Curse of the Red Cheeks (invite only)

[Hiran]

Orazi just barely managed to avoid being struck with Orfo's behind the first time, falling backward only both hands to avoid it. Yeesh, this bear was a bit of a handful.

"Yeah, but who'd be stupid enough to—" Orazi's words were cut off as he was struck by Orfo's behind, unable to get out of the way this time. "Watch it will ya!" he yelled, his previous thought now completely forgotten.

Orazi is relatively calm still, but could be convinced with some difficulty to play guinea pig.

[Zollith]

Tambourin forces himself to calm down with breathing exercises, taught to him long ago to try and control his temper, which seems to have enough of an effect to do something constructive. He pulls out paper from his pack and scribbles down everything that he can record so far, from how the runes look to the theories that have been formed. He is on hands and knees, leaving the hole in his clothes fully exposed with the rune, seemingly unaware it is glowing. He relays what has been discovered so far as he scribbles.

"We must get to the bottom of what this magic is and how it works. I shall tell you what happened when I tried to leave: by the time I got to the path, I felt a kind of aching and twinging on my left buttock. I tried getting further away, and the sensations escalated until it felt like my bottom was stuck with a powerfully horrendous sting. We all seem to share this mark, but none of you felt what I did moments ago. One question for you all, as I cannot see my own backside: is my mark the same, or has it changed after I was zapped?" For a moment, Tambourin is so absorbed in his academic effort that he does not consider any consequences of sticking out his rear further back for inspection: when it comes focusing on his studies, his usual [justified] paranoia and self-consciousness evaporate.

[Spunny]

It was at this point that Mouse awoke, groaning groggily as he came back into the real world and outside of the wonderful (pervy) dream he was having.



Ugh...where am I? Didn't I have clothes last night? Or did I lose them again? He thought as he slowly began to sit up.



And why is my ass sore?!

[Pseudosym]

Torian has heard the road to Posterium is a hard one. He took that to mean "fickle weather" and "less than ideal terrain." Not... whatever the hell that was.

He pushes himself into a seated position and watches the raucous scene unfold around him. Half the party is naked, and more clothes are vanishing by the second.

Torian examines his own personage. He is stiff from a night spent on the stony floor of the shrine, and his clothes are flecked with soot, but he is otherwise unhurt. He considers the previous night's events. Whatever those blue things were... they had seemed tough, at first, but they'd been easy enough to evade. Torian had even managed to pin one in place--magically, of course--long enough to deliver a good smacking to the seat of its weird blue pants.

That's how they do things in Posterium, after all. Better start getting used to it.

He gives a little huff and snaps his fingers. A trail of sparkles dances over him, and the soot is whisked away, leaving his clothing as immaculate as they'd been the day before.

As the little wizard wanders too far from the shrine, Torian feels the same odd sensation as the rest of the party. After a quick glance around to ensure his (relative) privacy, he takes down the waistband of his trousers and steals a peek.

Indeed, he is marked.

Torian heaves a sigh. He gets to his feet, brushing the dust from his trousers and straightening his jacket. He checks a pocket for his little wooden flute--it's there, thankfully.

"Do you suppose these marks have something to do with that old fellow's story?" he pipes up. "You know... bands of heroes, proving their camaraderie, sanctifying the bonds of brotherhood?" He waggles his hands dramatically. "It seems we've been signed up for something we didn't agree to."

At Tambourin's grumbled request for a tailor, Torian leans in. "I have, in fact, been known to wield a needle," he says. He pulls a spool of silk thread from the many pockets of his coat. "Finest quality silk--see for yourself. It's a tad on the expensive side. Hard to come by. If I could trouble you for a small donation, I'll be happy to stitch those up for you."

[Manicorn]

Zarden rolls his eyes, ignoring the bard. The man likely made his way through life in such a manner, shilling for coin. But he was hardly the most punishment-worthy at the moment.

His cats' eyes focused first on the naked thief.

"So good of you to join us," he says drily. "Not only the first to flee the fight, but now the last to wake among those you abandoned. Not a good combination." He makes sure to keep his own bare backside pointed away from Mouse, so the man would not get a glimpse of the mark they shared. He also makes eye contact with as many of the others as he could so they wouldn't dispute what he says next.

"If you're searching for your clothes, they're just down that road," he says, and points in the same direction Tambourin had tried to go. "I saw the sylphs drop them over there."

[hax25849]

"Wait... d..didn't Tambourin?" The cogs of Orfo's logic could be heard and seen by everyone in the room, his face literally frozen in thought. "Didn't Tamnbo's rump tattoo glow when he tried to leave? So why would Zaredn suggest that??" He murmured to himself quietly, Orzai being the only creature within earshot.

"Oh! I get his thinking! It's because the mouse doesn't have clothes! He thinks that the only reason Tamnbo felt something was because he had clothes!" Orfo looked proud as he turned to Orzai, his optimism shining off of him thinking that he cracked the code!

[Zollith]

Tambourin scribbles down Torian's and Orfo's theories as well. He also heeds the flautist's offer to mend his clothes, grumbling, "...we may work out a price later, when I am less distracted." Not one to disrespect honest work, even at a premium, he hopes he was given enough gold to cover extra purchases outside of his designated shopping list.

Reviewing his notes again, he realises Orfo mentioned that the mark on his own rump was glowing. Alarmed, he finally makes an effort to crook his head around as far as possible while still on hands and knees, and is surprised to catch an unmistakable glow from the corner of his eye. "Agh! My buttock has become a torch!" the wizard exclaims wuth a sob, "a shameful beacon that exposes my ignorance of this horrible curse, and sure to attract massive and painful hands for entertainment..." Tambourin suddenly feels too sorry for himself to analyse their situation further for now.

[Pseudosym]

"A scant five silver, for the highest level of craftmanship," says Torian, persistent. "I can assure you of that. Take your time," he adds earnestly. "Think it over. When you're ready. Only say the word, and my needle is at your service."

As the gnome bemoans his misfortune, Torian lays a hand on his shoulder. "Don't despair, friend," he says cheerfully. "Think how useful you'll be in the dark! We shall want not for torches and waste no fuel for our lanterns." He leans in conspiratorially and gives a furtive nod toward where Zarden is speaking to Mouse. "Here now, divert your attention. Methinks our thieving colleague is set to put us all in better humor."

[Spunny]

Mouse narrowed his eyes at Zarden, slowly coming to a stand. "Can't blame me, can ya? No offense, but when it comes down to it, I'd prefer it your asses over mine."



That's all he says for now, weighing the rest of Zarden's words in his head. There's an alarm going off in his head, danger sensed in that cat-man's words, but he couldn't tell exactly how. Was this a trap? Or did the cat just want to humiliate the thief? He wasn't sure, but he couldn't for the life of him remember exactly what happened to his clothes in the scuffle last night.



His eyes darted to the others. "Well? Did anyone else see it?"

[Zollith]

"I already know simple cantrips that produce light, I do not need holding up in the air with rump pointed forward so some critter can be lured into biting it!" Tambourin scoffs at Torian, quickly snapping out of his self-pity by the strange idea and poring over his notes again. "While I hope to figure out how not to remain a gnomish firefly, we need to decide what to try so I do not rot near these ruins: leaving together as Torian considered, and/or leaving without clothes as Orfo suggested. Now, ~I~ wish to attempt the former first, then maybe those choosing to forgo their modesty already may try the latter." The gnome crawls all over his notes, again forgetting about his exposed buttock and how much he sticks it out for a moment. "I did not notice any discarded clothing on the way to the path, by the way, though I was not actively seeking any."