[OOM] Labyrinth / Krampus Plot with Eric

[fluffiest_archadian]

Mrlgh, there's - fuzz on Sherral's face. A kind of cloying, drying fuzz that clings even to dry skin.

As Sherral opens his eyes, he sees that it's woollen yarn, in bright pink and orange, from the suspiciously snug floor where he's sprawled beneath a cheerful woollen lamp with a knitted lightbulb inside.

This is not what he was expecting. A room full of yarn - a quick glance around confirms that everything seems to be either covered in or made of wool, checkered in various coloured patterns. A knitted puppet the size of a man stares at him from one of corner - is never really expected.

"Faram's balls," he growls.

Comments

[onceaviking]

A hand closes around his ankle.
Hard.

Logically, Eric knows that this guy likely isn't responsible, but the horned thing is gone and someone's got to pay.

His growl is wordless.

Also, he has some very fluffy purple yarn stuck in his hair.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral reaches for his sword, laying his hand on it. He's rather glad that he still has it.

(The hilt is covered in sparkly yellow yarn.)

Cheerfully: "Remove your hand or lose it."

[onceaviking]

Eric snarls, "Not if you loose your face first," but he actually does let go of the guy's ankle.

And sits up.

Big guy. Big, pale, unblinking guy.
With pink yarn wrapped around one thigh.

[fluffiest_archadian]

It's very fetching, Sherral is sure.

Sherral stands - a somewhat risky proposition when on a floor made of yarn, and looks around, hand still on his sword.

"Do you have any idea where we are?"

[onceaviking]

"No," Eric grounds out as he too gets up. "Sometimes, I hate this place. Hate."

He still sounds exceedingly aggressive.

He was captured. By a fucking cow.

Someone will pay. Preferably in blood. Copious amounts of blood.

He tears the pink yarn clinging to his thigh off.

"This makes no sense. "

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Much doesn't. Do try to keep your composure," Sherral says gruffly. "The yarn, at least, poses little danger."

Although it is unnervingly bright and fuzzy.

[onceaviking]

Eric glares at him.

"Why did you interfere anyway? It was not your fight. "

[fluffiest_archadian]

"You were hardly holding your own," Sherral points out dryly. "I'm not sure I'd be so bold as to call it a fight."

[onceaviking]

"I am not not sure I'd be so quick to judge, considering your luck," Eric replies, surly.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Perhaps if I did not have to mind that I did not burn you, I might have availed myself of more efficient methods," Sherral shoots back, equally surly.

[onceaviking]

Eric's smile is thinlipped and white.

"Much obliged. Refraining from using fire here will likely be sensible as well. "

A magic user then.

Wuss.

He walks over to a wall (cautiously) and puts both hands on the woollen fabric.

" Perhaps," he mutters, before grabbing hold with both hands and tearing.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral waits patiently, arms folded. Tearing away the fabric (probably) isn't going to do any harm, and the man seems to have an idea of how to get out, at least.

[onceaviking]

The knitted fabric gives way and reveals - another layer of fabric.

Eric says something decidedly uncharitable in his mother tongue and then looks back at the man behind him.

"So, magic user. You do not know any tricks that work on yarn?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"You mean apart from burning it or just hacking away at it?" Sherral asks. "I fear I've ne'er been a knitter."

[onceaviking]

Eric just looks at him and then he slowly levitates up towards the knitted ceiling. Perhaps that'll work better.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral is - okay, moderately surprised by the levitation, but it doesn't show on his face.

"Any luck?"

[onceaviking]

"It seems thinner. Get up here and perhaps your sword will prove useful."

Eric looks down at him.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral gives the ceiling a dubious glance, then starts climbing a wall.

Yarn doesn't make the most assured of climbing surfaces, but it is at least thick and - for yarn - strong, and Sherral is able rapidly scale the wall to the top, prodding at the ceiling.

He winds enough yarn around one arm that he can hang off the wall and draws his sword - and it's clear immediately that it's no normal sword, if only for that the blade looks like rough diamond and glows like starlight.

He starts hacking at a patch of ceiling. There seem to be several differently coloured layers, but after slicing his way through about five there's a hint of something that isn't wool.

[onceaviking]

"There," Eric says, sounding pleased.

He's got keen hearing it seems. And no discernible heartbeat.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral's hearing is, alas, not so keen as to detect that.

He taps his sword against - whatever it is beyond the yarn. It sounds like brass, maybe a foot thick.

"I'd warrant I could cut a hole for us through this, but it would take time. Search around and see if you can find some kind of hatch instead."

[onceaviking]

Eric moves his hands around and finds, hurrah, a hatch.

It's locked.

Luckily, brutal force is a versatile key.

Eric pulls his hand back and says, "After you?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral gestures at the hatch. "Oh, no, I insist."

[onceaviking]

Eric tears off a handful of the knitted fabric, balls it up, and throws it through the hatch.

Nothing happens.

He shrugs and follows without looking back.
He trusts his hearing to tell him if the magic user gets up to no good.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral rather precariously makes his way along the ceiling like a man clawing his way across woolly monkey bars, and pulls himself through the hatch, looking around.

The room they're in is much larger than the last, made of the kind of brass, steel and bronze that seems best suited for some manner of steampunk setting, with the walls lined with clunky automata.

"... How charming," Sherral remarks, mildly.

[onceaviking]

Eric got to punch something, so now he feels marginally better. It shows in the set of his shoulders.

"What is this place? "