Re: The Glorious Championship! [S3G5] [Round One: The "Denny's"]
04-23-2011, 09:06 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MrGuy.
Eight entities of various shapes and sizes found themselves in an excessively gaudy study. The djinni who occupied it quickly snatched a stack of papers away from his green-hatted assistant, despite his mumbled protests, and floated away from the desk and towards the newcomers. “Welcome, one and all, to the Glorious Championship! For the record, you’ll all be fighting in a battle to the death for the next… however long it takes you to kill each other off, I suppose. It’s going to happen one way or another, so don’t give any ideas!” He leaned into the face of Cailean and gave a preposterously exaggerated wink, then began thumbing through the papers.
Upon pulling out the first sheet, he approached an athletic young man wearing army surplus clothes and a tool belt. “Our first contestant is Gabriel Farrell, no relation of course. He has the inimitable ability, to transform his hand into any power tool he so desires. I’m tempted to make some sort of drill-based pun or reference here, but I’ll spare you all.”
He proceeded to grab the floating gray sphere and spin it on his finger. “This right here is Lucky. It’s one of the last remnants of civilization from a universe that collapsed in on itself, so there’s a couple billion people aboard it. I would have kept it actual size, but that would hardly have been a fair fight for the rest of you.”
He turned to an armored man with his face stained permanently red. “This charming fellow is… um…” He narrowed his eyes to make out the fine print next to the name on the form. “Ahem. Cailean Lachlan. He’s a soldier with the blessing of the Goddess of Mercy, which will no doubt prove far less than helpful in this endeavor, as it causes him excruciating pain when he harms someone else except to put them out of their misery. Ooh, it even works for self-defense! That ought to be fun! “
He proceeded to twirl over towards a rather short girl. “This lovely lady is Elimine Fraze. In addition to having a weaponized trombone and psychic powers, she has a very special cat!” He proceeded to scratch the immobilized feline on the chin. “Who’s a special kitty? You are! Yes you are! You’re a very special kitty! Uh, anyway. The kitty can melt into shadows and things, and it’s got a very loud voice, so you’d better be on your guard.”
He next headed to a humanoid with a metal arm and a green labcoat. “This is Quantos, a cyborg and an experienced time traveler. It needs a lot of power, though, and his method of time travel is unstable enough that it might cause his parts to start malfunctioning!”
“Then we have this little collection of scrap name of AMP.” He thwacked a chunk of iron, suspended motionless in midair. “Nobody knows what his initial purpose was, not even him! Maybe he’ll find out. That’d be quite interesting. He picks up old junk like this with his built-in magnetic field, so I wouldn’t advise attacking him if you find your way into a junkyard.”
The Hedonist looked over the papers and onto the carpet, then floated over and snatched up a purple badge. “This thingamajig is The Convolution. As I understand, it’s a set of ideas that spread in order to influence cultural patterns in a way that ensures its survival. It’s… housed in this badge, but destroying the badge won’t kill it, apparently? I guess you’ll need to find a way to kill ideas. Like television, or hamhanded and oversimplified political commentary.”
He then tossed the badge to the ground and picked up a typewriter. “This is Etiyr. It’s a sentient typewriter. I hope that it can carry on the proud tradition of sentient appliances despite its handicap, namely the fact that it’s utterly immobile, but I’m sure one of you can tote it around!”
The djinni finally pulled one last wad of paper from the stack. Crumb walked over and reached out a hand to stop him. “Sir, that’s already eight contestants, and that’s not a valid form. I don’t know how it got in there.”
“Well, it is in here, so it must be a contestant.”
“Yes, but sir, generally speaking there’s only eight, and—“
“Don’t care.”
The man in the lime-green hat angrily unfolded part of the collection of scraps. “Look, part of it’s written on a bloody napkin, for—“
“Don’t care!” The Hedonist waved off his grumbling assistant, and adjusted the “form” before continuing. “Right, then. Our ninth contestant—“ With a snap of his fingers, the gigantic not-quite-a-centipede was in the room—“Can be referred to as Gaurinn, if you like. He naturally creates and potentially attacks with electricity, but he’ll probably cave in from a single well-placed thwack on the thorax.” The djinni finally cast all the forms aside and slammed his hands down on the desk. "Anyway! Since this is the first round, and you haven't had the chance to eat breakfast. Therefore, you're going to..." A drumroll promptly emanated from no visible source as The Hedonist grinned: "Denny's!" A picture of a perfectly ordinary breakfast franchise's exterior materialized before the players, and with a puff of multicolored smoke they were whisked away.
Crumb narrowed his eyes. "Sir, you do realize that isn't actually a restaurant, correct?"
The grinning djinni let out a massive laugh. "Of course I do! I even magnanimously donated a thirtieth of my breakfast for the day, so that they could still have something to eat. Mainly, I wanted the truth of their location to be a surprise."
The man in the lime-green hat thought for a moment, then sighed. "Sir, I rather suspect that most of the things that occur here will, if not surprise them, at least catch them off guard."
Eight entities of various shapes and sizes found themselves in an excessively gaudy study. The djinni who occupied it quickly snatched a stack of papers away from his green-hatted assistant, despite his mumbled protests, and floated away from the desk and towards the newcomers. “Welcome, one and all, to the Glorious Championship! For the record, you’ll all be fighting in a battle to the death for the next… however long it takes you to kill each other off, I suppose. It’s going to happen one way or another, so don’t give any ideas!” He leaned into the face of Cailean and gave a preposterously exaggerated wink, then began thumbing through the papers.
Upon pulling out the first sheet, he approached an athletic young man wearing army surplus clothes and a tool belt. “Our first contestant is Gabriel Farrell, no relation of course. He has the inimitable ability, to transform his hand into any power tool he so desires. I’m tempted to make some sort of drill-based pun or reference here, but I’ll spare you all.”
He proceeded to grab the floating gray sphere and spin it on his finger. “This right here is Lucky. It’s one of the last remnants of civilization from a universe that collapsed in on itself, so there’s a couple billion people aboard it. I would have kept it actual size, but that would hardly have been a fair fight for the rest of you.”
He turned to an armored man with his face stained permanently red. “This charming fellow is… um…” He narrowed his eyes to make out the fine print next to the name on the form. “Ahem. Cailean Lachlan. He’s a soldier with the blessing of the Goddess of Mercy, which will no doubt prove far less than helpful in this endeavor, as it causes him excruciating pain when he harms someone else except to put them out of their misery. Ooh, it even works for self-defense! That ought to be fun! “
He proceeded to twirl over towards a rather short girl. “This lovely lady is Elimine Fraze. In addition to having a weaponized trombone and psychic powers, she has a very special cat!” He proceeded to scratch the immobilized feline on the chin. “Who’s a special kitty? You are! Yes you are! You’re a very special kitty! Uh, anyway. The kitty can melt into shadows and things, and it’s got a very loud voice, so you’d better be on your guard.”
He next headed to a humanoid with a metal arm and a green labcoat. “This is Quantos, a cyborg and an experienced time traveler. It needs a lot of power, though, and his method of time travel is unstable enough that it might cause his parts to start malfunctioning!”
“Then we have this little collection of scrap name of AMP.” He thwacked a chunk of iron, suspended motionless in midair. “Nobody knows what his initial purpose was, not even him! Maybe he’ll find out. That’d be quite interesting. He picks up old junk like this with his built-in magnetic field, so I wouldn’t advise attacking him if you find your way into a junkyard.”
The Hedonist looked over the papers and onto the carpet, then floated over and snatched up a purple badge. “This thingamajig is The Convolution. As I understand, it’s a set of ideas that spread in order to influence cultural patterns in a way that ensures its survival. It’s… housed in this badge, but destroying the badge won’t kill it, apparently? I guess you’ll need to find a way to kill ideas. Like television, or hamhanded and oversimplified political commentary.”
He then tossed the badge to the ground and picked up a typewriter. “This is Etiyr. It’s a sentient typewriter. I hope that it can carry on the proud tradition of sentient appliances despite its handicap, namely the fact that it’s utterly immobile, but I’m sure one of you can tote it around!”
The djinni finally pulled one last wad of paper from the stack. Crumb walked over and reached out a hand to stop him. “Sir, that’s already eight contestants, and that’s not a valid form. I don’t know how it got in there.”
“Well, it is in here, so it must be a contestant.”
“Yes, but sir, generally speaking there’s only eight, and—“
“Don’t care.”
The man in the lime-green hat angrily unfolded part of the collection of scraps. “Look, part of it’s written on a bloody napkin, for—“
“Don’t care!” The Hedonist waved off his grumbling assistant, and adjusted the “form” before continuing. “Right, then. Our ninth contestant—“ With a snap of his fingers, the gigantic not-quite-a-centipede was in the room—“Can be referred to as Gaurinn, if you like. He naturally creates and potentially attacks with electricity, but he’ll probably cave in from a single well-placed thwack on the thorax.” The djinni finally cast all the forms aside and slammed his hands down on the desk. "Anyway! Since this is the first round, and you haven't had the chance to eat breakfast. Therefore, you're going to..." A drumroll promptly emanated from no visible source as The Hedonist grinned: "Denny's!" A picture of a perfectly ordinary breakfast franchise's exterior materialized before the players, and with a puff of multicolored smoke they were whisked away.
Crumb narrowed his eyes. "Sir, you do realize that isn't actually a restaurant, correct?"
The grinning djinni let out a massive laugh. "Of course I do! I even magnanimously donated a thirtieth of my breakfast for the day, so that they could still have something to eat. Mainly, I wanted the truth of their location to be a surprise."
The man in the lime-green hat thought for a moment, then sighed. "Sir, I rather suspect that most of the things that occur here will, if not surprise them, at least catch them off guard."
Spoiler