Re: Inexorable Altercation [Round IV - Hezekiah]
12-10-2011, 10:00 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by PlumFinder.
[color=#400080]The halls were white marble and richly decorated. Large windows high in the walls flooded the palace with the everlasting sunlight of the planet Candora. Right now it was green, tinting the tapastries on the walls, turning the white blood of the oraclemen look like that of lowly bogdwellers. In addition, it made them all look slightly queasy, something Loran found highly amusing. They were a pathetic lot, after all, nothing wrong with them looking like it.
He was strolling casually through the main corridor. Guards accompanied him, constantly watching him, ever fearful of the reputation of the Creepers. A master of protocol was trying to tell him not to take the front entrance. There were side doors, used by servants and messengers. Loran didn't so much as glance at the man. He was an Honorable Graduate of the Creeper's Assassin School. This was his last task before he would be accepted into the ranks proper. This was his day, and he would take the front entrance if he wanted.
Four persons, clashing horribly with the setting, were following somewhat behind. Nobody paid them any attention; Not the guards, not the master of protocol, not Loran the prideful assassin. They were not there, for all intents and purposes.
'Where are we now? Who are these people?' one of them, wearing a tophat, asked in hushes tones. One of the others shrugged.
'We are nowhere,' he said. 'Look carefully. See how the room dissappears behind us? How everything is blurred and unclear when Loran isn't looking at them? This is not real. It's a memory of his. So are we.'
'It was to be expected,' the memory shaped like a robot said. 'The others will probably not have significant problems from the exposure to Gias' memories. Loran's mind, however, was already very fragile.'
As the memories had noted, the only part of the palace that really seemed solid now where the large wooden doors towering omniously at the far side of the hall. The side Loran and his escort were heading.
'I assure you,' the master of protocol practically begged when the group reached the doors, 'a messenger has been sent to the king already. There is no need to see him personally.'
'There is,' Loran said with a small smile, and he pushed open the doors. That was the good thing about being feared, he reflected. Nobody dared to stand in your way as long as you did nothing important. Sure, they didn't like him walking up to their king like this, but he was surrounded by guards and the king guarded by his personal magician. They didn't think he would be able to harm their monarch, and none of them was going to risk his life for something stupid like breaking the protocol. How wrong they were. Loran could harm anyone he wished, as he had learned during his studies. Nobody had ever been able to stop him from reaching his target. He was the best assassin ever born among the Creepers. He was certain of that.
The king was sitting at a small table next to his throne. He was probably preparing for the upcoming public audience. His magician sat next to him, leaning close and speaking urgently.
'Your grace!' Loran said with a charming smile and a deep bow. 'How good of you to grant me a private audience so soon. I assure you, the matter is urgent.'
Both the king and his magician rose, looking from Loran to the guards to the master of protocol. The four illusionary people following the group were, once again, ignored.
'Why is Loran himself not responding to us, though?' the memory in the tophat asked. 'If we are his memories, surely he should?'
'If he is reliving this memory,' the memory with the horn mused,' he would not notice us. He didn't see us when this happened originally, after all.'
'What is the meaning of this?' the king bellowed, meanwhile. 'I gave orders not to be disturbed!'
Loran stepped forward, and the guards followed. he rolled his eyes in the most annoyed manner he could muster.
'Look, you guys,' he said, turning to them with his hands raised. 'Is it probable that I will try to harm your king? I t
[color=#400080]The halls were white marble and richly decorated. Large windows high in the walls flooded the palace with the everlasting sunlight of the planet Candora. Right now it was green, tinting the tapastries on the walls, turning the white blood of the oraclemen look like that of lowly bogdwellers. In addition, it made them all look slightly queasy, something Loran found highly amusing. They were a pathetic lot, after all, nothing wrong with them looking like it.
He was strolling casually through the main corridor. Guards accompanied him, constantly watching him, ever fearful of the reputation of the Creepers. A master of protocol was trying to tell him not to take the front entrance. There were side doors, used by servants and messengers. Loran didn't so much as glance at the man. He was an Honorable Graduate of the Creeper's Assassin School. This was his last task before he would be accepted into the ranks proper. This was his day, and he would take the front entrance if he wanted.
Four persons, clashing horribly with the setting, were following somewhat behind. Nobody paid them any attention; Not the guards, not the master of protocol, not Loran the prideful assassin. They were not there, for all intents and purposes.
'Where are we now? Who are these people?' one of them, wearing a tophat, asked in hushes tones. One of the others shrugged.
'We are nowhere,' he said. 'Look carefully. See how the room dissappears behind us? How everything is blurred and unclear when Loran isn't looking at them? This is not real. It's a memory of his. So are we.'
'It was to be expected,' the memory shaped like a robot said. 'The others will probably not have significant problems from the exposure to Gias' memories. Loran's mind, however, was already very fragile.'
As the memories had noted, the only part of the palace that really seemed solid now where the large wooden doors towering omniously at the far side of the hall. The side Loran and his escort were heading.
'I assure you,' the master of protocol practically begged when the group reached the doors, 'a messenger has been sent to the king already. There is no need to see him personally.'
'There is,' Loran said with a small smile, and he pushed open the doors. That was the good thing about being feared, he reflected. Nobody dared to stand in your way as long as you did nothing important. Sure, they didn't like him walking up to their king like this, but he was surrounded by guards and the king guarded by his personal magician. They didn't think he would be able to harm their monarch, and none of them was going to risk his life for something stupid like breaking the protocol. How wrong they were. Loran could harm anyone he wished, as he had learned during his studies. Nobody had ever been able to stop him from reaching his target. He was the best assassin ever born among the Creepers. He was certain of that.
The king was sitting at a small table next to his throne. He was probably preparing for the upcoming public audience. His magician sat next to him, leaning close and speaking urgently.
'Your grace!' Loran said with a charming smile and a deep bow. 'How good of you to grant me a private audience so soon. I assure you, the matter is urgent.'
Both the king and his magician rose, looking from Loran to the guards to the master of protocol. The four illusionary people following the group were, once again, ignored.
'Why is Loran himself not responding to us, though?' the memory in the tophat asked. 'If we are his memories, surely he should?'
'If he is reliving this memory,' the memory with the horn mused,' he would not notice us. He didn't see us when this happened originally, after all.'
'What is the meaning of this?' the king bellowed, meanwhile. 'I gave orders not to be disturbed!'
Loran stepped forward, and the guards followed. he rolled his eyes in the most annoyed manner he could muster.
'Look, you guys,' he said, turning to them with his hands raised. 'Is it probable that I will try to harm your king? I t