Re: The Fearsome Encounter (GBS3G8) [Round 1: Circumlocution]
10-29-2011, 09:30 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Sanzh.
Augustus’ sudden emergence and attack on Parliament quickly dispelled a host of minor arguments common to the vessel. Heated discussion of future plans was put on the shelf, along with the usual disputes over leadership-- they could wait until this sword-wielding priest had been subdued. There was a definite consensus among the inmates that the preservation of Lord Avery’s collection was permissible.
How to go about ensuring that preservation, however, was still argued. A swing of Augustus’ sword towards the mannequin was still dodged, but even as the silvery blade almost intersected with a wooden arm there was a lively enough dispute. The more masochistic serial killers argued for not dodging at all and just going for the priest’s neck, cowardly con-men favored trying to reason with him or retreating, and a fair number just wanted the others to remain silent and leave defeating Augustus to the more experienced combatants of Parliament.
Parliament tossed the book it held aside, freeing a hand to fight. The collective vision of the vessel still could see the book, as it remained subject to the adulation of a swan. As the mannequin weaved around to avoid Augustus’ sword, various members of Parliament took wing, surrounding the man in a flurry of wings and talons. Despite this, the priest remained doggedly determined to recover the coins, still ferociously attacking and swiping at the wooden birdcage.
One of the birds-- a gyrfalcon and former war criminal-- noticed a sickly-looking alien on the periphery of the battle. Despite not fighting either of the two combatants, the alien still seemed to be engaged in the proceedings as he murmured and motioned to himself. He directed himself upward, floating for a brief moment before dive-bombing the alien. The alien turned to look and saw the falcon descending a moment too late. The gyrfalcon’s talons grasped and cut through the weak skin and tendons of one of the creature’s appendages, spilling blood. The alien collapsed, still conscious but clearly injured.
The Divine Arbiter was facing difficulties of his own. His inability to completely control his actions hampered his ability to fight-- the occasional involuntary movements caused by Cthaasa’s meddling threw off his own rhythm as he attacked and dodged. The birds did not help either as they circled around him.
As he fought, he had a brief but sudden feeling of freedom. The mannequin swung a wooden arm at him, and he sidestepped without a feeling of sluggishness. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Cthaasa, clearly incapacitated. The priest felt no desire to fight for that insidious, controlling alien, and quickly shifted from pushing an offensive to remaining cautious. The mannequin flung another limb at him, but he leaped back a moment before the strike could connect.
His foot felt two things. One was a book. The other was a swan, retreating to the comparative safety of Parliament. He picked up the book, tilting it and examining it guardedly while remaining attentive to the mannequin and the cloud of birds around it.
The mannequin froze. Many of the birds disappeared in flashes of silvery light, retreating to the inside of their vessel to figure out what they were to do. Others began to perch atop the mannequin, watching Augustus as he stood there. Neither combatant was quite willing to re-engage, and so they remained at a stand-off distance, each eyeing each other and posturing what could either be an explosion of violence or some form of negotiation-- the con-men and politicos had begun again in convincing Parliament to use the pirate priest to their own ends.
Further away, Cthaasa forced himself to get up. The injury had staggered him, as well as surprised him. It only reminded him of his vulnerabilities, despite his significant experimentation on himself. His eyes shifted to notice a mockingbird. Considering the day’s proceedings, he was not surprised when the bird began to talk.
“Well, look at what we have here. I don’t suppose you remember me, Cthaasa Xhe?” The passerine’s warbling was recognizable and irritatingly loud.
Cthaasa didn’t want to talk to this bird-- his concerns were recovering the thrall he had obtained and nursing his wounds-- but he spoke the same language as him and the bird apparently knew his full name, something of a rarity. “How do you--” He began, but was quickly interjected by the bird.
“Oh, so you don’t remember me at all? What a waste. The illustrious scientist Cthaasa Xhe, so quick to remember his triumphs yet completely ignorant of his failures. I would have thought you had learned something since your trial, but evidently you did not. Not even that you didn’t do a good job of covering up your tracks.”
Cthaasa shuffled through a number of people, all of whom had wronged him. It was a long list, and the mockingbird’s vague notions did not help him in pin-pointing just who he was talking to. Then it dawned on him. Cthaasa’s multitude of eyes widened.
“You mean you’re--”
“Ah, now the brilliant scientific mind figures it out! You wronged me, Cthaasa Xhe. You experimented on me, you kept me in conditions unfit for a human inferior, but I got back at you. Oh yes, I remember the look on your face when it was decided you were to spend the rest of your fragile life away from the comfort and security of your laboratory.”
Cthaasa attempted to interject, but was quickly cut off.
“And don’t tell me about how you were only interested in scientific discovery, and how it was all in the name of progress. You were a sadist, Cthaasa Xhe. You still are. I managed to throw you out of the lofty kingdom you built for yourself once, and I can do so once again.”
The mockingbird continued its tirade. “Only now, it’s not Cthaasa the enlightened scientist, defending himself against outrageous claims. It’s Cthaasa the beggar, alone with no allies and no support. You don’t even have your coin, the one bargaining chip you could have had.”
If smug was a possible expression for the passerine, that would be what Cthaasa saw. The bird was, true to its species, mocking him. He didn’t even bother to speak and let the bird interrupt him, he just let it continue.
“Now then, Cthaasa Xhe, I would certainly enjoy remaining here and watching you struggle, but I’m afraid your chosen thrall is about to be dismantled and I feel that would make a much more amusing display. Your suffering is almost-pitiable, but just not the visceral entertainment I am in need of.”
The bird disappeared in a silver flash. Cthaasa could only think about how we wanted that coin back and that former ithaqu killed-- preferably in a painful manner, but he did not feel that to be necessary.
Spoiler
Augustus’ sudden emergence and attack on Parliament quickly dispelled a host of minor arguments common to the vessel. Heated discussion of future plans was put on the shelf, along with the usual disputes over leadership-- they could wait until this sword-wielding priest had been subdued. There was a definite consensus among the inmates that the preservation of Lord Avery’s collection was permissible.
How to go about ensuring that preservation, however, was still argued. A swing of Augustus’ sword towards the mannequin was still dodged, but even as the silvery blade almost intersected with a wooden arm there was a lively enough dispute. The more masochistic serial killers argued for not dodging at all and just going for the priest’s neck, cowardly con-men favored trying to reason with him or retreating, and a fair number just wanted the others to remain silent and leave defeating Augustus to the more experienced combatants of Parliament.
Parliament tossed the book it held aside, freeing a hand to fight. The collective vision of the vessel still could see the book, as it remained subject to the adulation of a swan. As the mannequin weaved around to avoid Augustus’ sword, various members of Parliament took wing, surrounding the man in a flurry of wings and talons. Despite this, the priest remained doggedly determined to recover the coins, still ferociously attacking and swiping at the wooden birdcage.
One of the birds-- a gyrfalcon and former war criminal-- noticed a sickly-looking alien on the periphery of the battle. Despite not fighting either of the two combatants, the alien still seemed to be engaged in the proceedings as he murmured and motioned to himself. He directed himself upward, floating for a brief moment before dive-bombing the alien. The alien turned to look and saw the falcon descending a moment too late. The gyrfalcon’s talons grasped and cut through the weak skin and tendons of one of the creature’s appendages, spilling blood. The alien collapsed, still conscious but clearly injured.
The Divine Arbiter was facing difficulties of his own. His inability to completely control his actions hampered his ability to fight-- the occasional involuntary movements caused by Cthaasa’s meddling threw off his own rhythm as he attacked and dodged. The birds did not help either as they circled around him.
As he fought, he had a brief but sudden feeling of freedom. The mannequin swung a wooden arm at him, and he sidestepped without a feeling of sluggishness. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Cthaasa, clearly incapacitated. The priest felt no desire to fight for that insidious, controlling alien, and quickly shifted from pushing an offensive to remaining cautious. The mannequin flung another limb at him, but he leaped back a moment before the strike could connect.
His foot felt two things. One was a book. The other was a swan, retreating to the comparative safety of Parliament. He picked up the book, tilting it and examining it guardedly while remaining attentive to the mannequin and the cloud of birds around it.
The mannequin froze. Many of the birds disappeared in flashes of silvery light, retreating to the inside of their vessel to figure out what they were to do. Others began to perch atop the mannequin, watching Augustus as he stood there. Neither combatant was quite willing to re-engage, and so they remained at a stand-off distance, each eyeing each other and posturing what could either be an explosion of violence or some form of negotiation-- the con-men and politicos had begun again in convincing Parliament to use the pirate priest to their own ends.
Further away, Cthaasa forced himself to get up. The injury had staggered him, as well as surprised him. It only reminded him of his vulnerabilities, despite his significant experimentation on himself. His eyes shifted to notice a mockingbird. Considering the day’s proceedings, he was not surprised when the bird began to talk.
“Well, look at what we have here. I don’t suppose you remember me, Cthaasa Xhe?” The passerine’s warbling was recognizable and irritatingly loud.
Cthaasa didn’t want to talk to this bird-- his concerns were recovering the thrall he had obtained and nursing his wounds-- but he spoke the same language as him and the bird apparently knew his full name, something of a rarity. “How do you--” He began, but was quickly interjected by the bird.
“Oh, so you don’t remember me at all? What a waste. The illustrious scientist Cthaasa Xhe, so quick to remember his triumphs yet completely ignorant of his failures. I would have thought you had learned something since your trial, but evidently you did not. Not even that you didn’t do a good job of covering up your tracks.”
Cthaasa shuffled through a number of people, all of whom had wronged him. It was a long list, and the mockingbird’s vague notions did not help him in pin-pointing just who he was talking to. Then it dawned on him. Cthaasa’s multitude of eyes widened.
“You mean you’re--”
“Ah, now the brilliant scientific mind figures it out! You wronged me, Cthaasa Xhe. You experimented on me, you kept me in conditions unfit for a human inferior, but I got back at you. Oh yes, I remember the look on your face when it was decided you were to spend the rest of your fragile life away from the comfort and security of your laboratory.”
Cthaasa attempted to interject, but was quickly cut off.
“And don’t tell me about how you were only interested in scientific discovery, and how it was all in the name of progress. You were a sadist, Cthaasa Xhe. You still are. I managed to throw you out of the lofty kingdom you built for yourself once, and I can do so once again.”
The mockingbird continued its tirade. “Only now, it’s not Cthaasa the enlightened scientist, defending himself against outrageous claims. It’s Cthaasa the beggar, alone with no allies and no support. You don’t even have your coin, the one bargaining chip you could have had.”
If smug was a possible expression for the passerine, that would be what Cthaasa saw. The bird was, true to its species, mocking him. He didn’t even bother to speak and let the bird interrupt him, he just let it continue.
“Now then, Cthaasa Xhe, I would certainly enjoy remaining here and watching you struggle, but I’m afraid your chosen thrall is about to be dismantled and I feel that would make a much more amusing display. Your suffering is almost-pitiable, but just not the visceral entertainment I am in need of.”
The bird disappeared in a silver flash. Cthaasa could only think about how we wanted that coin back and that former ithaqu killed-- preferably in a painful manner, but he did not feel that to be necessary.