Re: The Glorious Championship! [S3G5] [Round One: The "Denny's"]
05-11-2011, 05:33 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by TimeothyHour.
This was the opening. This was the chink in the armor. Etiyr could now pry that chink and turn in into a big gaping hole, leaving this human vulnerable to its influence. The fear in Gabe’s eyes, that emotional burst. He was preoccupied with things other than a malevolent typewriter. Now was the time to strike, and slowly leech this poor sap’s free will.
As Gabe slowly walked into the next room, Etiyr quickly formulated a line of questioning that would slowly endear the typewriter to him, to gain his trust and swiftly abuse it. Just as they were about to reach the doorway into whatever lay beyond, it laid its trap of words.
“So, why do you think the Genie guy picked you to be in this battle to the death?”
Gabe glanced down at the typewriter suspiciously. “Why would I tell you? You’re one of my opponents.”
“Well, it seems pretty apparent we’ve made an alliance, especially considering how you fondled me back there.”
With a quick chuckle and nervous smile on his face, the current focus of Etiyr’s energies shrugged his shoulders. “Heh, sorry about that. I wasn’t really thinking about your response to…” Gabe began, his voice slowly trailing off, before picking up again. “But yeah. I guess we do have an alliance.”
“Well then, Gabe, I’d suggest we tell each other our strengths and weaknesses in order to better formulate this alliance,” Etiyr typed in as an authoritative tone as it could. This was the test. The moment of truth.
“Yeah… I guess you’re right,” Gabe replied after a quick pause.
Success.
By now the pair had arrived in the adjoining room, and the first vastly noticeable aspect was the fact that a large pile of pancakes had been spread out across the room, the pile originating from a nearby open door. One would then notice several people had been there before, various pancakes having footprints marking them or holes through their middles.
Regardless of the dubious sanitation of the pancakes, Gabriel uttered a relieved, “Finally, food,” and sat down next to the pile, situating the typewriter into a position where he could read the words on the paper without too much effort. He promptly reached into the smorgasbord, picked out a particularly fresh-looking pancake, and began to munch on it.
“Annnnyyyyywaaaayyyy,” Etiyr continued. <span style="font-family: Courier New">“You were saying?”</span>
This was the opening. This was the chink in the armor. Etiyr could now pry that chink and turn in into a big gaping hole, leaving this human vulnerable to its influence. The fear in Gabe’s eyes, that emotional burst. He was preoccupied with things other than a malevolent typewriter. Now was the time to strike, and slowly leech this poor sap’s free will.
As Gabe slowly walked into the next room, Etiyr quickly formulated a line of questioning that would slowly endear the typewriter to him, to gain his trust and swiftly abuse it. Just as they were about to reach the doorway into whatever lay beyond, it laid its trap of words.
“So, why do you think the Genie guy picked you to be in this battle to the death?”
Gabe glanced down at the typewriter suspiciously. “Why would I tell you? You’re one of my opponents.”
“Well, it seems pretty apparent we’ve made an alliance, especially considering how you fondled me back there.”
With a quick chuckle and nervous smile on his face, the current focus of Etiyr’s energies shrugged his shoulders. “Heh, sorry about that. I wasn’t really thinking about your response to…” Gabe began, his voice slowly trailing off, before picking up again. “But yeah. I guess we do have an alliance.”
“Well then, Gabe, I’d suggest we tell each other our strengths and weaknesses in order to better formulate this alliance,” Etiyr typed in as an authoritative tone as it could. This was the test. The moment of truth.
“Yeah… I guess you’re right,” Gabe replied after a quick pause.
Success.
By now the pair had arrived in the adjoining room, and the first vastly noticeable aspect was the fact that a large pile of pancakes had been spread out across the room, the pile originating from a nearby open door. One would then notice several people had been there before, various pancakes having footprints marking them or holes through their middles.
Regardless of the dubious sanitation of the pancakes, Gabriel uttered a relieved, “Finally, food,” and sat down next to the pile, situating the typewriter into a position where he could read the words on the paper without too much effort. He promptly reached into the smorgasbord, picked out a particularly fresh-looking pancake, and began to munch on it.
“Annnnyyyyywaaaayyyy,” Etiyr continued. <span style="font-family: Courier New">“You were saying?”</span>