Yesterday we lost the remote control. That might not sound like a very big deal, but it really is. The remote is a special bit of “techno-magic mumbo-jumbo” the old Death put together which harnesses supernatural energy without the need for all that chanting and incense and stuff, which always made me feel faintly ridiculous, to be honest.
We only vaguely understand how the remote works, but we know it allows us to ‘teleport’ the shed from place to place and across the Afterworlds. It also lets us tinker with time and space to a certain extent – something which would be incredibly dangerous were it to land in the wrong hands. Like Famine’s for example. His fingers are too fat for the buttons, you see? One minute he could be trying to pause time, the next we’re floating on a river of jam. On the moon.
Yesterday was like that, only worse. We didn’t end up on the moon, but we did end up in Hell. We also briefly stopped by Adlivun, the Innuit afterlife, and home of Sedna the She-Cannibal. I’ve never met her, but by all accounts she’s a right cow. After that we went… somewhere else. I’m not entirely sure what happened, or how we ended up there, but I’ve never seen War so keen to get away from anywhere in my life. There’s something about singing dwarves that really set his teeth on edge, although toe-punting that one along the path seemed a little harsh to me.
We found the remote eventually, and after a few false starts managed to bring the shed back to the garden. War said we should take the batteries out to stop the remote sending us anywhere else, but upon closer inspection we found the battery compartment was packed with weapons grade plutonium, so thought it safer just to put the plastic cover back on and say no more about it.
In other news, Famine was today attacked by a swan.