jabberwock

Traveling until the end of the month.  Happy holidays!

The lake of mud quickly rallied, churning with some sort of mass intelligence that turned against them.  It was evident that the direct approach wouldn't work.  "You can't go further!" he called out to Jane, slogging into the mess to try and help extricate her from the mud (assuming she was actually amenable).  Once back onshore, Telly collapsed onto the dirty ground, trying to catch his breath.  He cast a glance over to their some time benefactor, sitting smugly beneath the shade of a giant mushroom.  Fiona hadn't lifted a hand to help them and seemed content enough to observe the proceedings.  Clearly this was a test, something they had the ability to handle.   The rain soaked through his clothes, dripping wetly into uncomfortable crevices and making him decidedly unhappy.  Astonished, he glanced up and thought back to what Fiona had been trying to teach them.  The world was shadows, side by side slices of the same pie but each distinctly it's own.  Could he... ?   The engineer jumped to his feet and popped his hood over his head to protect it against the rainfall.  Glancing both ways along the water's edge, he began to move purposefully clockwise to the lake.  With each step he took, he imagined the rain clouds parting to let bright, heavy sunlight fall upon the muddy lake.  The one thing he concentrated on, however, was to keep the island of prisoners constant.

Still here!

Health first!  Feel better!

The buildings faded away quickly as they progressed and soon enough the group found themselves amidst trees.  At first, the area seemed pleasant and peaceful, but the torrent of water grew larger and muddier as they trespassed.  Rainfall began, making the path treacherous, but his new clothing adapted well enough and water slicked off of his half cloak and hood to keep Telly dry.   Soon enough, they found themselves on the shores of a muddy lake, with a semi-distant island that held others from DMV, some of whom had been "transformed" by the demoness into mud back in the original world.  The demoness herself lay unconscious among them.  "Is that actually her?  The woman who killed all those people back there?  Or is that Earth's version of her, swapped out?"   Without a word, Jane dropped her weapon and dove into the muddy water.  Adventurous and incautious as ever.  As much as Telly had admired her bravery for diving into the unknown, he was quickly realizing the difference between online videos and real life.  All this talk of intelligent mud made the lake itself seem more dangerous than the unconscious group on shore.  Telly wasn't sure he wanted to be in the midst of that much mud.   Tim was more cautious, but still looking to move on to the offensive.  Timidly, Telly asked him, "Ummm... doesn't she look like more of a... captive from here?"

Super sorry, life got super busy and then I got sick.  Will try to post tomorrow.

The scenery changed around them as they walked through the streets.  The buildings, already worn and grey, grew smaller and patchwork, beaten down by the sudden gusting winds, heavy with the scent of impending rain.  Telly shivered and drew his light jacket closer around his shoulders, surprised to find that his own clothing had morphed along with the surroundings.  He had been wearing black jeans and a red cotton tshirt this morning, but he was surprised to find that he now wore a deep red tunic with tan leather shoulder pads.  His light jacket had turned into a half cloak of faded black.   Glancing down, he confirmed that his pants and sneakers had also gone through a bit of a transformation as well, somewhere halfway between their original fashion and basic leather leggings.  Overall, it was surprisingly comfortable, though he wondered what it meant that his new color scheme sported blood red with tan highlights.  Did that have anything to do with the new Amber persona he was learning about, or had that simply been an unconscious choice as they traveled?   So engrossed was he in his appearance, he nearly tripped over a rock, stumbling for a few steps before catching his balance on a nearby wall.  Fiona was talking again, something about multiverse benefits.  He realized he hadn't been paying attention and gulped.  Swords now, she was talking about swords and how they worked everywhere.  Made sense, a hunk of sharp metal never really changed.   They approached a blacksmith's smithy, around which lay tables and racks of weapons.  "You'll need some kind of weapon," their guide said.  "Pick what you want."   The problem was, he wasn't sure what he wanted.  He imagined the kind of fencing he saw in the pirate movies, but the blades seemed too thin and fragile when he examined them.  Or perhaps a long sword, like he saw in the medieval movies, but they were too heavy for him to handle.  Trying to call up memories of a life where he knew how to use a sword seemed to fail him at the moment.  It wasn't so easy to just suddenly get new abilities.  It's not like he could call up an operator and tell them to "load the sword fighting program."   After some time, Telly settled on a machete.  It was light enough to handle, but sturdy enough to take abuse.  He could swing it with or without fancy knowledge.  He picked up a scabbard and a small dagger to go along with his purchase.  "How much?" he asked of the proprietress.  She quoted a price and he paused, then counted out the silver from a small pouch weighing at his waist.  Unsure if it was right and accustomed to paying store prices, the technician paid full price for the goods without attempting to haggle.   "Oh, I hope that wasn't too much money," Telly lamented.

The ability to find worlds we desired...   It was a captivating thought, something that had crossed his mind more than once.  A way to break the monotony of life, the drudgery that permeated his every day.  A chance at something more.   But that was a pipe dream.  Something that let him drift away in the middle of an abstract, grey day.  This was something different.  The visceral fear and horror of the DMV (well, the demon in the DMV, though to an extent the DMV itself as well) and the vaguely odd familiarity of the background for this "adventure" was deeply out of place for his fantasies.  He felt somehow different yet still the same, out of place yet still stuck.   His fellow adventurer, Martin, still kept a reasonable head on his shoulders.  His questions seemed pointed and fair, something the problem solver inside of Telly approved of.  "If we can control the flow of time, why is time still of the essence?"

Telly nodded.  "We can probably finding everything we need in a..."  At this he licked his lips, trying to remember the word that Fiona had used.  "... libido space.  But what if one isn't around?"

There was talk of more destinations, more lessons, and problems in the rear view.  Clearly it was not the last they had seen of the dreaded demon woman.  Telly shivered involuntary, suddenly remembering the gore that had been his whole world, only a short time earlier.  It seemed like almost a dream now, or perhaps this was the dream and he'd awaken in a hospital bed.   Their guide opened the exit wide, revealing the streets beyond.  They were both familiar and foreign, the line of buildings that led up the street.  He noticed cracked walls and weathered roofs, where vegetation had begun to seep into foundations.  Disturbingly enough, the once sun dappled scenery was now plastered in pale moonlight, black and white and grey.   As if suddenly realizing that they were about to embark on a journey of some unknown import, Telly hurried over to a closet door.  He closed it briefly and concentrated for a second before opening it up and reaching inside.  From the previously empty closet, the young technician pulled out a backpack.  He checked its simple contents: a flashlight, a rain poncho, a warm jacket, some granola bars, a canteen of water, and Swiss army knife.  His eyes rose to meet the others.  "Uhhh, anyone else want one?  Just in case?"  The closet held a few more similar bags.

The magical fridge trick had been enough to convince Telly that the asian women was telling the truth about shadows and worlds, if not about her intentions.  The thought of a new trick was sort of exciting to the technician.  He imagined what sort of persona might be exciting, but ultimately it came down to testing the impossible.   All his life, Telly had never been able to whistle.  He'd had friends instruct him, watched online tutorial videos, practiced for hours, but it never worked.  In his head, he imagined he could whistle.  He pursed his lips and blew.   It was not what he expected.   Suddenly, his mind swirled with new thoughts, new memories, of a person he had never been.  Recollections of discovering how to whistle at a young age, of whistling as he grew up in the orphanage.  He had been adopted by a different family, one who found joy in music.  He remembered after school jam sessions with his new family, playing in a band in high school, and then attending Julliard to continue his training in music.  He remembered music theory, dramatic history, and classmate study sessions that he had never attended in his real life.   His lips issued not just a single whistled note, but a rising slide that hit high C, followed by an impromptu concert complete with staccato claps and table drumming.  When the last note faded, so did his skills and abilities, though the memories settled somewhere into the back of his mind.

Fiona's word echoed within Telly's ears, though he still wasn't in quite the right frame of mind to grasp them fully.  It was too wide, too vast a concept, that his entire life was, well... not quite a lie but not quite real either.  The Sons and Daughters of Amber?  The power to mold the world around him?   He refocused.  Smaller, easier to handle ideas.  He tossed his empty coffee jar into a nearby recycling container (which funnily enough was empty but surrounded by trash) and approached the refrigerator again.  He concentrated and opened it, finding it empty.  Then he concentrated and opened it again, finding it full of fruit.  He did this several times more, ascertaining each time that his mind had somehow conjured something new into the confines of the fridge.  Finally, he stepped away, sipping on the ice cold contents of his slurpee while his mind readjusted to their situation.   It didn't seem to be a trick.  He wasn't verbalizing his wishes, but somehow they manifested within the fridge.  Hell, he had visualized grapes the size of oranges and somehow that had appeared.  If it was science, it was too advanced to differentiate from magic.   And according to Fiona, it wasn't magic powered by the fridge, it was something within him that powered the change.  That was a mental hurdle that took some time to get over.  He paused a moment, then expanded awareness.  If he could manifest changes within the fridge, what about something bigger?  Could he manifest changes in the room?  In the world?  Is this what Fiona meant by the ripples created by-   His brain short circuited for a second.  He needed to bring his thoughts back to more basic concepts.  He opened the fridge once more to verify it was empty.  Without closing the door, he imagined it filled with chocolate chip cookies.

Their surroundings were strange, to say the least.  The building had been populated and stained with blood only moments before, but passing through the mirror (?!?) had left them in a deserted and dusty facsimile of their DMV.  On the surface, he was following the events, moving with the group and listening to the string of consonants and vowels issuing forth from the Asian redhead.  But internally, he was mentally stalled and had trouble trying to kickstart his brain into motion.   The words coming from their guide all made sense, individually.  He knew those words.  They were English.  But the structure and context had him completely blindsided.  He was still reeling at "enemies" (because he has some now?) when the words "swapping creatures" and "parallels" passed him by.  "Violent" was a word he only encountered on the news, and he was having trouble associating it with "plants", though the word "mud" had somehow preceded "man", and "astral" was used in a completely serious context.   The only phrase that made sense was "get yourself something to drink" and "well stocked".  He latched on to the sanity, the only thought that subsisted in the rapidly dwindling rational part of his mind.  Yes, liquid.  Thirst.  A queue formed.  A line to alleviate thirst.  Normality, banality.  Telly stepped into the line and waited for those in front of him to complete their first task in this upside down world.  When his turn came, he felt foolish but held the simple thought: Oh magic fridge, please give me an iced coffee.   With baited breath, he opened the fridge door and discovered that the refrigerator had delivered.  Inside stood an assortment of iced coffees and teas, like what you might see in the refrigerated section of a grocery store.  He selected one and unscrewed the top with a satisfying little pop! that indicated the seal was broken.  Then he turned his attention back to the group.   They sat around the fridge chatting like it was break time at the watercooler.  Awkwardly leaning one arm against a nearby dusty counter, he joined in on the introductions.  It was like starting a new job.  "James," he said, gesturing at himself with his drink.  "James Tellerheim, but I grew up with a couple of other Jameses, so everyone calls me Telly.  I do customer support work."

FYI, out of town for the next few days.

Telly was searching behind the mirror when the voice spoke up through the mirror.  He thought nothing of it at first, likely one of the people stuck in the closet with him was speaking up.  But he came around the mirror just in time to see a hand poke through the surface.  It surprised him enough that he stumbled back and bounced against one of the shelves, where he rested as a few of the others took the woman up on her offer.   As they stepped through the portal, the technician edged around the room until he could see the mirror itself.  He finally acknowledged what had been lingering in the back of his mind: that the image in the mirror, while still showing the same room, had marked differences.  It was dusty, empty, and disheveled, other than the odd Asian woman and his three former closet compatriots.  It was clear that no harm had come of the others; had the mirror been backed against a wall, Telly would have been convinced that someone had cut a hole through the sheetrock.   He reached out tentatively, letting his fingers slip through the opening.  He half expected a Matrix moment, where liquid glass rippled like the surface of a puddle, but the space beyond was as open and clear as it looked.  With half a feeling of excitement and half of dread at the sheer stupidity of his actions, Telly stepped through the portal into the area beyond the looking glass.  He glanced about in wonder, taking in the littered floor and dusty shelves.  Then he sneezed.

The fact that the terrorist was leaving was news to Telly.  It must have happened after he had slipped into the closet.  He nodded at the foreign man's words, digesting this new tidbit.  Another fairly plain man refuted Telly's idea of fleeing the closet, citing the clerk's words of safety.  Telly wanted to speak up, saying that there was no guarantee that the clerk wasn't working with the terrorist, and wanted them to lock themselves away for later.  The words burbled up in his throat, but died unspoken.  That was not his way, getting into someone's face while cramped together in a closet.  The path of least resistance, of least discomfort, that was how Telly interacted with the world.   Instead, he turned away, searching the shelves again and knowing what he'd find.  Reams of paper, ball point pens, paper clips, white out, etc.  All the minutiae needed to keep a relic of the past trudging along.  The mirror itself was bulky and in the way.  Likely one of the employees had sold it to a coworker, and they had whisked it into the back until the end of the work day.  The technician wondered if perhaps the new owner might be one of those on the floor outside, but... he quickly wiped those thoughts from his mind.  Too much.  Too much for today.   If he were MacGyver, he could bend these paperclips and use some random chemical from the white out to make some sort of weapon.  If he were Jane Singer (oh that's right, she was in here too) he'd find some daredevil escape route that likely included parkour across the desks and a second story window jump to a moving vehicle.  Sadly, he was none of these people, and to him, paper was just paper and pens were just pens.

The young man stumbled through the doorway, one of the first ones in.  Others followed, colliding into his back and sending him further into the depths of a... closet.  A goddamn closet.  Not a hallway, not an exit, but a staging room for whatever horror was out there.  Telly could see the horror slowly dawning on his face through his reflection in an oddly placed mirror.   Others clambered in, and the inflow of bodies made it near impossible to push his way back out.  This wasn't where he wanted to be, waiting to die.  His mind swept the room, looking for some egress that he had missed.  A vent large enough to crawl through, or a small window hidden behind the shelves.  Nothing.   He turned back to face the others in the room, idly noting one familiar face, before stating the obvious.  "It's a dead end."   Others spoke as well, proffering plans of escape (all suicidal) or pure gibberish.  Mud?  Magic?  He had no clue what the dark skinned man was saying.  Was it part of the terrorist's fantasy act, a show she put on to live out her twisted homicidal dreams?  Giving up his life seemed too high a price for those answers, the technician would have happily lived out the rest of his life in ignorance, if only he could escape.  "We can't stay here.  Back out and scatter.  There's only one of her, right?  Better than waiting here for her to get us all."

Telly sat quietly in his chair, waiting for the billboard to ping his number.  As he waited, his mind played out scenarios where Ms. Singer might find a chair nearby, and he could strike up a conversation.  Or perhaps she would trip and he'd somehow step up and catch her.  Or the DMV was suddenly held up by bank robbers (but why?) and some bizarre unlikely scenario would make him seem more heroic than the firm grip of reality dictated.  As a dozen unlikely scenarios unfolded, he imagined some woman crossing the floor, looking wildly like a horned demoness about to wreak havoc on unsuspecting bystanders.   Or was he imagining that?  With a start, life jolted him awake and he stared.  Was this a movie?  Did some cosplayer have to run a quick DMV errand before heading back out to some event?  He wasn't exactly sure.  All he knew was that the scene played out in front of him like one of his mental fantasies gone wrong.  One of the security guards, much more alert than Telly, was already on his way to confront the woman, but she treated him like nothing more than a distraction.   Telly realized he hadn't moved during the entire exchange.  He had sat motionless and dumbfounded as the creature continued to stalk deeper into the mundane space, and her path of carnage was moving ever closer to his vulnerable areas.  Suddenly cognizant of the danger, Telly jumped to his feet and sprinted towards... well away, actually.  He found himself closer to the windows, as a woman suddenly focused her gaze in his direction.  Her words were a blur to him, but her intentions were clear.  A door marked Staff Only lay past her pointing finger, and the service technician made his way directly towards it.  He glanced backwards to see that some had opted to help.   His mind considered it.  Turn around.  Get people to safety.  But his body kept moving.  Telly was no hero.  In seconds, he was through the door.

Telly had been having a rough day.  His dreams had been rough, with what he couldn't remember.  After hitting the off button on his alarm, he'd accidentally fallen back asleep and woke up later than expected.  He'd had enough time to struggle into a set of rumpled clothes before rushing out the door and into morning traffic.  If he skipped his morning coffee run, he'd be able to barely make it into the office in time.   He got to his desk, barely avoiding the supervisor's surly gaze.  Mr. Pellen looked angry today, but then again he was always angry and the techs in office were incessantly gossiping about why.  Today's speculation revolved around a suspiciously new dent in Mr. Pellen's brand new BMW.  Telly knew better than to cross paths with his infuriated manager.  He just wanted to get through the day and go home and play video games.   Before sitting down, the technician emptied his pockets onto his desk.  He dumped everything into a small box he kept for the express purpose of keeping his stuff together.  Then he sat down and began taking calls.   It was almost an hour later that he noticed the crumpled up piece of paper on top of his wallet.  Had that been in his pockets?  He smoothed it out in front of him while simultaneously affirming to his customer that her product had indeed shipped, and that delivery would take several days and not "just a few minutes".  Telly had to read the message a few times before the contents finally broke through the mental barrier he'd erected over the course of the monotonous day.  Oh crap, when did I make this appointment?  I don't even remember why I have to go to the DMV...   He set his status so that calls wouldn't be routed to him and sprinted to his manager.  He knew Pellen wouldn't agree to a day off on such short notice, so he needed a different excuse.  "Mr. Pellen, sir.  I'm not feeling too well.  I've got a bit of a sore throat coming on..."   Pellen didn't even look up.  "That's okay, James.  We'll move you to chat support and you won't have to do any talking."   Exasperation.  "I meant, I think I need to head home for the day." "I know what you meant, Mr. Tellerheim.  Now get back to your desk.  We have..."  At this, Pellen looked at his computer for a second, then went back to filling out paperwork on his desk.  Not once had he made eye contact with Telly.  "... eight chats awaiting pickup."   Telly knew when Pellen was in a mood that he could be intractable.  So he did the only thing he could think of: he grabbed the wastebasket and faked dry heaving into it.  Pellen was on his feet in an instant, backed into the corner with a pale face.  "Get out of here then!  Go!"   * * * * *   Within the hour he was at the DMV, staring at a slip of paper that said E1038.  He wasn't sure how long he'd be stuck here, waiting for them to call his number.  Bored, his eyes roamed over the crowd before latching onto a blonde girl waiting in line.  Was... was that Jane Singer?  He was subscribed to her YouTube channel.  Her adventures all looked so fun and exciting, he couldn't help but stare in surprise and amazement.

I am also still here, assuming I get accepted.

Understood, thanks!

Yesterday I joined a game and this section had information filled out with the most recent activities in the game.  This morning, I logged on to find that it states I have no games, despite showing a game right above it.

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James Tellerheim, a.k.a. Telly Creature of Habit   Biography Telly was adopted as a baby by a small family who already twin daughters.  Though his childhood was never wanting, he always felt like he lived in the backdrop of someone else's life.  He attended the local high school with good grades, but a lack of strong extra curriculars found him attending a second rate college.  Saddled with student debt and emotionally adrift, Telly found a job working as technical phone support for a large online retailer.  He moved away from home only to find freedom insufferably boring.   Between overtime at work, hanging around at the bar with friends, and a general lack of funds, Telly has settled into a rut that has lasted years.  Day after day, he finds himself dreading the grind and wondering what's going to happen next.   Physical Description   Telly is a simple fellow, drawn to comfortable clothes in basic colors.  His hair, despite occasional best efforts, always looks like he'd just drifted out of bed only moments before.  He's drawn to fun and interesting people and events, but always feels like an outside observer rather than a participant.   Updated Description: Telly shivered and drew his light jacket closer around his shoulders, surprised to find that his own clothing had morphed along with the surroundings.  He had been wearing black jeans and a red cotton tshirt this morning, but he was surprised to find that he now wore a deep red tunic with tan leather shoulder pads.  His light jacket had turned into a half cloak of faded black.   Glancing down, he confirmed that his pants and sneakers had also gone through a bit of a transformation as well, somewhere halfway between their original fashion and basic leather leggings.  Overall, it was surprisingly comfortable, though he wondered what it meant that his new color scheme sported blood red with tan highlights.     Attributes Psyche: Superior Strength: Below Average Keep Fit: Average Self-Defense: Superior   Attribute Changes: (6 Pool Points) You'll start with a pool of 8 points to spend with going from Below Average to Average being 1 points, Average to Superior 2 points and Superior to Paragon 5 points. You can only go one step at a time, so say Average to Superior but not Average to Paragon, and can only raise one point per a scene. - 2022-10-19: Spend 2 points to move Self Defense from Average to Superior