Re: The Fearsome Encounter (GBS3G8) [Round 1: Circumlocution]
08-17-2011, 03:43 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.
The Controller was late.
The Apprentice paced back and forth in front of his teacher's chair, fiddling nervously with something in the pocket of his jacket. It wasn't like him to be late, the Apprentice knew, and unless this was supposed to be another of his lessons in disappointment or the dangers of trust, it didn't bode well for the start of the battle.
That wasn't to say that the battle wasn't coming together. The competitors had already been selected; they were being held in stasis, each one hovering a bit above one of the nine gold rings embedded in an arc in the floor of the infinite, metallic plane. The Controller, always more prepared than the Apprentice, had even completed work on his round locations. Save for the Apprentice's rounds, the battle could probably have run itself.
Just as the Apprentice was considering activating one of the many failsafes his teacher had shown him, one of the screens switched from an image of the first round to the face of the Controller.
"This is a recorded message," the image said, its voice sounding tinny and distant. "Its playback means that a sufficient number of tripwires have been activated- the inevitable is closing in, so I'm doing what I must. The battles are to continue on schedule; consider running them to be a test of what you've learned, along with operating the other affairs I've informed you of. Further messages will be rare, but I will be watching. Remember what you've learned. Trust is death."
As the screen flicked back to its image of the first round, the Apprentice slowly took his hand from his pocket. He had to run the battle himself. Alone. He had to make everything go cleanly, keep everything in order, make sure all of the Controller's plans went off without a hitch. He was going to have to work out every little thing his teacher had mapped out and make sure it didn't go off the rails.
...No. No, he got to run the battle himself. Alone. He got to make everything go how he wanted it to go, make sure whichever plans he wanted to enact would go off without a hitch. If the Controller wanted to go gallivanting off right as the battle was going to start, then he was just going to have to deal with the consequences. After all, what was it he was always saying? Oh, right.
Trust is death.
The Apprentice chuckled as he slowly lowered himself into his teacher's seat. He was going to enjoy this. With one lazy hand, he reached over to one of the many unlabelled switches and flicked it up.
With a snap, the Viscount's consciousness returned, as did those of the other eight contestants. He couldn't tell if they'd been asleep for minutes or years, but he stopped caring as soon as the hunger came back. God, he was hungry.
The Apprentice's voice cut into his reverie, and he knew it was going out more as pure meaning than just words. For most, it was a convenience, but for the Viscount, it hurt. Pure, unprocessed meaning.
"Welcome, one and all." The human-looking man in the chair stood up and walked forward to address the nine. "You're probably wondering just what you're doing here, and we'll get to that in short order. First, I have something for each of you."
There was a small satchel sitting on the floor, and he reached down to scoop it up as he walked past. As he neared the ring farthest to his left, he pulled out a small coin and tossed it at the cloud of smoke trapped there. It passed through what looked to be some sort of force field, then came to rest in the center of the cloud. He moved around the arc of rings, tossing one coin in to each trapped being. When he came to the book, it snapped to the cover like a magnet.
"These coins are your identification. In this sort of competition, we can't trust you not to try to switch appearances around or some such. In order to prevent that, each coin has been engraved with your name, a picture of you, and some piece of information from your life, something like a comm frequency or an address that's difficult to remember if you haven't lived with it for years. If you lose the coin, you forfeit your chance at victory."
The Viscount looked at his coin. "Viscount Hethwell," it read, "08389 block, cell 607." Of course, the Controller would pick that bit of information. He'd worked under the Grandmaster for how many years now, and he picks that little embarrassment. Typical.
"But of course, you don't know what you're competing for just yet, do you?" The Apprentice had returned to the chair and was addressing the assembled competitors again. "Well, let me put it to you this way: I need someone to do a job. They need to be clever, resourceful, and willing to go to any lengths necessary to accomplish their goals, and to that end, I've assembled you here to compete for the position."
He stood up again, and the Viscount idly wondered why the Controller wasn't starting the battle off instead of his incompetent little student. The Controller, now there was a guy who knew how to run things. He kept a good, tight ship, not like this sloppy novice.
"Now, the nature of the position is such that I can't tell you about it just yet, but I assure you that you are all uniquely qualified for it in your own ways, and whoever it is that makes it to the end of the competition will be handsomely rewarded for their efforts.
"Of course, I'm sure you're all ready to get going, so let's proceed with your introductions. If you're to have a fair chance at this, you'll need to know what you're up against."
The ring furthest to the Apprentice's right lit up, drawing everyone's attention to a pair of beings that really had no business fitting in a ring that would comfortably encircle a single, normal-sized human. They didn't look particularly uncomfortable, they were just too large to fit in the space they were clearly fitting in. It was sloppy, in the Viscount's opinion. The Controller wouldn't've messed that up- he knew details, he did.
"This," the Apprentice said, not making any note of the disparity, "is Augustus, Divine Arbiter, and his god, Azungrada the Destroyer. Azungrada here, formed of the finest materials in its particular universe, will only act on orders given to it by its Arbiter- which, oddly enough, it also gives him from time to time. Seems a bit counterproductive to me, but who am I to judge?"
As soon as the next ring lit up, it was obvious that its occupant and Augustus weren't going to get along. "Here we have His Holiness, Pope Triumphian the First. His god couldn't be here in person, but he left a token of his appreciation nonetheless- His Gloriousness here can call on the might of his god, not to mention previous popes, and up 'til now, he's used that to lead his people to defeat over quite a number of clearly-deserving races. I imagine he's already cataloguing the sinfulness and lack of worth of the rest of you, so look sharp!"
"Next up, garbed in its Renaissance best, is a mannequin that it's probably easiest to just call Parliament. What started out as a vigilante-ish man's jail-slash-aviary quickly became too problematic for him to keep in one place, so he packed them all up in this enchanted mannequin and brought them around with him on his escapades. They've been forced to form a government of sorts to get anything done inside that wooden head of theirs, and like any government… well, let's just call them inefficient."
The fourth ring came to life, and its occupant was somehow managing to demonstrate two forms simultaneously, despite the fact that they were both occupying the same space and time without displacing one another. Sloppy, to the Viscount's mind.
"Redclaw here, Warchief of the Lakes People, was never a fan of civilization." The acting Grandmaster didn't seem realize that the werewolf being both a human and a wolf at once wasn't physically possible, just continuing on with his descriptions. "He killed his own father to win command of his people, then proceeded to rally them against the hideously civilized people that occupied the rest of his world. Unfortunately for him, my timetable and his didn't exactly line up, so before they got very far, his people found themselves without a leader. Perhaps if he comes out on top in this little competition, he'll be able to go back and take up his position once again."
"Following him, we have Cthaasa, an ithaqu whose work makes him both a castout from his own society and excellently suited for the task I need someone for. He's far from the most attractive member of his race, but that's a small price to pay for the extra abilities he's granted himself through experimentation and discovery. A true innovator; alas, an investigation threw his work into an unfavourable light, and he was shipped off to war."
"Our next contestant, a lovely purple-handed number, probably just looks like 'some sort of spider-person' to most of you. I must say, you're missing out- Cepra Samedi is far from an eyesore, as far as Lycaridans go. She's spent her life ending those of others, and she's become quite a dab hand at it. That hand of hers can't have hurt her efforts- you'll find that getting nicked by it leaves you composed of more silver than you're used to."
"Mr. Saturday, now... Somewhat less fetching, if you ask me. Honest to a fault, unable to be harmed by accidents, and armed to the gills, he won't likely make things easy for any of you- but then, where's the fun in easy?"
The eighth ring held what looked to be an ordinary (if dusty) book hovering in the center. "In here, you'll find one Vex Ardayne, who recently went and got himself trapped by an ancient curse. Don't think he's helpless in there, though; he's got a universe of knowledge to use against you, and though he may not have a handle on it just yet, I can't imagine you'll want to be on his bad side once he gets his metaphorical feet under him."
The ring around the Viscount lit up last, and the Apprentice pointedly introduced him in the exact same manner as the rest of the contestants. He wanted them to know he wasn't an ordinary contestant, obviously. God, could he get any more petty? He didn't deserve his position, and they both knew it; the moment he got the chance, the Viscount was going to show him who the Controller really trusted.
"Finally, we have the Viscount," recited the Apprentice, not attaching any particular significance to this contestant over any others. Had the Controller chosen to inform him of his intentions of planting an agent in the battle, his Apprentice might've snuck in a hint or two that people would only realize after the fact. As it was, the kid didn't have any clue, so he didn't do anything of the sort. "Had he lived a life typical of his species, he would've faded into nothingness an hour or two after he was born and amounted to nothing more than a wispy, boring nonevent. Instead, thanks to his natural paranoia and mistrust, he's lived a rich, full life, eating the memories of whoever encounters him. I'd be careful of that."
It figured- half-truths at best, with a major swath of his life just ignored. Oh, the Apprentice was going to get what he deserved, just as soon as the Viscount got his shot.
The Apprentice, ignorant of the Viscount's intentions, just ambled back over to the Controller's chair and finished the pre-prepared spiel.
"Now, having gotten you all acquainted, let's get started. I'm just going to make it simple: prove to me that you're the right being for the job. I'll be watching you every step of the way, so go ahead- show me what you've got."
With the flick of a switch, the nine contestants vanished, swept off to their first round.
As they appeared in various locations, scattered around the area near an abandoned warehouse, a voice trailed after them, distant and tinny and only familiar to one of them. "I've left the language bypass disabled for now. Until it comes online, you'll find yourself without any help in communicating with one another. You're all from vastly different times and places- I look forward to seeing how you cope."
The Controller was late.
The Apprentice paced back and forth in front of his teacher's chair, fiddling nervously with something in the pocket of his jacket. It wasn't like him to be late, the Apprentice knew, and unless this was supposed to be another of his lessons in disappointment or the dangers of trust, it didn't bode well for the start of the battle.
That wasn't to say that the battle wasn't coming together. The competitors had already been selected; they were being held in stasis, each one hovering a bit above one of the nine gold rings embedded in an arc in the floor of the infinite, metallic plane. The Controller, always more prepared than the Apprentice, had even completed work on his round locations. Save for the Apprentice's rounds, the battle could probably have run itself.
Just as the Apprentice was considering activating one of the many failsafes his teacher had shown him, one of the screens switched from an image of the first round to the face of the Controller.
"This is a recorded message," the image said, its voice sounding tinny and distant. "Its playback means that a sufficient number of tripwires have been activated- the inevitable is closing in, so I'm doing what I must. The battles are to continue on schedule; consider running them to be a test of what you've learned, along with operating the other affairs I've informed you of. Further messages will be rare, but I will be watching. Remember what you've learned. Trust is death."
As the screen flicked back to its image of the first round, the Apprentice slowly took his hand from his pocket. He had to run the battle himself. Alone. He had to make everything go cleanly, keep everything in order, make sure all of the Controller's plans went off without a hitch. He was going to have to work out every little thing his teacher had mapped out and make sure it didn't go off the rails.
...No. No, he got to run the battle himself. Alone. He got to make everything go how he wanted it to go, make sure whichever plans he wanted to enact would go off without a hitch. If the Controller wanted to go gallivanting off right as the battle was going to start, then he was just going to have to deal with the consequences. After all, what was it he was always saying? Oh, right.
Trust is death.
The Apprentice chuckled as he slowly lowered himself into his teacher's seat. He was going to enjoy this. With one lazy hand, he reached over to one of the many unlabelled switches and flicked it up.
With a snap, the Viscount's consciousness returned, as did those of the other eight contestants. He couldn't tell if they'd been asleep for minutes or years, but he stopped caring as soon as the hunger came back. God, he was hungry.
The Apprentice's voice cut into his reverie, and he knew it was going out more as pure meaning than just words. For most, it was a convenience, but for the Viscount, it hurt. Pure, unprocessed meaning.
"Welcome, one and all." The human-looking man in the chair stood up and walked forward to address the nine. "You're probably wondering just what you're doing here, and we'll get to that in short order. First, I have something for each of you."
There was a small satchel sitting on the floor, and he reached down to scoop it up as he walked past. As he neared the ring farthest to his left, he pulled out a small coin and tossed it at the cloud of smoke trapped there. It passed through what looked to be some sort of force field, then came to rest in the center of the cloud. He moved around the arc of rings, tossing one coin in to each trapped being. When he came to the book, it snapped to the cover like a magnet.
"These coins are your identification. In this sort of competition, we can't trust you not to try to switch appearances around or some such. In order to prevent that, each coin has been engraved with your name, a picture of you, and some piece of information from your life, something like a comm frequency or an address that's difficult to remember if you haven't lived with it for years. If you lose the coin, you forfeit your chance at victory."
The Viscount looked at his coin. "Viscount Hethwell," it read, "08389 block, cell 607." Of course, the Controller would pick that bit of information. He'd worked under the Grandmaster for how many years now, and he picks that little embarrassment. Typical.
"But of course, you don't know what you're competing for just yet, do you?" The Apprentice had returned to the chair and was addressing the assembled competitors again. "Well, let me put it to you this way: I need someone to do a job. They need to be clever, resourceful, and willing to go to any lengths necessary to accomplish their goals, and to that end, I've assembled you here to compete for the position."
He stood up again, and the Viscount idly wondered why the Controller wasn't starting the battle off instead of his incompetent little student. The Controller, now there was a guy who knew how to run things. He kept a good, tight ship, not like this sloppy novice.
"Now, the nature of the position is such that I can't tell you about it just yet, but I assure you that you are all uniquely qualified for it in your own ways, and whoever it is that makes it to the end of the competition will be handsomely rewarded for their efforts.
"Of course, I'm sure you're all ready to get going, so let's proceed with your introductions. If you're to have a fair chance at this, you'll need to know what you're up against."
The ring furthest to the Apprentice's right lit up, drawing everyone's attention to a pair of beings that really had no business fitting in a ring that would comfortably encircle a single, normal-sized human. They didn't look particularly uncomfortable, they were just too large to fit in the space they were clearly fitting in. It was sloppy, in the Viscount's opinion. The Controller wouldn't've messed that up- he knew details, he did.
"This," the Apprentice said, not making any note of the disparity, "is Augustus, Divine Arbiter, and his god, Azungrada the Destroyer. Azungrada here, formed of the finest materials in its particular universe, will only act on orders given to it by its Arbiter- which, oddly enough, it also gives him from time to time. Seems a bit counterproductive to me, but who am I to judge?"
As soon as the next ring lit up, it was obvious that its occupant and Augustus weren't going to get along. "Here we have His Holiness, Pope Triumphian the First. His god couldn't be here in person, but he left a token of his appreciation nonetheless- His Gloriousness here can call on the might of his god, not to mention previous popes, and up 'til now, he's used that to lead his people to defeat over quite a number of clearly-deserving races. I imagine he's already cataloguing the sinfulness and lack of worth of the rest of you, so look sharp!"
"Next up, garbed in its Renaissance best, is a mannequin that it's probably easiest to just call Parliament. What started out as a vigilante-ish man's jail-slash-aviary quickly became too problematic for him to keep in one place, so he packed them all up in this enchanted mannequin and brought them around with him on his escapades. They've been forced to form a government of sorts to get anything done inside that wooden head of theirs, and like any government… well, let's just call them inefficient."
The fourth ring came to life, and its occupant was somehow managing to demonstrate two forms simultaneously, despite the fact that they were both occupying the same space and time without displacing one another. Sloppy, to the Viscount's mind.
"Redclaw here, Warchief of the Lakes People, was never a fan of civilization." The acting Grandmaster didn't seem realize that the werewolf being both a human and a wolf at once wasn't physically possible, just continuing on with his descriptions. "He killed his own father to win command of his people, then proceeded to rally them against the hideously civilized people that occupied the rest of his world. Unfortunately for him, my timetable and his didn't exactly line up, so before they got very far, his people found themselves without a leader. Perhaps if he comes out on top in this little competition, he'll be able to go back and take up his position once again."
"Following him, we have Cthaasa, an ithaqu whose work makes him both a castout from his own society and excellently suited for the task I need someone for. He's far from the most attractive member of his race, but that's a small price to pay for the extra abilities he's granted himself through experimentation and discovery. A true innovator; alas, an investigation threw his work into an unfavourable light, and he was shipped off to war."
"Our next contestant, a lovely purple-handed number, probably just looks like 'some sort of spider-person' to most of you. I must say, you're missing out- Cepra Samedi is far from an eyesore, as far as Lycaridans go. She's spent her life ending those of others, and she's become quite a dab hand at it. That hand of hers can't have hurt her efforts- you'll find that getting nicked by it leaves you composed of more silver than you're used to."
"Mr. Saturday, now... Somewhat less fetching, if you ask me. Honest to a fault, unable to be harmed by accidents, and armed to the gills, he won't likely make things easy for any of you- but then, where's the fun in easy?"
The eighth ring held what looked to be an ordinary (if dusty) book hovering in the center. "In here, you'll find one Vex Ardayne, who recently went and got himself trapped by an ancient curse. Don't think he's helpless in there, though; he's got a universe of knowledge to use against you, and though he may not have a handle on it just yet, I can't imagine you'll want to be on his bad side once he gets his metaphorical feet under him."
The ring around the Viscount lit up last, and the Apprentice pointedly introduced him in the exact same manner as the rest of the contestants. He wanted them to know he wasn't an ordinary contestant, obviously. God, could he get any more petty? He didn't deserve his position, and they both knew it; the moment he got the chance, the Viscount was going to show him who the Controller really trusted.
"Finally, we have the Viscount," recited the Apprentice, not attaching any particular significance to this contestant over any others. Had the Controller chosen to inform him of his intentions of planting an agent in the battle, his Apprentice might've snuck in a hint or two that people would only realize after the fact. As it was, the kid didn't have any clue, so he didn't do anything of the sort. "Had he lived a life typical of his species, he would've faded into nothingness an hour or two after he was born and amounted to nothing more than a wispy, boring nonevent. Instead, thanks to his natural paranoia and mistrust, he's lived a rich, full life, eating the memories of whoever encounters him. I'd be careful of that."
It figured- half-truths at best, with a major swath of his life just ignored. Oh, the Apprentice was going to get what he deserved, just as soon as the Viscount got his shot.
The Apprentice, ignorant of the Viscount's intentions, just ambled back over to the Controller's chair and finished the pre-prepared spiel.
"Now, having gotten you all acquainted, let's get started. I'm just going to make it simple: prove to me that you're the right being for the job. I'll be watching you every step of the way, so go ahead- show me what you've got."
With the flick of a switch, the nine contestants vanished, swept off to their first round.
As they appeared in various locations, scattered around the area near an abandoned warehouse, a voice trailed after them, distant and tinny and only familiar to one of them. "I've left the language bypass disabled for now. Until it comes online, you'll find yourself without any help in communicating with one another. You're all from vastly different times and places- I look forward to seeing how you cope."
Spoiler