RE: The Opulent Quarrel [JOIN OUR IMPENDING DISASTER]
12-25-2015, 02:20 AM
“What do you think?” Tiff asked, a smug self-satisfied grin plastered across her face. The ten chosen battlers (and one who had been dragged along for the ride) stood immobile in the traditional rough circle in the Endless Black Void room.
“For a start it appears you have forgotten how to count.” The Sophisticate said. “Or perhaps I overestimated your familiarity with Grand Battle custom; there should be eight combatants.”
“Okay, yeah. I admit I might have gotten a little carried away. But it’s not like there isn’t precedent." Tiff replied dismissively. "Whatevs, look, what do you think?”
The Sophisticate begrudgingly put his distaste over the non-standard battle size to one side and focused instead on his distaste for Tiff’s choices. “I hate them.” He said. “There’s far too many girls. What do you expect them to do? Gossip one another to death? If I didn’t know better I’d have thought you were organizing a Grand Bakesale, not a battle.”
“I see how this is.” Tiff said. “You’re feeling intimidated. You know you can’t handle all these powerful ladies ready to wreck your shit.”
“I am not!” The Sophisticate snapped. “And they could not. I’ll have you know I’m more than capable of babysitting these ladies under the pretence of a battle.”
“Excellent.” Tiff grinned. “I knew I could count on you bro.”
The Sophisticate grumbled a little for a moment before begrudgingly accepting this circumstance. “Fine,” he said. “I'm sure would absolutely love to make the acquaintance of these lovely ladies, if you’d like to do the honour of introducing us.”
“No way, thats not my job.” Tiff replied. “This is your battle bro. I’m not here to steal your thunder, so to speak.”
“Of course.” The Sophisticate rolled his eyes. “I'm sure you’d never dream of such a thing... There is a problem however that since you deigned to choose every single one of my combatants I do not know enough about them to do the introductions.”
“Yeah I thought of that.” Tiff produced a small stack of notecards from somewhere and handed them over to The Sophisticate. “Your big sis is always looking out for you.”
Skeptically The Sophisticate took a glance down at the top card, which read ‘knock em dead bro’ and when he looked back up he found himself rather abruptly in the middle of the battlers. “Thanks Tiff.” He muttered under his breath. “Real helpful.”
“Good evening ladies, and welcome to the Opulent Quarrel.” He said this with as much charm as he could muster, which was not much in first place and was running ever lower with his increasing irritation. “You’re probably curious as to what is happening right now, well allow me to enlighten you. I am The Sophisticate; a being of astounding power, power beyond that anything your primitive minds might be capable of understanding.” He looked around the group savouring the looks of horror (real or imagined) upon his contestants’ faces.
“But do not fret too much. I do not seek to do harm to you personally. I simply ask you to combat one another over seven perilous rounds,” he hesitated, “maybe more than seven perilous rounds until one of you stands triumphant, the sole survivor of this battle. Maybe I will even elect to grant you some sort of reward for your troubles.”
“Before we start though it is customary to tell you a little about your competitors.” He said. He looked down at the notecards, flipping to the second in the pile. He read ‘Lady Wilhelmina Pell; cool fairy hunter’. He read it again and then turned it over to see if there was more on the other side. There was not. “Of course.” he muttered under his breath.
“So, um, first up is Lady Wilhelmina Pell.” He said, hopefully scanning the faces of the combatants hoping to glimpse some twitch that might have indicated ownership of that name. “She is, one of you, and she is a fairy hunter. I guess she... hunts... fairies. That doesn’t sound particularly challenging. She’s probably a pushover... Okay, great, next contestant.”
The next card said: ‘Wren: super strong she beats up demons with just her fists; she’d snap you in half bro’. He muttered an obscenity under his breath and glanced around the battlers again, only to find they were all suddenly wearing nametags. He scanned the group until he spotted her; a tall and muscular lady in an olive coat, with a wooden pipe protruding from her mouth. “This is Wren.” he said. “She’s a demon hunter; a little more impressive than a fairy hunter I think you will agree. She’s um, really quite strong. Her weapon of choice, her own fists.”
Card three: ‘Damse: seriously really strong bro, you don’t even know.’
“Next up is Damse…” He repeated her name a couple of times while glancing around the circle, trying to work out how to pronounce it. Finally he spotted her and stopped short in awe of her beauty. “Good evening m'lady.” He said smoothly, or as close as he ever got. “It is a shame that a damsel as fair as yourself should be brought into this conflict. Alas I am afraid I cannot intervene or I'd risk the integrity of my own Grandmastership, but know that I am rooting you my dear.”
After that, with no information given to the rest of the group, he glanced back to Tiff’s cards. ‘Gunzelurge: cool train robot holy shit she’s so strong’. “Come on Tiff give me something to work with here.” He muttered.
Regardless of the sparsity of information Gunzelurge was easy to identify. She was the nine foot tall robot that looked like an old fashioned steam train come to life. She was really intimidating, in a way that even The Sophisticate couldn’t really deny, though he most certainly would try. “This is Gunzelurge. She’s very clearly very strong.” This last remark was rather pointed. “I don't know about you ladies but I definitely don’t need someone to inform me of just how strong she is.”
Card five: ‘Georgia Kyuume-chan Sakura: she’s cute, at least ten times smarter than you are and she drives a twenty foot mech like a pro’. The Sophisticate’s eyes lit up at the prospect and he glanced around trying to spot the twenty foot tall mech that had somehow alluded him until now. Then checked the back of the card ‘There wasn’t enough room in the Endless Black Void room. Sorry’s parked up in Round One, ready and raring to go when you finally finish these introductions.’
“You’re the mech pilot?” The Sophisticate asked incredulously. He regarded Georgia: a pink furred catgirl in a unflattering hoodie and jeans, and glanced over at the androgynous teen in a mech harness. “Surely there’s been some kind of mistake.” Even The Sophisticate couldn’t miss the indignation in Georgia’s eyes. “Well,” he tried to brush past it, “someone is a very skilled mech pilot with a twenty foot tall battle mech just waiting for them in the first round.” A slight pause, an awkward cough and back to the notecards.
‘Cassandra Devin: cool hardboiled private detective and prophet. notes: not as strong as everyone else but you gotta have a little variety’
"This is Cassandra Devin." The Sophisticate indicated the lady dressed in the traditional noir detective's trenchcoat. "As you might presume from the getup she's a private eye, what you wouldn't guess is that she's also a prophet. Either way it remains to be seen how useful her investigative powers will be in a combat situation."
He went move on and then doubled back. "Actually I've got a fedora that'd go really well with that trenchcoat, so um, could you try not to get any blood on it when you die." Pause. "If you die I mean, my apologies."
Card seven: ‘Des La Ryuuje: they’re a mech pilot too. fighting mechs bro, this is gonna be so rad.’ “They?” The Sophisticate asked out loud. “I’m pretty sure there’s only one of them.” The card quickly updated to indicate that they was the pronoun they preferred because they were non-binary. “What is this SJW shit?” he muttered, but received no further response.
“This is Des La Ryuuje.” He said, probably pronouncing it wrong but not caring enough to try to get it right. “Its a mech pilot.”
“THEY ARE NOT AN IT.” Bellowed a voice from somewhere beyond the infinite black void. “GET IT RIGHT OR I’LL BEAT YOU UP IN FRONT OF YOUR BATTLERS.”
The Sophisticate laughed nervously. “I think I must have left the TV on in the other room.” He said unconvincingly. “What I meant to say is that ‘they’” he spoke the pronoun as though holding it at arm’s length, “are a mech pilot. Their mech is probably waiting for them in the next round too I guess.” He took a slight moment just to make sure Tiff didn’t have anything to add before moving on to the next battler.
The next card read: ‘Völsung: holy shit she has the soul of a dragon wow’. Völsung it turned out was the cute pink-haired short girl in very fancy robes. “This is Völsung, she has the soul of a dragon and,” he took a guess, “the magic to match. She’s also probably very strong.”
The Sophisticate’s gaze was drawn to the beautiful girl standing next to her, whose nametag just read ‘???’. He made a face of puzzlement and glanced down to Tiff’s notecards. At the bottom of the pile he saw one that said ‘???: no idea, she seems sort of attached to the cool dragon lady, maybe they’re dating?’ He laughed bitterly and looked back up. The mystery lady had long amber hair and that kind of otherworldly beauty some would describe as elfin.
“This girl is…” he paused for a second but quickly recovered, “A secret. You’ll just have to wait and see her in action!” The Sophisticate allowed himself a small smile, he felt he’d navigated that one pretty well, he hoped she would live up to the hype he’d given her.
Card nine: 'Gurska Karr: badass taurus merc from space. she strong.' Tiff had underlined the last sentence a couple of times and added a couple of excited exclaimation marks at the end. Gurska was easy to identify, not only because of the dwindling number of unidentified combatants, but also the fact that she was an enormous minotaur lady, taller even than Gunzelurge. The Sophisticate's gaze was immediately drawn to the massive autocannon she carried. "This is Gurska Karr, a space minotaur merc, and she's already my favourite."
Finally he’d got to the final notecard: ‘Alex ‘Hotshot’ Alameda: a bound djinn spirit she’s so cool do you even have any idea what you’re looking at bro. The Sophisticate looked at Alex; a metallic humanoid shape with a gasmask for a face and fire burning behind through the eyeholes and concluded that no he probably did not. “This is Alex, she’s a bound djinn spirit. She’s-” he didn’t know where he was going with the rest of that thought, but luckily he was distracted by the sight of the last woman left unidentified.
“Oh I guess this must be the fairy hunter, by process of elimination.” He looked at Will, mainly focusing on the heavy bruising on her neck and arms, and the blank pearls where her eyes should be. “I gotta say you’re looking really the worse for wear, and if that’s just from fighting fairies. I think I have a pretty good idea who our round one elimination’s gonna be...”
“Anyway I guess that’s the pleasantries over with.” The Sophisticate smiled. “Time to get to the real meat of the matter. The way this works is that I’ll put you all somewhere fun and exciting and potentially really really dangerous, and you’ll stay there until one of you dies, then we move on and do that again and again until only one contestant remains.”
“Our first round-” As he said this the endless black void was suddenly replaced by an imposing gothic looking building, enormous and drab and ringed by equally high fences. The Sophisticate looked a little taken aback for a moment, before giving a short cough and continuing: “Our first round is Mademoiselle Primfel’s Academie for Young and Emaciated Girls.” He looked a little awkward as he continued: “It’s the finest finishing school for young ladies on this side of the multiverse. Mademoiselle Primfel guarantees to turn even the most delinquent of girls into a well behaved well mannered young lady, and she hates to be proven wrong.” He hesitated. “I’d say have fun, but that’s almost definitely against the rules.”
With that the contestants were scattered across the grounds of Mademoiselle Primfel’s, and The Sophisticate returned to his own private pocket dimension to find Tiffany relaxing with her feet up on the coffee table.
“You didn’t do too bad, bro.” She said with a sort of begrudging approval.
“And I suppose I must admit that your choices aren’t completely terrible.” He said, clearly irritated with this fact. He paused for a moment. “I’m a little surprised by your round choice. I would have thought you’d never want to see that place again.”
“Nah bro, I thought you knew about battles.” Tiff said. “Anywhere you put all your battlers down is a place just waiting to get majorly fucked, and I can’t wait till that damn school is burning to the ground.”
“For a start it appears you have forgotten how to count.” The Sophisticate said. “Or perhaps I overestimated your familiarity with Grand Battle custom; there should be eight combatants.”
“Okay, yeah. I admit I might have gotten a little carried away. But it’s not like there isn’t precedent." Tiff replied dismissively. "Whatevs, look, what do you think?”
The Sophisticate begrudgingly put his distaste over the non-standard battle size to one side and focused instead on his distaste for Tiff’s choices. “I hate them.” He said. “There’s far too many girls. What do you expect them to do? Gossip one another to death? If I didn’t know better I’d have thought you were organizing a Grand Bakesale, not a battle.”
“I see how this is.” Tiff said. “You’re feeling intimidated. You know you can’t handle all these powerful ladies ready to wreck your shit.”
“I am not!” The Sophisticate snapped. “And they could not. I’ll have you know I’m more than capable of babysitting these ladies under the pretence of a battle.”
“Excellent.” Tiff grinned. “I knew I could count on you bro.”
The Sophisticate grumbled a little for a moment before begrudgingly accepting this circumstance. “Fine,” he said. “I'm sure would absolutely love to make the acquaintance of these lovely ladies, if you’d like to do the honour of introducing us.”
“No way, thats not my job.” Tiff replied. “This is your battle bro. I’m not here to steal your thunder, so to speak.”
“Of course.” The Sophisticate rolled his eyes. “I'm sure you’d never dream of such a thing... There is a problem however that since you deigned to choose every single one of my combatants I do not know enough about them to do the introductions.”
“Yeah I thought of that.” Tiff produced a small stack of notecards from somewhere and handed them over to The Sophisticate. “Your big sis is always looking out for you.”
Skeptically The Sophisticate took a glance down at the top card, which read ‘knock em dead bro’ and when he looked back up he found himself rather abruptly in the middle of the battlers. “Thanks Tiff.” He muttered under his breath. “Real helpful.”
“Good evening ladies, and welcome to the Opulent Quarrel.” He said this with as much charm as he could muster, which was not much in first place and was running ever lower with his increasing irritation. “You’re probably curious as to what is happening right now, well allow me to enlighten you. I am The Sophisticate; a being of astounding power, power beyond that anything your primitive minds might be capable of understanding.” He looked around the group savouring the looks of horror (real or imagined) upon his contestants’ faces.
“But do not fret too much. I do not seek to do harm to you personally. I simply ask you to combat one another over seven perilous rounds,” he hesitated, “maybe more than seven perilous rounds until one of you stands triumphant, the sole survivor of this battle. Maybe I will even elect to grant you some sort of reward for your troubles.”
“Before we start though it is customary to tell you a little about your competitors.” He said. He looked down at the notecards, flipping to the second in the pile. He read ‘Lady Wilhelmina Pell; cool fairy hunter’. He read it again and then turned it over to see if there was more on the other side. There was not. “Of course.” he muttered under his breath.
“So, um, first up is Lady Wilhelmina Pell.” He said, hopefully scanning the faces of the combatants hoping to glimpse some twitch that might have indicated ownership of that name. “She is, one of you, and she is a fairy hunter. I guess she... hunts... fairies. That doesn’t sound particularly challenging. She’s probably a pushover... Okay, great, next contestant.”
The next card said: ‘Wren: super strong she beats up demons with just her fists; she’d snap you in half bro’. He muttered an obscenity under his breath and glanced around the battlers again, only to find they were all suddenly wearing nametags. He scanned the group until he spotted her; a tall and muscular lady in an olive coat, with a wooden pipe protruding from her mouth. “This is Wren.” he said. “She’s a demon hunter; a little more impressive than a fairy hunter I think you will agree. She’s um, really quite strong. Her weapon of choice, her own fists.”
Card three: ‘Damse: seriously really strong bro, you don’t even know.’
“Next up is Damse…” He repeated her name a couple of times while glancing around the circle, trying to work out how to pronounce it. Finally he spotted her and stopped short in awe of her beauty. “Good evening m'lady.” He said smoothly, or as close as he ever got. “It is a shame that a damsel as fair as yourself should be brought into this conflict. Alas I am afraid I cannot intervene or I'd risk the integrity of my own Grandmastership, but know that I am rooting you my dear.”
After that, with no information given to the rest of the group, he glanced back to Tiff’s cards. ‘Gunzelurge: cool train robot holy shit she’s so strong’. “Come on Tiff give me something to work with here.” He muttered.
Regardless of the sparsity of information Gunzelurge was easy to identify. She was the nine foot tall robot that looked like an old fashioned steam train come to life. She was really intimidating, in a way that even The Sophisticate couldn’t really deny, though he most certainly would try. “This is Gunzelurge. She’s very clearly very strong.” This last remark was rather pointed. “I don't know about you ladies but I definitely don’t need someone to inform me of just how strong she is.”
Card five: ‘Georgia Kyuume-chan Sakura: she’s cute, at least ten times smarter than you are and she drives a twenty foot mech like a pro’. The Sophisticate’s eyes lit up at the prospect and he glanced around trying to spot the twenty foot tall mech that had somehow alluded him until now. Then checked the back of the card ‘There wasn’t enough room in the Endless Black Void room. Sorry’s parked up in Round One, ready and raring to go when you finally finish these introductions.’
“You’re the mech pilot?” The Sophisticate asked incredulously. He regarded Georgia: a pink furred catgirl in a unflattering hoodie and jeans, and glanced over at the androgynous teen in a mech harness. “Surely there’s been some kind of mistake.” Even The Sophisticate couldn’t miss the indignation in Georgia’s eyes. “Well,” he tried to brush past it, “someone is a very skilled mech pilot with a twenty foot tall battle mech just waiting for them in the first round.” A slight pause, an awkward cough and back to the notecards.
‘Cassandra Devin: cool hardboiled private detective and prophet. notes: not as strong as everyone else but you gotta have a little variety’
"This is Cassandra Devin." The Sophisticate indicated the lady dressed in the traditional noir detective's trenchcoat. "As you might presume from the getup she's a private eye, what you wouldn't guess is that she's also a prophet. Either way it remains to be seen how useful her investigative powers will be in a combat situation."
He went move on and then doubled back. "Actually I've got a fedora that'd go really well with that trenchcoat, so um, could you try not to get any blood on it when you die." Pause. "If you die I mean, my apologies."
Card seven: ‘Des La Ryuuje: they’re a mech pilot too. fighting mechs bro, this is gonna be so rad.’ “They?” The Sophisticate asked out loud. “I’m pretty sure there’s only one of them.” The card quickly updated to indicate that they was the pronoun they preferred because they were non-binary. “What is this SJW shit?” he muttered, but received no further response.
“This is Des La Ryuuje.” He said, probably pronouncing it wrong but not caring enough to try to get it right. “Its a mech pilot.”
“THEY ARE NOT AN IT.” Bellowed a voice from somewhere beyond the infinite black void. “GET IT RIGHT OR I’LL BEAT YOU UP IN FRONT OF YOUR BATTLERS.”
The Sophisticate laughed nervously. “I think I must have left the TV on in the other room.” He said unconvincingly. “What I meant to say is that ‘they’” he spoke the pronoun as though holding it at arm’s length, “are a mech pilot. Their mech is probably waiting for them in the next round too I guess.” He took a slight moment just to make sure Tiff didn’t have anything to add before moving on to the next battler.
The next card read: ‘Völsung: holy shit she has the soul of a dragon wow’. Völsung it turned out was the cute pink-haired short girl in very fancy robes. “This is Völsung, she has the soul of a dragon and,” he took a guess, “the magic to match. She’s also probably very strong.”
The Sophisticate’s gaze was drawn to the beautiful girl standing next to her, whose nametag just read ‘???’. He made a face of puzzlement and glanced down to Tiff’s notecards. At the bottom of the pile he saw one that said ‘???: no idea, she seems sort of attached to the cool dragon lady, maybe they’re dating?’ He laughed bitterly and looked back up. The mystery lady had long amber hair and that kind of otherworldly beauty some would describe as elfin.
“This girl is…” he paused for a second but quickly recovered, “A secret. You’ll just have to wait and see her in action!” The Sophisticate allowed himself a small smile, he felt he’d navigated that one pretty well, he hoped she would live up to the hype he’d given her.
Card nine: 'Gurska Karr: badass taurus merc from space. she strong.' Tiff had underlined the last sentence a couple of times and added a couple of excited exclaimation marks at the end. Gurska was easy to identify, not only because of the dwindling number of unidentified combatants, but also the fact that she was an enormous minotaur lady, taller even than Gunzelurge. The Sophisticate's gaze was immediately drawn to the massive autocannon she carried. "This is Gurska Karr, a space minotaur merc, and she's already my favourite."
Finally he’d got to the final notecard: ‘Alex ‘Hotshot’ Alameda: a bound djinn spirit she’s so cool do you even have any idea what you’re looking at bro. The Sophisticate looked at Alex; a metallic humanoid shape with a gasmask for a face and fire burning behind through the eyeholes and concluded that no he probably did not. “This is Alex, she’s a bound djinn spirit. She’s-” he didn’t know where he was going with the rest of that thought, but luckily he was distracted by the sight of the last woman left unidentified.
“Oh I guess this must be the fairy hunter, by process of elimination.” He looked at Will, mainly focusing on the heavy bruising on her neck and arms, and the blank pearls where her eyes should be. “I gotta say you’re looking really the worse for wear, and if that’s just from fighting fairies. I think I have a pretty good idea who our round one elimination’s gonna be...”
“Anyway I guess that’s the pleasantries over with.” The Sophisticate smiled. “Time to get to the real meat of the matter. The way this works is that I’ll put you all somewhere fun and exciting and potentially really really dangerous, and you’ll stay there until one of you dies, then we move on and do that again and again until only one contestant remains.”
“Our first round-” As he said this the endless black void was suddenly replaced by an imposing gothic looking building, enormous and drab and ringed by equally high fences. The Sophisticate looked a little taken aback for a moment, before giving a short cough and continuing: “Our first round is Mademoiselle Primfel’s Academie for Young and Emaciated Girls.” He looked a little awkward as he continued: “It’s the finest finishing school for young ladies on this side of the multiverse. Mademoiselle Primfel guarantees to turn even the most delinquent of girls into a well behaved well mannered young lady, and she hates to be proven wrong.” He hesitated. “I’d say have fun, but that’s almost definitely against the rules.”
With that the contestants were scattered across the grounds of Mademoiselle Primfel’s, and The Sophisticate returned to his own private pocket dimension to find Tiffany relaxing with her feet up on the coffee table.
“You didn’t do too bad, bro.” She said with a sort of begrudging approval.
“And I suppose I must admit that your choices aren’t completely terrible.” He said, clearly irritated with this fact. He paused for a moment. “I’m a little surprised by your round choice. I would have thought you’d never want to see that place again.”
“Nah bro, I thought you knew about battles.” Tiff said. “Anywhere you put all your battlers down is a place just waiting to get majorly fucked, and I can’t wait till that damn school is burning to the ground.”
Heaven Help Us | Make Room!!!! | I'm Not Okay (I Promise)
Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You
Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You