Petty Squabble [ROUND 3] [Goldhenge]

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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Upon spotting Parsley, John Smith took a sudden turn to the left and ducked into a nearby room. Parsley followed, and saw the madman grinning at him as he entered.

"There's blood on your shoes," Parsley noted. "I suppose the demon's cast you as the culprit for whatever's been going on, hmm?"

"Stha. Elisgo muatri vanarsu, Lieri Krose?"

Parsley almost blinked.

"Chnaska triatzu halarku, Smith. Either you want me to know what you are, or you slipped up."

"Alnathua stro kanitza? Latheen esquatsi," Smith replied. There was a sudden sarcastic edge to his voice.

"I'm no novice, demon. You're speaking my native tongue. Not the language of this land."

Smith smirked.

"But what if that's an illusion?" he said calmly, switching languages. "Perhaps the demon made you hear it that way."

"Then he'd have to be close by," Parsley replied, reaching for his crossbow. "Y'see, I understand that demons can speak any language by checking the mind of whoever they're talking to. But there's a funny thing about that... when they don't know the language too well, they just copy pronunciation and such from the mind they're reading."

He grinned and fired a bolt of bread. It struck Smith in the lower torso; the breadstick crumbled upon hitting his metal suit, but it struck with enough force to make Smith flinch.

"When I was a young boy, my parents insisted I learn the proper way to pronounce stha. I shouldn't speak like a commoner, they always said," Parsley continued. He pulled another bolt out of his coat and loaded it into the crossbow.

Smith instinctively reached for his pistol, then paused. That would be too easy. Especially when this demon hunter's delusions offered such interesting opportunities.

"Well, you've figured me out," he replied with a smirk. "Yes, Parsley Krose, I'm the demon you're hunting. So, tell me; how do you like this world?"

"It's creative enough, I'll grant you that, but I prefer the real world," Parsley said. He reached into his coat and drew his blessed dagger. "I don't suppose you could see your way to bringing us back there?"

"Not really, no," Smith said absentmindedly. "The fun's just beginning, after all."

Parsley said nothing. He fired another bolt of bread, and ran towards Smith.