10.12.2006
Developments
"Uh yeah, I'm the Oracle of Gryss, the Oracle of Grisbane. That's less confusing than it sounds. Every god has an Oracle. So I'm him, the Oracle of Grisbane. That's my job. My name is the Oracle of Gryss. With a 'WHY' and 'DOUBLE S' so you don't get confused with Gryss and Grisbane."
Sip. The Oracle considers the flavor and adds another packet of Splenda to his iced tea.
"A prophecy huh? Well okay. I mean you've come all this way, might as well get something besides some iced tea. Ordinarily I'd ask you a question, and based off how and what you answer that's how I get my prophecy. I think procedure and ritual is an important part of religion, so I'll ask you a question anyway, but I'll go ahead and give you a prophecy now too."
"So here's your question: What is the opposite of a thing?"
"And here's your prophecy:
The Ace of Clubs encased in ice-
Your eyes transfixed on this device,
Behind your head they throw the dice
A man shall die not once but twice."
"Well there's some interesting symbolism there. And death comes up a lot. That's to be expected you know, given your line of work and where you are, where we are today. This place is Death, didn't you know? This is the Land of the Dead. Of Dreams of Death, is probably the more accurate way to put it. Zelba hasn't been herself in quite some time. But that's the kind of thing I wouldn't expect you to know or understand, it's tough to get your head around."
"Vrill? You're talking about that magician and his friend who came by a while back. Yes, he's gone off to see Croatius. To dethrone, or replace, or become, or destroy, or undo Croatius and his machines. I'm not sure what the exact expression would be. Besides, Croatius made this place and maintains it. Not real clear on what that Vrill chap expects. If you're in someone's dream and you kill them, or wake them up, or what-have-you, well, ta ta. So long and thanks for all the Fresca."
"I gave him a prophecy like I do for everyone who comes by, and helped him get through the door."
"Who is Croatius? Well that's a good question, given where you are. Actually a better question is: what is Croatius? An even better question would be: who am I? I meaning you of course. I know who I am, and I've already told you who I am, so you asking that question would simply be redundant at this point."
"Anyway, Croatius is the wizard who made this place. All of this." He gestures around. "Uh, I don't mean he's the carpenter who built my little bungalow. He's the guy who made, and keeps re-making, or was supposed to anyway, this whole dimension. So you could say he's a god. Or a lich. Or an arch-mage. Older than most things. Completely nuts as you might expect. Here, if you want, maybe I can just show you."
The Oracle takes another sip, and casually heads over to the TV. It's kind of a crappy black and white set, with a bit of static and imperfect v-hold. Looks like he was watching Wheel of Fortune.
The Oracle bangs on the side of the set, adjusts the antenna, and changes the channel a few times. Finally, a different kind of show appears.
It's in color- odd, washed out technicolor. It's an outdoor scene; it looks like an outlandish garden, something out of Versailles, Louis XIV France. Huge hedges surround the perimeter, but in the middle is a cute little gazebo covered in ivy. Large, strange flowers are here and there.
Sitting in the middle of the gazebo, in enormous dark velvet robes, is a decrepit old man. Dressed as a stereotypic 'wizard', in conical hat even. His eyes are gone- completely burned out. Mouth hangs open, drooling a bit. You hear the soft buzz of insects through the audio monitor.
"Yeah, there he is. Old Croatius. Not much to look at these days."
Nothing much is happening, but then a few figures enter from stage left. It's Vrill. And an awful-looking Ron Ball. And a gigantic, spindly metal man, like a scarecrow made of rebar about ten feet tall. The metal giant is carrying what looks like a rolled-up carpet.
"Well that's interesting," says the Oracle.
Vrill strides up to Croatius and says something. Croatius seems to strain to hear him. The Oracle tries turning up the volume, but all you hear is the hiss and pop of static.
Vrill unwraps the 'carpet', which is actually a body covered in thick cloth. The cloth turns to smoke and disappears. Croatius begins to stir and you see thick magic runes begin to drift up off his body.
The uncovered body is that of an attractive young woman. Vrill gives her an injection of something and she begins to wake up. The automaton sets her gently on the ground. Croatius seems clearly alarmed or excited and begins to cast, but he's not fast enough... the woman stands up, stretches, looks around and smiles, and then touches Croatius gently on the hand.
Croatius dies.
"Well that was a long time coming," says the Oracle.
Vrill is keeping busy though... he goes over to Croatius' seat in the gazebo and finds something. It... well, it looks like he eats something, or puts something in his mouth. Meanwhile, the girl is cradling Croatius' body, and seems saddened by his death. Ron Ball's head lolls to one side, and he twitches. His spasm opens a wound and a piece of his large intestine bursts out from his stomach. Ron looks down slowly and tries to stuff it back in.
The girl looks up as Vrill finishes, and she looks surprised. Vrill smiles as the eyes burn out of his head, and the flesh rots off his hands. She stands to go to him, when from behind, the metal giant thrusts an enormous pitchfork through her body, impaling her all the way through. The pitchfork and girl fall to the ground, on top Croatius, as thin, watery blood leaks everywhere.
"Oh no," says the Oracle.
Vrill looks right at the TV, which zooms in on his now-disfigured face. The skin seems to have dessicated and shrunken right around the bone. His thin, pale lips grin, and he speaks right at the TV.
"Hi there. Looks like you're a day late and a gp short, assholes."
Sip. The Oracle considers the flavor and adds another packet of Splenda to his iced tea.
"A prophecy huh? Well okay. I mean you've come all this way, might as well get something besides some iced tea. Ordinarily I'd ask you a question, and based off how and what you answer that's how I get my prophecy. I think procedure and ritual is an important part of religion, so I'll ask you a question anyway, but I'll go ahead and give you a prophecy now too."
"So here's your question: What is the opposite of a thing?"
"And here's your prophecy:
The Ace of Clubs encased in ice-
Your eyes transfixed on this device,
Behind your head they throw the dice
A man shall die not once but twice."
"Well there's some interesting symbolism there. And death comes up a lot. That's to be expected you know, given your line of work and where you are, where we are today. This place is Death, didn't you know? This is the Land of the Dead. Of Dreams of Death, is probably the more accurate way to put it. Zelba hasn't been herself in quite some time. But that's the kind of thing I wouldn't expect you to know or understand, it's tough to get your head around."
"Vrill? You're talking about that magician and his friend who came by a while back. Yes, he's gone off to see Croatius. To dethrone, or replace, or become, or destroy, or undo Croatius and his machines. I'm not sure what the exact expression would be. Besides, Croatius made this place and maintains it. Not real clear on what that Vrill chap expects. If you're in someone's dream and you kill them, or wake them up, or what-have-you, well, ta ta. So long and thanks for all the Fresca."
"I gave him a prophecy like I do for everyone who comes by, and helped him get through the door."
"Who is Croatius? Well that's a good question, given where you are. Actually a better question is: what is Croatius? An even better question would be: who am I? I meaning you of course. I know who I am, and I've already told you who I am, so you asking that question would simply be redundant at this point."
"Anyway, Croatius is the wizard who made this place. All of this." He gestures around. "Uh, I don't mean he's the carpenter who built my little bungalow. He's the guy who made, and keeps re-making, or was supposed to anyway, this whole dimension. So you could say he's a god. Or a lich. Or an arch-mage. Older than most things. Completely nuts as you might expect. Here, if you want, maybe I can just show you."
The Oracle takes another sip, and casually heads over to the TV. It's kind of a crappy black and white set, with a bit of static and imperfect v-hold. Looks like he was watching Wheel of Fortune.
The Oracle bangs on the side of the set, adjusts the antenna, and changes the channel a few times. Finally, a different kind of show appears.
It's in color- odd, washed out technicolor. It's an outdoor scene; it looks like an outlandish garden, something out of Versailles, Louis XIV France. Huge hedges surround the perimeter, but in the middle is a cute little gazebo covered in ivy. Large, strange flowers are here and there.
Sitting in the middle of the gazebo, in enormous dark velvet robes, is a decrepit old man. Dressed as a stereotypic 'wizard', in conical hat even. His eyes are gone- completely burned out. Mouth hangs open, drooling a bit. You hear the soft buzz of insects through the audio monitor.
"Yeah, there he is. Old Croatius. Not much to look at these days."
Nothing much is happening, but then a few figures enter from stage left. It's Vrill. And an awful-looking Ron Ball. And a gigantic, spindly metal man, like a scarecrow made of rebar about ten feet tall. The metal giant is carrying what looks like a rolled-up carpet.
"Well that's interesting," says the Oracle.
Vrill strides up to Croatius and says something. Croatius seems to strain to hear him. The Oracle tries turning up the volume, but all you hear is the hiss and pop of static.
Vrill unwraps the 'carpet', which is actually a body covered in thick cloth. The cloth turns to smoke and disappears. Croatius begins to stir and you see thick magic runes begin to drift up off his body.
The uncovered body is that of an attractive young woman. Vrill gives her an injection of something and she begins to wake up. The automaton sets her gently on the ground. Croatius seems clearly alarmed or excited and begins to cast, but he's not fast enough... the woman stands up, stretches, looks around and smiles, and then touches Croatius gently on the hand.
Croatius dies.
"Well that was a long time coming," says the Oracle.
Vrill is keeping busy though... he goes over to Croatius' seat in the gazebo and finds something. It... well, it looks like he eats something, or puts something in his mouth. Meanwhile, the girl is cradling Croatius' body, and seems saddened by his death. Ron Ball's head lolls to one side, and he twitches. His spasm opens a wound and a piece of his large intestine bursts out from his stomach. Ron looks down slowly and tries to stuff it back in.
The girl looks up as Vrill finishes, and she looks surprised. Vrill smiles as the eyes burn out of his head, and the flesh rots off his hands. She stands to go to him, when from behind, the metal giant thrusts an enormous pitchfork through her body, impaling her all the way through. The pitchfork and girl fall to the ground, on top Croatius, as thin, watery blood leaks everywhere.
"Oh no," says the Oracle.
Vrill looks right at the TV, which zooms in on his now-disfigured face. The skin seems to have dessicated and shrunken right around the bone. His thin, pale lips grin, and he speaks right at the TV.
"Hi there. Looks like you're a day late and a gp short, assholes."
