“What’s my soul like then?”
“Eh, like an Ogress. Big, full of… hard stuff. Pulpy.” Visgali’s abyssal eyes were mesmerizing, but the comparison stung the bartender’s own pride. “You’re a stiff drink, but I need a- a-,” the nightgaunt’s eyelids lulled over as she drifted off to sleep mid-sentence.
Clay rubbed his aching head as he tried to stand, but the fall down the pit rattled his senses something fierce. His bruised arms and battered legs were unsteady and weak as he struggled to loosen his backpack from his person. It was a great and painful effort to brace himself against the pit’s wall under the late afternoon daylight. He needed to take stock. “How long was I out?”
No, not that. What’s the main character gonna do? Save the day? We need something different.
Long ago in a distant land, I Ak-… no.
He had to keep walking. He had to if he wanted to make it out of here. In the dying forest far from civilization…
No no no. Ugghhhh!
How was she supposed to come up with a story like this?!
“Dressed like wh-” she doesn’t even finish her question before letting out a little shriek and reflexively covering herself up with her arms as she looked down, even though I couldn’t see anything too salacious from where I was standing.
“Oh…oh my…..you must have greater control of this dreamscape than I anticipated.” she observed timidly. “Not quite full lucid dreaming, but still…..”
Come to think of it, the beautiful, bespectacled bovine woman in this dream kitchen is (barely) dressed in a manner that seems a bit reminiscent of the Gil Elvgren or Freeman Elliot pin-ups I’m so fond of.
“Please…” she implored me. “I…I can tell you what you would like to know, but can I get something a little less revealing?”
Wait a sec- I have the power to dress and undress her in my dreams? Well now- this could be pretty fun.
The apron vanishes altogether, and my bovine visitor has one arm draped across her voluminous breasts and her hand covering up between her legs.
“KYAAAAA! I…I’ve been tarnished forever. Nobody will want to marry me now!” my uninvited visitor lamented as she tired even harder to conceal herself. “I’m a sage with 400 years experience in this field- why would you even want to do such a thing to me, young man?”
“Hang on, hang on….” I try to reassure her
I can’t even begin to remember how long I sat there, screaming, though I do remember that shining smile in the face of the purple monster in front of me. It faltered at my cries, falling into a look of grave concern. She approached, a comely torso slithering along the lower mass of teeth, eyes, and purple slime. As she came closer, I could do nothing but scramble further backward. The bookshelf rocked precariously above us, threatening to topple over onto me, but I was in no condition to think of anything but putting as much distance in between the slithering creature and my person as I could. The Madness of Philip Howard still gripped me, for his memories latched onto my mind like the writhing tentacles of the shoggoth snaking out to ensnare me.
“Wait!” said Yasu with a triumphant smile. “If the Shoggoth are referred to as servitors then this set must be truly old.”
“You are correct Yasu. This one fact alone gives us an indication of just how truly ancient this set is.”