"Hmmmm....I can't seem to stop the wish before it gets to the proprietor. But let's see....." Mr. Clayton shook the magic eightball. Then he turned towards another object that was sitting on a rickety table. It was the Fortune Teller's crystal ball. A strange glow came out of the ball and seemed to touch the eightball.

"There we go! Yucka Yucka!" Mr. Clayton delighted, realizing that whatever had happened was happening. "Now Bobby and Ralph really are here! Now we know where they are and what they're doing! Now they...."

Mr. Clayton looked into the Crystal Ball. Shawn couldn't see the images the puppet was observing, but could tell that the puppet wasn't happy.

"That wasn't what I wanted to do!" He complained, realizing that whatever change to the wish he was making, hadn't really gone the way he wanted it to.

"Oh well. I guess we'll just have to kidnap them." Mr. Clayton said, looking at Bradford. Bradford didn't move from the chair. His expression hadn't changed.

Shawn clammed up, not wanting to disrupt the viewing any further. Seeing the crystal ball confirmed a sneaking suspicion he'd had before, but seeing the way Bradford was acting was making him come to a realisation...He'd been told he was here to make a choice, and he had a sneaking suspicion he might know what it was. And he didn't like it; it meant he'd have to talk to Mr. Clayton, and do something he'd never wanted to do...

"There!" Mr. Clayton rejoiced. "We changed the wish! And now Ralph and Bobby are stuck here with all of us. Now we can make our revenge on Shawn as painful and long as you always wanted it to be 'ol buddy! Yucka, yucka, yucka!!" Mr. Clayton looked towards Bradford for some kind of response, the way a comedian might judge a crowd to see if a joke was funny.

Bradford sat unmoved like a stone statue. His arm bounced up and down with Mr. Clayton's movements, still rigidly inserted in between the puppet's shoulder blades and up his back.

"Geez. Rough crowd tonight." Mr. Clayton grumbled at Bradford's lack of response.

Shawn didn't want to interrupt the vision in the cauldron, so when he talked he kept his voice low. "Where are they? I need to talk to Mr. Clayton."

Little Stone:

"This event already happened." the cat answered in a voice equally as low as Shawn's, but with a purring, feline pitch. "See the how the mist is blue? That is not the result of an event that is ongoing." Little Stone concluded.

And then, just as suddenly, Shawn saw that the mist surrounding the witches brew had turned a deep, burgundy red. Tendrils of smoke brushed themselves across the image, obscuring it at first and then erasing it. The smoke tendrils, Shawn could tell, as if they were speaking to his mind, were now showing him something ongoing.

"The stew has responded to your desire." Little Stone explained in a whisper as if not to disturb the witche's brew and its work. "It will show us what is happening now...."


As the smoke cleared, Shawn saw Bobby and Ralph sitting Indian-style against the backdrop of an orange, rock outcrop. A cliff soared above them, the mountain that Shawn had climbed to get to Little Stone's tent far, far above them.

Their faces were dirty. Ralph had purple bruises and a few scratches on his face. The image turned crisper still, like a Polaroid picture coming into focus just after shooting out of the bottom of a camera.

Bobby had a rag stuffed in his mouth and sported a large scratch that was bleeding on the side of his face. His hands were bound behind his back.

In front of them, Mr. Clayton pranced around the bottom of the cliff where Shawn had left both Ralph and Bobby just a few hundred yards away. He did a little jig, wooden legs and arms all loose and uncoordinated with malicious glee.

Shawn suppressed a shout that might disrupt the vision when he saw Bobby and Ralph. Mr. Clayton was close, very close! "Please hold this as long as you can."

Then he rushed out of the tent, heading quickly to the cliff's edge he'd come up from. Once he reached the edge, he cupped his hands over his mouth and called down the cliff. "Mr. Clayton! I want to talk with you!"

Shawn ran out of the tent and felt the stinging wind against his face, bits of sand peppering his cheeks, footfalls trudging on top of the mountain until he reached the cliff.

He shouted.

There was an echo that resonated into the valley below and further across the desert sand. Shawn heard his own voice fade into that vast Underworld.

And he heard no response.

But Shawn did see something. Down at the bottom of the cliff where he had climbed, Bobby and Ralph were no longer there. No longer looking up at him. They were gone. Disappeared as if the Underworld or perhaps Mr. Clayton himself had whisked them away.

Yet, at the bottom of the cliff, barely visible because of the distance, there was a familiar figure squatting against the outcrop of the rock.

Crowley.

He was leaning with one side against a barrel-sized rock, short feet out in front of him.

Shawn tried to find any trace of Bobby or Ralph, or any hint of where Mr. Clayton had gone. He saw the sad little figure leaning against some rocks and called out to him. "Crowley! Are you okay?!"

There was nothing but the vast landscape extending out before the great mountain. In the distance, Shawn could see the desert from where he had crossed to get to the rocky mountain.

Down below where Shawn shouted, was equally bereft of movement. Crowley just sat there in the same position, feet out in front of him, head resting against the hand and the large rock as if he was contemplating something. He offered no response or movement to Shawn's calls.

The wind picked up, a few quick gusts, carried Shawn's words out to the Underworld wilderness, amplifying the echo and the resonance of his urgent calls.

But there was no answer.

Shawn stayed for a few more moments, watching for any sign of movement. When nothing happened, he rushed back to the tent, slowing a little as he reached the entrance so he didn't disrupt the pot inside with loud noises or sudden movements.

"Woof! Woof!" Eddy-Rufus barked in a human's voice as Shawn entered the tent. Eddy gave a wide grinned smile, face covered with feces.

Little Stone:

"You have returned." Little Stone remarked, stating the obvious. "It appears as though Mr. Clayton has taken ownership of your friends. This is not surprising, given the choice that Bradford made when he crossed into my tent. It seems that he is unable to overcome his resentment. it has totally consumed him."

Shawn went straight to the pot, trying to see if he could see Crowley, or if it had followed Mr. Clayton to wherever he was keeping Ralph and Bobby. "I know, but I think I know what choice I'm supposed to make now...Did you see if Crowley was all right?"

Little Stone:

"I didn't." Little Stone stated, peering into the bubbling cauldron for any signs that it might tell him about Crowley.

The mist began to form again. This time it focused clearly in on Crowley who was leaning against the rock. The mist was too foggy to ascertain Crowley's position or even make out his facial features, outside of his obvious barbed teeth and broad, gaping maw of a smile. Shawn did catch a glimpse of something that he could see from far up on the cliff.

There were papers. All of them were scattered around Crowley as if someone had dropped a pile of letters near him. Envelopes and individual sheets all crumpled up and smeared with illegible ink. The view was too obscured to detect what might be written on them. And Crowley appeared to be sleeping or at least not interested in what had been written on them.

I do not know what could mean Little Stone advised, clearly talking about the papers at the bottom of the cliff near Crowley.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 21:24, Mon 29 Oct 2018.

Shawn immediately glanced towards the Dream Shoot, wondering if these papers resembled the ones that he had sent to his 'waking' self not long ago. He scrutinized Crowley carefully - the little creature didn't seem to be bleeding or otherwise visibly hurt. He felt his panic rising, but the calm impassiveness of his host was oddly anchoring. He had to stay calm, to figure out a way to put his ideas into effect. He finally managed to get himself under control and looked over at the cat. "Do you know where Mr. Clayton is now?"

The Dream Shoot sat there unmoved and, in fact, dusty. It appeared that no one had placed anything in it for quite some time, or at least not frequently. The letters around Crowley that appeared in the Cauldron did not resemble at all the yellowed parchments that were neatly stacked and tied together with a brown piece of string. Those were the documents that Shawn looked at now, adjacent to the Dream Shoot.

Little Stone:

"Oh yes." Little Stone stated. "I can, in fact, confirm that he in the cave, for that is where he went with Bradford to plan a confrontation with you."

Shawn felt a sense of relief, and then did a bit of a double take. Hadn't he already put those parchments inside the Shoot? He'd have to make sure he did it before he left the tent, anyway. But right now he had some rather pressing questions. "They're planning to confront me? Can you tell with what? Is there anything else in that cave?"

Little Stone:

Little Stone remained unmoved. "No one is invulnerable. Not to any stretch of the imagination." He spoke out loud as his eyes remained fixed on the Cauldron.

Then, without moving his eyes, his paw shot out from his Wizard-sleeve bathrobe to point at a shelf. "The jar of eyeballs." He summoned. "Take it off the shelf and pass it to me." Little Stone's feline gaze stared into the bubbling depths of the witches brew, not even looking at Shawn.

Shawn wasn't entirely sure who was being referenced when Little Stone talked about everyone being vulnerable, but he didn't have enough time to pursue that line of questioning. He went to the shelf and grabbed the jar of eyeballs. He passed it to the cat gently, not wanting either of them to spill it unnecessarily.

Little Stone:

Little Stone pressed one paw against the lid of the jar, the other around its side and began to twist.

'Pop!'

The top of the jar opened with a loud sucking noise. Immediately, a rank, sour smell came out from the jar, making Shawn's eyes water. Little Stone tipped the contents of the jar over and began to count.

"One....Two...Three..Four..Five..Six...Seven eyeballs. Anymore and the visions might not be accurate. Let us hope that these eyes may see past whatever screen Mr. Clayton as put up to block our insight" He finished, tongue moving across the front of cat teeth, as he sat the jar upright and fastened the lid on once again, handing it back to Shawn.

"Now, let's see..."

OOC: Little Stone Rolls 7d10 vs. Mr. Clayton's 7d10 with the following results:

0 Successes: Nothing. Whatever was meant to be seen, Mr. Clayton's magic has blocked it.

1-3 Successes more than Mr. Clayton. Some of the eyeballs begin to glow.

4+ Succcesses: Most of the eyeballs begin to glow

06:16, Today: Little Stone failed (no successes) using 7d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((4,5,1,7,6,3,6)).

06:17, Today: Bradford's Puppet - Mr. Clayton rolled 1 success using 7d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((1,1,7,9,2,5,4)).

Little Stone:


Little Stone's face grew worried. The eyeballs sank deep into the bubbling brew and did not resurface.

"Nothing." Little Stone announced. "Nothing at all. It appears that Mr. Clayton and Bradford have used Greater Ventriloquism to prevent us from using such things as the Sven Eyes. Nothing can be done to learn what is in the cave."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:22, Fri 02 Nov 2018.

"Rrrrrrrr...RUFF!" Eddy-Rufus barked from his cage, in a sudden, violent warning. It was as if the bark was a verbal, grammatical period to Little Stone's conclusion.

Shawn tried to hide his look of disappointment. "I guess I'd better go after him myself, then. But first, I want to talk about Eddy-Rufus. Is there any way I can bring him back to his body? I know his family misses him..."