Re: The Fearsome Encounter (GBS3G8) [Round 2: Oh Two Oh]
12-23-2012, 12:30 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.
Cepra was utterly confused.
She didn’t come from a scientifically-advanced land. She didn’t come from a place that even understood space, never mind space travel. So she certainly didn’t understand anything like ‘vacuums.’
She had followed the train of religious guys worshipping the whatever-the-shit. It was surprisingly easy. At one point, she had heard the word ‘airlock,’ something that didn’t even seem to make sense because you couldn’t lock air, could you? She watched them do a thing that looked remarkably like locking someone in a jail cell. Was that supposed to be a prison? Just placed at the edge of the inside-town? And anybody could just toss someone in a cell if they wanted to? But after the group had left and she went closer in an attempt to understand, there didn’t seem to be anybody in the room at all.
Things had always spiraled out of reach of her understanding, and she was fine with that. Other men were learned in mathematics and philosophy, which were all things she didn’t understand, but it had nothing to do with her and her expertise. She was just someone who accepted that she would never understand a lot of things because they were just things outside her scope of knowledge.
But all…all this was starting to strain the limits of her acceptance. She could handle a few weird aliens, especially since many of them had at least familiar features. She could handle a black market and taverns, even if they seemed to be made out of metal, more metal than she had ever even seen, and she was someone who could make silver out of living beings. Behind the unfamiliar apparatus, there was a distinctly familiar thing. But it was now that she was starting to be completely and utterly alienated. It made her feel lost. It made her feel small. It made her feel….
…not confident.
This was unacceptable.
What should she do?
She…
She should…
She should find someone who understood all this shit. It’ll be a trade. Protection for information. She was a mercenary, after all.
This will probably mean asking around in a lot of taverns for a job. At least that would be familiar.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
This was a ridiculous amount of birds. The air was absolutely saturated with feathers. Saturday would rather have it saturated with air. But there were some things you couldn’t help when there were birds flapping about in places that weren’t necessarily in your face, but certainly very near. There was also a lot of screeching and yelling and all sorts of unpleasant noise. Saturday was mostly concerned about his hat.
The handsy guy was swatting away several birds, a task made easier with his inordinate number of arms. There was another guy lying on the floor. He was most certainly alive, so perhaps he was just hoping that the birds would leave a still body alone.
Although this was a wonderful distraction, Saturday still had a very large hand tightly wrapped around his shoulder. Despite all the goddamn birds, Mr. Hands wasn’t going to let go any time soon. That was just fine with him.
Saturday’s shadow swirled and churned, unnoticed, before shooting upwards and through the restraining wrist with a shluk. Mr. Hands recoiled and opened his mouth to scream, but then a bird accidentally flew straight into it, which must have been unpleasant for everybody involved. The hand still had a tight grip on his shoulder. Saturday considered leaving it there for a while. It would make a good conversation starter.
“A’ight, yuh bastards, th’ell d’ya want?” he called out to the feathery abyss.
Another bird tried to land on his hat and he waved it away. So it landed on his shoulder instead. Saturday squinted, trying to figure out what sort of bird it was, but all he could tell was that it was a bird. He was no ornithologist.
“We’ve been looking for you,” said the bird in a manner that would make many feel that they didn’t want it looking for them. “Let’s have a chat, eh? Maybe somewhere quieter.”
Saturday looked around the cargo hold that recently became an aviary. “Iunno, I don’ mind this place.” Outside, there rose a cry of someone getting his ass kicked by an ostrich.
“Nevertheless,” said the bird, flexing his claws or talons or whatever you call bird feet. In Saturday’s experience, ‘nevertheless’ always meant ‘shut up and get moving.’ So he might as well, really. In any case, this had the exciting smell of a deal and he was always interested in those.
They weren’t a particularly inconspicuous group, a man and a flock of bloody birds, but nobody was willing to stop them. Saturday arrived in a bar with a flurry of feathers and saw another damn bird that probably was supposed to be the negotiator. The bar paid him no mind as he settled down to talk with the bird, even as the other birds settled down around them.
“Looks like I’m surrounded,” said Saturday with a smirk and both hands folded behind his head. “Y’all wanted t’ talk?”
“We have your coin.” Ah, direct. How refreshing.
Saturday gave a lazy roll of the shoulders. “I see.”
“As long as you are willing to cooperate with us, we will be willing to hold on to it – “
He let out a disconcerting bark of a laugh. “What makes ya think I care ‘bout that lil thing?”
This seemed to surprise the bird somewhat, though Saturday never really saw what a surprised bird looked like before. “W-well, because you would lose without it…? And…whether this coin is ‘taken away’ or ‘being kept safe’ depends on, ah, your relationship to us as either an enemy or an ally…?”
Saturday discreetly glanced around for anything that looked like a coin clutched by any of the numerous birds. “Ya really took that ol’ bastard seriously? C’mon. ‘This ‘un’s a super important coin so y’all better have it by th’ end o’ th’ whatever-th’-shit.’ First thing I did, I lost th’ thing, never got it back, honestly, an’ I’m still fine. These coins don’ matter.”
“He…mentioned consequences,” said the bird, almost turning the statement into a question.
“Yeh? Tha’s jus’ what he said. That guy’s all bark an’ no bite.”
The bird was silent for a moment. “But he teleported all of us together. He’s able to make us unable to attack him and he’s seemingly transporting us across entire universes.”
Saturday waved a hand. “I dunno ‘bout any a’ that shit. But I know a bluffer when I see one. So ‘m callin’ his bluff.”
“I…see. So in your view, we have no leverage to bargain for your alliance.”
“Eh,” said Saturday noncommittally.
“What a shame,” said the bird in a manner that was so resigned that it was suspicious. “By the way, you said you lost your coin immediately?”
“Uh,” said Saturday, not willing to get into that particular story.
“Does that mean you did not get a chance to see the bit of personal information on your coin?”
“Uh,” said Saturday, for a slightly different reason.
“It’s certainly very interesting,” said the bird. “Very revealing.”
After a moment, Saturday forced himself to laugh again. “Aw, c’mon. ‘Sonly supposed t’ be shit like a house address or whatever.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re bluffing,” he said with a lighthearted chuckle. “An’ I’ve got nothin’ on me that’s prime blackmail material.”
“Well…I never said blackmail. It doesn’t necessarily have to come to that if we can reach a deal.”
“Ya still got nothin’ t’ put on th’ table. ‘Cause yer fulla shit.”
“Calling one’s bluff doesn’t work if there is no bluff to call.”
And just when the negotiations looked as though it would fall apart, a very agitated spider burst onto the scene.
Cepra was utterly confused.
She didn’t come from a scientifically-advanced land. She didn’t come from a place that even understood space, never mind space travel. So she certainly didn’t understand anything like ‘vacuums.’
She had followed the train of religious guys worshipping the whatever-the-shit. It was surprisingly easy. At one point, she had heard the word ‘airlock,’ something that didn’t even seem to make sense because you couldn’t lock air, could you? She watched them do a thing that looked remarkably like locking someone in a jail cell. Was that supposed to be a prison? Just placed at the edge of the inside-town? And anybody could just toss someone in a cell if they wanted to? But after the group had left and she went closer in an attempt to understand, there didn’t seem to be anybody in the room at all.
Things had always spiraled out of reach of her understanding, and she was fine with that. Other men were learned in mathematics and philosophy, which were all things she didn’t understand, but it had nothing to do with her and her expertise. She was just someone who accepted that she would never understand a lot of things because they were just things outside her scope of knowledge.
But all…all this was starting to strain the limits of her acceptance. She could handle a few weird aliens, especially since many of them had at least familiar features. She could handle a black market and taverns, even if they seemed to be made out of metal, more metal than she had ever even seen, and she was someone who could make silver out of living beings. Behind the unfamiliar apparatus, there was a distinctly familiar thing. But it was now that she was starting to be completely and utterly alienated. It made her feel lost. It made her feel small. It made her feel….
…not confident.
This was unacceptable.
What should she do?
She…
She should…
She should find someone who understood all this shit. It’ll be a trade. Protection for information. She was a mercenary, after all.
This will probably mean asking around in a lot of taverns for a job. At least that would be familiar.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
This was a ridiculous amount of birds. The air was absolutely saturated with feathers. Saturday would rather have it saturated with air. But there were some things you couldn’t help when there were birds flapping about in places that weren’t necessarily in your face, but certainly very near. There was also a lot of screeching and yelling and all sorts of unpleasant noise. Saturday was mostly concerned about his hat.
The handsy guy was swatting away several birds, a task made easier with his inordinate number of arms. There was another guy lying on the floor. He was most certainly alive, so perhaps he was just hoping that the birds would leave a still body alone.
Although this was a wonderful distraction, Saturday still had a very large hand tightly wrapped around his shoulder. Despite all the goddamn birds, Mr. Hands wasn’t going to let go any time soon. That was just fine with him.
Saturday’s shadow swirled and churned, unnoticed, before shooting upwards and through the restraining wrist with a shluk. Mr. Hands recoiled and opened his mouth to scream, but then a bird accidentally flew straight into it, which must have been unpleasant for everybody involved. The hand still had a tight grip on his shoulder. Saturday considered leaving it there for a while. It would make a good conversation starter.
“A’ight, yuh bastards, th’ell d’ya want?” he called out to the feathery abyss.
Another bird tried to land on his hat and he waved it away. So it landed on his shoulder instead. Saturday squinted, trying to figure out what sort of bird it was, but all he could tell was that it was a bird. He was no ornithologist.
“We’ve been looking for you,” said the bird in a manner that would make many feel that they didn’t want it looking for them. “Let’s have a chat, eh? Maybe somewhere quieter.”
Saturday looked around the cargo hold that recently became an aviary. “Iunno, I don’ mind this place.” Outside, there rose a cry of someone getting his ass kicked by an ostrich.
“Nevertheless,” said the bird, flexing his claws or talons or whatever you call bird feet. In Saturday’s experience, ‘nevertheless’ always meant ‘shut up and get moving.’ So he might as well, really. In any case, this had the exciting smell of a deal and he was always interested in those.
They weren’t a particularly inconspicuous group, a man and a flock of bloody birds, but nobody was willing to stop them. Saturday arrived in a bar with a flurry of feathers and saw another damn bird that probably was supposed to be the negotiator. The bar paid him no mind as he settled down to talk with the bird, even as the other birds settled down around them.
“Looks like I’m surrounded,” said Saturday with a smirk and both hands folded behind his head. “Y’all wanted t’ talk?”
“We have your coin.” Ah, direct. How refreshing.
Saturday gave a lazy roll of the shoulders. “I see.”
“As long as you are willing to cooperate with us, we will be willing to hold on to it – “
He let out a disconcerting bark of a laugh. “What makes ya think I care ‘bout that lil thing?”
This seemed to surprise the bird somewhat, though Saturday never really saw what a surprised bird looked like before. “W-well, because you would lose without it…? And…whether this coin is ‘taken away’ or ‘being kept safe’ depends on, ah, your relationship to us as either an enemy or an ally…?”
Saturday discreetly glanced around for anything that looked like a coin clutched by any of the numerous birds. “Ya really took that ol’ bastard seriously? C’mon. ‘This ‘un’s a super important coin so y’all better have it by th’ end o’ th’ whatever-th’-shit.’ First thing I did, I lost th’ thing, never got it back, honestly, an’ I’m still fine. These coins don’ matter.”
“He…mentioned consequences,” said the bird, almost turning the statement into a question.
“Yeh? Tha’s jus’ what he said. That guy’s all bark an’ no bite.”
The bird was silent for a moment. “But he teleported all of us together. He’s able to make us unable to attack him and he’s seemingly transporting us across entire universes.”
Saturday waved a hand. “I dunno ‘bout any a’ that shit. But I know a bluffer when I see one. So ‘m callin’ his bluff.”
“I…see. So in your view, we have no leverage to bargain for your alliance.”
“Eh,” said Saturday noncommittally.
“What a shame,” said the bird in a manner that was so resigned that it was suspicious. “By the way, you said you lost your coin immediately?”
“Uh,” said Saturday, not willing to get into that particular story.
“Does that mean you did not get a chance to see the bit of personal information on your coin?”
“Uh,” said Saturday, for a slightly different reason.
“It’s certainly very interesting,” said the bird. “Very revealing.”
After a moment, Saturday forced himself to laugh again. “Aw, c’mon. ‘Sonly supposed t’ be shit like a house address or whatever.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re bluffing,” he said with a lighthearted chuckle. “An’ I’ve got nothin’ on me that’s prime blackmail material.”
“Well…I never said blackmail. It doesn’t necessarily have to come to that if we can reach a deal.”
“Ya still got nothin’ t’ put on th’ table. ‘Cause yer fulla shit.”
“Calling one’s bluff doesn’t work if there is no bluff to call.”
And just when the negotiations looked as though it would fall apart, a very agitated spider burst onto the scene.