I wasn’t sure what I expected when we got the proximity alarm, best not to, anyway. Guy was human in appearance, though, so that was promising. Ticking through my scope options, he showed a normal heat signature. Wearing a suit, damned expensive and tailored at that–not what I’ve seen before on someone trying to break into an Above Top Secret facility–one of our places that don’t exist.–Cpl. Grant Rice, Facility Security, Location CC-Z-29.
It wasn’t Abe, but his was the card the gate had declined. He’d been dark 24 hours, so all his protocols were suspended. Not sure how this asshole got in. Then I noticed the glint of glass in the light. He was holding some kind of big glass jug. What the hell?
He moved like Abe, kind of, walked a little the same. He passed right around the spot on the asphalt that would trip you if you weren’t careful, had that weird little OCD thing Abe did with his left hand.
Then he deviated course, just a bit, toward the supervisory area. Abe wouldn’t go that way, none of us grunts ever would.
He knelt, set down the glass jug, took off the lid, and removed a pair of sunglasses I hadn’t noticed before. The fucking jar was full of eyeballs–over a dozen–floating in a liquid. The guy in the fancy suit tilted back his head, reached up, and plucked out one of his eyes, just like a god-damned contact lens. He dropped it in the jug, and started fishing out another.
No more of that shit. I fed the eyeball soup two, quick, whisper kisses from my weapon, I think at least one went through the bastard’s hand. The jar exploded and the guy froze. Then I dropped him with a round through the head. Just for good measure, I put another six in him, just ‘cause. Damn, this job is fucked up.
A Looking Glass is a large, hand-blown, glass jar full of eyeballs in a preserving solution. The jar itself is mundane to begin with, but becomes essential to the item once it is complete.
This process begins with filling the jar, about two thirds full, of equal parts formaldehyde and a carefully PH-balanced saline solution. To this is added an ounce or two of fresh blood from the wizard enchanting a Looking Glass. Then, while reciting the correct incantation, they must carefully remove their own fully intact eyes and optic nerves with a specialized tool, smash them into a slick paste, and place them in the solution.
Now the Looking Glass is ready to be filled with eyeballs. These must be carefully removed, with the optic nerve intact, from a living victim, using a tool similar to the one above. They’re then placed in the enchanted liquid inside the jar.
Afterward, anyone with magical knowledge and ability can reach into the liquid, wet their hand with the solution, pluck out their own eyeballs with their finger tips, place them into the jar, and insert any of the other eyeballs into their empty sockets. They can continue this process as needed, retrieving their own or any other available eyes. Naturally, the wizard who created the Looking Glass can never retrieve their own eyes, but have access to all within.
Once a wizard has a victim’s eyes in place, they have access to most or all of that person’s visual memory, though more recent events will be much easier to access. Naturally, the Keeper determines the degree of accuracy.
Some side effects include fragments of the victim’s personality traits, interests, etc., at the Keeper’s discretion. Naturally, this may include the memory of their eyes being extracted.
The Looking glass must receive occasional maintenance, including the careful adding of formaldehyde, saline, and a wizard’s own blood.
If the solution is ever poured out and/or the jar destroyed, all magic is lost. Similarly, any eyeballs damaged become no longer useful.
Sanity Loss: Creating a Looking Glass takes approximately four hours, and costs 4/1D6+4 Sanity. Any Bout of Madness will be delayed so the process is neither interrupted nor prevented. The first use by a wizard other than the one who created the Looking Glass costs 1/1D6 Sanity. Witnessing the creation and/or use of the Looking Glass costs 1/1D6 Sanity