This Is Paradise. To Hell With His Codex, To Hell With His Power!-- He Has Been Gifted The Only Thing

It worked. Their rickety, slapped-together, pitiful excuse of a portal did what nothing else could and took him mind body and soul out of the Constant.

Scrambling back from the edge of the cavernous pit next to which he’s landed, Maxwell casts hasty glances around. He could hug Mr. Higgsbury, kiss him even! They’re free! They’re free!

But Wilson is nowhere to be seen.

Had the portal broken behind Maxwell? He feels a surge of regret so strong it surprises him, but he shoves it down and pushes himself to his feet. If he had to choose between freedom for himself or his pawn, he’d choose himself, of course. He’s paid his dues to that wretched place and those wretched shadows, and he’s never, ever going back.

…which means that he shall have to reacquaint himself with civilized society.

He knows as soon as he steps through the portal that he’s not in his original dimension. That’s frightening, yes, but nothing he can’t handle; it seems he’s not the first person to arrive here from a different world, and although some of the technology is completely new to him (what is this item he’s been given? It certainly doesn’t look like a phone!), he’s creative, resilient, and determined to make his new home better than his last.

Armed with nothing but a book (has the Codex rejected him now that he’s escaped Their grasp?), he warily accepts the offer to be transported to his new lodgings and readies himself for the next chapter of his life. Checkmate, hands shaken, the game is put away for good.

MAXWELL ! PASSION CASTER/HEART STEALER {MAGE, with THIEF traits}

CHARACTER SKILLS: FIERY CARAMEL APPLE: As you raise a hand up into the air, a giant, flaming apple covered in caramel will be summoned; allowing you to hurl it towards any foe that stands in your way. It works on single targets, and on groups. This is a pretty dangerous way to go bowling, but hey, it’ll get you a good score! SUGAR PLUM FAIRIES: If you’re ever trapped in a dark place and can’t find your way out, simply summon a group of dancing sugar plum fairies to light your way to safety! So long as the spell is active, they will follow you wherever you go; each of them creating light in a ten foot radius. SLEIGHT OF GUMMY HAND: Every thief needs to know how to steal! With this knowledge you can easily sneak treats out of any distracted person’s cookie jar. It can be very useful in battle too, if the big boss you’re facing has an important item you’ll need to get through to the next level! SUGAR GLASS: You’re so good at tricking people, you can even make them see things that aren’t really there! Of course, these illusions will be completely made out of candy, but they will let you conjure items, monsters, or even change your own appearance. The candy people might fall for it a little easier than your friends, however.. especially when you suddenly have a beard made out of sour belts.

CHARACTER STATS:

STRENGTH: 3

MAGIC: 14

ENDURANCE: 0

SPEED: 3

William trying out his magic tricks on kids for the first time XD

Dialog

W: Ladies and gentlemen, I am the great William, I will show you magic!!

W:I will pull a bid out of my palm( hand) !

Wendy n Abigail:......

W:Tough crowd huh?.... (; • - •)

"Unless your mom is a chef in the Capital, no, I don't want the snacks she packed you." Are you kidding him right now?

What??

"Look, pal, I don't know every single Afterborn by name. That's not how this works. Is there a reason I would know her personally? If not, then I don't."

He begins walking. He knows exactly where he'd like to eat, and it's not out of this child's grimy backpack.

"That's not the sort of question I had in mind. This is a rare opportunity for you-- get creative! Ask me whether I prefer fur or scales. Ask me if Afterborn are better at magic than Beforeborn. Ask me why I made you! Just don't bore me."

❝ Right. ❞ Both of those sound generic as fuck, but this guy already corrected them, and has his own fucking statue— which William gives another look. Sheesh.

. . .

Damn, okay. The plot thickens. William's first instinct is that the open arms is an invitation for a hug but, no way. No. If the man is his real father, then . . . ❝ I'd love to ask you some questions ! ❞ More like a million.

. . .

Shit, and he wants food too ?

❝ I uh, got bits t'spare. ❞ Maxwell has the title of "the Great", which means he can definitely afford to eat more than William can pay. Whatever. ❝ Or uh, I could spare a snack or two my mom made ? ❞ He feels a brief twinge of silliness before the question escapes him. . . ❝ You wouldn't happen to know her, would you ? ❞ William probably looks a bit more pathetic and kitten-like than intended, looking up at Maxwell with pleading glowing eyes.

Lecter might not yet wish to give the impression that he's engaging in close, careful observation, but Maxwell doesn't hide the fact that he's taking his own mental notes on the psychiatrist's behaviors. So far, so good, it seems.

"Oh, I comprehend it just fine, pal." He "comprehends" that They are a bunch of sadistic pieces of shit who love nothing more than to see him suffer. ...but of course, Lecter's right. Maxwell's only human, despite the physical and mental changes he's undergone during his time on the Throne, and They are distinctly not. For every secret he's uncovered about Them, three more wait, undiscovered, under the surface. Symbols and shapes flashing before his eyes, dark hands beckoning him deeper--

Maxwell frowns. He doesn't like that comparison.

"Then you had better help me remove the boulder altogether."

His daily routine? What does that have to do with anything? Shouldn't Lecter be asking about the content of the nightmares, trying to dig deep into Maxwell's psyche? Or worse, asking about Carter's childhood, so he can try to blame visions of Them on some tripe about how William's father and mother didn't love him enough?

"I treat myself quite well. One might consider it to excess, but I do not. Let's see... I recently became gainfully employed as a sort of... fashion model. Not a role I ever expected myself to hold, but one for which I am very well-suited." If only Higgsbury were here to appreciate the pun.

"Besides that, I sometimes explore the wilderness, or find myself at various establishments dedicated to providing entertainment and drink. Currently, my favorite is the Skullrender."

Maxwell seems as though he could go on and on about himself, but he finally stops, awaiting the next question. Was any of this actually helpful?

there's a successful attempt at not letting the surprise felt show, not having expected maxwell to so willingly discuss what haunts him. it's an annotation written down, as is the small fact he refused to take a seat ( " perhaps an indication of hesitation when it comes to therapy - standing facilitates the search for an exit " ).

soon, however, the pen is dropped, and hannibal's hands come to lay flat on the journal atop his lap. he wants to ensure maxwell knows he's being listened to. actively taking notes after every sentence is a good technique to guarantee the patient feels observed, to give off the impression hannibal is studying them closely ( and as far as he knows, there's no reason to steer maxwell in that direction just yet ).

" that's, unfortunately, not shocking. whenever the human brain lives through a scenario just past the bounds of its comprehension, there are lasting marks - a seemingly everlasting pull towards the place which traced its suffering. your body may not be there, but it is where your mind resides still. " his head tilts, a sign of compassion. " in some ways, you will resemble the figure of sisyphus, cursed to forever push the boulder uphill - only to find himself returned to the base of the incline upon success. "

for a split moment, he returns to writing, taking note of the nightmares. soon enough, his gaze finds its way back to maxwell. it's soft, almost. " noone can 'fix' these visions of terror but yourself, maxwell. i am merely limited to help you along the way. "

hannibal leans back, thoughtful, then finally adds: " for now .. i want you to describe to me your daily routine. the places you go, how you treat yourself. "

... ..... .......

Maxwell bursts out laughing. This construct has been programmed with sass.

"Touché."

Perhaps it has more in common with that soulless automaton who wandered right into Maxwell's world than it does with his Chess pieces. But while WX-78 is entirely predictable ("kill all organics" this and "metal is superior" that), Maxwell truly has no idea what will come out of this 'bot's voicebox next.

What fun!

"Is that so. And I suppose you'd prefer I dress like you, then? Give up my 'haughtiness' for a complete lack of self-respect? Word of advice from me to you, pal-- whoever designed you? Sue 'em."

"..."

"Yeesh!"

He wants things to get mean? Two can play at that game!

"Alright— alrighty then, let me give 'er another try." The robot "clears" its throat, rubbing its gloves together. When it speaks again, its tone has a noticeable layer of aggression, contrasting its permanent smile.

"Well, I think you look like some kinda haughty schmuck that came straight outta the Victorian era."

Starvetober day 27: siblings little jack and william!! Klei please give us a short with them both I beg you

"Please, Charlie, be gentle!"

He knows how pathetic he sounds, how hypocritical it is of him to beg for mercy when it's his fault she's trapped in the darkness in the first place. But he can't help it; he's terrified, stumbling over roots and grasping hands as he tries in vain to outrun the night itself.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! What kind of idiot wastes their torch during dusk?

The dead kind.

He had been nervous, that's all. Winter's just around the corner and he had been doing one last resource rush before the warmth of Autumn fled for good. So many puppets up at once had sent his head spinning and shadows crawling in the corners of his vision and he hadn't been able to take the dim light of the setting sun. The puppets are gone now, abandoned along with their resources (what a god damned waste), leaving Maxwell with no light, no means to make another, and just enough clarity of mind for regret.

It's over. Charlie won't be gentle (she never is), and Max will be lucky if the others ever find his corpse in the upcoming snowstorms, much less bother to bring him back to life.

No. No, he refuses to die like this. This is still his world, and he must have something up his sleeve--

In the momentary glow of a firefly cluster, Maxwell holds the Codex aloft, murmurs to himself, and summons her.

@radiosent -- !

"It would seem so." He's not shocked by any means, but he's still intrigued. Prior to his arrival in Spirale, Maxwell had been under the impression that there were only two realms-- the "real world," and the world of shadows. It's interesting to see that someone who appears so human could be from a different Earth entirely. One without Italy! Imagine that.

Maxwell arches a brow, skeptical and amused. Ah, yes, she's from a good mafia. How quaint.

"You don't need to pretty it up for me. In fact, I think the two of us could help each other if you were honest about your 'values.' It must be difficult to thrive here without the support network you're used to; maybe we're both in need of allies?"

"What is it you hope to accomplish in Spirale, exactly?"

@codexvmbra

◈ "Italy? I apologize. If that's a country, then I have never heard of it. I could only surmise our worlds are very different, good sir." The woman bowed apologetically. She'd been speaking to this man for a short while and her name had been given. Evidently it reminded him of a land from his own world.

"I am a daughter of the nation of Rinascita. The Montelli family is a well known one there, and I do believe you wouldn't be incorrect to refer to it as a "mafia" based on traditional definitions. But I assure you we value our bonds with the people far more than wealth and power."