Terrance888
Discord Reigns
OOC: To be replaced with the appropriate character exposition.
TBNES - Tournament
- Thread starter thomas.berubeg
- Start date
SouthernKing
crickety cricket
How long had it been? James Black asked himself. A day? A week? A month?
Thankfully, his plasma rifle was still working, strapped on his back. He had practiced on trees in this vast forest. His stun knife was on his belt. His vintage leather jacket was somehow in pristine condition and contrasted with his pale-white skin. His shoulder-length silver hair shone in the moonlight that reached the forest floor through the treetops. No matter how far he trod, he never seemed to get dirty.
James stopped. He remembered clearly the events as his smuggler ship had abruptly jumped out of hyperspace and plunged deep into this planet's atmosphere. When it crashed, James had been miraculously unhurt. He had clambered out into the forest, and began the long trek to the lights he had seen from his ship as it went down. A small settlement, perhaps.
James passed another tree, and realized he was now in the clear. He gazed upon what appeared to be what was a run down amusement park. Or at least, some parts were run down. There was a very modern looking building near the center, though...perhaps, he could get his ship repaired? Or at least, ask for assistance?
James walked past a rotting, collapsing derelict wooden roller coaster as he walked towards the modern building. His walk turned into a full sprint as he raced for the building entrance.
As he opened the glass doors, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw that he was in a hotel lobby. Odd, what is a hotel doing in the middle of this amusement park? Even stranger, there was only one other person to be seen: the woman at the counter. He began walking towards the front desk. He panted, out of breath from his sprint. "Where...am...I?"
She was a young brunette, but her face expanded into a wicked grin. "It does not matter where you are, young man. You are just in time for the tournament."
James was confused and annoyed at the same time. "What tournament? I have to get my ship repaired and get off this planet!"
She laughed, with the laugh not of a young woman, but of an old lady. "You will get off this planet...if you win the tournament!"
Thankfully, his plasma rifle was still working, strapped on his back. He had practiced on trees in this vast forest. His stun knife was on his belt. His vintage leather jacket was somehow in pristine condition and contrasted with his pale-white skin. His shoulder-length silver hair shone in the moonlight that reached the forest floor through the treetops. No matter how far he trod, he never seemed to get dirty.
James stopped. He remembered clearly the events as his smuggler ship had abruptly jumped out of hyperspace and plunged deep into this planet's atmosphere. When it crashed, James had been miraculously unhurt. He had clambered out into the forest, and began the long trek to the lights he had seen from his ship as it went down. A small settlement, perhaps.
James passed another tree, and realized he was now in the clear. He gazed upon what appeared to be what was a run down amusement park. Or at least, some parts were run down. There was a very modern looking building near the center, though...perhaps, he could get his ship repaired? Or at least, ask for assistance?
James walked past a rotting, collapsing derelict wooden roller coaster as he walked towards the modern building. His walk turned into a full sprint as he raced for the building entrance.
As he opened the glass doors, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw that he was in a hotel lobby. Odd, what is a hotel doing in the middle of this amusement park? Even stranger, there was only one other person to be seen: the woman at the counter. He began walking towards the front desk. He panted, out of breath from his sprint. "Where...am...I?"
She was a young brunette, but her face expanded into a wicked grin. "It does not matter where you are, young man. You are just in time for the tournament."
James was confused and annoyed at the same time. "What tournament? I have to get my ship repaired and get off this planet!"
She laughed, with the laugh not of a young woman, but of an old lady. "You will get off this planet...if you win the tournament!"
Seon
Not An Evil Liar
-Galla-
Hello, Mr. Cazals. My name is Galla, although I used to be known under a different name.
Unfortunately Master North had...other matters to attend to. I was called upon to guide you into the complex instead.
We would like to discourage any... behavior... that may disrupt the fine workings of this competition. We hope that you will enjoy your stay in this world.
stop this madness
Hello, Contestant Black.
We would like to express our condolences on your little... accident. To which we were absolutely not the cause of in any way.
We will get one of our mechanics to repair your shuttle immediately. I can assure you that the mechanic's skills are beyond question. He managed to fix my toaster after all. How difficult can a spaceship repair be?
Feel free to leave the premises whenever you want, my good sir. However, if you are to leave before the tournament is finished, you will have to go through outprocessing.
Don't worry, my good sir. It won't involve any paperworks. Just step outside the premise and wait. Our agent will come and walk you through the process.
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
"What in the name of the Lord in heaven..."
I quickly rolled out of the gutter and felt for my knife. Good, I've survived I thought as I tried to remember yesterday. Dang my head is throbbing! I sat back down as I remember going back to the pub for a pint after working.
Ah yes, some Press Gang tried to take me. They sent one of their... beer monkies and boozed me up. Dang, can't remember what happened next.
I thought harder, the last thing I can remember is a sharp pain on the back of me head and someone crying out, "Hey, blood DOES stain this red coat!" Another throb sharpened the image. Yup, I had knifed an Army Thug, and yet...
I quickly scanned the area. The gutter leads to a ticket office which seemed to be the center of a gunpowder blast. I checked myself for a hangover, and, satisfied I won't fall onto my knife and this isn't a trip of any kind. (Stupid Paul ordered Laudum instead of beer one day, poor fellow) walked carefully into the...
Oh, oh my.
I didn't expect to be in Hell this fast! Why else would there be tempting flashing lights, trees of metal and railroads reaching towards the sky for the express purpose of torture. I looked again, clearing the area of suspicious items. I finally walked over and took off the lid of the garbage can behind the ruined Ticket Booth.
"S-s--Spare me K-K-Kill G... *cough*Oh, hello, You must be Zachariah Anderson."
"Where in hell am I?" I demanded and waved my knife, dulled with dried blood, near his face.. The man subconsiously cowared back into the trash can, but then brought out a can labeled "Mace" from a pocket. How they fit a medieval instrument of warfare into that can, and for what purpose, I can not discern.
"Get Back! Get Back! I am not a competitor! Here comes the judge! He will explain it to you!"
"In the name of Jesus, no need to be so excitable!" I told him. I muttered, "why in the world is common sense so rare" as I turned towards a shadowy figure approaching behind me, hidden by the shadow of one of the large skyborne railroads.
I quickly rolled out of the gutter and felt for my knife. Good, I've survived I thought as I tried to remember yesterday. Dang my head is throbbing! I sat back down as I remember going back to the pub for a pint after working.
Ah yes, some Press Gang tried to take me. They sent one of their... beer monkies and boozed me up. Dang, can't remember what happened next.
I thought harder, the last thing I can remember is a sharp pain on the back of me head and someone crying out, "Hey, blood DOES stain this red coat!" Another throb sharpened the image. Yup, I had knifed an Army Thug, and yet...
I quickly scanned the area. The gutter leads to a ticket office which seemed to be the center of a gunpowder blast. I checked myself for a hangover, and, satisfied I won't fall onto my knife and this isn't a trip of any kind. (Stupid Paul ordered Laudum instead of beer one day, poor fellow) walked carefully into the...
Oh, oh my.
I didn't expect to be in Hell this fast! Why else would there be tempting flashing lights, trees of metal and railroads reaching towards the sky for the express purpose of torture. I looked again, clearing the area of suspicious items. I finally walked over and took off the lid of the garbage can behind the ruined Ticket Booth.
"S-s--Spare me K-K-Kill G... *cough*Oh, hello, You must be Zachariah Anderson."
"Where in hell am I?" I demanded and waved my knife, dulled with dried blood, near his face.. The man subconsiously cowared back into the trash can, but then brought out a can labeled "Mace" from a pocket. How they fit a medieval instrument of warfare into that can, and for what purpose, I can not discern.
"Get Back! Get Back! I am not a competitor! Here comes the judge! He will explain it to you!"
"In the name of Jesus, no need to be so excitable!" I told him. I muttered, "why in the world is common sense so rare" as I turned towards a shadowy figure approaching behind me, hidden by the shadow of one of the large skyborne railroads.
An Interview with Chaos the Laughter
"So, tell me about yourself."
"Hi there. I'm here!"
"Hello again. Do you have anything you'd like to say?"
"I'm really excited to be here!"
"Well that's good, but I'd like to hear about yourself. What's your name?"
"Hmm. Hahah, that's a good one! I was never really given one!"
"Your parents didn't name you?"
"Ahahaha! Ha ha ha! Parents! Right, I forgot about them!"
"You forgot about your parents."
"No, I forgot that you guys usually have them!" The masked figure grins, extremely disconcertingly.
"Right. Well, what should I call you then?"
"Judge Alenia called me Princess Sophia Rosita Snuffles. I kind of like that name."
"You're female?"
"No idea! I was thinking of calling myself Chaos the Laughter earlier."
"And that's-"
"I heard the words in a music song. Music songs are great, by the way."
"Right. Okay, let's start somewhere else..." the interviewer looked around, "How about your appearance- certainly quite outlandish. If you don't mind me asking about your face, I'll say I'm quite curious. That is your face, right? You might have heard that it looks a little odd, if you don't mind me saying."
"Oh, a story! You want a story? Well, back when I was born, my head- Actually, I didn’t have a head at the time."
"Mmm hmm?"
"No, really!"
"You seem to have acquired one in the meantime."
"Oh, this." the figure gestured to his glossy, monochromatic face, then pulled it off. The mask held its shape, frozen in place like a piece of plastic. The interviewer stared into the newly-uncovered swirling black void, curling about like ink diffusing in water. "I got this mask later on."
"I... see." The interviewer shivered and scribbled something down in his notebook, something along the lines of 'cannot unsee'.
"Back when I was born- well, okay, I wasn't specifically born either."
"Then you..."
"Um... started existing I guess. Back when I was first in existence, I was an amorphous sentience of non-solid matter."
"And you had no parents?"
"Well, I suppose you might call them parents, although I don't think it works that way. Humans don't come into existence as offspring of pure thought do they?"
"They don't."
"Okay. Well, being some sort of chaotic entity or whatever, it was really dull. Contemplating all the time isn't fun. I took to exploring, and luck and stuff brought me to this mask."
"That's... skipping over a fairly important part of your life."
"Boo-ring. Anyway, I wasn't sure what it was doing there, but I think it was magical. Or something."
The interviewer scribbled down a few more notes.
"So, you found the mask?"
"Procured it. Maybe I produced it!"
"I thought you said you found it."
"You find the darnedest things in your own imagination sometimes. So I placed this mask on my face-"
"Though you/I didn't have a face at the time." The two spoke simultaneously. Chaos laughed brightly.
"Exactly! But with that thing, now I did- and physical form too. That was great! Thus cladding myself in these wrappings, I was able to approximate a physical being and start my long-belated interactions with the world. And stuff. You see, after a lifetime of not really living, being anchored in the 'real world' has been amazing! There's sound, and touching things- oh and food! Cake, bread, water, sand, vegetables- did you know that you can eat air? Anyway, I'm not sure how long I'll be able to stay here, so I'm trying to do as much as I can in the meanwhile. A bloody battle royale to the death sounded like a lot of fun, so now I'm here! Sup! That's the end, because I'm here now and you, man in a suit, are asking me questions and writing them down for some sort of guide."
"Well, thank you for your time... Mr... uh, you know what, I'll just say 'thanks for your time'. Is there anything else you'd like to say, or anything you're planning on doing?"
"Definitely!
Living!
Giving!
Killing!
Chilling!
Thrilling... Maybe?
Exciting nonetheless!"
"So, tell me about yourself."
"Hi there. I'm here!"
"Hello again. Do you have anything you'd like to say?"
"I'm really excited to be here!"
"Well that's good, but I'd like to hear about yourself. What's your name?"
"Hmm. Hahah, that's a good one! I was never really given one!"
"Your parents didn't name you?"
"Ahahaha! Ha ha ha! Parents! Right, I forgot about them!"
"You forgot about your parents."
"No, I forgot that you guys usually have them!" The masked figure grins, extremely disconcertingly.
"Right. Well, what should I call you then?"
"Judge Alenia called me Princess Sophia Rosita Snuffles. I kind of like that name."
"You're female?"
"No idea! I was thinking of calling myself Chaos the Laughter earlier."
"And that's-"
"I heard the words in a music song. Music songs are great, by the way."
"Right. Okay, let's start somewhere else..." the interviewer looked around, "How about your appearance- certainly quite outlandish. If you don't mind me asking about your face, I'll say I'm quite curious. That is your face, right? You might have heard that it looks a little odd, if you don't mind me saying."
"Oh, a story! You want a story? Well, back when I was born, my head- Actually, I didn’t have a head at the time."
"Mmm hmm?"
"No, really!"
"You seem to have acquired one in the meantime."
"Oh, this." the figure gestured to his glossy, monochromatic face, then pulled it off. The mask held its shape, frozen in place like a piece of plastic. The interviewer stared into the newly-uncovered swirling black void, curling about like ink diffusing in water. "I got this mask later on."
"I... see." The interviewer shivered and scribbled something down in his notebook, something along the lines of 'cannot unsee'.
"Back when I was born- well, okay, I wasn't specifically born either."
"Then you..."
"Um... started existing I guess. Back when I was first in existence, I was an amorphous sentience of non-solid matter."
"And you had no parents?"
"Well, I suppose you might call them parents, although I don't think it works that way. Humans don't come into existence as offspring of pure thought do they?"
"They don't."
"Okay. Well, being some sort of chaotic entity or whatever, it was really dull. Contemplating all the time isn't fun. I took to exploring, and luck and stuff brought me to this mask."
"That's... skipping over a fairly important part of your life."
"Boo-ring. Anyway, I wasn't sure what it was doing there, but I think it was magical. Or something."
The interviewer scribbled down a few more notes.
"So, you found the mask?"
"Procured it. Maybe I produced it!"
"I thought you said you found it."
"You find the darnedest things in your own imagination sometimes. So I placed this mask on my face-"
"Though you/I didn't have a face at the time." The two spoke simultaneously. Chaos laughed brightly.
"Exactly! But with that thing, now I did- and physical form too. That was great! Thus cladding myself in these wrappings, I was able to approximate a physical being and start my long-belated interactions with the world. And stuff. You see, after a lifetime of not really living, being anchored in the 'real world' has been amazing! There's sound, and touching things- oh and food! Cake, bread, water, sand, vegetables- did you know that you can eat air? Anyway, I'm not sure how long I'll be able to stay here, so I'm trying to do as much as I can in the meanwhile. A bloody battle royale to the death sounded like a lot of fun, so now I'm here! Sup! That's the end, because I'm here now and you, man in a suit, are asking me questions and writing them down for some sort of guide."
"Well, thank you for your time... Mr... uh, you know what, I'll just say 'thanks for your time'. Is there anything else you'd like to say, or anything you're planning on doing?"
"Definitely!
Living!
Giving!
Killing!
Chilling!
Thrilling... Maybe?
Exciting nonetheless!"
Nylan
Characters Welcome
The Patron Saint of Lost Causes
Leo slammed the door as he entered his suite and unceremoniously flopped onto the queen-size bed without a word. He lay there for a bit, face down in the bedding, until he found it hard to breathe. He was trying to collect his thoughts, but all he managed to do was give himself a coughing fit.
When he sat up, his black gloves were already off and he was quickly unzipping his white high-collar leather jacket. It was a lot hotter here than Seattle at this time of year, and much more so than his hometown of Punta Arenas, Chile. He was very sensitive to the cold, however, and would probably don the jacket again when he had to step outside.
He leaned back on his hands and sighed. Well, this is it. He said to himself. Im finally going to do this. He paused for a moment. His gaze softened and his eyes fogged up as he sat there in complete silence, lost in thought.
So when do I get to mutilate people?
Leo reacted as though someone had poured ice-water down his back. Springing to his feet, took out his ivory dagger and searched around him for some sign of movement.
Dont know where I am? Im where you least expect to find me.
He stood there for a moment as he racked his brain for possible locations, then snapped his fingers as he thought of one. He immediately dropped to the floor and checked under the bed. He squinted as he tried to distinguish anything from the darkness.
Nothing.
Still dont know who I am? Let me give you a hint: I am everything you need and everything you hate.
He checked his wallet. Not there either.
I can do just about anything you can think of.
His iPhone? He smacked it a few times. Hello?!
There was no reply.
Wow, you really are stupid, arent you. Im the ONLY one who can give you what you most want.
Leos knees began to knock against each other as he slowly turned and looked up at the sky. G God?
NO, THOU ACCURSED ONE!! OF COURSE NOT! LOOK AT THE BLOODY ORB ON THE BED!
Ahh oh right. I spose that makes sense then He walked over and picked the ball up. So YOU are the one who is talking to me.
Real good at connecting the dots, arent you? Of course I am. I am Melnoth Kieralenen, and I am your master. Do what I say and I will give you what you want. Do do want to destroy this tournament, dont you?
A flash of anger passed through Leo has he thought of the tournament. Yes, yes I do.
I can help you with that. Thats why Im here. I can make you stronger or faster. I can channel energy and redirect it. You name it, and I can probably do it. And since I simply like to destroy, burn, and kill things, I think were going to make a rather nice team! Dont you think?
I think youre terribly mistaken, erm....what was your name?
Melnoth Kieralenen
Heh yeah, I think Im just going to call you Jeeves. Anyways, you seem to have the wrong idea about things. Im not planning on killing anybody while Im here.
Well then it sounds like you plan on getting yourself killed. There is no other way to win.
Leo grit his teeth. Im here to prove otherwise. Im here to prove a lot of things, actually. Im here to change things. And if you arent willing to do things my way-
Blah blah blah theres still good in this world blah blah blah Im going to play Captain America and beat up all the bad guys blah blah blah someone please give me some self-worth and help me stop feeling like an incompetent failure blah blah blah. Hitler said that too, and look how he turned out. Some of my best work, actually.
You think I dont know about your past? You think I dont know about the things youve done? You really think this will change all of that? Youre probably the biggest scumbag here.
Jeeves had hit him where it hurts. SHUT UP OR ILL THROW YOU OUT THIS WINDOW!
There was a long silence. Leo was breathing heavily and sweating now. He hadnt felt this angry in quite a while. He did nothing but stare at the orb, as if trying to burn a hole in it with his eyes. A few seconds passed.
Then you throw your dreams away with me. You do understand that, right?
Leo slammed the door as he entered his suite and unceremoniously flopped onto the queen-size bed without a word. He lay there for a bit, face down in the bedding, until he found it hard to breathe. He was trying to collect his thoughts, but all he managed to do was give himself a coughing fit.
When he sat up, his black gloves were already off and he was quickly unzipping his white high-collar leather jacket. It was a lot hotter here than Seattle at this time of year, and much more so than his hometown of Punta Arenas, Chile. He was very sensitive to the cold, however, and would probably don the jacket again when he had to step outside.
He leaned back on his hands and sighed. Well, this is it. He said to himself. Im finally going to do this. He paused for a moment. His gaze softened and his eyes fogged up as he sat there in complete silence, lost in thought.
So when do I get to mutilate people?
Leo reacted as though someone had poured ice-water down his back. Springing to his feet, took out his ivory dagger and searched around him for some sign of movement.
Dont know where I am? Im where you least expect to find me.
He stood there for a moment as he racked his brain for possible locations, then snapped his fingers as he thought of one. He immediately dropped to the floor and checked under the bed. He squinted as he tried to distinguish anything from the darkness.
Nothing.
Still dont know who I am? Let me give you a hint: I am everything you need and everything you hate.
He checked his wallet. Not there either.
I can do just about anything you can think of.
His iPhone? He smacked it a few times. Hello?!
There was no reply.
Wow, you really are stupid, arent you. Im the ONLY one who can give you what you most want.
Leos knees began to knock against each other as he slowly turned and looked up at the sky. G God?
NO, THOU ACCURSED ONE!! OF COURSE NOT! LOOK AT THE BLOODY ORB ON THE BED!
Ahh oh right. I spose that makes sense then He walked over and picked the ball up. So YOU are the one who is talking to me.
Real good at connecting the dots, arent you? Of course I am. I am Melnoth Kieralenen, and I am your master. Do what I say and I will give you what you want. Do do want to destroy this tournament, dont you?
A flash of anger passed through Leo has he thought of the tournament. Yes, yes I do.
I can help you with that. Thats why Im here. I can make you stronger or faster. I can channel energy and redirect it. You name it, and I can probably do it. And since I simply like to destroy, burn, and kill things, I think were going to make a rather nice team! Dont you think?
I think youre terribly mistaken, erm....what was your name?
Melnoth Kieralenen
Heh yeah, I think Im just going to call you Jeeves. Anyways, you seem to have the wrong idea about things. Im not planning on killing anybody while Im here.
Well then it sounds like you plan on getting yourself killed. There is no other way to win.
Leo grit his teeth. Im here to prove otherwise. Im here to prove a lot of things, actually. Im here to change things. And if you arent willing to do things my way-
Blah blah blah theres still good in this world blah blah blah Im going to play Captain America and beat up all the bad guys blah blah blah someone please give me some self-worth and help me stop feeling like an incompetent failure blah blah blah. Hitler said that too, and look how he turned out. Some of my best work, actually.
You think I dont know about your past? You think I dont know about the things youve done? You really think this will change all of that? Youre probably the biggest scumbag here.
Jeeves had hit him where it hurts. SHUT UP OR ILL THROW YOU OUT THIS WINDOW!
There was a long silence. Leo was breathing heavily and sweating now. He hadnt felt this angry in quite a while. He did nothing but stare at the orb, as if trying to burn a hole in it with his eyes. A few seconds passed.
Then you throw your dreams away with me. You do understand that, right?
SKILORD
Insurgent
Raul took stock of the other contestants, sitting idly in the middle of the carnival, enjoying a tall spiral of cotton candy.
The Kill Girl didn't worry him too much, the dependence on technology was a weakness. All of her alien hardware seemed strangely familiar, and Raul was sure that with enough time out here, feeling into the atoms of the device he would be able to find exactly the right component for a proper sabotage.
Plasma is a problem, he knows that. Theoretically, Raul reasons it is matter, and with enough time he might be able to add enough weight to the molecules to slow them down and deal with it. In a controlled environment, Raul would welcome to experiment.
But he knows that having it shot at you or whipped at you is not a controlled environment. In fact, since he does not imagine that he'll be able to lift her piece and do experiments on it beforehand, it's a major concern. Until he can figure out how to make it backfire.
James Black is in a similar situation, Raul notes mentally. Except without the sort of physical combat training. Straight technology, something he should be able to deal with if James spends more time outside of his room. That is the real problem there, Raul thinks as he licks his cotton candy, James Black gets roped into this tournament, not unlike Raul had been, complains about his spaceship, and then vanishes to his room. If Raul can't get close enough to him to get familiar with his technology on a molecular basis then there could be problems.
Turning a trenchcoat to diamond will do a lot of things, stop bullets, bruise knuckles, save you from shrapnel.
And also provide a nice toasty place to cook alive when you start getting hit by plasma.
Leo, another mystery man, up in his room. Standing outside of it, trying to get a feel for the molecules inside Raul swears he had heard the guy yelling at himself, back and forth, in some sort of religious dialogue. But honestly there wasn't out of the ordinary as far as the atoms had been concerned.
And then, for the first time, Raul set eyes on the amorphous form of Chaos the Laughter.
His eyes widen, he crosses himself, "Ave Maria," he begins.
Some people might have been fooled by the mask, might have been spared what the interviewer could not unsee.
Carbon based life, Raul had never realized how much he appreciated the simple molecular harmony that brings together carbon based life.
But past that, matter, Raul cannot remember a time before he could reach out and see, perceive, understand an object, even his entire environment down to the molecular level.
Past the mask there are atoms, atoms in such horrific disarray that Raul is terrified.
A power like his, where the composition of an atom is his palette, Raul has spent a lot of time in Libraries studying chemistry and nuclear theory. In the hopes of avoiding, some sort of unstable result. Say, Plutonium, Raul could produce Plutonium but he knows better, it would be dangerous to him and to others.
But Plutonium is a paragon of stability compared to whatever exists behind that mask. Neutrons orbit around electron clusters while protons fly back and forth. Whatever it is, it is not matter as Raul understands it.
He takes a deep breath, all of the sudden the mystery men are just as troubling to him as Chaos. All of the sudden he realizes that he does not know where he is, he breaks out of his purpose driven haze and realizes that not too long ago he had been liberating mutants from an oppressive government and racist movements, that time and space had made sense to him. Now he is in a parallel dimension, and apparently non-matter moves around and talks to you here. Not anti-matter, just, non-matter, just, indescribable…. Chaos.
Even the Kill Girl, he suddenly realized, would not go down easy. She was a physical fighter and she has more than one trick up her sleeve. Even Habak, watching him fruitlessly try to knock over a pile of cans while a carney laughs, suddenly Raul is worried about threats that he might pose.
Raul licks his cotton candy, the little spun wires of sucrose get caught up and adopted by his tongue. He takes solace in the tiny crystals.
He tries to think back to things that he knows, strengths that he can use; familiar territory to stage a last stand if it should come to that.
Maybe something from during his time with MILF, the Mutant Inspirational Liberation Front, water shells can knock the wind out of someone or blow in a lock, put a little magnesium in the shell and you have an incendiary round, diamonds are forever, the sheer utility of a weapon that can change it's ammunition easily is not lost on him, especially not on Raul. He still has the robe's belt, although it was leather right now, wrapped around his shoulder and he still intended to use it.
But when he reaches his room the first thing he does is pick up the phone and asks, "Judge North, may I be provided a shotgun?"
The Kill Girl didn't worry him too much, the dependence on technology was a weakness. All of her alien hardware seemed strangely familiar, and Raul was sure that with enough time out here, feeling into the atoms of the device he would be able to find exactly the right component for a proper sabotage.
Plasma is a problem, he knows that. Theoretically, Raul reasons it is matter, and with enough time he might be able to add enough weight to the molecules to slow them down and deal with it. In a controlled environment, Raul would welcome to experiment.
But he knows that having it shot at you or whipped at you is not a controlled environment. In fact, since he does not imagine that he'll be able to lift her piece and do experiments on it beforehand, it's a major concern. Until he can figure out how to make it backfire.
James Black is in a similar situation, Raul notes mentally. Except without the sort of physical combat training. Straight technology, something he should be able to deal with if James spends more time outside of his room. That is the real problem there, Raul thinks as he licks his cotton candy, James Black gets roped into this tournament, not unlike Raul had been, complains about his spaceship, and then vanishes to his room. If Raul can't get close enough to him to get familiar with his technology on a molecular basis then there could be problems.
Turning a trenchcoat to diamond will do a lot of things, stop bullets, bruise knuckles, save you from shrapnel.
And also provide a nice toasty place to cook alive when you start getting hit by plasma.
Leo, another mystery man, up in his room. Standing outside of it, trying to get a feel for the molecules inside Raul swears he had heard the guy yelling at himself, back and forth, in some sort of religious dialogue. But honestly there wasn't out of the ordinary as far as the atoms had been concerned.
And then, for the first time, Raul set eyes on the amorphous form of Chaos the Laughter.
His eyes widen, he crosses himself, "Ave Maria," he begins.
Some people might have been fooled by the mask, might have been spared what the interviewer could not unsee.
Carbon based life, Raul had never realized how much he appreciated the simple molecular harmony that brings together carbon based life.
But past that, matter, Raul cannot remember a time before he could reach out and see, perceive, understand an object, even his entire environment down to the molecular level.
Past the mask there are atoms, atoms in such horrific disarray that Raul is terrified.
A power like his, where the composition of an atom is his palette, Raul has spent a lot of time in Libraries studying chemistry and nuclear theory. In the hopes of avoiding, some sort of unstable result. Say, Plutonium, Raul could produce Plutonium but he knows better, it would be dangerous to him and to others.
But Plutonium is a paragon of stability compared to whatever exists behind that mask. Neutrons orbit around electron clusters while protons fly back and forth. Whatever it is, it is not matter as Raul understands it.
He takes a deep breath, all of the sudden the mystery men are just as troubling to him as Chaos. All of the sudden he realizes that he does not know where he is, he breaks out of his purpose driven haze and realizes that not too long ago he had been liberating mutants from an oppressive government and racist movements, that time and space had made sense to him. Now he is in a parallel dimension, and apparently non-matter moves around and talks to you here. Not anti-matter, just, non-matter, just, indescribable…. Chaos.
Even the Kill Girl, he suddenly realized, would not go down easy. She was a physical fighter and she has more than one trick up her sleeve. Even Habak, watching him fruitlessly try to knock over a pile of cans while a carney laughs, suddenly Raul is worried about threats that he might pose.
Raul licks his cotton candy, the little spun wires of sucrose get caught up and adopted by his tongue. He takes solace in the tiny crystals.
He tries to think back to things that he knows, strengths that he can use; familiar territory to stage a last stand if it should come to that.
Maybe something from during his time with MILF, the Mutant Inspirational Liberation Front, water shells can knock the wind out of someone or blow in a lock, put a little magnesium in the shell and you have an incendiary round, diamonds are forever, the sheer utility of a weapon that can change it's ammunition easily is not lost on him, especially not on Raul. He still has the robe's belt, although it was leather right now, wrapped around his shoulder and he still intended to use it.
But when he reaches his room the first thing he does is pick up the phone and asks, "Judge North, may I be provided a shotgun?"
Seon
Not An Evil Liar
Thought you'd never ask.
Raul blinked. The voice didn't come from his phone. It came from...
Judge North stepped out of the bathroom, twirling a cane lazily. So, he said, smiling. Do you want a sawn-off shotgun, or do you want something that the military would use?
"What were you doing in my bathroom?"
Technically speaking, it is my bathroom. I own the hotel after all.
"That doesn't answer my question at all."
I know you are confused, my friend. Most people are disoriented when they come here and see my own fabulous self.
"Wha-"
See? Exactly my point. Wha- wha- wha. The judge shook his head. How about I leave those wonderous weapons in the closet? Then you can decide on what to use later.
Raul nodded.
Any other questions?
"Uhh.... no?"
Excellent. It is nice that you adjusted to your situation quickly, Raul. North smiled. I will be seeing you again then. North opened the door to the hallway.
"Wait!" Raul shouted. North paused.
"Why is there nothing but chickens and vegetables in the room service menu?"
North's smile broadened to a sinister grin.
You will see, contestant Raul. You shall see.
Raul blinked. The voice didn't come from his phone. It came from...
Judge North stepped out of the bathroom, twirling a cane lazily. So, he said, smiling. Do you want a sawn-off shotgun, or do you want something that the military would use?
"What were you doing in my bathroom?"
Technically speaking, it is my bathroom. I own the hotel after all.
"That doesn't answer my question at all."
I know you are confused, my friend. Most people are disoriented when they come here and see my own fabulous self.
"Wha-"
See? Exactly my point. Wha- wha- wha. The judge shook his head. How about I leave those wonderous weapons in the closet? Then you can decide on what to use later.
Raul nodded.
Any other questions?
"Uhh.... no?"
Excellent. It is nice that you adjusted to your situation quickly, Raul. North smiled. I will be seeing you again then. North opened the door to the hallway.
"Wait!" Raul shouted. North paused.
"Why is there nothing but chickens and vegetables in the room service menu?"
North's smile broadened to a sinister grin.
You will see, contestant Raul. You shall see.
SKILORD
Insurgent
When Raul was 18, he had been involved in a guerilla group in Mexico. A particularly strange group who called themselves the Panthers after a similarly high minded organization in the States. Their beef was against drug cartels, the sheer human cost of their operation. Raul had hiked and hitchhiked from Peru, he had escaped a coca plantation, he was a prime candidate.
They had talked about shotguns there, his power hadn't developed as fully then, he hadn't been able to control matter as easily or to perceive it as clearly. He had not used a shotgun at the time, but it was there that he learned much of what he knows about firearms.
"These stupid maricones saw off the end, you see," his Lieutenant had told him once, while they surveyed what they had captured during their latest raid on Los Gulfos, "that way, you do not need to aim, you do not need to train your men, the spray is wider so it just hits everything in front of you. But you lose range, you lose all the accuracy. There is a reason that the military does not saw off their shotguns, and it's not because they're afraid people might get hurt by their guns."
A pump action semi-automatic shotgun, five round clip, he picks it up, tests the weight of it. Focuses on the rounds, five shots is plenty, it's excellent for a shotgun. If Raul has to use the shotgun then, he expects, it will only be in limited doses.
Or at least that's what he's hoping.
Men appearing out of bathrooms, no adherence to the rules of time and space, Raul takes a deep breath and looks out at the fantastically realistic vision that is represented by a window that he can feel every particle of its being, but he still cannot convince himself that it is real.
He takes the Mossberg SA-20 in his hand, feels the elements and the molecules, and when he reaches in to change them it is only to perfect the harmony of the design. Raul spends hours in his room, contemplating the shotgun and smoothing out every errant particle or crack.
They had talked about shotguns there, his power hadn't developed as fully then, he hadn't been able to control matter as easily or to perceive it as clearly. He had not used a shotgun at the time, but it was there that he learned much of what he knows about firearms.
"These stupid maricones saw off the end, you see," his Lieutenant had told him once, while they surveyed what they had captured during their latest raid on Los Gulfos, "that way, you do not need to aim, you do not need to train your men, the spray is wider so it just hits everything in front of you. But you lose range, you lose all the accuracy. There is a reason that the military does not saw off their shotguns, and it's not because they're afraid people might get hurt by their guns."
A pump action semi-automatic shotgun, five round clip, he picks it up, tests the weight of it. Focuses on the rounds, five shots is plenty, it's excellent for a shotgun. If Raul has to use the shotgun then, he expects, it will only be in limited doses.
Or at least that's what he's hoping.
Men appearing out of bathrooms, no adherence to the rules of time and space, Raul takes a deep breath and looks out at the fantastically realistic vision that is represented by a window that he can feel every particle of its being, but he still cannot convince himself that it is real.
He takes the Mossberg SA-20 in his hand, feels the elements and the molecules, and when he reaches in to change them it is only to perfect the harmony of the design. Raul spends hours in his room, contemplating the shotgun and smoothing out every errant particle or crack.
"Oh wow... Oh wow!"
The Monochrome-masked figure chomped down on another piece of toast, the masticated pulp disappearing through the animated face into god knows where.
"This. Is. So. Delicious! How can people form a civilization, or work, or do anything when they know that they could be eating toast instead?!"
Several other competitors at the cafeteria gave odd looks to the figure, either puzzling over the outburst or pointedly ignoring it. Chaos simply continued murmuring brief exclamations of joy between the bites, tears falling out of her empty eyes.
The Monochrome-masked figure chomped down on another piece of toast, the masticated pulp disappearing through the animated face into god knows where.
"This. Is. So. Delicious! How can people form a civilization, or work, or do anything when they know that they could be eating toast instead?!"
Several other competitors at the cafeteria gave odd looks to the figure, either puzzling over the outburst or pointedly ignoring it. Chaos simply continued murmuring brief exclamations of joy between the bites, tears falling out of her empty eyes.
Blaze Injun
Night Radio KYSE
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2005
- Messages
- 4,918
Hey,
Kill Girl Miyabi banged the candy apple against the side of the chairlift that crossed over the park. She bit into the apple, its juices escaping her mouth to run down her chin. The candy was good but the apple was the prize. Back home there wasn't any apples left. If there was one to find it would cost 100 times its weight in gold. She had two more wrapped up in her hip pouch.
"So you mean that Mr. North will provide weapons & equipment?" She said to the two legged robotic bunny mascot that she had caught following her around the park.
"Yes Ms. Miyabi." The bunny said looking up with its big blue watery eyes. "With in reason."
"You got to be kidding me." She said setting down her candy apple & grabbing the mascot by its long ears & holding it up to her face. "There was nothing in the invitation about that!"
"Sorry Ms Miyabi. But some fighters arrive without gear & are supplied with what they ask for."
She had spent most of the cloudless day getting to know the park. Not just the rides, games & water features but the behind the scenes workings. Knowing the terrian would be a great advantage if she had to run. It would be deadly for those that would follow her. Her photographic mind would see to that.
"You mean to tell me that I can scout my enemies & ask for gear?"
"Well, Ms Miyabi. I don't know if the rules would cover such a act." The mechanical bunny replied as it push on her hands to escape.
"What good are you then." She tossed the squirming robot bunny over the side. "And the name is Kill Girl Miyabi!"
Kill Girl Miyabi banged the candy apple against the side of the chairlift that crossed over the park. She bit into the apple, its juices escaping her mouth to run down her chin. The candy was good but the apple was the prize. Back home there wasn't any apples left. If there was one to find it would cost 100 times its weight in gold. She had two more wrapped up in her hip pouch.
"So you mean that Mr. North will provide weapons & equipment?" She said to the two legged robotic bunny mascot that she had caught following her around the park.
"Yes Ms. Miyabi." The bunny said looking up with its big blue watery eyes. "With in reason."
"You got to be kidding me." She said setting down her candy apple & grabbing the mascot by its long ears & holding it up to her face. "There was nothing in the invitation about that!"
"Sorry Ms Miyabi. But some fighters arrive without gear & are supplied with what they ask for."
She had spent most of the cloudless day getting to know the park. Not just the rides, games & water features but the behind the scenes workings. Knowing the terrian would be a great advantage if she had to run. It would be deadly for those that would follow her. Her photographic mind would see to that.
"You mean to tell me that I can scout my enemies & ask for gear?"
"Well, Ms Miyabi. I don't know if the rules would cover such a act." The mechanical bunny replied as it push on her hands to escape.
"What good are you then." She tossed the squirming robot bunny over the side. "And the name is Kill Girl Miyabi!"
Nylan
Characters Welcome
OOC: The writers are growing restless...
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
OOC: After he gets introduced.
I walk around, watching others as they walk buy.
I wondered if that time I swore to Jupiter to let me get hired into the new Factory caused me to sell my soul.
There is a pirate. Sure, he is holding a strange bulk behind his back and his clothes are of a strange cut, but the way he swaggers and handles himself reveals him. He might even have a light form of scurvy by the smell I caught while walking past him. He entered an apartment and seemed to vanish into one of the rooms. I did not see him later today, or what passes for a day in this place.
There was also a man sheathed in diamond and who was playing with his belt. How he got so rich is beyond me, but I bet he either defrauded an entire government or conquered himself a country in South Africa, or maybe india. He sure ran into his apartment real quick after watching a man fail to hit a stack of cans with a stone, who then tripped onto his face when he turned away in embarrassment.
One of the "Chair Lifts" was going over his head. I think I remember one of the managers telling me about them, they are sort of like clothes hangers, except they hang people and take them around this "park".
Suddenly, a small Bunny fell from the lift with the cry "The Name is Kill Girl Miyabi!" calling from the lift. The corrupted creature landed on its feet, and almost bounded away until I noticed that it was a metallic golem.
I caught it as only a poacher would know how, and as I squirmed, crying "Not Again!" I whispered, "hopefully I won't have to twist your neck like the rabbits I caught off Greenwich during Yuletide. I want to ask you to enlighten me "
"Of what?" it pleaded as it stopped stuggling.
"Everything. Feed me the apple of knowledge, for I wish to know all like God."
After all, when in hell...
I walk around, watching others as they walk buy.
I wondered if that time I swore to Jupiter to let me get hired into the new Factory caused me to sell my soul.
There is a pirate. Sure, he is holding a strange bulk behind his back and his clothes are of a strange cut, but the way he swaggers and handles himself reveals him. He might even have a light form of scurvy by the smell I caught while walking past him. He entered an apartment and seemed to vanish into one of the rooms. I did not see him later today, or what passes for a day in this place.
There was also a man sheathed in diamond and who was playing with his belt. How he got so rich is beyond me, but I bet he either defrauded an entire government or conquered himself a country in South Africa, or maybe india. He sure ran into his apartment real quick after watching a man fail to hit a stack of cans with a stone, who then tripped onto his face when he turned away in embarrassment.
One of the "Chair Lifts" was going over his head. I think I remember one of the managers telling me about them, they are sort of like clothes hangers, except they hang people and take them around this "park".
Suddenly, a small Bunny fell from the lift with the cry "The Name is Kill Girl Miyabi!" calling from the lift. The corrupted creature landed on its feet, and almost bounded away until I noticed that it was a metallic golem.
I caught it as only a poacher would know how, and as I squirmed, crying "Not Again!" I whispered, "hopefully I won't have to twist your neck like the rabbits I caught off Greenwich during Yuletide. I want to ask you to enlighten me "
"Of what?" it pleaded as it stopped stuggling.
"Everything. Feed me the apple of knowledge, for I wish to know all like God."
After all, when in hell...
Seon
Not An Evil Liar
Attention, everyone.
Chief Judge had prior commitments and will be unavailable until Monday.
Until then, please feel free to explore the Amusement park further.
This is Galla. She will be the maid assigned to take care of you. Say hello, Galla.
She is a shy one. Judge North out.
Chief Judge had prior commitments and will be unavailable until Monday.
Until then, please feel free to explore the Amusement park further.
So much pain...
This is Galla. She will be the maid assigned to take care of you. Say hello, Galla.
She is a shy one. Judge North out.
Optical
The Fall of the Eleventh
Antifelix the Unlucky
Huh? This wasn't Parkside Street...
...oh. That was right. There was always somebody ready to beat up on an unusually intelligent street urchin. Antifelix had more bruises and fractures than... um, any other street urchin. But where had his attackers taken him? It simply appeared to be a cell. Dank and empty, except for a bucket of water in one corner and an empty bucket, presumably for ablutions, in the opposite corner. Antifelix began to plan his escape. Maybe he was the most unfortunate kid in the whole country, but he'd get out. He always did.
The barred door opened slowly. Rather than the expected drone of 'Food. Eat', Antifelix was greeted with a cheery grin. A guard peered his way around the door. In an oddly bright voice, the guard called to him. 'Hey, kid!!'
'Yes?' Antifelix replied, rather more wearily and depressedly.
'Brighten up, kid!! Your day just got a whole lot luckier!!'
Something's odd about him, Antifelix mused. Maybe if I...
'Can you make yourself sound... normal?'
'Yer uncanny, kid. I can, in fact. The Big Boss just wanted me to be cheerful to anyone under the age of ten so I don't frighten them.'
'I'm thirteen. And six months, fourteen days, three hours, forty-four minutes and... thirty seconds.'
'Alright already! I play it safe. If I do anything to scare the contestants...'
Antifelix was indeed thirteen, but so small for his age he appeared only eight or nine. It wasthe reason everybodywent slack-jawed whenever he spoke. Other than that he appeared extremely ordinary, with a moppish head of black hair, an average-sized nose and green eyes. The eyes flashed as he thought again. Contestants? Interesting...
'You're not in England any more, kid. This is the Tournament.'
'Chess? Spelling? Football?'
You'd be lucky, kid. No, this is more the fighting type of tournament.'
'What, fencing?'
'If you like. If you can kill someone with one of those wires.'
Oh.
'You'd best come with me, kid. The Boss wants to talk to all the contestants. Your luck, Mr. Unfortunate, may have just changed.'
Huh? This wasn't Parkside Street...
...oh. That was right. There was always somebody ready to beat up on an unusually intelligent street urchin. Antifelix had more bruises and fractures than... um, any other street urchin. But where had his attackers taken him? It simply appeared to be a cell. Dank and empty, except for a bucket of water in one corner and an empty bucket, presumably for ablutions, in the opposite corner. Antifelix began to plan his escape. Maybe he was the most unfortunate kid in the whole country, but he'd get out. He always did.
The barred door opened slowly. Rather than the expected drone of 'Food. Eat', Antifelix was greeted with a cheery grin. A guard peered his way around the door. In an oddly bright voice, the guard called to him. 'Hey, kid!!'
'Yes?' Antifelix replied, rather more wearily and depressedly.
'Brighten up, kid!! Your day just got a whole lot luckier!!'
Something's odd about him, Antifelix mused. Maybe if I...
'Can you make yourself sound... normal?'
'Yer uncanny, kid. I can, in fact. The Big Boss just wanted me to be cheerful to anyone under the age of ten so I don't frighten them.'
'I'm thirteen. And six months, fourteen days, three hours, forty-four minutes and... thirty seconds.'
'Alright already! I play it safe. If I do anything to scare the contestants...'
Antifelix was indeed thirteen, but so small for his age he appeared only eight or nine. It wasthe reason everybodywent slack-jawed whenever he spoke. Other than that he appeared extremely ordinary, with a moppish head of black hair, an average-sized nose and green eyes. The eyes flashed as he thought again. Contestants? Interesting...
'You're not in England any more, kid. This is the Tournament.'
'Chess? Spelling? Football?'
You'd be lucky, kid. No, this is more the fighting type of tournament.'
'What, fencing?'
'If you like. If you can kill someone with one of those wires.'
Oh.
'You'd best come with me, kid. The Boss wants to talk to all the contestants. Your luck, Mr. Unfortunate, may have just changed.'
Nylan
Characters Welcome
It's da chimbley sweep!
SKILORD
Insurgent
OOC: I'm sorry, I really missed this character.
-
Raul put the Mossberg down finally, stepped back to the kitchen, opened the fridge and looked down at the chicken, broccoli, cabbage, carrots arrayed throughout it.
Ridiculous, he closes the door to the fridge and heads towards the door, at least there is decent food outside, fair food maybe, but Raul does not have the patience to prepare chicken, he had not seen rice or beans, there weren't any tomatoes.
Outside, Raul starts mingling with the spectators; they are a strange bunch, as diverse as the contestants. A giant slug reads the contestant overviews, all printed out from the application information, and while it piques Raul's interest he doesn't have it in him to actually approach the monstrosity.
Centaurs gallop towards the carousel where they take turns running against the rotation, giddy for the exercise.
Raul procures a chicken kabob from one of the vendors and as he takes his first bite and walks away he suddenly notices a windblown and dirt encrusted flyer, two pages from the contestant summaries. The first is for the Kill Girl and it described her home-dimension, a world of alien invasion. Miyabi had spent months working on her own inside a floating squid infested Tokyo before joining the Yankee Suns, a group of humans from Okinawa who were extremely adept at converting Alien technology to human use.
Odds for Betting were listed at the bottom of each page, for the Kill Girl, 3:1 odds on her.
On the other page there was a greased over picture of Raul himself. A genetic mutant with the power to transmute the substance of matter, formerly known as 'The Alchemist' and founder of the Mutant Inspirational Liberation Front, by far the most effective pro-Mutant militia in his dimension.
8:1 Odds on Raul.
His eyes bug out, what sort of competition had he stumbled upon, certainly he had gotten here by mistake but that didn't seem to make him that much of a wild card, 8:1 odds? Hadn't they read the story he had written out in such detail on his application? He was so epic, he didn't deserve those odds!
A man in almost Dickensian attire is conversing with a small rabbit. The conversation seems to have been going on for quite some time and it seemed to be more about the concerns of competitors than spectators, and so Raul asks them, "Can either of you help me find the rest of one of these pamphlets?" he holds up his two tattered dirty pages of odds and backstories.
-
Raul put the Mossberg down finally, stepped back to the kitchen, opened the fridge and looked down at the chicken, broccoli, cabbage, carrots arrayed throughout it.
Ridiculous, he closes the door to the fridge and heads towards the door, at least there is decent food outside, fair food maybe, but Raul does not have the patience to prepare chicken, he had not seen rice or beans, there weren't any tomatoes.
Outside, Raul starts mingling with the spectators; they are a strange bunch, as diverse as the contestants. A giant slug reads the contestant overviews, all printed out from the application information, and while it piques Raul's interest he doesn't have it in him to actually approach the monstrosity.
Centaurs gallop towards the carousel where they take turns running against the rotation, giddy for the exercise.
Raul procures a chicken kabob from one of the vendors and as he takes his first bite and walks away he suddenly notices a windblown and dirt encrusted flyer, two pages from the contestant summaries. The first is for the Kill Girl and it described her home-dimension, a world of alien invasion. Miyabi had spent months working on her own inside a floating squid infested Tokyo before joining the Yankee Suns, a group of humans from Okinawa who were extremely adept at converting Alien technology to human use.
Odds for Betting were listed at the bottom of each page, for the Kill Girl, 3:1 odds on her.
On the other page there was a greased over picture of Raul himself. A genetic mutant with the power to transmute the substance of matter, formerly known as 'The Alchemist' and founder of the Mutant Inspirational Liberation Front, by far the most effective pro-Mutant militia in his dimension.
8:1 Odds on Raul.
His eyes bug out, what sort of competition had he stumbled upon, certainly he had gotten here by mistake but that didn't seem to make him that much of a wild card, 8:1 odds? Hadn't they read the story he had written out in such detail on his application? He was so epic, he didn't deserve those odds!
A man in almost Dickensian attire is conversing with a small rabbit. The conversation seems to have been going on for quite some time and it seemed to be more about the concerns of competitors than spectators, and so Raul asks them, "Can either of you help me find the rest of one of these pamphlets?" he holds up his two tattered dirty pages of odds and backstories.
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
The Diamond Clad Man is back. I ignored the urge to rip off his cloak and run screaming like a maniac. Afterall, I haven't seen a pawn shop for the entire time I've been here. I turned away a bit as the Rabbit continued to describe the power of Cinnamon Buns on creatures called Andalites.
"So if you ever meet one of them, turn your eyes down and offer them a Cinnabon. They will be cautious, but once they taste it they will be under your control."
"Interesting" I replied, "so are there any Andalites in this competition?"
"Well, I know that there were a couple of choices... Aximili before the one go..."
The rabbit's information was interupted when the Diamond-Clad man, now hiding some sort of high-tech blunderbuss in a holster inside the overcoat, walked right beside the rabbit and asked, "Can either of you help me find the rest of one of these pamphets?" He held up two printed rags of the kind my children used to get hired passing around (after I have forbidden them from factory work). The man looked at me in the eye and explained, "They give a list and brief histories of at least some of the contestants. Have you seen more of them?"
I could not answer. Me? Talking to a man of such power? I didn't even study who he is yet! Then I noticed the flyer closer to me labeled, "Raul", stained with chicken grease. The man fit the description and was holding an half-eaten chicken kabob.
"Well Raul," I spoke carefully, for he is obviously another contestant, "They send out flyers from the Chair Lift every midnight. Berty here" I gestured the rabbit, "is very helping in deciphering them."
"Decipher?" asked Raul. An eyebrow went up as he quickly scanned his pamphlet again.
"Yup, I couldn't read some of them at first, it all has to do with how close the cultures are." I explained. Berty gave me a quick nod. "How about you join me tonight and we can decipher some of these flyers."
Inside, I laughed. I knew there was no flyer-launching chair-lift at midnight; all I need to know is given by Berty. However, watching his reaction can clue me in far more than the bland analysis the Rabbit can provide.
Afterall, according to the DM's Guide, a Baleful Polymorph can ruin an adventure. And he seems to be the type to turn someone into marble, after all.
"So if you ever meet one of them, turn your eyes down and offer them a Cinnabon. They will be cautious, but once they taste it they will be under your control."
"Interesting" I replied, "so are there any Andalites in this competition?"
"Well, I know that there were a couple of choices... Aximili before the one go..."
The rabbit's information was interupted when the Diamond-Clad man, now hiding some sort of high-tech blunderbuss in a holster inside the overcoat, walked right beside the rabbit and asked, "Can either of you help me find the rest of one of these pamphets?" He held up two printed rags of the kind my children used to get hired passing around (after I have forbidden them from factory work). The man looked at me in the eye and explained, "They give a list and brief histories of at least some of the contestants. Have you seen more of them?"
I could not answer. Me? Talking to a man of such power? I didn't even study who he is yet! Then I noticed the flyer closer to me labeled, "Raul", stained with chicken grease. The man fit the description and was holding an half-eaten chicken kabob.
"Well Raul," I spoke carefully, for he is obviously another contestant, "They send out flyers from the Chair Lift every midnight. Berty here" I gestured the rabbit, "is very helping in deciphering them."
"Decipher?" asked Raul. An eyebrow went up as he quickly scanned his pamphlet again.
"Yup, I couldn't read some of them at first, it all has to do with how close the cultures are." I explained. Berty gave me a quick nod. "How about you join me tonight and we can decipher some of these flyers."
Inside, I laughed. I knew there was no flyer-launching chair-lift at midnight; all I need to know is given by Berty. However, watching his reaction can clue me in far more than the bland analysis the Rabbit can provide.
Afterall, according to the DM's Guide, a Baleful Polymorph can ruin an adventure. And he seems to be the type to turn someone into marble, after all.
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