Patrollogs
(Takeshi's decursing attempt)
[Sat Mar 29 2025]
On the Exclusive Sidney Way Accessing the Beach
It is morning, about 22F(-5C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
Takeshi says "Ahhhh, I found a strange bracelet"
Takeshi says "Give me hand, Obachan?"
Takeshi says "ANYONE AWAKE?!"
Takeshi says "Need help!"
Takeshi says "Important! "
Takeshi says "Strange gold bracelet!"
Takeshi says "Come meet in Hometown diner"
Takeshi is squatted down over a strange bracelet on the ground. It's golden and shiny and Ritsuka would be able to feel magical energy coming off of the thing "Check this thing out!" Takeshi grins in Ritsuka's direction "Doesn't it seem shiny? I bet goblins give pretty penny for it!"
After having examined the bracelet on the ground for a while, Takeshi gets curious enough to lean down and actually pick the thing up. He looks at it in curiosity for a while before, with very little warning, the man disapears! Turning completely invisible! "Eh?" Takeshi 's voice can be heard in the room by Ritsuka still "I feel weird ..."
Ritsuka turns her back to the large of it, pulling Takeshi along by his arm to a corner-table of the shop, and making sure his back is turned to the rest of the ship as well. The hidden, concealed weapon draws from its blade and slices over her palm to let blood flow to feed into the counter-curse.
Takeshi would be too invisible for Ritsuka to be able to grab, immature laughter able to be heard around the woman, but not anywhere she would directly be able to see. "Obachan, does anything look strange about me?" Takeshi asks, the grin audible in his voice. He sounded like he was in front of her ...
The artifact emits a flash of blinding light.
"You do not." Ritsuka answers, her focus on the bangle, blood seeps discretely away as it turns into flickering flames that draw over the bangle to burn at its cursed inscription. Of course, she had not actually looked - and then the stupid thing flashes blinding light and she calls out "Ayayaya- That camera flash is a bit too bright. Ouch. got to turn it down."
Whilst Ritsuka is busy trying to figure out the bangle, two invisible hands reaching up under her hands to cup massive handfuls of her tits. She can hear Takeshi behind her trying to hold in a laugh as the invisible man starts helping himself to her body, groping her openly and hornily right there in the diner, Ritsuka's tits lifting and squishing seemingly all on their own in front of her ...
"Tie yourself up, male scum." Ritsuka says, quietly, as she well can see Takeshi, her eyes narrow. "I am going to remove you from the cult if you do this a single more time anywhere in public."
All metal objects in the room are suddenly tugged violently towards the artifact.
All metal objects in the room are suddenly tugged violently towards the artifact.
Takeshi l
The first sign of trouble is a sharp clatter-a fork tumbling from a plate, not from clumsy fingers but as if yanked away by some unseen force. It doesn't hit the floor. Instead, it hovers an inch above, trembling, before it whips upward, spinning wildly. A spoon follows, then another, then a butter knife, each one lifting from their resting places as though caught in an invisible current.
Across the room, the napkin dispensers begin to rattle. The chrome lids shudder against their glass bases before, one by one, they rip free, hurtling into the air with a sharp metallic ring. Sugar caddies tip over, scattering packets as their stainless steel frames jerk skyward. The tabletop salt and pepper shakers, their metal caps gleaming under the bright diner lights, pop off their bases, joining the growing maelstrom above.
A dull thunk echoes from the kitchen pass-through as the metal order bell detaches from its mount, rocketing into the chaos. The stainless steel trays stacked neatly by the kitchen door quiver, then lift in unison, their reflective surfaces catching flashes of movement as they spin like enormous, flattened coins. A waitress's tray, still holding the remnants of a half-eaten meal, jerks from her hands and tilts violently, sending food crashing to the floor as the metal disc careens through the air.
The chairs, with their aluminum legs, begin to tremble. At first, just a slight vibration, then morelegs scraping, skidding, lifting. The lightweight stools at the counter, their chrome bases gleaming, rise from the floor, twisting as if searching for a target. The metal napkin holders from the counter jerk upward like missiles, colliding mid-air with the spinning trays and sending sharp echoes through the room.
Cutlery moves faster now. Steak knives, dull and serrated, break free from their containers, streaking through the air like thrown darts. Spoons, once spinning harmlessly, now whip end over end, their concave surfaces catching glints of light as they slice through space. Even the old ceiling fan, with its metal motor casing, begins to shake, groaning as the unseen force strains against its mount.
In the kitchen, the noise crescendos. Stainless steel pots and pans vibrate violently against their hooks before yanking free, careening outward with deafening clangs. A frying pan flips through the air, its handle spinning end over end before embedding itself into the plaster wall. A row of chefs knives lift from their magnetic strip, hovering for a split second before launching forward in every direction, embedding into wooden surfaces with deep, resonant thuds.
The cash register, a vintage relic with polished steel accents, rattles violently on the counter before the drawer bursts open, sending coins spraying like shrapnel. The whole machine lurches upward an inch, then another, then a foot, before finally snapping toward the ceiling, crashing into a hanging light fixture with a shower of sparks.
Every piece of silverware, every bit of polished chrome, every scrap of metal in the diner now dances in the air, as if caught in an unseen storm, moving faster, sharper, more erratic. The whirling storm of cutlery, trays, and hardware swirls through the room, reflecting the bright white paint of the walls in fragmented flashes, a mechanical chaos unfurling in the once-cozy dining space. Takeshi watches it all in panic.
With a final burst of power the curse on a golden bracelet is broken.
Takeshis Decursing Attempt 250402
(Takeshi's decursing attempt)
[Sat Mar 29 2025]
On the Exclusive Sidney Way Accessing the Beach
It is morning, about 22F(-5C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
Takeshi says "Ahhhh, I found a strange bracelet"
Takeshi says "Give me hand, Obachan?"
Takeshi says "ANYONE AWAKE?!"
Takeshi says "Need help!"
Takeshi says "Important! "
Takeshi says "Strange gold bracelet!"
Takeshi says "Come meet in Hometown diner"
Takeshi is squatted down over a strange bracelet on the ground. It's golden and shiny and Ritsuka would be able to feel magical energy coming off of the thing "Check this thing out!" Takeshi grins in Ritsuka's direction "Doesn't it seem shiny? I bet goblins give pretty penny for it!"
After having examined the bracelet on the ground for a while, Takeshi gets curious enough to lean down and actually pick the thing up. He looks at it in curiosity for a while before, with very little warning, the man disapears! Turning completely invisible! "Eh?" Takeshi 's voice can be heard in the room by Ritsuka still "I feel weird ..."
Ritsuka turns her back to the large of it, pulling Takeshi along by his arm to a corner-table of the shop, and making sure his back is turned to the rest of the ship as well. The hidden, concealed weapon draws from its blade and slices over her palm to let blood flow to feed into the counter-curse.
Takeshi would be too invisible for Ritsuka to be able to grab, immature laughter able to be heard around the woman, but not anywhere she would directly be able to see. "Obachan, does anything look strange about me?" Takeshi asks, the grin audible in his voice. He sounded like he was in front of her ...
The artifact emits a flash of blinding light.
"You do not." Ritsuka answers, her focus on the bangle, blood seeps discretely away as it turns into flickering flames that draw over the bangle to burn at its cursed inscription. Of course, she had not actually looked - and then the stupid thing flashes blinding light and she calls out "Ayayaya- That camera flash is a bit too bright. Ouch. got to turn it down."
Whilst Ritsuka is busy trying to figure out the bangle, two invisible hands reaching up under her hands to cup massive handfuls of her tits. She can hear Takeshi behind her trying to hold in a laugh as the invisible man starts helping himself to her body, groping her openly and hornily right there in the diner, Ritsuka's tits lifting and squishing seemingly all on their own in front of her ...
"Tie yourself up, male scum." Ritsuka says, quietly, as she well can see Takeshi, her eyes narrow. "I am going to remove you from the cult if you do this a single more time anywhere in public."
All metal objects in the room are suddenly tugged violently towards the artifact.
All metal objects in the room are suddenly tugged violently towards the artifact.
Takeshi l
The first sign of trouble is a sharp clatter-a fork tumbling from a plate, not from clumsy fingers but as if yanked away by some unseen force. It doesn't hit the floor. Instead, it hovers an inch above, trembling, before it whips upward, spinning wildly. A spoon follows, then another, then a butter knife, each one lifting from their resting places as though caught in an invisible current.
Across the room, the napkin dispensers begin to rattle. The chrome lids shudder against their glass bases before, one by one, they rip free, hurtling into the air with a sharp metallic ring. Sugar caddies tip over, scattering packets as their stainless steel frames jerk skyward. The tabletop salt and pepper shakers, their metal caps gleaming under the bright diner lights, pop off their bases, joining the growing maelstrom above.
A dull thunk echoes from the kitchen pass-through as the metal order bell detaches from its mount, rocketing into the chaos. The stainless steel trays stacked neatly by the kitchen door quiver, then lift in unison, their reflective surfaces catching flashes of movement as they spin like enormous, flattened coins. A waitress's tray, still holding the remnants of a half-eaten meal, jerks from her hands and tilts violently, sending food crashing to the floor as the metal disc careens through the air.
The chairs, with their aluminum legs, begin to tremble. At first, just a slight vibration, then morelegs scraping, skidding, lifting. The lightweight stools at the counter, their chrome bases gleaming, rise from the floor, twisting as if searching for a target. The metal napkin holders from the counter jerk upward like missiles, colliding mid-air with the spinning trays and sending sharp echoes through the room.
Cutlery moves faster now. Steak knives, dull and serrated, break free from their containers, streaking through the air like thrown darts. Spoons, once spinning harmlessly, now whip end over end, their concave surfaces catching glints of light as they slice through space. Even the old ceiling fan, with its metal motor casing, begins to shake, groaning as the unseen force strains against its mount.
In the kitchen, the noise crescendos. Stainless steel pots and pans vibrate violently against their hooks before yanking free, careening outward with deafening clangs. A frying pan flips through the air, its handle spinning end over end before embedding itself into the plaster wall. A row of chefs knives lift from their magnetic strip, hovering for a split second before launching forward in every direction, embedding into wooden surfaces with deep, resonant thuds.
The cash register, a vintage relic with polished steel accents, rattles violently on the counter before the drawer bursts open, sending coins spraying like shrapnel. The whole machine lurches upward an inch, then another, then a foot, before finally snapping toward the ceiling, crashing into a hanging light fixture with a shower of sparks.
Every piece of silverware, every bit of polished chrome, every scrap of metal in the diner now dances in the air, as if caught in an unseen storm, moving faster, sharper, more erratic. The whirling storm of cutlery, trays, and hardware swirls through the room, reflecting the bright white paint of the walls in fragmented flashes, a mechanical chaos unfurling in the once-cozy dining space. Takeshi watches it all in panic.
With a final burst of power the curse on a golden bracelet is broken.