Re: Mini-Grand 5104 (Final Round: The Treasury)
08-29-2011, 07:14 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
Her name was Helen. After the distressing events of the previous round (did Hector kill that guy by sending giant gray quadrupeds after him? Probably), Hector’s sex drive went through only a brief transitory period before settling on her as an equally acceptable object of desire. She was perfectly beautiful, in a more subtle way than Jastra, but more rewarding as well.
Not that I’ll ever get to the, er, reward, thought Hector grimly, the way my luck’s been going.
“Here,” he said curtly, handing her the white ball of fluff that seemed to be in his hands now. He was still trying to figure out the aesthetics of these things, but was reasonably certain that this thing was adorable.
His suspicions were confirmed when he became certain that Helen’s squeal was one of glee, rather than abject terror. ”Awwwww, I’ve always wanted a chinchilla!” ”Chinchilla” struck Hector as a truly ridiculous word, but he filed it with the other new words he had learned. ”His name is Anarchy Omega,” Helen declared.
Hector had heard an awful lot of unoriginal pop songs complimenting women on “the way [they] move[d].” He had always assumed this was strictly a dance-floor thing, and wondered why the songwriters didn’t simply say “dance” instead, which seemed to him to be more to the point.
Helen, however, had a way of… moving. Every moment she wasn’t standing perfectly still (which was never; she was fidgety) was delightful in its own personal way. He wondered if this was what love felt like. Also, “Anarchy Omega” was an absolutely sublime name for a chinchilla. ”I should have brought Praetorian,” Helen cooed, clutching Anarchy Omega to her breast. ”Praetorian and Anarchy Omega would surely be the best of friends.”
Hector didn’t respond to any of that, confident that he didn’t really have to. He was under the impression that he was of more symbolic than personal value to Helen, anyway.
Or maybe she just needed him to get past the guards. There were two of them approaching, and though they were just as fluffy as Anarchy Omega where not covered in armor, they were decidedly less adorable.
“Mistress Helen!” said the darker-looking one. “Cease this foolishness! You must not leave the facility!”
”Mustn’t I?” Helen sneered at the guards. ”Hector, this is Panthar and Tigar. They’ve been helping to keep me in here for years. Make them stop.”
”I don’t know what lies you filled her head with,” growled Tigar, addressing Hector. “We’re here for Helen’s protection. But if you persist in this… we’re going to have to kill you both. I’m sorry, Mistress.”
Panthar and Tigar drew fierce-looking barbed swords and charged, tears welling in their eyes. Hector panicked… but only for a moment. He remembered what happened to the last creature that tried to mess with him. He dug into that one, shining area of his brain where the Thing that he did came from. He could see the source of his power in his mind’s eye, larger and brighter than ever before, radiating with a newfound purpose of Love. Or else just throbbing with an unresolved and increasingly desperate erection. Either way. He reached into that part of his brain and concentrated harder than he ever had before.
When he opened his eyes, the world reflected his imagination perfectly. Panthar and Tigar had been stopped in their tracks by two giant, muscular chinchillas (chinchillae?). “Jesus Christ,” whimpered Panthar, being lifted by the collar by a bright green fuzzball wearing a hat.
“Your gods won’t save you now,” the chinchilla replied (well that’s new, thought Hector contentedly). “Nothing can save you from ANARCHY ALPHA—”
“—and CHIN-KILLAH X-TREME!” finished the blue, bandana-clad chinchilla who was slapping Tigar across the jaw repeatedly. “If you wanna mess with our best friend Hector—”
“—You’re gonna have to go through us!” Anarchy Alpha and Chin-Killah X-Treme turned in perfect synchronicity and threw the two guards into one another, knocking them both into a semiconscious heap. Helen cheered.
The chinchillas approached Hector and greeted him with hearty high-fives. “Looks like we arrived—“
“—Just in time.”
Hector cleared his throat. “Good job, boys,” he said. “Let’s blow this popsi—“
“Please,” panted Tigar. “Mistress, I beg of you. If we cannot stop you from going forth with this… take our lives. Kill us now, before we are made to endure much worse.”
Helen cocked her head, momentarily unsure, then shrugged and nodded. ”Sure, I guess,” she said. ”Anarchy Alpha?” she asked, as though addressing an old friend. ”Could you—“
”Wait, wait, hold on,” interrupted Hector, his damned intelligence beginning to get in the way of his adolescent fantasy. “Boys, hold off. Tigar, explain to me exactly what’s going on here.”
“You don’t know?” Tigar chuckled. “You stupid thieves are all the same. Not a thought to the consequences. Very well, I’ll tell the tale, since Helen herself seems to have neglected to inform you.” He leered at Helen angrily; she only shrugged, hiding behind Anarchy Omega. Then he turned back to Hector. “The circumstances of Helen's birth—“
Her name was Helen. After the distressing events of the previous round (did Hector kill that guy by sending giant gray quadrupeds after him? Probably), Hector’s sex drive went through only a brief transitory period before settling on her as an equally acceptable object of desire. She was perfectly beautiful, in a more subtle way than Jastra, but more rewarding as well.
Not that I’ll ever get to the, er, reward, thought Hector grimly, the way my luck’s been going.
“Here,” he said curtly, handing her the white ball of fluff that seemed to be in his hands now. He was still trying to figure out the aesthetics of these things, but was reasonably certain that this thing was adorable.
His suspicions were confirmed when he became certain that Helen’s squeal was one of glee, rather than abject terror. ”Awwwww, I’ve always wanted a chinchilla!” ”Chinchilla” struck Hector as a truly ridiculous word, but he filed it with the other new words he had learned. ”His name is Anarchy Omega,” Helen declared.
Hector had heard an awful lot of unoriginal pop songs complimenting women on “the way [they] move[d].” He had always assumed this was strictly a dance-floor thing, and wondered why the songwriters didn’t simply say “dance” instead, which seemed to him to be more to the point.
Helen, however, had a way of… moving. Every moment she wasn’t standing perfectly still (which was never; she was fidgety) was delightful in its own personal way. He wondered if this was what love felt like. Also, “Anarchy Omega” was an absolutely sublime name for a chinchilla. ”I should have brought Praetorian,” Helen cooed, clutching Anarchy Omega to her breast. ”Praetorian and Anarchy Omega would surely be the best of friends.”
Hector didn’t respond to any of that, confident that he didn’t really have to. He was under the impression that he was of more symbolic than personal value to Helen, anyway.
Or maybe she just needed him to get past the guards. There were two of them approaching, and though they were just as fluffy as Anarchy Omega where not covered in armor, they were decidedly less adorable.
“Mistress Helen!” said the darker-looking one. “Cease this foolishness! You must not leave the facility!”
”Mustn’t I?” Helen sneered at the guards. ”Hector, this is Panthar and Tigar. They’ve been helping to keep me in here for years. Make them stop.”
”I don’t know what lies you filled her head with,” growled Tigar, addressing Hector. “We’re here for Helen’s protection. But if you persist in this… we’re going to have to kill you both. I’m sorry, Mistress.”
Panthar and Tigar drew fierce-looking barbed swords and charged, tears welling in their eyes. Hector panicked… but only for a moment. He remembered what happened to the last creature that tried to mess with him. He dug into that one, shining area of his brain where the Thing that he did came from. He could see the source of his power in his mind’s eye, larger and brighter than ever before, radiating with a newfound purpose of Love. Or else just throbbing with an unresolved and increasingly desperate erection. Either way. He reached into that part of his brain and concentrated harder than he ever had before.
When he opened his eyes, the world reflected his imagination perfectly. Panthar and Tigar had been stopped in their tracks by two giant, muscular chinchillas (chinchillae?). “Jesus Christ,” whimpered Panthar, being lifted by the collar by a bright green fuzzball wearing a hat.
“Your gods won’t save you now,” the chinchilla replied (well that’s new, thought Hector contentedly). “Nothing can save you from ANARCHY ALPHA—”
“—and CHIN-KILLAH X-TREME!” finished the blue, bandana-clad chinchilla who was slapping Tigar across the jaw repeatedly. “If you wanna mess with our best friend Hector—”
“—You’re gonna have to go through us!” Anarchy Alpha and Chin-Killah X-Treme turned in perfect synchronicity and threw the two guards into one another, knocking them both into a semiconscious heap. Helen cheered.
The chinchillas approached Hector and greeted him with hearty high-fives. “Looks like we arrived—“
“—Just in time.”
Hector cleared his throat. “Good job, boys,” he said. “Let’s blow this popsi—“
“Please,” panted Tigar. “Mistress, I beg of you. If we cannot stop you from going forth with this… take our lives. Kill us now, before we are made to endure much worse.”
Helen cocked her head, momentarily unsure, then shrugged and nodded. ”Sure, I guess,” she said. ”Anarchy Alpha?” she asked, as though addressing an old friend. ”Could you—“
”Wait, wait, hold on,” interrupted Hector, his damned intelligence beginning to get in the way of his adolescent fantasy. “Boys, hold off. Tigar, explain to me exactly what’s going on here.”
“You don’t know?” Tigar chuckled. “You stupid thieves are all the same. Not a thought to the consequences. Very well, I’ll tell the tale, since Helen herself seems to have neglected to inform you.” He leered at Helen angrily; she only shrugged, hiding behind Anarchy Omega. Then he turned back to Hector. “The circumstances of Helen's birth—“