Sounds like we have a consensus.
Reabsorbing the rest of your combat reenactment is simple enough. Reabsorbing the pot roast, though, proves impossible.
You can't sense any Will in it any longer. Haven't ever, actually- not since the moment it was created. As far as you can tell, it's just normal, everyday matter.
On a lark, you draw up more of the light, and try ordering it to unmake the roast. No matter how much will you put behind it, no matter what you try, nothing happens. The light refuses- actively refuses!- to unmake what you've created.
Time passes. Your pool of silver light- the power of your Will- slowly refills.
As that time passes, you find yourself growing increasingly dissatisfied with your lack of surroundings. Before you'd examined your memories, it didn't bother you- it was the only thing you knew, after all- but now that you remember being Joe? It's driving you up the wall.
But you can change that. You think back to the places you've been, and one in particular pops into your mind- the Quonset hut you and your squad used during basic training.
[Muninn- Target: 10(+30)= 40Roll: 7SUCCESS]
As you think back on that hut- on all the hours spent on your knees, cleaning the floor with a toothbrush... the days spent learning every nuance of properly making your cot... the endless laps around the outside, every time the DI felt like it- you feel your memory of it sharpen in a very familiar way.
[Concept {Quonset Hut} Developed!]
Just like that, you know the place, inside and out. You know every detail of it. You know you can make it. So you do.
Moments later, you float right through a wall and into your hut. You can't really see anything inside, but you can feel it- and it feels just like the original did, the day you shipped out. Your store of Will was barely depleted from the effort; you feel like you could create quite a bit more before needing to rest.
Now that you think of it, you haven't so much as been tired since you got here. Odd, that.
(Well, you got lucky, and remembered how to make yourself a place to live. It's fairly bare-bones, but it's got a floor, a ceiling, two walls, a whole bunch of (perfectly-made) bunks, a stove for heat, and spare uniforms.
You should know. You had to clean, fold, crease, and make every single one of them.
Mind you, it's got a few problems, all of which have to do with what you haven't made yet, but those can be fixed.)
Where to now, Boss?
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.
Reabsorbing the rest of your combat reenactment is simple enough. Reabsorbing the pot roast, though, proves impossible.
You can't sense any Will in it any longer. Haven't ever, actually- not since the moment it was created. As far as you can tell, it's just normal, everyday matter.
On a lark, you draw up more of the light, and try ordering it to unmake the roast. No matter how much will you put behind it, no matter what you try, nothing happens. The light refuses- actively refuses!- to unmake what you've created.
Time passes. Your pool of silver light- the power of your Will- slowly refills.
As that time passes, you find yourself growing increasingly dissatisfied with your lack of surroundings. Before you'd examined your memories, it didn't bother you- it was the only thing you knew, after all- but now that you remember being Joe? It's driving you up the wall.
But you can change that. You think back to the places you've been, and one in particular pops into your mind- the Quonset hut you and your squad used during basic training.
[Muninn- Target: 10(+30)= 40Roll: 7SUCCESS]
As you think back on that hut- on all the hours spent on your knees, cleaning the floor with a toothbrush... the days spent learning every nuance of properly making your cot... the endless laps around the outside, every time the DI felt like it- you feel your memory of it sharpen in a very familiar way.
[Concept {Quonset Hut} Developed!]
Just like that, you know the place, inside and out. You know every detail of it. You know you can make it. So you do.
Moments later, you float right through a wall and into your hut. You can't really see anything inside, but you can feel it- and it feels just like the original did, the day you shipped out. Your store of Will was barely depleted from the effort; you feel like you could create quite a bit more before needing to rest.
Now that you think of it, you haven't so much as been tired since you got here. Odd, that.
(Well, you got lucky, and remembered how to make yourself a place to live. It's fairly bare-bones, but it's got a floor, a ceiling, two walls, a whole bunch of (perfectly-made) bunks, a stove for heat, and spare uniforms.
You should know. You had to clean, fold, crease, and make every single one of them.
Mind you, it's got a few problems, all of which have to do with what you haven't made yet, but those can be fixed.)
Where to now, Boss?
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.