Solo [JOB THREAD] The Unwanted Guest

[Huskabar]

Season: Winter/Day: 73rd/Year: 513/Time: Late Evening An old conjurer sat in the dark of his apartment, with just barely enough moonlight creeping in from the crack of his door, to see his hands gradually shift into the form of that of a stray hound dog, the red-hued fur running up towards his elbows, gradually making it’s way up towards the shoulders, as a faint grin came across his face. He was getting better at this it seemed, and if it wasn’t for this discipline, he knew he would most certainly be dead. He gave a delighted cackle, One fact was now crystal clear to him, and that was that he had to master his magical knowledge as soon as possible. He knew he did not currently possess the means to track down the so highly valued item he encountered only a few days prior, though he still had no idea what it was exactly, since it was hidden in a velvet case the entire time. He did however know that if he ever hoped to obtain it, let alone find it he would need to be much more than he was currently. He held this newly taken for form for several chimes now, and he knew if he would need to hold a form much longer than this still. Morphing was certainly the weakest of his three disciplines, he was certain that with just a little bit of practice it would be just as strong as the others. Suddenly a knock came to his door, and he immediately arose and made his way to the door. His thoughts could not help but get the best of him, as he reached for the door. The last time he welcomed guests it did not turn out very well for him at all. When he cracked open the door, he saw a confused young man standing in the doorway, looking around nervously, with an all too desperate expression on his face. “Umm… Are you the guy I have been hearing about? I got to know, cause if you are, I really need your help like right now… I mean like right now,” said the young man, his eyes shifting back and form, as he a gulp formed in the back of his throat. Huskabar did not like this in the slightest. How were these people finding his home? He thought he had been so careful, and he thought that arranging meetings in false appearances would keep this sort of thing from happening. Further more there was no reason for him to think that this wasn’t some sort of elaborate trap to lure him out into the open, and if their was one thing the old wizard despised, it was having the wool pulled over his eyes. A gnarled old hand immediately gripped the collar of the boy’s tunic, before whispering the harsh command, “Get in here, you fool!” before pulling him inside, shutting the door behind him, and then pressing his forearm against his neck, leaning his weight against him. The old wizard was actually surprisingly more limber than one might expect. He was certainly no street brawler, but it was clear that this was not the first time he had to get his hands dirty. “You better start explaining, and I suggest you talk fast, because you are very close to finding yourself in a very bad situation.” He glared at the boy, as his face began to shift, and form, the rest of his body still in it’s original state, but the young man was now eye to eye with the face of a snarling hound dog, each and every jagged sharp tooth exposed in a display of pure aggression.

[Huskabar]

The younger man, gave a nervous gulp, as his body trembled at the terrifying sight before him. He began to stammer nervously, “W- Well S- Sir. I k- killed a man.” The canine’s face tilted curiously, with an unamused expression. Killing was so frequent in Sunberth, that it hardly required much mind, but the boy went on, “Not just any man, S- Sir. He was Daggerhand, and the last thing I want is to be tracked down and killed by a group of thugs… So all due respect, but we need to get rid of the body right now, Sir!” The hounds face immediately began to bark furiously at the potential client. Yes, this was his business, and yes, he enjoyed the coins that came with it, but this fool had brought the one problem to his door that he had been trying to avoid. Clearly he would have to cross Daggerhand sooner or later, but he was hoping for later. He let the man go, before turning, and reaching for his cloak, wrapping it around his body, and pulling up the hood, before leaning forward, the face of the hound gradually transforming into yet another guise. Before the client was now what seemed to be a vagrant. Half of his teeth were no where to be seen, his hair was dirty and tangled, and his right eye was missing altogether, leaving nothing but a poorly executed suechered mess in it’s place. “Oh, and for future notice,” came a cold steely tone from this newly taken appearance, “If you ever come to my home again, or ever tell others to come to where I live… You are dead.” The grubby old derelict then pushed past the other, before walking out the door, and looking back to the younger man, “Are you coming or not?” The two figures made their way through the darkness of the alley, lurking within the shadows, as they made their way to a vile creavess of the city, littered with waste and garbage. The young man then pointed towards the body in the darkest recess of the filthy scenery. Then emerging from the blackness came three figures, each sporting an expression of disdain and vengeance. Fear shot through the young man, as he began to back away, only to have a gnarled hand grip tightly at his arm. The old man beamed a piercing glare to the young fool, as he gave a slow shake of his head. “You never, should have crossed Daggerhand,” said one of the men. “Now you are going to both pay with your lives!” The first man pulled a dirk from his pocket, raising it high into the air, before lunging forward to the two supposed victims. Huskabar simply took a single step to the side at the very last possible moment, leaving only his foot in place, causing the ruffian to fall flat on his face, causing his dagger to slide across the dank ground. The wizard quickly projected a small void hole to that area, expanding it by a hair, causing it to fall into nothingness. However this left his back wide open, as another man swung his short sword, towards it’s exposed surface. But it was blocked before it made impact, by an odd little weapon, wielded by the younger man accompanying Huskabar. It seemed to look like a dagger of some kind, but when taking a closer look, it was not a dagger at all. It had an entire row of continuous little knotches, each meant to catch a blade. For a moment, he could not help but marvel at what a unique little weapon it was, but he hardly had time to think on such things.

[Huskabar]

A feeling of uneasy discomfort shot through Huskabar’s arm when his astral appendage was snapped back into it’s place all at once, the void quickly dissipating after claiming it’s small iron victim. The newly-disarmed man jumped up to his feet, with a grunt of absolute frustration. He had decided in his mind at that moment that he had quite enough of this, before turning his attention to the waste being him. He reached down, gripping at one of the large wooden barrels, mustering all of his strength to lift the filled barrel above his head, trash pouring out from it’s open end, ready to crush the pathetic old conjurer in two. The old wizard had to think fast. His eyes quickly darted to the garbage covered ground, looking for anything that might be useful, before finally spotting a small extremely sharp shard of glass, which had just fallen out of the barrel. He didn’t want to rip his astral body from his physical one yet again, but he didn’t have any other clear option. He projected his hand gripping the tiny object, before flinging it with all of his strength, lodging it straight into the man’s throat. The large man screamed, before stumbling backward, and then collapsing down to the ground, causing him to drop the heavy barrel down on himself, sealing his rather grim fate. Though the aged warlock was grateful to still be drawing breath, it soon became apparent that this came at a sacrifice. The thumb and fingers on his right hand were no longer capable of making a full fist, and though they could begin to close, it was only to a limited degree. He then looked towards his client, who seemed to have his hands quite full. Both men were lashing their blades wildly, but the younger man now was holding two of these odd sword-catching weapons, and was blocking quite successfully, until finally getting a lock on one, using his leverage to pry it from his enemies hand, and send to the other side of the alley. Huskabar didn’t spare a moment, quickly dashing to the weapon, and though he had no experience with such a tool, the concept seemed elementary enough. He ran towards one of the attackers, driving the dagger into the man’s chest. He then pulled at the weapon’s handle, but it was stuck in the man’s body. The old wizard knew there was a reason he stuck to magic, but this was still not the time to think on such things. The stabbed man fell to the ground, blood spurting out of his lips, as the final man swung wildly at Huskabar. The old man fell over backwards as he backed up, and the aggressor swung his blade towards him, but before he could take another step, he felt the cold steel of a metal pipe crack against the back of his head. The young man stood there before the wizard, both covered in blood, and gasping for air, surrounded with the bodies of four Daggerhand members. The old man took a moment to process the situation, before giving a slow nod to the other, “What a horrible mess… Alright… We’ll cram the bodies into the barrels… That will be the easy part. Then we need to get the bodies to my home, and then the real work begins. I hope you can use a dagger as well as you can use those little weapons of yours, because we have a lot of cutting to do before we can even begin voiding.” He spoke in a rather hushed tone, as he took a long look at the mayhem around him, as he shook his head. “Well, i hope you are well rested. We have a long night ahead.”

[Huskabar]

The two men began to execute the difficult task of transporting and disposing of the four bodies. The two men would load a corpse into the trash barrel, which in of itself proved to be more trouble than previously anticipated. Rigamortis was gradually setting in, and it was beginning to make the bodies uncooperative to say the least. The two attempted to force the limbs to bend, but to no avail, until finally the old wizard came up with an idea. “Stand back… I have never actually attempted what I am about to do.” The wizard opened a small void hole, just big enough for the leg, gradually guiding it around the limb, bringing it all the way up along the knee, to the thigh, before releasing his hold on the void, and in the blink of a moment, the gateway shut, but not before claiming the appendage. When the old man took a closer look, he noticed that not only would shutting the gateway cause the material to split, but there was no blood whatsoever. The severe cold of the void had actually caused the would to cauterize upon severance. The old wizard could not help but find this incredibly fascinating. Though this newly discovered tactic did indeed save the two men time and effort, this would not help them with the torsos, do to the fact Huskabar could not as of yet expand his voids to that width. This meant that the use of knives would indeed be necessary, but this would allow the old man time to regenerate some of his djed. The younger man seemed to actually be quite skilled with the blades, and though their was indeed quite an amount of work on the first body alone, the first torso did not even take him a bell’s time. During this time, Huskabar rested to regain his valuable djed, and though this time would hardly restore all of it, every little bit would be needed, and once it was finished, Huskabar would open his void, gradually sprawling open the bitter cold blackness, while the younger man tossed in the carved bits of torso. This process was continued over and over, making sure to rest each time in between opening the void, and even then the djed was spent just as fast as it was gained. Finally the work was behind them, and due to the new tactics learned and implemented the blood was greatly reduced, but there was still some that remained. In any case, the bodies were gone, and relief fell over the old wizard. The younger man turned in his direction, looking quite exhausted. “Thank you for helping me dispose of those bodies… If it were not for you, I could very well be dead right now. Here,” he said, as he reached into his pocket, retrieving a small pouch of coins. “This is your payment. I trust that not a word of this will ever be spoken.” he said, before placing the coin pouch in the old man’s hands. “Indeed… And I trust the same,” he replied, as he could not help but notice the complete shift in the young man’s personality. Earlier that night he was a nervous wreck, and then he wielded his weapons quite well, and seemed able to handle himself. So the question in the old man’s mind was beginning to form. What was it about this young man that just did not add up. He felt as if their was a missing piece to this puzzle, and that was a feeling he did not like in the slightest, but he also had another feeling. He did not believe for whatever reason that this would be the last time he saw this young man, so he gripped the pouch, before placing it in his pocket, and then ushering what he had now felt to be an unwanted guest out from his home. He was glad to be paid, but there was something going on, and Huskabar knew it. He shook his head, before making his way to bed, deciding to revisit the matter in his mind at another time.

[Edreina]

Huskabar

 

Skill Points

Skill	Points
Morphing	+0XP
Projection	+0XP
Voiding	+0XP
Weapon: Dagger	+1XP

 

Lores Gained

• The Boy Who Took on the Daggerhand

 

Notes

Huskabar, sit down for a moment. We need to have a little chat, you and I. The Morphing Lore clearly states that "A novice Morpher can perform small scale partial transformations with or without a model. Morphing is slow, somewhat awkward, and overall quite limited. Fancy shapes are absolutely not advised.". Your likenesses to a hound dog are most certainly "fancy" and they are done with far too much speed for a Novice. You were moving bones, skin, adding fur, changing color, and even altering your vocal cords in order to bark. And then, right after that, you turned into a vagrant. Yet another incredibly complex alteration. More than that, you held the transformation for extended periods of time, something that would have cost you high amounts of Djed.

After all of this, you went on to use Projection and voiding rapidly.

Do you have any CLUE the amount of djed this would take? You'd be lucky to live through it, let alone go without any symptoms of Overgiving. After speaking with Twister, it was decided that you would experience Overgiving. Trust us in that this is a very minor repercussion to your severe over use of magic and playing above your skill level.

Overgiving Story and Effects

The next morning, when Huskabar woke with a crippling headache, he would be surprised to see that an atrocious change had taken hold of his body while he slept. Instead of a normal human thumb, he now bore a dog's small dew claw. The skin there and part of the way up his fore arm was a splotchy red, much like the fur of a hound dog. The change was permanent, he would soon discover, and debilitating. It bore no muscles or control, leaving him without a thumb's use. He would also discover in the future that Projection with this hand is far more taxing than his other hand.

Dismayed, he would be faced with a choice: Live as a deformed wretch or, in a fit of desperate insanity, cut the malformed thumb away and leave himself susceptible to infection.

~