NPC Inbox.

[imaginarymods]

NPC INBOX

The office is currently CLOSED.

NPC threads that don't have a particular place in mod logs will happen here! Please note that this post is not for unplanned or drop-in threads unless otherwise noted. Rather, we'll be working on threads here with PCs as determined by RNG or other game mechanics.


NAVIGATION ⯈



code bases by tricklet

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[imaginarymods]

[When Sans picks it up—]

[There’s this sense. It’s hard to describe, clearly an emotional feeling but a convoluted, tangled one. Resignation, reluctance, mourning, curiosity, hope, a faint sense of amusement. Acceptance. And it’s strong, slapping Sans in the hand like somebody decided to give him a feelings high-five. Pretty weird.]

[Something sparks under Sans’s hand, then down the spine of the umbrella to its tip, shooting out the metal end in quick-fading shapes of fire:]

HEL

[There’s a puff of smoke. A faint grinding sound. And then, exhaustedly:]

P

[ribticklers]

[Sans picks up on the feelings with the usual level of precision of a monster, which is to say it hits him hard, but he can pick out the tangled feelings as well as if he were feeling it himself.

As for the umbrella's message--well, he's not sure if an umbrella can understand him, but talking is his first thought anyway.]

Pretty sure that's what most of us are thinkin', buddy.

[Sans closes his eyes as he casts detect magic. He closes his eyes because of course the umbrella is going to show up as magical, that's obvious, but what Sans is hoping for is that if he goes by feel, he might be able to pick up on something more specific than that. This is detail work. He thinks--maybe he's done detail work before? Well, he can think about that later.]

[imaginarymods]

[Detail work.]

[Amusement flickers stronger, then weaker again. And then there's this sense of — when Sans closes his eyes, the emotion from the umbrella stills too, as though maybe it's taking a cue from him. Slow down and project as much as possible. Let him see. Be seen.]

[There's blackness behind Sans's eyes, and for a moment that's it. Then comes the obvious: an aura of red so bright it shines through, piercing the perfect darkness. There's genuine warmth to it, the sort of kindness that's impossible to fake, the emotional equivalent of an arm slung over your shoulder on a bad day, a gentle elbow in the ribs, a bad joke told just to make you crack a smile. Not just that but heat-warmth too, like Sans is leaning too close over a bonfire. As the light begins to fade, there's a humming sound that also fades into a high-pitched ringing. Underneath that — something. What is it?]

[A swung-beat th-thump. Th-thump. Alive, strong, but going nowhere. Is that actually a heartbeat? Probably not. The physicality of a living heart inside an umbrella is pretty ridiculous. But it's the implication of a heartbeat, and magically speaking there's only so much difference.]

[Maybe for someone else that would be enough. But Sans, he's good at detail work. So he doesn't stop listening. And just at the edge of hearing, there it is: another beat, th-thump, th-thump, a bit less steady, weedy, jumpy, but it's there underneath, heard as though through layers of cloth and flesh and cosmic junk. Another heart, or the implication of a heart, inside the first, which wraps around it fierce and protective. Two different magical signatures, the first warm enough to burn by accident, the second cooler and more withdrawn. Less aware.]

[ribticklers]

[Sans collects the details with all the precision he can summon up. Patience, patience--the patterning isn't identical to a monster's magic, but it's just a different building in the same city. Warmth, heat, and there, and there--the pulse of two souls, though one of them sounds weaker, more distressed. The way the two feel entangled, with that protective feeling, Sans is pretty sure if he did anything too dramatic right now, he'd get burned big time. Heh. Just as carefully as he'd worked his way in, Sans withdraws his magic.]

Okay. Yeah. I see you guys. [He's not sure if that's reassuring, but the umbrella did ask for help. They--well, Sans suspects mostly that fiery soul--must be pretty desperate if they're sending dramatic magical messages to skeletons.] Well, this sounds like the kind of problem you crowdsource. Less work for me to have to do. And hey, maybe someone'll recognize you guys.

[Talking to this umbrella is just going to keep being a thing whenever he sees it around. Too bad if anyone else thinks he's weird for it.]

[imaginarymods]

[The handle warms again under his hand. The specific meaning of this is difficult to discern, considering, but it’s certainly not negative. There’s relief in being seen. There’s relief in having your existence acknowledged. Who knew.]

[It pulses again at crowdsource. A little curiously, maybe. There sure are a lot of these weirdos around. And then it tugs him gently by the wrist to lift his hand and point it towards the liveriver orb.]

[ribticklers]

[Sans lets the umbrella move his hand toward the orb.] Don't set that on fire or anything, I dunno if I can fix it. [He doesn't actually think that's what the umbrella is doing, of course. He will turn it on so it's recording, though! That is probably easier for someone with--well, one hand. He can hit a button with his handless arm, though, so it's fine.]

[imaginarymods]

[There's a puff of smoke in response, wispy and barely warm. It pointedly doesn't damage the orb. Instead, it wreathes around it, settling on the metal before dissolving.]

[The liveriver orb begins playing the footage Sans captured behind the Gilded Wall. The approaching horde of Cursed is making noise, the stomping of feet and the rustling of so many bodies in close quarters. Sand and dust puff up around them, making a small cloud. Another puff of smoke, faintly tinted red this time; the umbrella seems irritated and, as this ring of smoke settles, the perspective of the camera shifts, zooming up and in.]

[It focuses on the glitch in the sky. The way it opens, becomes a circle with a darker circle inside. The camera zooms in further. The circle blinks. It's an eye. The camera shakes, but holds on that image.]

[A few moments later, the umbrella blows another puff of smoke. This one is a muddy purple. It settles on the orb, and the camera pans to the spiky mass in the background, rising above the blackened area behind the Wall. It zooms in excitedly — maybe a little too excitedly, because everything becomes pixellated very quickly — and then pulls back, showing as close as it can get. The frame bounces around excitedly.]

[ribticklers]

[Sans watches, though the Cursed are still unsettling even on video. As the video adjusts and shifts, they're obviously not the point here. Okay, the eye is important. The spiky mass is important, enough to be excited about.]

So, are we gonna have to get to that spiky thing? D'you wanna go there, too, or are you gonna hang back and let everyone else do the Cursed dodging?

[There isn't actually any judgment there--Sans would let others do the Cursed dodging, too, ideally.]

[imaginarymods]

[The umbrella’s handle heats up under Sans’s hand at the suggestion of staying back. Seems to be a sore subject. No, it’ll be there. It seems — kind of eager for it? Not for the danger exactly, but chomping at the bit to get it done already.]

[ribticklers]

Okay, got it, you'll be there too. [Don't set him on fire, please. Except he knows burning hands, so maybe he would be fine. Well, don't give him reason to have to test that.] It's a long walk.

[A long walk through extremely hostile territory.]

But if there's something specific for everyone to focus on, that might keep 'em from trying to swim off the island or something.

[They are a chaotic bunch.]

[imaginarymods]

[Something specific to focus on?]

[The handle cools down. Idly, the umbrella sways on its axis of Sans's wrist.]

[After a moment of this, it swings around much further, circling to tap Sans on the skull. Is he the something specific?]

[ribticklers]

[An umbrella swinging at him like that is a little alarming, you know!]

Me? I ain't really a leader type. [Even without all of his memories, he's sure that's way too much responsibility.] But I can tell 'em about that place in the cursed zone and that you're pretty focused on it. If they all know something important's there we're more likely to find a way over there that doesn't involve dealing with a whole ocean of Cursed.

[Now, feeding people information to encourage them to do things he wants them to, that is Sans's style.]

[imaginarymods]

[The umbrella does not seem sorry.]

[It doesn't move again for a little while, though. What does happen, after a little while of stillness, is a sudden sharp gust of wind that cuts through the cabanas, jostling a nearby coconut tree. A coconut slams down onto a rock and cracks neatly in two.]

[It's probably nothing.]