Re: Inexorable Altercation [Round IV - Hezekiah]
04-27-2012, 04:37 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
Parset had spent more time in lockup than he’d cared to, if less than he deserved, and yet still he could not remember bearing a sentence with more indignity. His previous jailors had at least had the dignity to physically lead him to a cell, as opposed to just throwing one up around him. What was worse, though not entirely unsurprising, was that his key didn’t fit in the lock. Given the chaos outside, he would have appreciated the opportunity to lock himself in and others out.
Parset rat-tat-tatted a loose externalization of the rhythm of his thought processes upon the ground. The most worrying of his myriad problems was the clear and obvious absence of a world under him. Gnomes are thought to live closer to the earth than humans (yeah, about four feet closer, goes the inevitable joke) and though this conception can be mostly waved away as cultural insensitivity, Parset was certainly feeling a bit of vertigo. Even in the last place, there were smells that made sense to him: flora, fauna, stone, dust, the right note of moisture in the air. Upon this second, more dramatic remove, the floor was a hollow layer of iron and the wind came out of the walls and tasted like sweat.
Though opposed to hard labor in all its forms, the gnome was intrigued by the possibility of building a structure out of all these strange bricks that were lying around. They might give him an opportunity to reach the strange light source on the ceiling, which in turn would, well, he’d probably either burn himself like the proverbial winged gnome, or accidentally put the light out and leave himself in darkness. He could make his own light, though, and had come too far in this life to be afraid of a little fire, even if it was otherworldly upside-down fire.
On reflection, of course stacking the boxes up against the door was a bad idea.
Picking himself up off the ground, Parset found himself face-to-knee with an impressive looking man leveling some foreign metallic implement against him as though it meant something. He waved. The man said, “You. Did you just get here recently?”
* * * * *
The little guy nodded. He was ugly in an endearing sort of way. “Do you know why you’re here?” asked Will.
The other pulled a card from out of his handkerchief and handed it to Will. Will examined it. You’ve been entered in a contest, it read. Try to stay alive.
This rather bluntly threw off all of Will’s preconceptions about how this battle worked. “I’m in the same contest,” he explained to the short man. “Can you talk?”
The new contestant raised an eyebrow incredulously and shook his head. “That’s inconvenient,” groaned Will. “Alright. Did you meet anyone? Did they tell you anything more than this?” Head shake no. “Alright.” Will paused. “Do you have a name?” Slightly sarcastic looking nod for yes. “Can you write it down?” Head shake no.
The little guy raised one drumstick for effect and rapped them one-two on the side of one of the boxes. The word “Parset” popped into Will’s head unbidden. “Parset?” Nod. “Alright. Hi, Parset. I’m Will.”
Will offered his hand. Parset tentatively took hold of it and gave it a quick shake, pulling his hand away. The gnome didn’t seem all that trusting, but Will supposed he wouldn’t easily trust anybody three times his height, either.
* * * * *
”There were eight of us at first,” explained Will. ”These men told us we were going to kill each other because... a book told them to. The way it seems to have worked is that every time someone dies, we move somewhere else. But I don’t know why you’re here.” This put Parset on guard, but Will wasn’t looking particularly aggressive at the moment, and it wasn’t like there was any clear method of escape, so he sat and kept listening. ”The understanding... well, the implication—the assumption we made was that this thing would eventually end, but if they’re just bringing more people in—I don’t know. Things are bad.”
Things are bad indeed. This human had a talent for stating the obvious, but at least he hadn’t asked for anything yet.
”Parset, this question might seem blunt, but, what can you do? Why do you think they put you in this battle?” There it was. The real answer, of course, was because he had the key, but the gnome didn’t feel like sharing that bit of information just yet. Instead he just shrugged. ”You don’t have any weapons? Special abilities? Magic?” Will stammered about the word “magic” like it was something he’d only heard of in books. Parset pointed a drumstick at him affirmatively. ”Good. That’s good. What kind of magic?”
Parset slapped his sticks together one two three four
The ensuing demonstration of percussive skill—which the gnome, not to brag, thought to be fairly impressive—was sufficient to lift three or four of the boxes about a foot into the air and compel them to do a little dance. This brought a little smirk to Will’s face. Satisfied that he’d more or less demonstrated the extent of his abilities, Parset cut out the music and sent the boxes back to the floor with a dull thud.
Will nodded appreciatively. ”Well,” he said. ”That’s more than I’ve seen out of Annaliese, at least. You should come with me, Parset. Help me find the others.”
If that had been an order, Parset would have rejected it entirely, but it wasn’t. It was more of a suggestion. This merited thought. Looking for however-many people who had been tasked with killing him didn’t seem immediately prudent, but neither was staying here with... how had the voice out of the wall put it? The worst scum of the something-he-didn’t-catch. Rat-tat-tat-. What settled the matter was that there would be plenty of keyholes in this lockup for his perusal. He looked up at Will and saluted.
Parset had spent more time in lockup than he’d cared to, if less than he deserved, and yet still he could not remember bearing a sentence with more indignity. His previous jailors had at least had the dignity to physically lead him to a cell, as opposed to just throwing one up around him. What was worse, though not entirely unsurprising, was that his key didn’t fit in the lock. Given the chaos outside, he would have appreciated the opportunity to lock himself in and others out.
Parset rat-tat-tatted a loose externalization of the rhythm of his thought processes upon the ground. The most worrying of his myriad problems was the clear and obvious absence of a world under him. Gnomes are thought to live closer to the earth than humans (yeah, about four feet closer, goes the inevitable joke) and though this conception can be mostly waved away as cultural insensitivity, Parset was certainly feeling a bit of vertigo. Even in the last place, there were smells that made sense to him: flora, fauna, stone, dust, the right note of moisture in the air. Upon this second, more dramatic remove, the floor was a hollow layer of iron and the wind came out of the walls and tasted like sweat.
Though opposed to hard labor in all its forms, the gnome was intrigued by the possibility of building a structure out of all these strange bricks that were lying around. They might give him an opportunity to reach the strange light source on the ceiling, which in turn would, well, he’d probably either burn himself like the proverbial winged gnome, or accidentally put the light out and leave himself in darkness. He could make his own light, though, and had come too far in this life to be afraid of a little fire, even if it was otherworldly upside-down fire.
On reflection, of course stacking the boxes up against the door was a bad idea.
Picking himself up off the ground, Parset found himself face-to-knee with an impressive looking man leveling some foreign metallic implement against him as though it meant something. He waved. The man said, “You. Did you just get here recently?”
* * * * *
The little guy nodded. He was ugly in an endearing sort of way. “Do you know why you’re here?” asked Will.
The other pulled a card from out of his handkerchief and handed it to Will. Will examined it. You’ve been entered in a contest, it read. Try to stay alive.
This rather bluntly threw off all of Will’s preconceptions about how this battle worked. “I’m in the same contest,” he explained to the short man. “Can you talk?”
The new contestant raised an eyebrow incredulously and shook his head. “That’s inconvenient,” groaned Will. “Alright. Did you meet anyone? Did they tell you anything more than this?” Head shake no. “Alright.” Will paused. “Do you have a name?” Slightly sarcastic looking nod for yes. “Can you write it down?” Head shake no.
The little guy raised one drumstick for effect and rapped them one-two on the side of one of the boxes. The word “Parset” popped into Will’s head unbidden. “Parset?” Nod. “Alright. Hi, Parset. I’m Will.”
Will offered his hand. Parset tentatively took hold of it and gave it a quick shake, pulling his hand away. The gnome didn’t seem all that trusting, but Will supposed he wouldn’t easily trust anybody three times his height, either.
* * * * *
”There were eight of us at first,” explained Will. ”These men told us we were going to kill each other because... a book told them to. The way it seems to have worked is that every time someone dies, we move somewhere else. But I don’t know why you’re here.” This put Parset on guard, but Will wasn’t looking particularly aggressive at the moment, and it wasn’t like there was any clear method of escape, so he sat and kept listening. ”The understanding... well, the implication—the assumption we made was that this thing would eventually end, but if they’re just bringing more people in—I don’t know. Things are bad.”
Things are bad indeed. This human had a talent for stating the obvious, but at least he hadn’t asked for anything yet.
”Parset, this question might seem blunt, but, what can you do? Why do you think they put you in this battle?” There it was. The real answer, of course, was because he had the key, but the gnome didn’t feel like sharing that bit of information just yet. Instead he just shrugged. ”You don’t have any weapons? Special abilities? Magic?” Will stammered about the word “magic” like it was something he’d only heard of in books. Parset pointed a drumstick at him affirmatively. ”Good. That’s good. What kind of magic?”
Parset slapped his sticks together one two three four
The ensuing demonstration of percussive skill—which the gnome, not to brag, thought to be fairly impressive—was sufficient to lift three or four of the boxes about a foot into the air and compel them to do a little dance. This brought a little smirk to Will’s face. Satisfied that he’d more or less demonstrated the extent of his abilities, Parset cut out the music and sent the boxes back to the floor with a dull thud.
Will nodded appreciatively. ”Well,” he said. ”That’s more than I’ve seen out of Annaliese, at least. You should come with me, Parset. Help me find the others.”
If that had been an order, Parset would have rejected it entirely, but it wasn’t. It was more of a suggestion. This merited thought. Looking for however-many people who had been tasked with killing him didn’t seem immediately prudent, but neither was staying here with... how had the voice out of the wall put it? The worst scum of the something-he-didn’t-catch. Rat-tat-tat-. What settled the matter was that there would be plenty of keyholes in this lockup for his perusal. He looked up at Will and saluted.