MTG Salvation

George gives a harried rambling response.

George: "Just...looking for a birthday gift is all. Belated really, should have had it ready already. Could have zipped on over here several times between running errands for Brody, dammit, I mean Ambrose. You...know a good gift for someone who's into Metal?

*Looks over his shoulder then lowers his voice to a near whisper*

"There's this girl I'm kinda seeing and I'm trying to make the right moves. Know what I'm saying?"

The waiter standing before this mundane group is none other than Lamont, an individual Squad Obsidian met briefly at the Jeevescake Factory before embarking on their previous mission to Kamigawa.

Lamont: "Quizzes? Well, she's supposed to be making Jeevescakes. Got at least two dozen cranky customers waiting on their desserts back at the restaurant and Genevieve's breathing down my neck.

*Retrieves a small flask from his jacket pocket and takes a few swigs*

"From the sound of things, new girl's slacking. We can't have that."

Since nothing's happening right now...

Ponytailed Waiter with Sunglasses: "Say, any of you fine ladies and gents happen to see a glowing girl walk by here?"

The auditory assault grows more intense inside of Boiling Angst. Its clientele is predominantly adolescent or just barely in their adulthood. Their wardrobe consists of threads that are either jet black or a garish collage of neon colors. T-shirts celebrating either current pop culture or paying homage to icons of yesteryear line the walls. Plush avatars hang from dainty chains, offering cloying smiles to potential buyers.

George is frantically thumbing through a modest collection of vinyl records, debating on which one to buy. His fingers rifle through the racks at breakneck speed, yet his indecision prevents him from taking full advantage of his celerity.

George: "This one? Nah, I think she's already got that one.

...THIS! Nope, wrong genre. I think?"

♪ To the RIGHT, to the LEFT!
We will FIGHT to the DE-ATH!
To the EDGE of the EARTH!
It's a brave new world!
It's a brave new world!
It's a BRAVE NEW WOOOORLD! ♪

The butcher goans at the music pouring from the 'counterculture' boutique situated at the opposite side of the street. It seems Boiling Angst is going interplanar with locations cropping up at just about every shopping mall, strip mall, and market bazaar on countless worlds.

Butcher: "Every hour, right on the dot. The things I put up with for a cheap lease."

George gestures subtly towards the boutique before darting into its confines.

A. Question the butcher about the cat.

B. Help Mortar Butler and Poultice Maid look for clues.

C. Follow George into Boiling Angst.

D. Follow Ambrose and see what he's doing.

E. Enter Spectator Mode and just let things happen without any further input.

F. 'Forgery dealer?'

G. None of the above.

Butcher: "Looking for some cat? I stopped stocking that years ago. Hasn't been too good a seller in these parts. Now, if you're in the market for some fine imported yeti steaks, I'm your guy."

Mildred: "No, we are looking for a missing cat. A...pet cat."

Butcher: "You had anything to eat today, Miss? Looking kind of pale if you ask me."

Mildred: "...I'm fine."

As Mildred converses with the butcher, Mortar Butler and Poultice Maid are practically crawling on their hands and knees looking for clues. Ambrose's disinterest in the proceedings is apparent even behind his ivory mask. He gives his subordinates a few mandatory glances before diverting his attention towards whatever the neighboring curio shop is selling.

George noticeably shifts his eyes when Ambrose leaves his watch. As his squadmates continue to toil he slinks over to Pikachu.

George: "Pssst. Say, guy? Mind doing me a favor?"

Squad Obsidian leave the mobile townhouse which looks like little more than a horse drawn carriage from the outside. The vehicle has been parked in a common lot with some space separating it from the conveyances owned by the rest of the bazaar's patrons. From across the street, it isn't too difficult to discern the "less reputable" stretch of the bazaar from the rest and it's even easier to locate a quintet of patrons all dressed in brilliantly white attire who currently inhabit it. Squad Alabaster have already set up a perimeter around Butcher of the Horde's Carnarium. The imposing ogre standing behind the counter buries a cleaver into his wooden carving block as Mildred approaches him. As promised, she is taking point while Ambrose "supervises".

@Bur: The gift was great: cards, various candies, and cloudberry jam. I especially liked the jam, I hadn't had anything like it before. Kind of reminded me of butterscotch oddly enough. I like trying new things.

With constraints? How long will that last?

So Aurora quit squadding and took up baking? Okay, but Factory work isn't as thrilling as Magical combat. Probably smart, as Glowworm would no doubt find "Brody's" snacking habits disturbing.

Get well soon, Bur!

I'm currently watching a B-Movie titled Darkness: The Teen Space Vampire Saga. It sucks, and not in a maintaining-eternal-youth kind of way. On the bright side, I'm only out of $1.00 and 90 minutes of my life.

Also, "Glowworm" might freak out if she sees what's happening in the GreyCorps thread right now.

*echo*

*silence*

Besides Squad Obsidian, there is no one else currently inhabiting the mobile townhouse apartment (their Alabaster counterparts have already left). Considering the facility's lavish amenities, it is somewhat surprising that it has no servants on staff.

The pixies' chocolate covering is so velvety smooth it practically melts in one's mouth. Their sweet but slightly salty skin tastes of innocence lost. The crunch of their brittle bones and sinew is unnerving at first, but that feeling can easily be allayed by comparing it to eating a thin pretzel. Last of all in the very center is a small yet potent burst of fae blood. A forbidden sweetness coats the entirety of the taster's tongue and palate, one that is sure to linger for some time.

And despite having feasted on what was once an adorable diminutive mischief maker, one can't help but feel a peculiar giddiness after doing it.


A. Leave for the crime scene.

B. Eat more pixies.

C. Eat ALL of the pixies!

D. None of the above.

As the box hits the floor, its lid is ejected into the air. A dilapidated miniature carousel pops up from the box's confines and begins a stuttered rotation. Fragments of a broken melody spill from the miniature ride as its riders revolve around the hub...an assortment of winged pixies coated in white chocolate dangle from strands of floss in a mockery of flight. Every last detail of their final moments are preserved under a thin milky glaze.

A. "Yum yum."

B. "What the..."

C. Leave it where it lies.

D. None of the above.

...Slogan parody
slogan parody
slogan parody
slogan parody
...Llama WHA?

C-C-C-COMBO BREAKER!

The box of chocolates is gift wrapped in white paper with a silver floral design. An ivory ribbon holds the box shut with a single white rose serving as the seal. As it has all of the same trappings as Ambrose's attire and mobile abode, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to assume this box was custom made just for him.

It is his birthday after all.

A. Open the box.

B. Keep it sealed, but take it anyway.

C. "On second thought, stealing is wrong. I'm a good person and wouldn't want to hurt Ambrose's feelings."

D. None of the above.