Log:Test Your Metal, Scene 8

Test Your Metal 2016/11/28

8

Daemon's experieince is no less nauseating. He instinctively clings to any surface he is in contact with to try to anchor himself in place.

It takes him a while to realize how silly that must be, but it does help.

"So this idiot, and I do mean the old (and offensive) textbook definition, he was just fumbling around in the dark? No idea what he was messing with despite the world ending implications of I dunno- so Cthulian Horror clamoring into ..." Daemon's eyes flutter as he reads the complete works of Lovecraft. "...this 'Earthly realm, unbound'? Where would he even hear about any of this? I mean- its not like you can just wake up one day and know the people, talents and skills to become a wizard- even a second rate one like the Ego attached to a Sub-Three Year Old intelligence over here." He points to about where he suspects Mysterion would be if they were still in the room.

Grimm holds out her hand and wobbles it in an uncertain gesture. "I don't know that that was really Mysterion's goal. That was more Prince's deal." She points to the space where Malcolm was taken. "That was one big sarkterran. They're not really what you usually expect in a Lovecraft type tale. I think of them more as...exotic land sharks." Shark Turbans. That's what she kept thinking their name was at first.

"And I have no idea how he knew about it. Or just how much he knows." Her eyes begin to gleam darkly as she looks over to the stumbling Professor. "But I want to find out."

[GM to Grimm] Sarkterrans are more like an apex predator from another dimension/world. From what Grimm has observed, they hunt either in packs or alone, but they are not inherently a cthonic entity.

"Oh is this the part where we get to rip the information from his mind?" Daemon sounds absolutely gleeful about that prospect.

This would normally be the part where our heroes rip the information from their, uh, damnable foe's mind. Really it would be, but Grimm finds herself having trouble navigating the toxic, twisted corridors of Mysterion's mind. Stuck in his head as she and Daemon are, she has to go about ripping the appropriate thoughts out a little differently.

Which is why the landscape abruptly goes staticky and grainy. Daemon might almost swear there are tracking lines going on in the background of Mysterion's memories before, abruptly, the landscape deresolves into a nauseating photo negative landscape of disjointed sense memories.

It takes Grimm a few moments more to force the duo into a particular memory. Everything resolves awkwardly, perhaps sending our heroes stumbling through a room that is definitely not aligned with gravity; everything seems skewed awkwardly at 50 degree angles from the force of gravity. The place looks like some kind of artist's loft apartment on crack, strewn with ancient books and antique furniture that may not, in fact, be nearly so antique or valuable as the antique store claimed.

Worse, it smells like a locker room at a public access gym.

Gabrielle feels a sense of vertigo as she navigates through the twisted corridors of Mysterion's mind. When they end up in the strangely skewed memory, she groans with a wave of queasiness.

"I think I messed up somewhere. I'm not used to diving this deep into people's minds." She looks around the place and covers her nose, cringing. "Man, if this is how this place smelled in his memory, how could he live like this?" she grumbles.