ground. The light tap it made was drowned out by the ringing echo of the first landing.
Once he had both feet on the ground, Tell examined the assortment of objects with a lazy, unimpressed glance. The ringing died down as his feet continued their humble strides forward; eventually, the ringing was silent, and the taps of his feet were the only noise in the pristine, warped hall.
Tell’s head abruptly swerved from the merchandise to stare into the cloud of smoke. His eyes waited there for a moment, looking at the creature which was perhaps unique on all of Pal Tahrenor.
“Your companion has lovely dreams.” The wizard said eventually, addressing no point in particular. His voice was dull and monotone as he continued, “most fascinating.”
Tell’s crystal ball swung up behind him. Tell slid backwards as it moved to create a seat for the second time today. His hands folded into his lap while he crossed his legs, a gesture of business and formality. “Almost as lovely as your collection here.” His voice lost its edge as he spoke, slipping into a more familiar tone which conveyed basic feeling. He let it take on a somber tone of regret. “It seems to me that your collection is missing something, even here, where the infinite is possible.” Tell’s hands spread out the sides, motioning to the whole of their surroundings. “I can help you. Are you willing to bargain, child of smoke?”
Re: Mind's Eye
For a while, there was no reaction. The smoke stayed stationary and made calm, wavy motions, reminding of the smoke rising from a chimney. It was seemingly considering the stranger's proposal. Its collection was missing something? Hardly. After all, it had one of every single item in the world. Should anyone point at a random point on Pal Tahrenor, this collection would have whatever object was being pointed at. Not only inanimate objects; somewhere in this corridor, creatures also existed. They existed not as people, but as exponates, with the sole purpose of bolstering the gallery. However, what if someone pointed at a random point outside of Pal Tahrenor? The smoke had that covered. Pieces of foreign stars and planets also rested here. It would be more accurate to say that not the world, but the whole universe was neatly displayed within these walls.
So, how could anything be missing? There's only one possible explanation. This hallway contained all things in the universe. The universe is something that, more or less, fits inside the imagination of mortals. Anything that lied beyond that - beyond the theshold of mortal comprehension - could not be found in this museum, but that doesn't mean that such things don't exist. So, even with every conceivable item stored here, this collection was not complete, because it was missing the inconceivable items. Forget kings and emperors. Not even gods would be able to compose the perfect gallery that the smoke yearned for.
The unwelcome realisation has suddenly set the smoke in motion. It undulated angrily, sprouting viscous globs of matter in all directions; the green light which the stranger's crystal ball cast upon the creature made it look like a polluted geyser. With just a few words, this invader, whether out of carelessness or ill intent, has destroyed the smoke's blissful dream. The chandeliers on the ceiling suddenly went out, and the gallery was now lit only with the light of the crystal ball. There were only two clearly visible shapes: the man, and the smoke, with everything surrounding them showing as distorted black silhouettes. Even all the things in this place couldn't bring the smoke happiness now that it knew the collection wasn't complete. This sensation of unfullfillment was comparable to the frustration of a hunter almost shooting the hare, only on a much greater level. And this visitor was the cause of it. He had to take responsibility. The smoke calmed its apparent anger and returned to a calm, chimney-smoke state, as if indicating that it was willing to listen. Whatever this man proposed had better be worth the damage he had done.
So, how could anything be missing? There's only one possible explanation. This hallway contained all things in the universe. The universe is something that, more or less, fits inside the imagination of mortals. Anything that lied beyond that - beyond the theshold of mortal comprehension - could not be found in this museum, but that doesn't mean that such things don't exist. So, even with every conceivable item stored here, this collection was not complete, because it was missing the inconceivable items. Forget kings and emperors. Not even gods would be able to compose the perfect gallery that the smoke yearned for.
The unwelcome realisation has suddenly set the smoke in motion. It undulated angrily, sprouting viscous globs of matter in all directions; the green light which the stranger's crystal ball cast upon the creature made it look like a polluted geyser. With just a few words, this invader, whether out of carelessness or ill intent, has destroyed the smoke's blissful dream. The chandeliers on the ceiling suddenly went out, and the gallery was now lit only with the light of the crystal ball. There were only two clearly visible shapes: the man, and the smoke, with everything surrounding them showing as distorted black silhouettes. Even all the things in this place couldn't bring the smoke happiness now that it knew the collection wasn't complete. This sensation of unfullfillment was comparable to the frustration of a hunter almost shooting the hare, only on a much greater level. And this visitor was the cause of it. He had to take responsibility. The smoke calmed its apparent anger and returned to a calm, chimney-smoke state, as if indicating that it was willing to listen. Whatever this man proposed had better be worth the damage he had done.
Re: Mind's Eye
Hovering atop his perch in the dark void which had replaced the infinite hallway, Tell took a moment to admire the power of the dreamer. Few exhibited the precise control over their own thoughts necessary to alter their own dreams with such conscious intent.
What was more important was that the dreamer had realized that his collection was not complete.
“You are angered.” Tell stated. “This is understandable. But such destruction is unnecessary, as I offer you nothing less than the chance to fix your flawed perception, piece by peice.” Tell nodded his head into the darkness. Another haunting light caused a new scene to appear. It was the hallway, reproduced in perfect clarity but for one difference. Where there had previously been objects in the glass cases, there was now something which one could not call an object at all. It was not light, yet it produced it, nor energy, yet it was. It was not anything material, but something else entirely. It was magic in its purest form, little shards of the astral plane paradoxically contained in a form simultaneously recognizable and incomprehensible.
“Impossibility itself may become a part of your collection, both here and in reality. You are very nearly unique in Marn—ambitious in your gains and unafraid of the dark. You are fearless of that which you do not fully understand. All you wish for is to possess that obscurity and make it yours, and that is enough.”
“I respect that greatly.” Tell waved a hand. All the shards of the astral plane warped and grew, flowing outwards into his crystal ball. They took the illumination of the hall with them, peeling back the light of the hall like a curtain until it was once more nothing but the mage and the smoke. Tell held out his crystal ball, filled to the brim with the unattainable substance, in offering. Just looking at the concentrated magic within was enough to make mundane humans question their sanity, but both Tell and the smoke lived and breathed magic. It existed in a realm just outside their comprehension, just enough to tantalize a mind with the possibility of understanding. “And so I have turned to you. I can give you magic itself in physical form, provided you are willing to do me a service.”
Tell put a finger to his chin, looking pensive. “I must apologize for speaking what I presume are your thoughts, but for so long as you lack the means to convey them I am afraid I see no other option. Do tell me, child of smoke, if you are interested in proceeding to the bargain? I’ll not ask you to change your form.”
Tell stood up and waved a hand. A scroll appeared between his fingers. He gently set it on the faint silhouette of the museum “If you are interested, unfurl my rune scroll and I shall detail the exact terms.” Tell let his crystal ball, still pulsing with his metal image of magic, softly glide over to it. It was a promise of what would occur, should the cat deign to look. He then summoned a gilded crown and a pile of bishani. “If not, if you are truly content to never hold what I offer, I shall leave and you may take these instead. They are redundant for your hall, I know, but I do hope you’ll admit it a fitting symbol for such a lackluster option.”
Tell awaited the smoke’s decision with a piercing stare, standing there in the darkest corners of the mind. The mage thought it an interesting choice; after all, it was not really a choice, but a test. Tamerlane’s conviction was on trial. Just how strong is your dream, I wonder? He paused, never dropping his gaze. In the face of impossibility, does it crumble?
What was more important was that the dreamer had realized that his collection was not complete.
“You are angered.” Tell stated. “This is understandable. But such destruction is unnecessary, as I offer you nothing less than the chance to fix your flawed perception, piece by peice.” Tell nodded his head into the darkness. Another haunting light caused a new scene to appear. It was the hallway, reproduced in perfect clarity but for one difference. Where there had previously been objects in the glass cases, there was now something which one could not call an object at all. It was not light, yet it produced it, nor energy, yet it was. It was not anything material, but something else entirely. It was magic in its purest form, little shards of the astral plane paradoxically contained in a form simultaneously recognizable and incomprehensible.
“Impossibility itself may become a part of your collection, both here and in reality. You are very nearly unique in Marn—ambitious in your gains and unafraid of the dark. You are fearless of that which you do not fully understand. All you wish for is to possess that obscurity and make it yours, and that is enough.”
“I respect that greatly.” Tell waved a hand. All the shards of the astral plane warped and grew, flowing outwards into his crystal ball. They took the illumination of the hall with them, peeling back the light of the hall like a curtain until it was once more nothing but the mage and the smoke. Tell held out his crystal ball, filled to the brim with the unattainable substance, in offering. Just looking at the concentrated magic within was enough to make mundane humans question their sanity, but both Tell and the smoke lived and breathed magic. It existed in a realm just outside their comprehension, just enough to tantalize a mind with the possibility of understanding. “And so I have turned to you. I can give you magic itself in physical form, provided you are willing to do me a service.”
Tell put a finger to his chin, looking pensive. “I must apologize for speaking what I presume are your thoughts, but for so long as you lack the means to convey them I am afraid I see no other option. Do tell me, child of smoke, if you are interested in proceeding to the bargain? I’ll not ask you to change your form.”
Tell stood up and waved a hand. A scroll appeared between his fingers. He gently set it on the faint silhouette of the museum “If you are interested, unfurl my rune scroll and I shall detail the exact terms.” Tell let his crystal ball, still pulsing with his metal image of magic, softly glide over to it. It was a promise of what would occur, should the cat deign to look. He then summoned a gilded crown and a pile of bishani. “If not, if you are truly content to never hold what I offer, I shall leave and you may take these instead. They are redundant for your hall, I know, but I do hope you’ll admit it a fitting symbol for such a lackluster option.”
Tell awaited the smoke’s decision with a piercing stare, standing there in the darkest corners of the mind. The mage thought it an interesting choice; after all, it was not really a choice, but a test. Tamerlane’s conviction was on trial. Just how strong is your dream, I wonder? He paused, never dropping his gaze. In the face of impossibility, does it crumble?
Re: Mind's Eye
The smoke undulated erratically; it was hard to tell whether it was upset, excited, or both. It had no face, so it couldn't make an expression to show its emotions. It had no mouth, so it couldn't reply to this strange wizard who so unexpectedly infiltrated its world and turned it upside down. Tamerlane never shifted to his tangible shape in his dreams, because for a creature whose natural form was weightless, assuming the shape of an obese cat was like being burdened by a stack of bricks for a human. In the real world, the cat form was necessary for many tasks and situations, but here, no such things existed. The smoke could never dream up a situation where it would need to trouble itself, but it knew from hearsay that dreams were not always free of troubles. While the smoke had never experienced one before, it knew of nightmares. So, since this dream was not as pleasant as usual, it must have been a nightmare. The easiest and only way to resolve problems in a nightmare was to wake up.
Hiowever, the smoke was curious. Not about the stranger, first and foremost; since he was just the figment of a dream, he would vanish without a trace as soon as a certain cat opened its three eyes somewhere in a shop office. Just as always, the actual contents of the dream were highly temporary and therefore not very important. No, what the smoke was curious about was the nightmare as a phenomenon. This unique experience should be enjoyed as much as possible, because chances are that it will never occur again. Completely ignoring the crown and the money, the smoke turned its attention to the glowing crystall ball, and the roll of parchment it illuminated. Did it really matter what was inside of this ball? Other than the fact that it was something which was missing from the gallery, no. Tamerlane was not a wizard nor a scholar. The properties of the light in the crystal ball held no meaning to him. He was a collector in the purest sense of the word, one that wasn't interested in using or studying the items in his collection. His greatest pleasure was derived from the act of owning things.
It was already beyond questioning that an all-encompassing gallery was not attainable. This already seemingly endless hall was an infinitely thin line on the list of all the things that existed within and beyond the universe. Interestingly, that also meant that there was room for expansion. The illusion of a perfect gallery that the smoke had earlier was bad sport in that regard. The creature vaguely recalled its real-life memories of dealing with people who came to sell their possessions at its shop. If the item was interesting enough, resistance was futile: the smocat would make the poor sod fork over the gubbins without fail. And this case was no different at all. A customer came to him, at a strange time and place perhaps, to trade something interesting. Turning him away before hearing his offer went against all principles of business. Just as the smoke thought that, a strong gale suddenly burst through the hallway, making the unlit chandeliers give an echoing clatter. The parchment slid off the object it was resting on and gently glided down to the parquette floor, unfurling across it.
Hiowever, the smoke was curious. Not about the stranger, first and foremost; since he was just the figment of a dream, he would vanish without a trace as soon as a certain cat opened its three eyes somewhere in a shop office. Just as always, the actual contents of the dream were highly temporary and therefore not very important. No, what the smoke was curious about was the nightmare as a phenomenon. This unique experience should be enjoyed as much as possible, because chances are that it will never occur again. Completely ignoring the crown and the money, the smoke turned its attention to the glowing crystall ball, and the roll of parchment it illuminated. Did it really matter what was inside of this ball? Other than the fact that it was something which was missing from the gallery, no. Tamerlane was not a wizard nor a scholar. The properties of the light in the crystal ball held no meaning to him. He was a collector in the purest sense of the word, one that wasn't interested in using or studying the items in his collection. His greatest pleasure was derived from the act of owning things.
It was already beyond questioning that an all-encompassing gallery was not attainable. This already seemingly endless hall was an infinitely thin line on the list of all the things that existed within and beyond the universe. Interestingly, that also meant that there was room for expansion. The illusion of a perfect gallery that the smoke had earlier was bad sport in that regard. The creature vaguely recalled its real-life memories of dealing with people who came to sell their possessions at its shop. If the item was interesting enough, resistance was futile: the smocat would make the poor sod fork over the gubbins without fail. And this case was no different at all. A customer came to him, at a strange time and place perhaps, to trade something interesting. Turning him away before hearing his offer went against all principles of business. Just as the smoke thought that, a strong gale suddenly burst through the hallway, making the unlit chandeliers give an echoing clatter. The parchment slid off the object it was resting on and gently glided down to the parquette floor, unfurling across it.
Re: Mind's Eye
Tell laughed happily and clapped his hands together. The crown and bishani disappeared, leaving only the scroll and the crystal ball behind. “Excellent!” He cried happily. “I do so adore your mindset.”
Tell nodded to the living smoke, his eyebrows raised. “But you are a merchant, first and foremost. Such flattery is beneath us. The deal, then.”
Tell’s crystal ball purged itself of its unearthly contents, flying over the scroll to illuminate it as a lamp illuminated more mundane parchment. Upon the scroll was a circle constructed of runes; it was drawn in a strange yellow-green ink which reflected much of the light of the crystal ball.
“Now, we have already established my end of the bargain; I offer you the chance to own magic in its myriad forms. What you must do in turn is quite easy. I ask not for objects or bishani, but for a service. Find a place at which you may safely build this circle. Either with chalk or carved runes, it matters only as far as your convenience is concerned. Fill it with a humanoid shape made out of meat, as detailed...” Tell walked over, knelt, and waved a finger down the paper, “here. I will use the flesh to form a puppet, which will then deliver to you your payment, one object from the world without form.”
“Should you choose to maintain the circle, and the meat inside it, then every time I feel it necessary to employ it for the purpose of constructing a body, I shall leave another curiosity beside the circle.” Tell paused to offer out his hand, as if to shake hands with the smoke. “I would recommend carving the runes in this case unless the circle is within a particularly sterile environment. That said, you will be under no obligation to extend our interaction any further than this first time, profitable as it might be.”
Tell’s hand was still held before him, waiting. “Well, smoke? Do we have a deal? I'm sure we can haggle specifics on the other side of reality.”
Tell nodded to the living smoke, his eyebrows raised. “But you are a merchant, first and foremost. Such flattery is beneath us. The deal, then.”
Tell’s crystal ball purged itself of its unearthly contents, flying over the scroll to illuminate it as a lamp illuminated more mundane parchment. Upon the scroll was a circle constructed of runes; it was drawn in a strange yellow-green ink which reflected much of the light of the crystal ball.
“Now, we have already established my end of the bargain; I offer you the chance to own magic in its myriad forms. What you must do in turn is quite easy. I ask not for objects or bishani, but for a service. Find a place at which you may safely build this circle. Either with chalk or carved runes, it matters only as far as your convenience is concerned. Fill it with a humanoid shape made out of meat, as detailed...” Tell walked over, knelt, and waved a finger down the paper, “here. I will use the flesh to form a puppet, which will then deliver to you your payment, one object from the world without form.”
“Should you choose to maintain the circle, and the meat inside it, then every time I feel it necessary to employ it for the purpose of constructing a body, I shall leave another curiosity beside the circle.” Tell paused to offer out his hand, as if to shake hands with the smoke. “I would recommend carving the runes in this case unless the circle is within a particularly sterile environment. That said, you will be under no obligation to extend our interaction any further than this first time, profitable as it might be.”
Tell’s hand was still held before him, waiting. “Well, smoke? Do we have a deal? I'm sure we can haggle specifics on the other side of reality.”
Re: Mind's Eye
The smoke gave no reaction for a while; calm waves passing over its form. Eventually, a grey tendril reached out towards the mage's outstretched hand, dividing its tip into six to loosely imitate fingers. The tendrils closed around the hand, as if squeezing it. Of course, since the tendrils consisted of smoke, there was no pressure applied on the mage's outstretched limb - in a dream, this handshake was an illusion within an illusion. Despite that impression, the deal it sealed was very real. Just then, the dark silhouettes around the two figures began to blur, and their own forms rippled, as if seen through a glass of water. The entire room warped into an abstract brown-black smudge, and rapidly dissipated.
The clock on the wall ticked evenly. That was the first thing tha registered in the smocat's brain as he was waking up. The musty smell of the office filled his nostrils; one of his three eyes cracked open and viewed the surroundings. Yes, he was in his office. Everything that just transpired was just a dream, so now that he was back in reality, he could only laugh inwardly at how seriously he had behaved. There were no windows in the office, but because the building was so dark and quiet that the ticking of the clock could be heard, it must still have been in the middle of the night. The smocat rolled his jelly-like, obese body off the pillow, and stretched lazily. Ah, he was getting hungry again. Time to get some more salmon for a midnight snack.
And that's when he saw it. Right next to his pillow was a neatly rolled parchment that clearly didn't belong there. Timur stared at it for several long seconds, and uttered a sound somewhere inbetween a gargle and a sneeze. He closed his eyes and shook his head, but when he looked again, the scroll was still there. There was no doubt about it; it was the scroll he was shown in the dream. Would this mean that the dude in the funny hat wasn't a figment of his imagination? The smocat began to realise the seriousness of the situation. He looked around the room, to see if anything appeared disturbed. Considering how messy the office was, what with his favorite gubbins strewn around everywhere, he would immediately have noticed the traces of someone who had walked in here and planted a paper right next to him.
But nothing was out of the ordinary, which means that the visitor probably wasn't here physically. He must've transported himself into his dream from some remote location... this was getting creepy. Tamerlane has never heard of any magic that allowed the caster to freely strut around inside someone's dream - the most private corner of one's mind. Feeling that he might have unwillingly become a part of something unpleasant, the smocat poked the scroll with his paw. It was definitely real. The enchantingly glowing crystal, which the stranger tantalised him with, floated up in Timur's memory. It was not every day that one gets a chance, however slim, at obtaining something like that. Sorting out the possible risks and rewards in his mind, he decided that it would be worth it. Not a judgement that a normal person would make, but Timur wasn't a normal person.
Without pause, he decided to act on his decision, since he wasn't the kind to procrastinate. He unfurled the scroll, confirming it was the exact same one as in the dream. There was a rune cricle drawn on it, and a short set of instructions neatly below it, written in a difficult-to-understand accent that Timur didn't recognise. Draw these, put meat on them... it made no sense, but that's how magic generally is, so there was nothing alarming about that. There was plenty of smoked meat stored in the shop, all to satiate the smocat's voracious appetite, so that part was already covered. The problem was the rune circle itself. Setting it up in within the shop was out of the question; the Guard made frequent sarches of all the establishments on the Main Street, and it was dubious that Chagatai would be able to offer a satisfying excuse for a magical circle to be inside her store.
Furthermore, he couldn't trust Chagatai with this to begin with. She wasn't exactly prone to gossip, but she was young and stupid, so she would probably sell him out if the price was right. Berke, on the other hand, has for a long time been working for people whose affairs were to remain confidential. In that sense, he was much more reliable, and in any case, he would be a necessary helper in setting up the circle. Timur's body wasn't exactly designed to haul around piles of meat and draw chalk figures. Thinking of a good place to conduct this strange ritual would probably have taken a while, if Timur's nightly smoke form escapades haven't made him aware of many fine secluded spots around the city. The most convenient location would surely be an abandoned building in the Historical District. It wasn't a foolproof plan, but at least it left no strings attached to his store. Deciding that he had the general outline for tonight's gubbins-hunting activity, the smocat went to the warehouse to wake his subordinate.
After having the situation briefly explained to him, the troll got up from his bed and started gathering the required things, or "reagents", as wizards supposedly called them. Timur felt a little excited about getting a chance to dabble in magic, something he very rarely got to do. The troll soon returned with a piece of chalk and a long, iron nail of unknown original purpose. The smocat hasn't yet decided whether to carve or to draw the circle, so he told the troll to get the things necessary for both. The nice thing about being a vendor of gubbins is that you were always fully equipped for any kind of unexpected situation. Satisfied with the finds, Timur lead Berke to the kitchen, where the only electronic item in the house rested: a refridgerator. It was a huge investment to get, but a necessary one to keep all of Timur's gourmet pleasures from spoiling. The troll loaded a bag full of different kinds of meat, while the smocat watched him with almost a sad expression. What a waste of food.
When the pair was fully prepared, Berke hid the instruction scroll in a secret compartment within his chestplate, slung the bag over his shoulder, and grabbed his trusty weapon before heading out towards the Historical District. Timur followed behind him in smoke form, quite invisible in the darkness of the night. The few people they've met have all slipped into side alleys as soon as they saw a huge troll carrying a warhammer and a bag full of something; the sight simply smelled of depraved intentions. It's true that he was suspicious, but not more so than anyone else in this part of town.
Following the smoke's subtle lead, Berke walked into a ruined tower at the end of a street. This was a decoy maneauver; the tower's basement was connected to a branching underground dungeon that lead to the basements of many other buildings in this area. When you wanted to enter a house here without letting the world know which house you entered, you went through this tower. That's a custom Timur picked up among the shady locals of the Historical District, and one that came in handy rather often.
After taking some twists and turns through the dungeon, the pair went into the basement of a dilapidated stone inn, which looked like it's been closed for at least a century. There were dust and cobwebs everywhere, and the floor was littered with broken furniture and earthenware. They went up to the second floor, where the guestrooms were located. Surprisingly, all of the thirty-something rooms still had doors, however rotten they appeared, so placing a circle in one of them would hide it from most people who didn't know exactly what they were looking for. The pair went into the fifth guestroom from the left, and the troll carefully closed the door behind them. Conveniently enough, the windows were boarded from the inside, so it was impossible to peek in even if one somehow climbed up to the second floor from the outside.
The smoke gathered in the middle of the room, eventually dissipating to reveal its secondary form. The cat looked around the dusty room and nodded in approval, which allowed the troll to set down his bag and take out the "reagents". Even at this point, Berke still didn't quite understand what exactly was going on, though honestly, he didn't really give a crap. He was getting paid to just help around, and he wasn't in the habit of trying to figure out his employers' schemes. He held up the chalk in one hand and the iron spike in the other.
"Well, boss? Are we drawin', or carvin'?"
The smocat examined the stone floor sceptically. The strange guy has warned him that the circle needed to be maintained if he wanted more payment, and said that carved runes were more permanent than chalked ones, which was logical enough. Timur pointed towards the corner of the room, near the bed, so that they could eventually hide the rune by pulling the bed over it.
"Can you carve here without making too much noise?"
"'course I can."
The troll wielded the nail, kneeled down, holding up the parchment for reference, and etched the runes on the stone floor, quickly and almost silently, as if he was slicing butter with a knife. The smocat inspected his work, quite impressed by how well it matched the drawing on the scroll. Had he picked a different city to settle in, Berke could probably have become a valued assistant for any wizard.
Like the paper dictated, the troll poured the chunks of meat out of the bag, and into the circle. He began arranging them into a humanoid shape. When he was almost done, Timur paused him.
"Grab your weapon and get ready to smash whatever plops out of here, if it looks like it's going to attack."
The smocat knew better than most to not place too much faith in people, and especially not in pointy-hatted, dreamwalking people. He also knew that magic could backfire even in the hands of an experienced wizard, and was a hundred times more dangerous in the hands of those who didn't know exactly what they were doing. But, like Timur himself liked to say, fortune rewards the audacious. He pushed the last chunk of chili-spiced pork into place, thereby completing the instructions on the scroll.
The clock on the wall ticked evenly. That was the first thing tha registered in the smocat's brain as he was waking up. The musty smell of the office filled his nostrils; one of his three eyes cracked open and viewed the surroundings. Yes, he was in his office. Everything that just transpired was just a dream, so now that he was back in reality, he could only laugh inwardly at how seriously he had behaved. There were no windows in the office, but because the building was so dark and quiet that the ticking of the clock could be heard, it must still have been in the middle of the night. The smocat rolled his jelly-like, obese body off the pillow, and stretched lazily. Ah, he was getting hungry again. Time to get some more salmon for a midnight snack.
And that's when he saw it. Right next to his pillow was a neatly rolled parchment that clearly didn't belong there. Timur stared at it for several long seconds, and uttered a sound somewhere inbetween a gargle and a sneeze. He closed his eyes and shook his head, but when he looked again, the scroll was still there. There was no doubt about it; it was the scroll he was shown in the dream. Would this mean that the dude in the funny hat wasn't a figment of his imagination? The smocat began to realise the seriousness of the situation. He looked around the room, to see if anything appeared disturbed. Considering how messy the office was, what with his favorite gubbins strewn around everywhere, he would immediately have noticed the traces of someone who had walked in here and planted a paper right next to him.
But nothing was out of the ordinary, which means that the visitor probably wasn't here physically. He must've transported himself into his dream from some remote location... this was getting creepy. Tamerlane has never heard of any magic that allowed the caster to freely strut around inside someone's dream - the most private corner of one's mind. Feeling that he might have unwillingly become a part of something unpleasant, the smocat poked the scroll with his paw. It was definitely real. The enchantingly glowing crystal, which the stranger tantalised him with, floated up in Timur's memory. It was not every day that one gets a chance, however slim, at obtaining something like that. Sorting out the possible risks and rewards in his mind, he decided that it would be worth it. Not a judgement that a normal person would make, but Timur wasn't a normal person.
Without pause, he decided to act on his decision, since he wasn't the kind to procrastinate. He unfurled the scroll, confirming it was the exact same one as in the dream. There was a rune cricle drawn on it, and a short set of instructions neatly below it, written in a difficult-to-understand accent that Timur didn't recognise. Draw these, put meat on them... it made no sense, but that's how magic generally is, so there was nothing alarming about that. There was plenty of smoked meat stored in the shop, all to satiate the smocat's voracious appetite, so that part was already covered. The problem was the rune circle itself. Setting it up in within the shop was out of the question; the Guard made frequent sarches of all the establishments on the Main Street, and it was dubious that Chagatai would be able to offer a satisfying excuse for a magical circle to be inside her store.
Furthermore, he couldn't trust Chagatai with this to begin with. She wasn't exactly prone to gossip, but she was young and stupid, so she would probably sell him out if the price was right. Berke, on the other hand, has for a long time been working for people whose affairs were to remain confidential. In that sense, he was much more reliable, and in any case, he would be a necessary helper in setting up the circle. Timur's body wasn't exactly designed to haul around piles of meat and draw chalk figures. Thinking of a good place to conduct this strange ritual would probably have taken a while, if Timur's nightly smoke form escapades haven't made him aware of many fine secluded spots around the city. The most convenient location would surely be an abandoned building in the Historical District. It wasn't a foolproof plan, but at least it left no strings attached to his store. Deciding that he had the general outline for tonight's gubbins-hunting activity, the smocat went to the warehouse to wake his subordinate.
After having the situation briefly explained to him, the troll got up from his bed and started gathering the required things, or "reagents", as wizards supposedly called them. Timur felt a little excited about getting a chance to dabble in magic, something he very rarely got to do. The troll soon returned with a piece of chalk and a long, iron nail of unknown original purpose. The smocat hasn't yet decided whether to carve or to draw the circle, so he told the troll to get the things necessary for both. The nice thing about being a vendor of gubbins is that you were always fully equipped for any kind of unexpected situation. Satisfied with the finds, Timur lead Berke to the kitchen, where the only electronic item in the house rested: a refridgerator. It was a huge investment to get, but a necessary one to keep all of Timur's gourmet pleasures from spoiling. The troll loaded a bag full of different kinds of meat, while the smocat watched him with almost a sad expression. What a waste of food.
When the pair was fully prepared, Berke hid the instruction scroll in a secret compartment within his chestplate, slung the bag over his shoulder, and grabbed his trusty weapon before heading out towards the Historical District. Timur followed behind him in smoke form, quite invisible in the darkness of the night. The few people they've met have all slipped into side alleys as soon as they saw a huge troll carrying a warhammer and a bag full of something; the sight simply smelled of depraved intentions. It's true that he was suspicious, but not more so than anyone else in this part of town.
Following the smoke's subtle lead, Berke walked into a ruined tower at the end of a street. This was a decoy maneauver; the tower's basement was connected to a branching underground dungeon that lead to the basements of many other buildings in this area. When you wanted to enter a house here without letting the world know which house you entered, you went through this tower. That's a custom Timur picked up among the shady locals of the Historical District, and one that came in handy rather often.
After taking some twists and turns through the dungeon, the pair went into the basement of a dilapidated stone inn, which looked like it's been closed for at least a century. There were dust and cobwebs everywhere, and the floor was littered with broken furniture and earthenware. They went up to the second floor, where the guestrooms were located. Surprisingly, all of the thirty-something rooms still had doors, however rotten they appeared, so placing a circle in one of them would hide it from most people who didn't know exactly what they were looking for. The pair went into the fifth guestroom from the left, and the troll carefully closed the door behind them. Conveniently enough, the windows were boarded from the inside, so it was impossible to peek in even if one somehow climbed up to the second floor from the outside.
The smoke gathered in the middle of the room, eventually dissipating to reveal its secondary form. The cat looked around the dusty room and nodded in approval, which allowed the troll to set down his bag and take out the "reagents". Even at this point, Berke still didn't quite understand what exactly was going on, though honestly, he didn't really give a crap. He was getting paid to just help around, and he wasn't in the habit of trying to figure out his employers' schemes. He held up the chalk in one hand and the iron spike in the other.
"Well, boss? Are we drawin', or carvin'?"
The smocat examined the stone floor sceptically. The strange guy has warned him that the circle needed to be maintained if he wanted more payment, and said that carved runes were more permanent than chalked ones, which was logical enough. Timur pointed towards the corner of the room, near the bed, so that they could eventually hide the rune by pulling the bed over it.
"Can you carve here without making too much noise?"
"'course I can."
The troll wielded the nail, kneeled down, holding up the parchment for reference, and etched the runes on the stone floor, quickly and almost silently, as if he was slicing butter with a knife. The smocat inspected his work, quite impressed by how well it matched the drawing on the scroll. Had he picked a different city to settle in, Berke could probably have become a valued assistant for any wizard.
Like the paper dictated, the troll poured the chunks of meat out of the bag, and into the circle. He began arranging them into a humanoid shape. When he was almost done, Timur paused him.
"Grab your weapon and get ready to smash whatever plops out of here, if it looks like it's going to attack."
The smocat knew better than most to not place too much faith in people, and especially not in pointy-hatted, dreamwalking people. He also knew that magic could backfire even in the hands of an experienced wizard, and was a hundred times more dangerous in the hands of those who didn't know exactly what they were doing. But, like Timur himself liked to say, fortune rewards the audacious. He pushed the last chunk of chili-spiced pork into place, thereby completing the instructions on the scroll.
Re: Mind's Eye
The meat sat on the cool stone floor, the stench filling the night air. The stars were visible through a small hole in the roof. They hung in the sky, twinkling with all the placidity their small lights could muster. It was a flawless night as the troll and cat watched the circle, a storybook setting which proved very fitting for the enigmatic task at hand.
A midnight wind picked up, audible through even the stone framework of the building. As if it were alive, and reacting the sudden noise, the meat reacted. It began with a liquid flow, the meat rolling around the circle as if carried by ocean currents. The depths of the carving set alight with a faint green glow, the sickly pallor providing just enough light to color the meat a revolting brown shade.
The meat writhed and thrashed with increasing intensity, as if to escape the circle. Then it turned in on itself, tendons and tissue connecting together like viscous sludge. Every few moments a new trail of skin would burst from the flesh to connect to another, linking them together piece by piece. The process continued until whole masses of the hastily sewn together skin and bone lurched into the air, driven by the terrible process’s arcane might.
The structure was recognizable as that of a man now. It began to breath, its torso visibly rising and falling. Teeth ripped their way from the depths of the forming head; a tongue soon followed. A giggling laughter burst forth from the bloody lips, chuckling as his spasms locked the rest of the wind. Still the skin grew, filling in the holes which still showed empty, lifeless meat. An arm shot upwards, the exposed tissue covered by the rapid growth of the tan, human skin.
Lifting himself before the process was complete, the grim form drew blood and bone back within itself. Tell’s shambling, stumbling body resembled nothing less than a walking, mutilated corpse. Trickles of red liquid rolled across his body back into his frame; it was as if watching an injury occur with time reversed. His eyes were the last to form, and from the red pits of his sockets they filled in. Tell screamed and laughed, clutching his face before tossing his hands to the side.
Nude, he stood before the cat and troll unashamed. He gave his hand an experimental flip, testing the new body he had built. With a sigh of relief, he stretched and breathed. Running a hand through his dark hair, he turned to look down at the cat. “I truly must thank you.” He said, “It has been to long since I have been able to walk in your world.”
Tell waved a hand dismissively. Violet clothes assembled around him, barring one piece of the garb. He pointed a finger to his head and purple wizard’s hat appeared. He extended his motion to grasp the brim of the hat and give it a vain tug.
He glanced down at the circle at his feet. “Excellent. I confess I was hoping you would carve it. This provides us both with many more opportunities.” He touched a finger to his lips, “But I have tantalized you with opportunity long enough.”
Tell strode to a corner of the room. His strange garb’s silver bells jingled as he walked. Their ringing was haunting, yet pleasant to the ears. Tell stopped, tilted his head sideways as if listening for something, and waited. After several moments of holding this pose, he tossed his hands out the sides.
Just off his right hand, the green crystal ball appeared, lit from within by a fire. It twirled about while on the left, a doorway materialized. The air displaced by its summoning rattled the cobwebs strewn about the inn. Tell retracted his left hand quickly while making a throwing motion with his right. The crystal responded swiftly, flying down a curving path to land in front of the door.
The doorway swung open, and a strange light fell out from the room. Inside was another Tell, meditating in a circle identical to the corporeal one. The true Tell was surrounded by color and light from all sides, solids and energy, thrown together into a moving, constant trail of power. The circle was carved into the dirt of a floating island. Many more could be seen beyond it. The meditating Tell’s legs were crossed. His eyes closed and he floated with a dreamy, content smile on his face, wearing only a silver, antlered helmet and grey robes. In his hands something glowed.
The puppet smiled and tilted his head as he stared into the maddening swirl of magic through the doorway. He made a faint motion with his hands, and the crystal ball flew through the opening. From his own hands, Tell retrieved a glowing object. It floated out, towed by the power of his crystal ball.
It resembled a rock, but no one could ever mistake it for something so mundane. It seemed to fade in and out of reality itself, yet one could still see it when it was not there. It made no sense simply by being there before them.
Tell retrieved a bottle from a pouch on his side. A cork appeared in his left hand as his crystal ball returned from the other side of the portal. A simple movement coaxed the object closer and it fell into its place, floating within the container.
“The genuine object, as you can see.” Tell stated. “I trust this will be sufficient payment for this summoning?”
Tell looked back at the cat. The troll stared suspicously at the mage. “Boss?” It inquired, now recognizing the mage from its dream. “He supposed to do that?” The brute's fingers twitched around his warhammer, indicating his willingness to throttle the mage should he be given the order.
A midnight wind picked up, audible through even the stone framework of the building. As if it were alive, and reacting the sudden noise, the meat reacted. It began with a liquid flow, the meat rolling around the circle as if carried by ocean currents. The depths of the carving set alight with a faint green glow, the sickly pallor providing just enough light to color the meat a revolting brown shade.
The meat writhed and thrashed with increasing intensity, as if to escape the circle. Then it turned in on itself, tendons and tissue connecting together like viscous sludge. Every few moments a new trail of skin would burst from the flesh to connect to another, linking them together piece by piece. The process continued until whole masses of the hastily sewn together skin and bone lurched into the air, driven by the terrible process’s arcane might.
The structure was recognizable as that of a man now. It began to breath, its torso visibly rising and falling. Teeth ripped their way from the depths of the forming head; a tongue soon followed. A giggling laughter burst forth from the bloody lips, chuckling as his spasms locked the rest of the wind. Still the skin grew, filling in the holes which still showed empty, lifeless meat. An arm shot upwards, the exposed tissue covered by the rapid growth of the tan, human skin.
Lifting himself before the process was complete, the grim form drew blood and bone back within itself. Tell’s shambling, stumbling body resembled nothing less than a walking, mutilated corpse. Trickles of red liquid rolled across his body back into his frame; it was as if watching an injury occur with time reversed. His eyes were the last to form, and from the red pits of his sockets they filled in. Tell screamed and laughed, clutching his face before tossing his hands to the side.
Nude, he stood before the cat and troll unashamed. He gave his hand an experimental flip, testing the new body he had built. With a sigh of relief, he stretched and breathed. Running a hand through his dark hair, he turned to look down at the cat. “I truly must thank you.” He said, “It has been to long since I have been able to walk in your world.”
Tell waved a hand dismissively. Violet clothes assembled around him, barring one piece of the garb. He pointed a finger to his head and purple wizard’s hat appeared. He extended his motion to grasp the brim of the hat and give it a vain tug.
He glanced down at the circle at his feet. “Excellent. I confess I was hoping you would carve it. This provides us both with many more opportunities.” He touched a finger to his lips, “But I have tantalized you with opportunity long enough.”
Tell strode to a corner of the room. His strange garb’s silver bells jingled as he walked. Their ringing was haunting, yet pleasant to the ears. Tell stopped, tilted his head sideways as if listening for something, and waited. After several moments of holding this pose, he tossed his hands out the sides.
Just off his right hand, the green crystal ball appeared, lit from within by a fire. It twirled about while on the left, a doorway materialized. The air displaced by its summoning rattled the cobwebs strewn about the inn. Tell retracted his left hand quickly while making a throwing motion with his right. The crystal responded swiftly, flying down a curving path to land in front of the door.
The doorway swung open, and a strange light fell out from the room. Inside was another Tell, meditating in a circle identical to the corporeal one. The true Tell was surrounded by color and light from all sides, solids and energy, thrown together into a moving, constant trail of power. The circle was carved into the dirt of a floating island. Many more could be seen beyond it. The meditating Tell’s legs were crossed. His eyes closed and he floated with a dreamy, content smile on his face, wearing only a silver, antlered helmet and grey robes. In his hands something glowed.
The puppet smiled and tilted his head as he stared into the maddening swirl of magic through the doorway. He made a faint motion with his hands, and the crystal ball flew through the opening. From his own hands, Tell retrieved a glowing object. It floated out, towed by the power of his crystal ball.
It resembled a rock, but no one could ever mistake it for something so mundane. It seemed to fade in and out of reality itself, yet one could still see it when it was not there. It made no sense simply by being there before them.
Tell retrieved a bottle from a pouch on his side. A cork appeared in his left hand as his crystal ball returned from the other side of the portal. A simple movement coaxed the object closer and it fell into its place, floating within the container.
“The genuine object, as you can see.” Tell stated. “I trust this will be sufficient payment for this summoning?”
Tell looked back at the cat. The troll stared suspicously at the mage. “Boss?” It inquired, now recognizing the mage from its dream. “He supposed to do that?” The brute's fingers twitched around his warhammer, indicating his willingness to throttle the mage should he be given the order.
Re: Mind's Eye
The smocat watched the unfolding scene with and intense, unblinking stare; his many eyes never left the figure in front of him, a figure that had transmuted from a pile of groceries moments ago. The process looked rather disgusting, but Timur had seen worse in his days, so he could observe without even a twitch of the brow. Without a doubt, this was the man from the dream; Timur could recognise him even before the distinctive purple garb formed around his newly obtained flesh. From the mage's words, the cat could surmise that he wasn't someone who has stepped into his dream from the real world, but the opposite: that he has just now stepped out of the dream and into the material world. Whether that made this man a dream-dweller, or a creature native to dreams, was not something Timur could determine. Even though the origins of the stange entity intrigued him, he was sure that he wouldn't get a satisfying answer even if he asked. In any case, prying questions were not the thing to greet a customer with. Sticking their noses in other people's business was the Guard's work, not his.
During all this time, the smocat maintained a calm sitting posture. Corporeal creatures instinctively tense up in the face of potential danger, in preparation to flee or fight as needed. However, Timur's muscles were completely relaxed, and he looked almost dignified as he faced the horror before him. Despite that, his mind was on maximal alert, and his visage rippled slightly, as if it was an illusion. It wasn't true that he wasn't scared, or that he was arrogant. His fight-or-flight mechanics simply didn't include any physical action. The ripples on his form indicated that he was ready to turn into smoke as soon as he detected any kind of danger to his person. In fact, he would've done that long ago, but merchant etiquette demanded communication with customers, and that wasn't possible in smoke form. Risking to somehow offend the man so close before receiving his reward wasn't something the smocat wanted to do.
Tamerlane, together with Berke, silently watched the mage summon the doorway and retrieve the object that he saw in his dream. The world beyond the doorway would be difficult to look at for a human, but the smocat never averted his greedy stare.
"Berke, retrieve our payment."
When timur said the word "payment", everything clicked in the troll's mind. This was just a normal trade, after all, even though it was rare for his lazy boss to work after closing hours. Even without being an appraiser, Berke could tell just by looking at the shining object, that it was something worth being woken in the middle of the night for. Despite not being sensitive to even strong magic, the troll could still feel it emanate from the stone, and therefore understood that it wasn't one of the glowy trinkets that quack spellcasters pawned off at Things and Stuff occasionally. He could already guess that some serious, undercover Marnian wizard would probably pay an entire sack of bishani for it. However, that was only if they could actually walk away with it to begin with. Should this funny-hat guy pull some sort of magical trick on them in such a secluded place as this inn, it would take weeks for anyone to find out and help them, in case help would be useful at all.
The troll rested his warhammer on his shoulder with one hand, to free his other hand. He had developed a one-handed technique where he would swing his weapon from the shoulder, turning his whole body for added momentum. In his experience, there were many situations that required a free hand, but letting one's guard down was not an option, so such a technique was a necessity when owning a big weapon like he did. Never letting his eyes off the mage, he edged closer to him, and carefully yanked the bottle from Tell's outstretched hand, slowly backing away towards Timur afterwards, and placing the bottle on the ground for the smocat's inspection. Leaning in so that his nose almost touched the glass, Timur let his eyes absorb the magnificence of the stone, and after a few moments, his maw cracked in an impossibly wide, piranha-toothed grin. Indeed, this was exactly the object from the dream. Oh, how he loved reliable customers. Gesturing the troll to carry the bottle, the cat turned to face the wizard, never losing the slasher smile, and drilled the man's figure with his three unblinking eyes.
"Your payment is satisfactory, dear customer. I look forward to extending my services to you in the future. All you need to do is ask... hrr hrr hrr."
After uttering a hoarse sound that remotely resembled a cackle, Timur kept watching the mage expectantly. According to the smocat's presumption, the mage would either leave himself, ask them to leave, or offer a continuation of relations. Naturally, nothing stopped this man from parting with them only to pop up in their dreams again later, but Timur liked to work while awake. Of course, he wasn't going to push his preferences on his customers, so he waited for the mage to declare his will.
During all this time, the smocat maintained a calm sitting posture. Corporeal creatures instinctively tense up in the face of potential danger, in preparation to flee or fight as needed. However, Timur's muscles were completely relaxed, and he looked almost dignified as he faced the horror before him. Despite that, his mind was on maximal alert, and his visage rippled slightly, as if it was an illusion. It wasn't true that he wasn't scared, or that he was arrogant. His fight-or-flight mechanics simply didn't include any physical action. The ripples on his form indicated that he was ready to turn into smoke as soon as he detected any kind of danger to his person. In fact, he would've done that long ago, but merchant etiquette demanded communication with customers, and that wasn't possible in smoke form. Risking to somehow offend the man so close before receiving his reward wasn't something the smocat wanted to do.
Tamerlane, together with Berke, silently watched the mage summon the doorway and retrieve the object that he saw in his dream. The world beyond the doorway would be difficult to look at for a human, but the smocat never averted his greedy stare.
"Berke, retrieve our payment."
When timur said the word "payment", everything clicked in the troll's mind. This was just a normal trade, after all, even though it was rare for his lazy boss to work after closing hours. Even without being an appraiser, Berke could tell just by looking at the shining object, that it was something worth being woken in the middle of the night for. Despite not being sensitive to even strong magic, the troll could still feel it emanate from the stone, and therefore understood that it wasn't one of the glowy trinkets that quack spellcasters pawned off at Things and Stuff occasionally. He could already guess that some serious, undercover Marnian wizard would probably pay an entire sack of bishani for it. However, that was only if they could actually walk away with it to begin with. Should this funny-hat guy pull some sort of magical trick on them in such a secluded place as this inn, it would take weeks for anyone to find out and help them, in case help would be useful at all.
The troll rested his warhammer on his shoulder with one hand, to free his other hand. He had developed a one-handed technique where he would swing his weapon from the shoulder, turning his whole body for added momentum. In his experience, there were many situations that required a free hand, but letting one's guard down was not an option, so such a technique was a necessity when owning a big weapon like he did. Never letting his eyes off the mage, he edged closer to him, and carefully yanked the bottle from Tell's outstretched hand, slowly backing away towards Timur afterwards, and placing the bottle on the ground for the smocat's inspection. Leaning in so that his nose almost touched the glass, Timur let his eyes absorb the magnificence of the stone, and after a few moments, his maw cracked in an impossibly wide, piranha-toothed grin. Indeed, this was exactly the object from the dream. Oh, how he loved reliable customers. Gesturing the troll to carry the bottle, the cat turned to face the wizard, never losing the slasher smile, and drilled the man's figure with his three unblinking eyes.
"Your payment is satisfactory, dear customer. I look forward to extending my services to you in the future. All you need to do is ask... hrr hrr hrr."
After uttering a hoarse sound that remotely resembled a cackle, Timur kept watching the mage expectantly. According to the smocat's presumption, the mage would either leave himself, ask them to leave, or offer a continuation of relations. Naturally, nothing stopped this man from parting with them only to pop up in their dreams again later, but Timur liked to work while awake. Of course, he wasn't going to push his preferences on his customers, so he waited for the mage to declare his will.
Re: Mind's Eye
Tell’s crystal ball swerved in front of him, and he leaned over on the arcane artifact much like one would lean on a tabletop. The small creature below him seemed to be waiting for something, so Tell took the moment to examine the unique specimen. Even he did not know what had made such a being, and he could only guess at which of the many processes for the creation of sentience was involved in the construction of the smocat.
Deciding he had spent enough of Tamerlane’s time on idle wondering, he decided introductions were in order. “I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself. You may call me Tell, for I could tell you much.” He smiled softly at his joke. The mage paused before leaning in. “Now then, I believe it goes without saying that you have decided to prolong our contract. What remains relevant are the details.”
The orb sunk lower, such that the mage was leaning at what should not have been a comfortable angle. Tell’s face was much nearer to the cat’s now, and his craned his neck outward with a conspiratorial look on his face. The green glow of the orb lit his ghastly features from below.
“Now then, as to the location of your future rarities, I would propose that I simply leave them by the circle after I employ it; certainly it would be easier than chancing an encounter with those red-gloved wretches.”
He tapped his finger on the crystal ball, and the sphere lifted him back to a standing position. The wind picked up again, brushing over the stone walls of the dilapidated inn. A gust flew in through the ceiling and caught the end of his scarf, tossing it impishly to the side. “Additionally, seeing as when I use the circle my form consumes the meat, and I will only rarely find any chance of returning to it to deform, payment will require you to fill the circle anew when you find it empty.”
“As you can tell, unless you’ve a scryer in your employ you will need to return here in any case.” Tell wandered over the circle, inspecting the work. His footsteps made slight echoing sounds which sounded in time with the silver bells. Finding everything satisfactory, he looked over his shoulder and continued. “Have you any concerns? I am eager to hear your input.”
Deciding he had spent enough of Tamerlane’s time on idle wondering, he decided introductions were in order. “I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself. You may call me Tell, for I could tell you much.” He smiled softly at his joke. The mage paused before leaning in. “Now then, I believe it goes without saying that you have decided to prolong our contract. What remains relevant are the details.”
The orb sunk lower, such that the mage was leaning at what should not have been a comfortable angle. Tell’s face was much nearer to the cat’s now, and his craned his neck outward with a conspiratorial look on his face. The green glow of the orb lit his ghastly features from below.
“Now then, as to the location of your future rarities, I would propose that I simply leave them by the circle after I employ it; certainly it would be easier than chancing an encounter with those red-gloved wretches.”
He tapped his finger on the crystal ball, and the sphere lifted him back to a standing position. The wind picked up again, brushing over the stone walls of the dilapidated inn. A gust flew in through the ceiling and caught the end of his scarf, tossing it impishly to the side. “Additionally, seeing as when I use the circle my form consumes the meat, and I will only rarely find any chance of returning to it to deform, payment will require you to fill the circle anew when you find it empty.”
“As you can tell, unless you’ve a scryer in your employ you will need to return here in any case.” Tell wandered over the circle, inspecting the work. His footsteps made slight echoing sounds which sounded in time with the silver bells. Finding everything satisfactory, he looked over his shoulder and continued. “Have you any concerns? I am eager to hear your input.”
Re: Mind's Eye
The smocat's eyes followed the mage as he walked across the room; though the rest of his body was as if frozen. He almost looked like a statue whose eyes were peepholes, through which another creature was watching. His mind already sensed the opportunity to pull additional gubbins out of his client, and he sayed silent for a while as he picked the words with which to persuade him.
The fact that the circle had to be maintained was a bother, although not a very big one. Indeed, the smocat didn't have a scryer in his employ. However, he could easily keep watch on the circle by including this inn into his nightly fmoke form patrol route. The holes in the roof would make it possible to enter this room without having to take a detour through the dungeon every time. Of course, he wasn't going to explain that out loud. Instead, he wanted to make an impression that the one to check the circle will be the loud and conspicuous troll.
"Indeed, I haven't access to a scryer. Regularly coming here to check on the circle will compromise its security. Even with all the precautions taken, a troll frequently walking inside here is sure to cause suspicion, and eventually investigation."
The smocat made a theatric pause, still grinning widely, as if to let his words hang in the air for a second, letting the wizard imagine how prying eyes were watching the circle through every crack in the wall. Once he deemed that the effect was achieved, he continued.
"Therefore, I would like to propose a high-security course of action. For a powerful spellcaster such as yourself, there would surely be no trouble to provide me with some sort of signal device, which would let me know exactly when you wish the circle attended to. A gem that changes color, perhaps?"
The corners of the smocat's maw went even further up, almost reaching the insides of his ears, something that shouldn't be physiologically possible. Although he had some doubts that he could fool the creature before him, there would probably not be any harm in trying such an innocent trick. After casting a glance inside that unforgettable doorway, Timur judged that this man's pockets were teeming with wonders; things that posed little value to the mage himself, but would make highly wanted additions to his collections. The smocat rarely came across clients of such blatantly magical nature, and wanted to milk these rare specimens for every trinket he could.
The fact that the circle had to be maintained was a bother, although not a very big one. Indeed, the smocat didn't have a scryer in his employ. However, he could easily keep watch on the circle by including this inn into his nightly fmoke form patrol route. The holes in the roof would make it possible to enter this room without having to take a detour through the dungeon every time. Of course, he wasn't going to explain that out loud. Instead, he wanted to make an impression that the one to check the circle will be the loud and conspicuous troll.
"Indeed, I haven't access to a scryer. Regularly coming here to check on the circle will compromise its security. Even with all the precautions taken, a troll frequently walking inside here is sure to cause suspicion, and eventually investigation."
The smocat made a theatric pause, still grinning widely, as if to let his words hang in the air for a second, letting the wizard imagine how prying eyes were watching the circle through every crack in the wall. Once he deemed that the effect was achieved, he continued.
"Therefore, I would like to propose a high-security course of action. For a powerful spellcaster such as yourself, there would surely be no trouble to provide me with some sort of signal device, which would let me know exactly when you wish the circle attended to. A gem that changes color, perhaps?"
The corners of the smocat's maw went even further up, almost reaching the insides of his ears, something that shouldn't be physiologically possible. Although he had some doubts that he could fool the creature before him, there would probably not be any harm in trying such an innocent trick. After casting a glance inside that unforgettable doorway, Timur judged that this man's pockets were teeming with wonders; things that posed little value to the mage himself, but would make highly wanted additions to his collections. The smocat rarely came across clients of such blatantly magical nature, and wanted to milk these rare specimens for every trinket he could.
Re: Mind's Eye
Tell paused momentarily to think about the cat’s request. While there was no shortage of objects similar to what the cat described on the other side of the door, Tell did not exercise control over them. A trip to find one such controllable entity among the thousands could take a significant amount of time and effort.
Tell’s hand went to his chin in thought. Not to say his customer’s concern was invalid. He did prefer leaving the circles without a ring of observers. But if a remotely activated crystal was invalid, what other ways could he contact the cat?
He scratched at the stubble about his face. “Ah. I understand your reasoning, but I am afraid it is not feasible. You see, while I may find a jewel which alters its color, I do not see how I would control it without contacting...” He hesitated, appearing nervous. “A group I would prefer not to speak with at the moment.” His tongue rolled about his mouth in a fidgeting motion. He liked his puppets. It felt good to shed his wooden tongue once more.
He looked across to stare into the cat’s eye. He seemed about to say more, but then thought the better of it.
Tell then chuckled at himself. He should have thought of this one sooner. “It would be far more practical for me to simply employ your dreams to inform you.” His hand flew out to point across the circle at the cat’s head. “I may enter your mind as I please, after all.”
Tell’s hand went to his chin in thought. Not to say his customer’s concern was invalid. He did prefer leaving the circles without a ring of observers. But if a remotely activated crystal was invalid, what other ways could he contact the cat?
He scratched at the stubble about his face. “Ah. I understand your reasoning, but I am afraid it is not feasible. You see, while I may find a jewel which alters its color, I do not see how I would control it without contacting...” He hesitated, appearing nervous. “A group I would prefer not to speak with at the moment.” His tongue rolled about his mouth in a fidgeting motion. He liked his puppets. It felt good to shed his wooden tongue once more.
He looked across to stare into the cat’s eye. He seemed about to say more, but then thought the better of it.
Tell then chuckled at himself. He should have thought of this one sooner. “It would be far more practical for me to simply employ your dreams to inform you.” His hand flew out to point across the circle at the cat’s head. “I may enter your mind as I please, after all.”
Re: Mind's Eye
Leering at the finger pointed at him, the smocat felt his gut shift uncomfortably inside of him. He already understood that It was definitely within the wizard's power to enter and leave his mind at will, and there was little he could do about it. It was a very disadvantageous position to be in, but since it didn't seem like this man was out for his money or gubbins, he allowed himself to accept it. The unpleasant fact that someone had free access to his innermost thoughts was annoying Timur, but he also realised that the dream traveler probably had better things to do than sit inside of his head all day. Although somewhat disappointed by his inability to coax an additional artifact out of the pointy-hatted gold mine, the smocat was pleased with the deal anyway. He didn't want to start an argument, in fear of making his future regular customer angry. Still grinning widely, he let out a stuttered gargle that was meant to resemble hearty laughter.
"You are correct. My apologies, good sir. Your business is always welcome with me, so don't hesitate to pay your humble servant's mind a visit at your convenience."
Taking quick glance around the room, Timur noticed that there was one last thing he forgot to do to complete his high-quality service. A single one of his three eyes gyrated to the side, making contact with Berke's. With a barely visible motion of his head, the smocat gestured towards the bed that was pried up to the wall, right next to the circle. Wordlessly, the troll approached the bed and pulled it over the rune with one hand in a single swift motion, ignoring the small cloud of dust that burst out of the tattered covers from the sudden shock. With this, he has done everything he could to further his client's interests; and since he had already received his payment, there was no reason to protract his stay. As smocat flashed a eerie grin towards the wizard one last time, his features began to fade, dissolving into a cloud of viscous black smoke. Taking it as a sign that tonight's excursion was concluded, the troll edged towards the exit. With surprising elegance, his huge frame slipped through the opening and closed the old wooden door behind it with a soft click.
Eventually, the only tangible part left of the creature were two sets of knife-like teeth, floating inside of the writhing blob of gas. Still curled up in its eternal smile, the monstrous mouth spoke words parting, his voice sounding more ethereal with each word.
"We won't be taking up any more of your precious time. Have a pleasant night."
As he talked, the corners of the smoke cloud began to seep out of the room through the cracks around the door, through which the troll had recently left. A few moments later, the air was clear and silent, leaving the wizardly figure alone. Whether the two strange creatures' paths would cross again remained to be seen.
"You are correct. My apologies, good sir. Your business is always welcome with me, so don't hesitate to pay your humble servant's mind a visit at your convenience."
Taking quick glance around the room, Timur noticed that there was one last thing he forgot to do to complete his high-quality service. A single one of his three eyes gyrated to the side, making contact with Berke's. With a barely visible motion of his head, the smocat gestured towards the bed that was pried up to the wall, right next to the circle. Wordlessly, the troll approached the bed and pulled it over the rune with one hand in a single swift motion, ignoring the small cloud of dust that burst out of the tattered covers from the sudden shock. With this, he has done everything he could to further his client's interests; and since he had already received his payment, there was no reason to protract his stay. As smocat flashed a eerie grin towards the wizard one last time, his features began to fade, dissolving into a cloud of viscous black smoke. Taking it as a sign that tonight's excursion was concluded, the troll edged towards the exit. With surprising elegance, his huge frame slipped through the opening and closed the old wooden door behind it with a soft click.
Eventually, the only tangible part left of the creature were two sets of knife-like teeth, floating inside of the writhing blob of gas. Still curled up in its eternal smile, the monstrous mouth spoke words parting, his voice sounding more ethereal with each word.
"We won't be taking up any more of your precious time. Have a pleasant night."
As he talked, the corners of the smoke cloud began to seep out of the room through the cracks around the door, through which the troll had recently left. A few moments later, the air was clear and silent, leaving the wizardly figure alone. Whether the two strange creatures' paths would cross again remained to be seen.