Re: Mini-Grand 5104 (Round 1: Parliament)
06-26-2011, 06:59 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
Minister Rathys Trelborg, representative of the people of the garden city of Maltrae, was sitting in the break room; an open plan area designed to accommodate all the different races of the Allied Lands. In the particular corner in which he sat a skylight filled the area with delicious sunlight, and the ground beneath him was a particularly tasty mulch, through which he lazily flexed his roots.
He liked to believe that this section of the break room had been constructed just for him; in fact it was technically true. He was the only brecchian Minister, which made sense because most brecchians opted to live in Maltrae; it was pretty much the only city specifically designed for them. Happy in his solitude, he sat back and relaxed, closing his optical buds and bathing in the sunlight.
In the distance he could hear the hectic splashing of the many yahlang ministers, taking a refreshing dip in their pool, and the constant low-pitched buzzing of the golem ministers charging themselves up with fresh ether. He could also faintly hear a couple of human ministers, chattering on with one another, acting like they were the most important race, when in reality they had less than ten seats on the Council.
There was the creak of a door opening; “Minister Rathys?” An unmistakably irkoan voice asked. There was silence and the Irkoa repeated itself. After a couple of iterations, there was a loud sigh and the sound of a many limbed creature making its way across the wood floor.
“Minster Rathys.” The irkoa said, unmistakably closer. Rathys opened his eyes and looked around confused, searching for this Minister who the betentacled creature was talking about.
“Sorry.” He vocalized. “He isn’t here.” The irkoa frowned, or at least as much as you could frown without a face.
“I do not have time to engage in the concept you refer to as humour.” The irkoa said. “There is a brecchian who wishes to make a complaint, and I have been instructed to find you.”
“What’s that got to do with me?” Rathys asked. The scene continued to play out with the inevitability that you would expect to find when a being with no concept of his own identity comes across a being that has no emotion or interest beyond completing its current task. In the end the irkoa reached out and grabbed the mass of shrubbery that made up the brecchian’s body and hauled him bodily out of the room to where he was expected.
Beneath the bench where he was sat a small black blob idly prodded at the soil upon which it sat, wondering, not for the first time in the last couple of minutes, what exactly was going on.
Minister Rathys Trelborg, representative of the people of the garden city of Maltrae, was sitting in the break room; an open plan area designed to accommodate all the different races of the Allied Lands. In the particular corner in which he sat a skylight filled the area with delicious sunlight, and the ground beneath him was a particularly tasty mulch, through which he lazily flexed his roots.
He liked to believe that this section of the break room had been constructed just for him; in fact it was technically true. He was the only brecchian Minister, which made sense because most brecchians opted to live in Maltrae; it was pretty much the only city specifically designed for them. Happy in his solitude, he sat back and relaxed, closing his optical buds and bathing in the sunlight.
In the distance he could hear the hectic splashing of the many yahlang ministers, taking a refreshing dip in their pool, and the constant low-pitched buzzing of the golem ministers charging themselves up with fresh ether. He could also faintly hear a couple of human ministers, chattering on with one another, acting like they were the most important race, when in reality they had less than ten seats on the Council.
There was the creak of a door opening; “Minister Rathys?” An unmistakably irkoan voice asked. There was silence and the Irkoa repeated itself. After a couple of iterations, there was a loud sigh and the sound of a many limbed creature making its way across the wood floor.
“Minster Rathys.” The irkoa said, unmistakably closer. Rathys opened his eyes and looked around confused, searching for this Minister who the betentacled creature was talking about.
“Sorry.” He vocalized. “He isn’t here.” The irkoa frowned, or at least as much as you could frown without a face.
“I do not have time to engage in the concept you refer to as humour.” The irkoa said. “There is a brecchian who wishes to make a complaint, and I have been instructed to find you.”
“What’s that got to do with me?” Rathys asked. The scene continued to play out with the inevitability that you would expect to find when a being with no concept of his own identity comes across a being that has no emotion or interest beyond completing its current task. In the end the irkoa reached out and grabbed the mass of shrubbery that made up the brecchian’s body and hauled him bodily out of the room to where he was expected.
Beneath the bench where he was sat a small black blob idly prodded at the soil upon which it sat, wondering, not for the first time in the last couple of minutes, what exactly was going on.
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