Staring at your stocks, you sighed to yourself. Trompdoy had been asking for an illusion amulet for two months now, and you were finally going to actually build one for once. At least you were well-stocked for the job? That was a plus, you supposed, before you got to work. Did you have anything that screamed illusions at you? Did you even want something that 'screamed' at you?
Swearing to yourself at the analysis paralysis, you grabbed an old bread tin and started throwing crap in it. Fuck it, you're doing this live. Dumping the mess of bits and bobs out on your workbench, you considered your abilities and the pile of angle iron, detonite ampules, canned sardines, wendigo fur, and one too-shiny apple that smelled faintly of moldy hay. It wasn't much work to switch out the detonite ampules with some resonators, and a chunk of glass was added to the pile. Now you were cooking.
First step, seal the apple. It took a little work to form a cage around it with the angle iron brackets, but with that done you easily filled in the gaps with tenpenny nails and chucked it in the oven to reduce down.
Second step, make a pouch out of the wendigo fur. Since wendigo leather was pretty fucking heavy leather, this involved you getting an awl and your deadblow mallet to start chunking holes into it for the stitching. About five minutes in, this also involved accidentally punching through your shitty table, forcing you to stop and rebuild your table. It was at this point that Jocelyne found you, swearing black and blue as you held the patch on while the glue was setting.
"One of those days, huh." She said, spider-legs skittering as she moved around your workshop.
"Wendigo fur is ass and I don't even remember how I got it." You griped.
"Need me to spin on a patch for the table then?"
"You can do that?"
Moving up to your head, Jocelyn rammed your ear. "Dumbass, you built this body. I have a cable layer in case I need to leave the wired areas of the hotel, and it's not just for communications lines!"
You shrugged with one shoulder as wood glue dripped onto your shirt. "In my defense I think I was in a fugue at the time."
"dumbass." Jocelyn muttered, before climbing into a parts bin. "Thread, thread, here we go!"
A series of ominous clunks later, and Jocelyn was out and working with you to fix the table. Once her thread brace was installed, you got the pouch, and a different table, to resume banging on. Jocelyn, now bored, took the time to climb up your pants, shirt, and up to your head before looking down at the project. Once the holes were punched, you went and got some thin paracord to lace the pouch together along with a good needle.
Meanwhile, your companion was doing something on your head, occasionally tugging your hair.
"Pick a number between one and five." Jocelyn asked, and you pondered the thought for a minute.
"Two." You said, tying off the pouch and getting some wax for the seams.
"Ok."
Once the pouch was done, you pulled the iron-covered apple out from the oven, and inspected the work. It was well-sealed, and there was no more musty scent. Excellent. Hopefully the poison had been contained without altering it's nature too far, or else that would have been a waste of time.
Throwing the apple in another bread tray, you dug around for the glass and took some measurements of the apple. Your next step would be to mold the glass around it, and then possibly color the surface and see how that affected things. Grabbing a ball of Styrofoam, you started carving it into an apple likeness, and then covered it in tinfoil before throwing it into an oven to temper it to survive the glass.
"Jocelyn," you asked, "why are you moving back on my head?"
"No particular reason."
"Could you balance a little better? It's making it hard to look down."
"Ah, ok."
Grabbing the Apple Substitute, you put it in the glass and threw it back in the oven to start molding. In the meantime, potions- that… were already simmering in the rack."
"I was wondering when you'd notice." Joselyn said smugly from her perch on your noggin. "It's why I came in here in the first place."
"And what are those potions of?" you asked.
"Oh, strength, rejuvenation, and perception respectively. I labeled the bottles."
Going over, you squinted at the Fraktur applied lazily in Sharpie marker to the bottles. Pulling out some butcher paper, you started slowly transcribing the heavy morass of ink into something more legible.
"If you didn't tell me that, I would have no idea what
Wahrnehmungserhöhung,
Gesundheitsverbesserer, or
Kraftverstärker are; and even with that context I still can't tell which one is which."
"Listen, I'm sorry Balthazar was a bastard and made us all learn German to label shit in, but at this point you're gonna have to live with it."
Gently shaking your head- so as not to knock Jocelyn off- you went back to the oven to switch the Fake Apple for the Real Apple. That done, you then went to get something to cover the pouch in, since you'd made it fur-in to cushion the glass. Eventually, you found some good heavyweight tinfoil and started working on an overlayer, keeping it temporarily in place with rubber cement. That finished, you set it in oven bay two, and in an off-the-cuff moment of inspiration put a reel of thread in bay three to see what would happen. Then came the waiting.
"
Fly me to the moon, and let me sit upon the stars," you sang, happy to gently stoke the fire and let the fans purr.
"
Let me see what life is like on Jupiter and Mars" Joselyn picked up, joining my singing.
"
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, baby kiss me-"
At that moment, a fuzzy spider fell down your head, planting it's felt lips to yours, and breaking things off mid-lyric. Sputting, you looked at where Joselyn had landed on the floor, laughing her spinarettes off, practically rolling over in mirth.
"Oh… oh god… totally worth it to see the look on your face." She giggled, before breaking out into howls of laughter again. Wiping the felt off your lips, you stared at her with a squint-eye.
"Right, I can put up with illegible German, I can put up with you giving me a crick in my neck, but interrupting my concentration while I'm working?" you said, glaring. "Out of my shop!"
"Make- make me!" she said, still laughing.
So you did, by the simple expedient of picking her up and walking her over to the library and giving her to Homer. Heading back, it wasn't long before you heard Homer's guaffaws, and your eye twitched. Fine.
Back in the peace and quiet of your workshop, you completed encasing the iron-wrapped poison apple in glass, and took the now-metalic pouch out to encase the gem of the operation into it. Once that was in and percolating, you put the potions where they went before you sold them, and sighed. You couldn't really sing now that Joselyn had thrown you out of your groove.
It was a long five minutes for everything to get done assembling, and you were bored to tears the entire time.
When it was done, though, the amulet was worth the wait. Shiny and smooth at first feel, it was the size of the palm of your hand on a silvery chain and a distinct weight. It didn't take much time to figure it was aluminum pendant, though, and a cautionary feel told you that the illusions it made would always be real in two respects. A picture could not only move, but produce a sound or scent or touch; a wind would blow hair and debris as well as bear a foul stench, and a call for help would vary in volume from how close or far someone was. In addition, at the core of it, was a nastier deception- if a victim was truly fooled, the illusions would harm as well. Swords cut, arrows bit, and salt burned if someone thought it would be so.
Coming out of your workshop, you sighed and looked around. Normally, Trompdoy would be in the mess at this time of day catching a late lunch, but she was missing for once. The rec room was bare as well, although a gut sense told you she was in the building. Going to her room, you stopped. Not here… no. Across the hall in Eowyn's room?
Knocking there, you heard a weak cough, and a slam into the wall. Moments later, Trompdoy came to the door in a pair of battered blue jeans and a wifebeater, glaring at you with the foggy glare of the sleep-deprived.
"What is it this time?" she asked, fingers twitching.
"Remember that amulet you asked about?" you replied, holding the product out in one hand. "Well, I finally got around to making it."
"Fucking finally." Trompdoy said, grinning. "C'mon, gimmy."
"Here you go." You said, tossing her the amulet. As Trompdoy's hands closed around it, you felt her magic blossom and take in the specifics. Moments later, her clothes rippled and morphed, turning into a long blue dress with a white sash running from one shoulder to her hip bearing a frog for her wand.
"Holy
shit." She muttered. "It's almost enough to fool even me!"
Closing your right eye, you clapped twice, and the illusion became foggy and semitransparent to you. By your smirk, Trompdoy figured you had cracked the illusion, and she sighed. Trying to trick the person who built your tools was not a good idea!
"Alright, fuck, looks like I need you to pay you in the big guns." Trompdoy muttered. Going back to her room, she pulled out a large, lead-lined container, before handing it over to you. "Got this thing from the Witches a month and change ago. The Familiar that could still speak called it a Kolobok, and it's a weird little thing. Heals you up tough as hell, but it's constantly emitting radiation. Crack that container open to get the full effect, but it'll still start making you feel queasy after a while."
You nodded. "Anything else you want to kick in?"
Rolling her eyes, Trompdoy sighed and grabbed a small bag. Inside were three two-carat diamonds, and a massive garnet. "There. That also covers our rent for next month."
"But of course." You replied, grinning. Grabbing the lead-lined container, you hefted it over your right shoulder. "Pleasure doing business!"
Changing her illusory dress, Trompdoy grinned. "You too."
-/-/-/-/
The good times were not to last long, sadly. It was just after the shower period that Sofia came up to you, and looked at you pointedly. It wasn't long before you were under one of the handful of trees on the property, sighing as the far-off sounds of the highway through the blight cut through your surroundings.
"I need a favor." She said, blunt. "My girlfriend needs a room. Bad."
"I've got space available, but from what you said she doesn't have any powers." You replied carefully. "I can't see how she'll make rent."
"She can live with me for all I care; I'll buy a futon or something."
Sighing, you put your head in your hands. "That's not what I was- do you even want- no, you're dating, but- arg."
Sitting down, you tried to marshal your thoughts. "I wanted to try and talk to those new girls; Chevron and Mars. You remember how bad your first month was, and when whatever the fuck is happening out there kicks off, I want them here. Safe. I barely have kitchen capacity now to feed all of you and the girls who come in for a safe place to kick their shoes off, and taking on three more permanent residents is going to shock the balance."
"You've got plenty of space in that kitchen though!" Sofia said, waving her arm out.
You groaned, sitting under the tree. "It's not just cooking space, it's food storage and prep. We cook off hot plates and a few camping ranges, and as good as Homer is we'll need to go to two cooks soon; as well as finding more storage space. A second fridge, more gas cylinders for the good range, a real 220 volt extension over there so I can do a power hub, just… god. So much stuff."
"Then bring Chris in, have her-"
Slamming a hand over her mouth, you shot her your most dedicated 'shut the fuck up' look and hissed. "No. Damn. Names."
"Then bring Erika in and have her fucking cook then!" Sofia groaned. "Seriously, she can cook pretty well, and it's not like eating halal will kill you. Plus you can have her play seeing eye dog for Homer when he goes on grocery runs instead of having Calypso do it."
"Calypso goes with him on shopping runs?" you asked, confused.
"Has for the last three weeks."
Nodding, you sighed. "I need to get out of my workshop more."
"You don't spend too much time there, though."
"It's not that, but my workshop is the focus of this entire building." You said, waving your hands. "I can't remember the last time I stepped off the property, you know? It's been before you got here, I remember that much, but this is home now."
"Well, home is where the bed is." Sofia opined, before grinning. "Now I'm dry enough to go get dressed, and start planning how to get Erika out."
You nodded, heading back to the building. Something stopped you, though, as a whiff of conversation came from the normal backdoor.
"What do you mean you're the shower attendant!" a girl yelled. "You're a guy!"
"I assure you, it's not like I could sneak a peek if I wanted to." Homer griped as you got closer. Three girls were surrounding him, glaring from behind creampuff dresses and fancy sticks that someone had conned them into. "I'm blind."
"A likely story!" one of them scoffed. "That bandanna is just for show!"
You winced. Homer had, at some point in the last few weeks, adopted the practice of wearing a headscarf tied low over his forehead in a style that struck you as being mildly Afghan to hide his acid burns, while a strip of black cloth covered what was left of his eye sockets.
Walking up to the confrontation, you called out carefully. "Homer, what seems to be the issue?"
"Buncha new girls." He called back, grinning. "Seemed all surprised when I told 'em the showers were free, but the soap cost money."
The smile was about as true as the girl's sticks, and you squinted at them. They were all young, bright, shining stars in your vision, untampered by experience. It was like looking at a box of puppies, almost.
"Who're you, anyway?" another asked, before her friend elbowed her.
"Isn't it obvious? He's Sevenfingers."
You winced at that, and shook your head. "My name is Medicine Boy."
"Oh, good. Do you have any girls that can run the showers?" their leader asked, grinning. "It says it's a girl's day."
"It is a girl's day." You replied. "Homer runs the showers for the girls on Tuesday, and Thursday. As a point of order, I think the showers are still in use."
"Yeah, Rose is in there." Homer mentioned. "She started mumbling a few minutes ago about growing something that handled acidic runoff well, and honestly I ain't stopping her."
"If they don't want the shower, then they don't want a shower." You said, shrugging. "I'm not getting Calypso to do it instead of room cleaning, especially with how summer's coming and the influx of new girls."
"Don't remind me…" Homer groaned.
One of the new girls stepped up- the one that had called you Sevenfingers- and grabbed your wrist. "One of the girls said we could take a shower if we paid extra for lunch, and, um… we need it. Can you please just have him go away for five minutes?"
Sighing, you looked at her more closely. Water power, go figure. Going over to the mess in the back, you sighed.
"Top off the water tank, Homer. I'll get Calypso." You said, sighing.
"Can I talk to you after this?" Homer asked.
"Sure."
It was a few minutes later that Homer caught you alone in the Rec room.
"So, why?" he asked, sighing. You knew what he was talking about.
"We're never going to catch up." You said, sighing. "There's always going to be a new girl who never realizes they signed up for this, and they're always going to be a hotshot until those pretty sticks are broken in a back ally and they're staring Hell in the face. Something cracks- sometimes their pride, sometimes their hope, sometimes their lives."
"There's still shit we shouldn't have to deal with." Homer argued. "This isn't some corporation trying to suck them dry; we're in just as bad of a spot as they are- worse if some Witch thinks she can dislodge us. We can't fight."
"That doesn't mean we try and cause strife where the wheels stick, either." You said, feeling a weight beyond your years. "We are the only hope for some of them, and the sooner they see us and our light the sooner they can come."
"The old girls are worried." Homer countered. "If you want to keep them safe and secure, well, we can knock together some barrack rooms and pack 'em in like sardines for a while. It would be uncomfortable as hell and hard on our backs to service the upper floors, but we could do it."
"Probably have to build an elevator or a hoist on the outside." You muttered. "Can the Library handle drawings?"
"I didn't have any issue copying or translating the… uh… doujinshi? I think that's what they were called? that Kaguya brought last time she was in. Those were basically comic books."
"Great." You said, grinning and getting ready to go.
"By the way!" Homer said, jumping up. "At some point, I'd like to get a shot to make something, and it's not like I can make anything more complicated than a one-person room."
"So noted." You said, before walking off. There was still stuff to do today, and the rest of this week after all.
/-/-/-/-
Build a Tool
[] [WORK] Trinket
-[] Write in Level, between 1 and 3.
[] [WORK] Wand
-[] Write in Level, between 1 and 2.
[] [WORK] Bomb
-[] Write in Level, between 1 and 1.
[] [WORK] Costume
-[] Write in Level, between 1 and 1.
[] [WORK] No, you want to work on your building instead
[] [WORK] No, you want to improve your workshop instead.
[] [WORK] No, you want to research an item instead.
-[] Write in Item in inventory to Reaserch
The Chris Question
[] [CHRIS] No, she can't stay. You'll work to get her safe with another group, but you can't keep her here.
[] [CHRIS] You'll let her crash in Mistletoe's room. It'll be tight, but not unsafe.
[] [CHRIS] You'll let her have a full room to herself; either she can make rent or you can go collect from Mistletoe.
[] [CHRIS] Something smells fishy about this; reserve a final decision on the matter until you meet her yourself and send some backup with Mistletoe to go get her.
