Norm's Story

As implied, a spatula floats through space. A curious sight for someone in reality, perhaps, but this was not physical space. This was the space of thought, the Source of Mind that feeds and is fed by consciousness.

So a spatula floats by, rotating on a strange axis in a ballet of its own seclusion. This spatula holds within it the power to manipulate the Source to an incredible degree. While few know of its existence, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that whoever found this spatula could potentially warp any aspect of reality to their liking.

In the Sunsmoke Clouds of the Daydream Beast, forces are already at work to locate it. A gaping jaw of harsh sunlight grinds its teeth, grinning at the possibility that it could very soon be free from this lucid dreamscape. It sends word to all residents of the Source to meet with it in the deepest reaches of the Clouds.

How did such a spatula come to float in space, you might ask? It was misplaced. Why was it misplaced? A lapse in judgement, perhaps. But who would misplace such a crucial item at such a crucial point in time?

Well, let's get right to that.



Floating by a nebulous mass of glowing eyes was a 17th century pirate ship, sailing through the Speculating Skies. The vessel would appear to be flying aimlessly at a glance, but on closer inspection would reveal it appeared to be searching for something as it turned to face every angle before moving on to new spaces in the Source. It hoisted large white sails decorated with a crudely drawn smiley face.

On board manning the helm was an extravagently dressed crocodile man, presenting a long purple coat that swept across the floorboards and a pirate's hat bearing the same insignia as the sails. Beside him was a more casually dressed boy, leaning very closely towards adulthood.

The boy leaned over the side of the ship, peering into the deep thought that makes up the Source. Eventually he turned to the pilot, visually annoyed out of boredom. His voice was Australian, and carried with it a resourcefulness to make up for the stereotype.

"You've not told me what it is we're lookin' for, Kap. What am I meant to do?" He asked, not surprised in the slightest. Kaptain Erratik had a habit of being vague. And while it usually had a point, Norm had always wished he would just be a little more straightforward.

"Oh, Norm, I pity you!" The Kaptain boomed. The louder his voice, the more his yellow eyes seemed to beam out of his head. "Grow some eyes and an extra brain and you'll find yourself knowing what you seek but not being able to retrieve it." He had always thought of himself as a wise man, but Norm merely rolled his eyes and sighed at the pseudo-philosophy. Norm was one step ahead, and knew this was in reference to the girl he had always had a crush on that remained unrequited. The Source to him was just a bunch of actualised metaphors, and he saw through them all.

"Low blow, Kap. I'll keep an eye out, for whatever it is you're doing."

Norm moved back to the edge of the ship, looking for anything to peak his interest. Wherever it may be, he knew it shouldn't be long.

A low rumble powered through the Source. A wave of yellow lightning followed, a spherical enveloping energy coming from the Sunsmoke Clouds. It seemed to agitate any lesser Sourcekind into a frenzy, and drew others to the clouds themselves for an explanation.

The Kaptain, on board the Electric Yargh with Norm, frowned.

"We're going to need help with this one, Kap." Said Norm.

Kaptain Erratik turned to make eye contact, his eyes glowing a similar fizz of yellow light.

"Send 'er closer to the Clouds, matey." Erratik said. "That brightspawn fever fiend shan't have its way."

Whether in the midst of the Source's inbetween space or any of its fragments, there wouldn't be a Sourcekind or wandering newcomer that didn't at least feel the slight heat-shock from the Sunsmoke wave. Would they perceive it is a call to action? Or something to run from?