Re: THIS PROGRAM HAS BEEN CANCELED [S!1][ROUND TWO: ETA CARINA]
04-17-2012, 01:51 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Agent1022.
One of the basic tenets of travel is this: It doesn’t matter so much about your destination, since how you get there is the worthier part.
Unfortunately, like most basic tenets, it fails in the majority of examples; especially when it comes to convoluted ones involving intermingling spaces, worlds, dimensions, realms, planes of existence et cetera. The criterion upon which this failure rests is deceptively simple: journeys, on the whole, should not be terrifying, filled with multidimensional eldritch horrors, and/or qlosph (an adjective yet to make it into humanity’s dictionary of experience, a fact for which many are very, very glad). And when your journey is caused by being forcibly dragged across the cosmos, your destination could be Paradise for all the multiverse cares; qlosph wouldn’t even begin to cover the crossing.
It’s also worse for wizards.
<font color="#AAA555">“Hey, you okay?”
Slowly, the mind that belonged to Aaron disentangled itself from the miasma of travel, reconnecting with its subordinate senses in a tearful reunion.
Aaron? Aaron! Stop sobbing, for gold’s sake! Change fluttered indignantly in front of Aaron’s still horrified, tear-streaked face. Nearby, the casino’s resident mechanic sat on a crate, watching in a bemused amusement as the wizard shuddered on the workshop floor. On occasion she would rise to give him another poke, an activity Change disapproved of as being worthless, but never took it too far to warrant action.
For some reason he couldn’t put a price to, this annoyed him.
<font color="#AAA555">“Well, strong man he ain’t.” She returned to her crate and watched the limbs flail again, though the shudders were dying down. “Sorry, Bundle – don’t think I introduced myself. I’m Artemis.”
Change. My name is Change. The notes fanned out a little, and bent towards the form on the floor. That is Aaron.</font>
“Hell!” Aaron sat bolt upright, little whimpers still echoing in the air. “What the hell happened there?!”
Aaron! Excellent, you’re awake! Change rippled pleasantly – calmy, attempting to restore stability to Aaron’s state – You will not believe the fortituousness and potential profitability of our locale-
Aaron, however, was having none of it, as his body gave an involuntary heave. “Bathroom. Oh, gods.“
Artemis pointed a leather-gloved finger out the door. “Down the hall, along the main floor. Follow the signs, just…don’t puke in here, okay?” Gratefully, the aurumancer ran out the door and bobbed away, robe trailing behind him.
<font color="#CDAD00">Change fluttered uncomfortably. Well.
“Well, I guess it’s just us for now.” Mechanic smiled at Transaction as if a floating bundle of money was a perfectly ordinary occurrence. “Wanna go for a walk?”</font>
Aaron pushed open the wooden door and into the opulent bathroom, and was immediately struck with a cloud of noxious fumes. Not the kind you'd usually expect in a bathroom, but the pungent, heady smell of oil paints, emanating from the multicolored mural that coated the walls, parts of the floor, smothering the mirror and the taps. It seemed to attack the eyes as well as the nose, swirls of color depicting strange, twisted apparitions and wild distortions of reality. Yet they soothed him a little, with strangely familiar visions in the intricate brushwork calling to his eyes, pulling his gaze – In fact…Aaron peered at a particular patch of painted dots – was that supposed to be him? And Change?
It was then he heard a sound from behind him, coming from one of the toilet stalls. A strange, wet snuffling. It sounded almost like...crying?</font>
One of the basic tenets of travel is this: It doesn’t matter so much about your destination, since how you get there is the worthier part.
Unfortunately, like most basic tenets, it fails in the majority of examples; especially when it comes to convoluted ones involving intermingling spaces, worlds, dimensions, realms, planes of existence et cetera. The criterion upon which this failure rests is deceptively simple: journeys, on the whole, should not be terrifying, filled with multidimensional eldritch horrors, and/or qlosph (an adjective yet to make it into humanity’s dictionary of experience, a fact for which many are very, very glad). And when your journey is caused by being forcibly dragged across the cosmos, your destination could be Paradise for all the multiverse cares; qlosph wouldn’t even begin to cover the crossing.
It’s also worse for wizards.
<font color="#AAA555">“Hey, you okay?”
Slowly, the mind that belonged to Aaron disentangled itself from the miasma of travel, reconnecting with its subordinate senses in a tearful reunion.
Aaron? Aaron! Stop sobbing, for gold’s sake! Change fluttered indignantly in front of Aaron’s still horrified, tear-streaked face. Nearby, the casino’s resident mechanic sat on a crate, watching in a bemused amusement as the wizard shuddered on the workshop floor. On occasion she would rise to give him another poke, an activity Change disapproved of as being worthless, but never took it too far to warrant action.
For some reason he couldn’t put a price to, this annoyed him.
<font color="#AAA555">“Well, strong man he ain’t.” She returned to her crate and watched the limbs flail again, though the shudders were dying down. “Sorry, Bundle – don’t think I introduced myself. I’m Artemis.”
Change. My name is Change. The notes fanned out a little, and bent towards the form on the floor. That is Aaron.</font>
“Hell!” Aaron sat bolt upright, little whimpers still echoing in the air. “What the hell happened there?!”
Aaron! Excellent, you’re awake! Change rippled pleasantly – calmy, attempting to restore stability to Aaron’s state – You will not believe the fortituousness and potential profitability of our locale-
Aaron, however, was having none of it, as his body gave an involuntary heave. “Bathroom. Oh, gods.“
Artemis pointed a leather-gloved finger out the door. “Down the hall, along the main floor. Follow the signs, just…don’t puke in here, okay?” Gratefully, the aurumancer ran out the door and bobbed away, robe trailing behind him.
<font color="#CDAD00">Change fluttered uncomfortably. Well.
“Well, I guess it’s just us for now.” Mechanic smiled at Transaction as if a floating bundle of money was a perfectly ordinary occurrence. “Wanna go for a walk?”</font>
Aaron pushed open the wooden door and into the opulent bathroom, and was immediately struck with a cloud of noxious fumes. Not the kind you'd usually expect in a bathroom, but the pungent, heady smell of oil paints, emanating from the multicolored mural that coated the walls, parts of the floor, smothering the mirror and the taps. It seemed to attack the eyes as well as the nose, swirls of color depicting strange, twisted apparitions and wild distortions of reality. Yet they soothed him a little, with strangely familiar visions in the intricate brushwork calling to his eyes, pulling his gaze – In fact…Aaron peered at a particular patch of painted dots – was that supposed to be him? And Change?
It was then he heard a sound from behind him, coming from one of the toilet stalls. A strange, wet snuffling. It sounded almost like...crying?</font>
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So very British / But then again | People are machines Machines are people | Oh hai there | There's no time
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Superhero 1920s noir | Multigenre Half-Life | Changing the future | Command line interface
Tu ventire felix? | Clockwork for eternity | Explosions in spacetime