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The Curators: Dimensional Task Force

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Oz Text.png

Oz Image.png


[ STATUS: Anxious, Stable ]

[ LOCATION: Library ]

[ CURATORS: Aerith, Bom-Byx, Ori, Sein ]

[ PHOBIAS: Glossophobia ]


At the very back of the library, another new arrival began to stir. Oz scrunched up his face in displeasure as he registered that he was currently lying on the floor, uncertain of how he had gotten there but definitely suspicious that a certain werewolf and ghost duo of pranksters were to blame. Movement sounded to the left of him, and Oz peeped open one of his eyes to acknowledge that one of his phobias had chosen to manifest in front of him.


< What happened? >

Inquired Oz, to which the shadowy little blob just shrugged in response. Very helpful. Thank you. Thought Oz internally, rolling his eyes as he picked himself up off of the ground and looked around. He was reasonably certain he was in a library, though it didn’t look like the same building as the one in Spooky High. That one tended to have a lot more things on fire for a start. Oz crouched down and held out his hand towards the phobia, allowing it to skitter up his arm and perch comfortably on his shoulder where he could better keep tabs on it. He started to walk, shoving his hands into his pockets and searching for any tell-tale signs of teleportation or reality-warping that would explain where exactly he had ended up. Up ahead he could start to hear voices, prompting him to hesitate in thought as to whether he should approach them or not. More movement occurred out of the corner of his eye, and to Oz’s dismay he watched as the phobia suddenly leapt from his shoulder to perch onto the side of one of the shelves that was surrounding them. Before he had a chance to make a grab for them they had leapt along to the next shelf, and were now skittering in an insect-like manner across it.


< Gloss, we don’t know if it’s safe. Come back here! >


Urged Oz, accompanied by a beckoning motion with one of his fingers for the adventurous little phobia to return to his side. Glossophobia just pretended that they hadn’t heard him, which he knew to be impossible on the grounds that his voice was telepathic. The shadowy little blob whisked their way around the various bookshelves surrounding them and had soon slinked out of sight. Oz frowned and reluctantly stumbled after them, pausing behind one of the bookshelves as he drew nearer to the voices. A hollow feeling started to form in his chest, his breathing growing rapid as he strained to properly make out what they were saying amongst themselves. None of them sounded familiar to him. Oz sensed that Glossophobia was on the move again, and he clenched his fists open and shut a few times in a frustrated attempt to ease out some of the anxiety that was building up in his system. The phobia was often far too friendly for their own good, and he was dreading the prospect of having to dash in after them because they kept insisting on trying to find brand new friends for him. Slowly, Oz edged around one of the shelves and peered out from the side of it to inspect the other inhabitants of the library. Immediately he regretted having chosen the bright-yellow cardigan to wear today. Perhaps if he had worn something darker, his shadow-like consistency may have allowed him to blend into the background better and better avoid their notice?


Glowing, white eyes scanned the area for a sign of where Glossophobia had wandered off to, but they were quickly distracted by the odd assortment of beings that were conversing with each other. Well, maybe not that odd, Oz did know multiple bipedal, sentient cats after all. He was more confused by the fact that one of them looked to be human, yet there was no indication that she was at all fased by the appearance of his fellow monsters. Maybe she was a witch of some kind? Oz’s line of sight flickered towards the movement he spied at the foot of one of the shelves, now watching as Glossophobia scooted their way towards a bright, glowing creature of some kind that Oz didn’t have a name for.


Glossophobia eased away from the shelf, fascinated by the brightly-lit creature and keen to introduce themself to the unusual crowd. They waved a tiny, spindly arm in a greeting, then gave them all a thumb’s up to try to indicate that they were friendly. A brief question of what their names were was also signed by the little phobia, though Oz had doubts over whether any of them were familiar enough with the language to know what was being asked by them. Suddenly, he realised that Glossophobia was now pointing in his direction to introduce him to the group. Oz inhaled sharply and ducked back out of view, pleading internally that somehow he hadn’t been spotted by anyone. Quickly he pressed his back up against the shelf and closed his eyes, hoping that if he concentrated hard enough on the object behind him he could somehow find a way to melt into his surroundings.





Asterodia Text.png


Asterodia Image.png


[ STATUS: ‘Mildly’ Inebriated, Otherwise Stable ]

[ LOCATION: Stables ]

[ CURATORS: Phosphophyllite ]


In hindsight, perhaps the Captain was right in that Aster had drunk one too many pints of beer this evening.


Aster at the time had argued that she was by no means a lush, and that the success of their most recent treasure haul was more than ample enough reason for the crew to raise a glass to Lady Luck and the rest of The Celestial Ones, and celebrate in their honour. Indeed, the majority of the crew had whole-heartedly agreed with her, and the second they had rode ashore they had all made a bee-line for the nearest tavern. But her memory was fuzzy at best after that, save for a vague notion that she had spent most of her time trying to impress one of the barmaids with failed trick-shots at the pool table. At some point she remembered wandering outside for a breath of fresh air and being greeted by a burst of white light, but her mind was a complete blank from that point onward.


So now, Aster found herself lying face-first in what she could only assume was the field of a farm somewhere. She groaned as she stirred into consciousness, still moderately feeling the effects of the alcohol she had been consuming a few...minutes ago? Hours? It had to have been hours, considering that it was apparently morning now. Groggily she rose to a seated position, her single eye blinking rapidly as it struggled to adjust to the sudden change in lighting for her surroundings. She stared down at her empty hand, her brow furrowing as she tried to remember what she had been holding in it before she had passed out. Gradually the memory of a half-full stein of beer cut through the haze of her confusion, and she grumbled out a rather colourful selection of words as she scanned the ground surrounding her to locate it. No such luck. The crescent-shaped staff she had just been utilising as a pool cue was here, though, affectionately nicknamed ‘Bob’ by several members of her crew because, well, every weapon had to be named something.


“Sensei?! Dia?! Bort?!”


An unfamiliar voice sounded nearby, breaking Aster from her small semblance of concentration on the staff in order to turn and gawk in the direction it had come from. She staggered to her feet, and using her staff as a make-shift walking stick she focused on making her way towards what looked and smelt to be a stable of some kind. The frightened voice continued, spouting off what sounded like a list of gemstones and then a more blatant cry for someone to help them. Aster went wide-eyed and quickened her pace at the sound of their pleas, soon busting open the door to the stable with a swift kick from her boot and a dramatic bellow of noise for affect. She faltered from her aggressive stance upon getting a chance to properly look around the stable, finding little else other than a rearing horse and a sparkly-haired individual sprawled out on the ground beside it.


“That’ssss a horse?!”

Slurred Aster in an attempt to be helpful, pointing a webbed, padded finger in the direction of the spooked horse and then nodding afterwards in a sage-like manner. She emitted a shushing sound as she stepped further into the stables, her free hand waving about vaguely in the air to steer the animal’s attention away from the unfamiliar being.


“Ssssh niiice horsey. Whossse a nice horsey? M’sure Sparkles ‘ere was just visiting?”


Cooed Aster. Her long, fin-tipped tail stretched towards the humanoid as she spoke and made an attempt to coil around her arm in some manner, trying to coax her into getting back onto her feet and away from the horse so that it would properly calm back down. She glanced down at the figure once more, eyes bulging and the motion pausing as she realised that one of their legs had been broken off at the thigh. An ambiguous noise that was best described as a mixture of surprise and an attempt at an apology emitted from her fanged maw. A beat later the staff she held onto was dropped at their side, and Aster motioned for them to take hold of it for better support as she took the opportunity to finally absorb her surroundings. 


“Isn't that s'posed to hurt?"


She inquired, frowning down at the missing part of her limb. It looked to be a painful break, but from what she could tell there wasn’t any sign of fresh blood oozing from the wound. Perhaps it was an old injury, and there was a wooden replacement for her leg lying around somewhere nearby? 


“D’yer need a doctor?”

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