Re: The Glorious Championship! [S3G5] [Round One: The "Denny's"]
06-03-2011, 02:47 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by engineclock.
The concept of “typewriter” was not a familiar one to Cailean. There was no word for it where he was from. The closest comparison he could have made was to a kind of crude printing press, assuming he had ever actually seen one, which he hadn’t. Until this day he’d never been around anything more technically complicated than a windmill. It was understandable, then, that the oddly specific sound of a certain typewriter’s C key being repeatedly slammed down would attract his attention. Less understandable was Cailean’s sense of curiosity emerging after years of being crushed under the relatively simple edicts of “Don’t Ask Questions” and “Don’t Get Killed”. But those had finally managed to fail him after all this time, and there was something so appealing about that metallic sound coming from the other room…
He didn’t like leaving Elli alone with Gaurinn and whatever that metal hell-thing was, not to mention the dog that had just wandered in. Cailean had never liked dogs and he wasn’t much inclined to give this one any favors, seeing on how the last ones he’d seen were half-metal and had tried to kill him. But surely the lass could manage herself and that uncanny cat without any trouble, and if not… well. He wouldn’t have to deal with her himself later on, then. His stomach twisted almost imperceptibly as he thought, no harm done.
The hall outside was lit by a false, harsh light that was starting to grate on Cailean’s nerves. He slunk through it, glancing down the corridor warily; other than that damned pinging and a few other distant sounds he was none too keen on investigating, it was empty. A light flickered somewhere around the corner and he flinched nervously. Laying a hand on Maowyn’s knife out of habit, he ducked into the room the sound was coming from and came face-to-face with a waiting Etiyr.
The typewriter’s mood took a swing for the better the instant its next victim stepped cautiously through the doorway, eyeing the machine nervously. This one didn’t look especially bright. Certainly not any more than Gabe, and doubtless light-years ahead of that insipid cyborg. Dominating him would be easy.
“Hello there,” Etiyr typed in the most welcoming way it could manage. “I don’t suppose I could ask for your help? Everyone else I’ve met so far has abandoned me in some place or other. It’s quite rude. Just a quick move to the next room will be fine.”
The knight-looking guy didn’t respond immediately, instead just tapping his fingers against the hilt of the knife sheathed at his side. Nervous habit, Etiyr figured. That might be useful to know later on. Cailean coughed. “Ah, we could hear that racket you were setting about making from the other room, there. S’bit distracting, you see?” He shifted his weight, obviously eager to leave.
“My apologies. It’s just that I really would prefer not to be stuck here for the rest of the battle. I did mention that everyone else has left me, didn’t I? Gaurinn included. You should be careful around him… Cailean, wasn’t it? I don’t trust that overgrown centipede. I don’t think you should either.” Etiyr paused hopefully. Surely no one could stand to be around that horrible insect without having at least some nodule of dislike that could be manipulated into an alliance.
Cailean, however, still didn’t reply, merely giving Etiyr’s paper a blank look. There was a long silence in which neither of them spoke. Finally, the soldier took a step backwards and said slowly, “So that’s it, then? Much obliged, ah… Etiyr. Best I should be heading back then, begging your pardon.” He stuck his head out into the hallway, and before the typewriter could do anything else, turned around the corner and was gone. The sound of his armor clanking echoed dully off the walls.
Etiyr was simultaneously stunned and furious. The stupid idiot hadn’t responded to anything he’d said! And he was being polite! The nerve! The absolute gall! The typewriter began to pound his keys as loudly as possible, frantic with rage. “Come back here, you miserable excuse for a walking meatbag! I did not give you permission to leave! Get back here right this instant before I do something… something horrible to you and everyone else, you’re going to regret his I can personally assure you, YOU WORTHLESS PILE OF STINKING MEAT CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC-”
Cailean’s freckle-and-blood stained face made a reappearance around the doorframe, frowning slightly. He stared down at Etiyr, obviously confused and looking more than a little irritated. “What’re you on about, then? Thought we’d settled this.”
“I do NOT,” the typewriter spat out as venomously as it could, “appreciate being ignored. The very least you could do is pay attention when I’m talking to you. How would you feel if I disregarded every single word you spoke? You would feel terrible. You SHOULD feel terrible. Now get down here and pick me up. It’s the least you could do.”
The empty look on Cailean’s face as he blinked at this latest tirade would have made Etiyr scream with rage if he had any way of doing so. What the fucking hell was this guy’s problem? Was he blind? The typewriter was just winding itself up for what would surely have been a vehemently insulting rant if a realization hadn’t suddenly hit it and stopped it in its tracks.
The stupid bastard couldn’t read.
“You- you ignorant two-bit sorry miserable fucking excuse for a human being, how in the name of hell do you not know how to READ YOUR OWN GODDAMN LANGUAGE. That seems like A PRETTY BIG OVERSIGHT, DON’T YOU THINK? You can’t even tell what I’m saying to you right now! You’re that stupid! How does it feel, you sorry bastard? HOW DOES IT FEEL NOT BEING TO TELL THAT I JUST CALLED YOU A BASTARD? HOW DOES IT FEEL??”
“Cailean!”
Oh god no.
“Having trouble dealing with our friend there? Thought you’d be able to deal with him, given that he’s, you know, a typewriter. Not your fault if that’s a little beyond your skill range, though.”
Gaurinn appeared behind Cailean in the doorway, a few persistent crumbs still clinging to his exoskeleton. He clicked his mandibles together in contempt. “Wow, he was working on quite the speech there. What’d you do, insult the size of his keys or something?”
The armored man shrugged. “Dunno. It won’t stop making that hellish noise, though. Tried asking it. I’ll have to learn to ignore it if it’s going to carry on like this, I suppose.”
“FUCK BOTH OF YOU SO HARD.”
“Heh. Good enough. Listen, the chick’s fawning over the dog back there and AMP doesn’t seem to understand the concept of not talking. Let’s you and I ditch them and go see if Fatty’s left anything else interesting in this hellhole.”
“I… alright. The lass’ll be alright by herself, I s’pect.”
“Oh god, the two of you really need to get a room already. It’s getting embarrassing...”
The pair of them departed, still bantering and leaving Etiyr behind in a seething cloud of hate. How dare they. How DARE they! His last hope, that stupid splotchy-faced idiot in the armor! How DARE they! How could they have possibly ignored him? How? It wasn’t fair! All he wanted to do was to drive everyone mad and then kill them, hopefully as slowly as possible! It wasn’t fair! They had no right to strand him here! None of them did!
Yet they all had, Etiyr fumed. How many had it been now? How long until he’d gone through every last worthless soul in this whole godforsaken mess? Where was the justice? He spat out his paper in defiance as far away as he could, which was a few inches further than usual. He’d show them. He’d show each and every one of them, just as soon as one of those miserable idiots came back. No one was going to be safe from his influence. He’d make them all tear each other to pieces and offer their own bleeding hearts to him on a platter. And he would laugh.
But in the meantime…
“CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC…”
The concept of “typewriter” was not a familiar one to Cailean. There was no word for it where he was from. The closest comparison he could have made was to a kind of crude printing press, assuming he had ever actually seen one, which he hadn’t. Until this day he’d never been around anything more technically complicated than a windmill. It was understandable, then, that the oddly specific sound of a certain typewriter’s C key being repeatedly slammed down would attract his attention. Less understandable was Cailean’s sense of curiosity emerging after years of being crushed under the relatively simple edicts of “Don’t Ask Questions” and “Don’t Get Killed”. But those had finally managed to fail him after all this time, and there was something so appealing about that metallic sound coming from the other room…
He didn’t like leaving Elli alone with Gaurinn and whatever that metal hell-thing was, not to mention the dog that had just wandered in. Cailean had never liked dogs and he wasn’t much inclined to give this one any favors, seeing on how the last ones he’d seen were half-metal and had tried to kill him. But surely the lass could manage herself and that uncanny cat without any trouble, and if not… well. He wouldn’t have to deal with her himself later on, then. His stomach twisted almost imperceptibly as he thought, no harm done.
The hall outside was lit by a false, harsh light that was starting to grate on Cailean’s nerves. He slunk through it, glancing down the corridor warily; other than that damned pinging and a few other distant sounds he was none too keen on investigating, it was empty. A light flickered somewhere around the corner and he flinched nervously. Laying a hand on Maowyn’s knife out of habit, he ducked into the room the sound was coming from and came face-to-face with a waiting Etiyr.
The typewriter’s mood took a swing for the better the instant its next victim stepped cautiously through the doorway, eyeing the machine nervously. This one didn’t look especially bright. Certainly not any more than Gabe, and doubtless light-years ahead of that insipid cyborg. Dominating him would be easy.
“Hello there,” Etiyr typed in the most welcoming way it could manage. “I don’t suppose I could ask for your help? Everyone else I’ve met so far has abandoned me in some place or other. It’s quite rude. Just a quick move to the next room will be fine.”
The knight-looking guy didn’t respond immediately, instead just tapping his fingers against the hilt of the knife sheathed at his side. Nervous habit, Etiyr figured. That might be useful to know later on. Cailean coughed. “Ah, we could hear that racket you were setting about making from the other room, there. S’bit distracting, you see?” He shifted his weight, obviously eager to leave.
“My apologies. It’s just that I really would prefer not to be stuck here for the rest of the battle. I did mention that everyone else has left me, didn’t I? Gaurinn included. You should be careful around him… Cailean, wasn’t it? I don’t trust that overgrown centipede. I don’t think you should either.” Etiyr paused hopefully. Surely no one could stand to be around that horrible insect without having at least some nodule of dislike that could be manipulated into an alliance.
Cailean, however, still didn’t reply, merely giving Etiyr’s paper a blank look. There was a long silence in which neither of them spoke. Finally, the soldier took a step backwards and said slowly, “So that’s it, then? Much obliged, ah… Etiyr. Best I should be heading back then, begging your pardon.” He stuck his head out into the hallway, and before the typewriter could do anything else, turned around the corner and was gone. The sound of his armor clanking echoed dully off the walls.
Etiyr was simultaneously stunned and furious. The stupid idiot hadn’t responded to anything he’d said! And he was being polite! The nerve! The absolute gall! The typewriter began to pound his keys as loudly as possible, frantic with rage. “Come back here, you miserable excuse for a walking meatbag! I did not give you permission to leave! Get back here right this instant before I do something… something horrible to you and everyone else, you’re going to regret his I can personally assure you, YOU WORTHLESS PILE OF STINKING MEAT CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC-”
Cailean’s freckle-and-blood stained face made a reappearance around the doorframe, frowning slightly. He stared down at Etiyr, obviously confused and looking more than a little irritated. “What’re you on about, then? Thought we’d settled this.”
“I do NOT,” the typewriter spat out as venomously as it could, “appreciate being ignored. The very least you could do is pay attention when I’m talking to you. How would you feel if I disregarded every single word you spoke? You would feel terrible. You SHOULD feel terrible. Now get down here and pick me up. It’s the least you could do.”
The empty look on Cailean’s face as he blinked at this latest tirade would have made Etiyr scream with rage if he had any way of doing so. What the fucking hell was this guy’s problem? Was he blind? The typewriter was just winding itself up for what would surely have been a vehemently insulting rant if a realization hadn’t suddenly hit it and stopped it in its tracks.
The stupid bastard couldn’t read.
“You- you ignorant two-bit sorry miserable fucking excuse for a human being, how in the name of hell do you not know how to READ YOUR OWN GODDAMN LANGUAGE. That seems like A PRETTY BIG OVERSIGHT, DON’T YOU THINK? You can’t even tell what I’m saying to you right now! You’re that stupid! How does it feel, you sorry bastard? HOW DOES IT FEEL NOT BEING TO TELL THAT I JUST CALLED YOU A BASTARD? HOW DOES IT FEEL??”
“Cailean!”
Oh god no.
“Having trouble dealing with our friend there? Thought you’d be able to deal with him, given that he’s, you know, a typewriter. Not your fault if that’s a little beyond your skill range, though.”
Gaurinn appeared behind Cailean in the doorway, a few persistent crumbs still clinging to his exoskeleton. He clicked his mandibles together in contempt. “Wow, he was working on quite the speech there. What’d you do, insult the size of his keys or something?”
The armored man shrugged. “Dunno. It won’t stop making that hellish noise, though. Tried asking it. I’ll have to learn to ignore it if it’s going to carry on like this, I suppose.”
“FUCK BOTH OF YOU SO HARD.”
“Heh. Good enough. Listen, the chick’s fawning over the dog back there and AMP doesn’t seem to understand the concept of not talking. Let’s you and I ditch them and go see if Fatty’s left anything else interesting in this hellhole.”
“I… alright. The lass’ll be alright by herself, I s’pect.”
“Oh god, the two of you really need to get a room already. It’s getting embarrassing...”
The pair of them departed, still bantering and leaving Etiyr behind in a seething cloud of hate. How dare they. How DARE they! His last hope, that stupid splotchy-faced idiot in the armor! How DARE they! How could they have possibly ignored him? How? It wasn’t fair! All he wanted to do was to drive everyone mad and then kill them, hopefully as slowly as possible! It wasn’t fair! They had no right to strand him here! None of them did!
Yet they all had, Etiyr fumed. How many had it been now? How long until he’d gone through every last worthless soul in this whole godforsaken mess? Where was the justice? He spat out his paper in defiance as far away as he could, which was a few inches further than usual. He’d show them. He’d show each and every one of them, just as soon as one of those miserable idiots came back. No one was going to be safe from his influence. He’d make them all tear each other to pieces and offer their own bleeding hearts to him on a platter. And he would laugh.
But in the meantime…
“CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC…”