Re: Mini-Grand 5109 [Round 1: The Great Catacombs]
10-29-2011, 08:23 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by XX.
It isn’t an easy task to lure a hero into the Inner Sanctum of the Great Catacombs, let alone four. Things have to be arranged, enemies have to be killed, a certain level of dramatic tension has to be set in place and really it’s all just horribly inconvenient and can never seem to be resolved neatly. The thieves found that out quickly, bless their absent souls. The Guardians of the Orbs knew this and felt a certain sense of existential satisfaction when Aaron entered the chamber and voided their contracts, causing them all to simultaneously detonate in a burst of arcane light and leave behind a measly 34 gold and Small Shiny Rock each.
Aaron staggered into the Sanctum with a look of wonder on his face, trailed by the beslugged DifCorp host. The corporation was busily calculating the best angle to shoot for when it announced its discovery of this archaeological Mecca- the sword over there had to be Babylonian, albeit in remarkable condition, and wouldn’t that make for an excellent subplot when the inevitable film was made? The Cultural Relevance team was going to have a field day with this. The slug host smiled broadly out of habit. It was a good day to be in business.
The orphan’s concerns were more pedestrian. He dove mindlessly through heaps of treasure, ignoring the fat gold coins that clattered around his feet and the ornate chalices that rang like bells when he touched them. He couldn’t eat those. He felt the ghosts hovering around his shoulders (it’s coming, it’s coming, wait for it, wait for it), growing anxious as he fiercely tossed aside artifact after artifact, blind to everything that wasn’t a cup, a sword, a pendant, all the objects he dug through in search of anything that was simply food.
Something glittered at him out of the corner of his eye, and Aaron turned to see a fat red apple resting primly on a stack of gently twitching carpets. He lunged for it as if at any second it might vanish and tore into it with feral strength, nearly biting off his own fingers in the effort. He was so hungry that it took him several seconds to realize that the juice running over his fingers was blood, warm and red and soaking his hands to the bone, but he was starving, starving, and the corporation looked on in interested horror as the orphan devoured it anyway, grateful to have something in his stomach at last.
The ghosts were frantic now, and he finally took the time to listen just as one of them whispered in his ear, you’re not alone.
There was a man at the door with a sword swinging in his hand, looking worried. Behind him, a floating skeleton grumbled at a smug-looking pigeon.
As they entered, a faint chiming sound rang throughout the Sanctum and a golden light fell over the entire room. In its center a kingly statue blazed to life and rotated with a grinding of stone to face the adventurers clustered at the entrance. The corners of its mouth cracked upwards as it began to bellow in a voice made to cow the enemies of Justice, “HAIL, WARRIORS! YOU HAVE CONQUERED THE EVIL THAT RESIDES WITHIN THESE CURSED HALLS AND PROVEN YOUR WORTH AS CHAMPIONS OF THE LIGHT! YOU HAVE DEFEATED THE GUARDIANS OF THE ORBS AND VANQUISHED THE BEARERS OF THE DEAD!…”
A child, the wolf was laughing in Talmadge’s ear. How monstrous.
“Was this what you were telling me about?” Talmadge said nervously. He rolled the sword’s hilt in his hand. “Was this it?”
there’s danger here, there’s danger, you have to run, boy you have to run, he’s here, he’s here-
don’t listen to him
listen
you have to run
YOU HAVE TO RUN
“I’m so sorry.”
“-CLAIMED THE SWORD OF THE WORLDBURNER AND TASTED THE FRUIT OF PROPHECY-”
“You seem like such a nice person,” Talmadge cried, and brought the sword down with all his might at Aaron’s neck.
Quickly, faster than anyone should have been able to move, Aaron grabbed the shoulder of the bewildered DifCorp host and shoved him forward, bracing the man’s back with his arm. He heard the rush of air as the blade hit flesh and gasped in pain as blood sprayed across his face, burning hot from the fire of the sword and running down the Corp’s back from the gaping red stump where his head used to be. He felt the tall man’s body spasm and go limp, and it fell to his feet with a sick wet thump.
Talmadge shrieked,in horror, letting the burning sword clatter to the ground. “No, no, no, no,” he wailed, dropping to his knees and shaking the corpse’s shoulders frantically as if trying to wake it. “You were the wrong one! You were the wrong one, no no no, stop! You’re not him! You’re not him at all! Stop!”
Aaron backed away stiffly, nearly tripping over DifCorp’s gently rocking head. Its glasses glittered up at him, the lifeless mouth almost smirking. From behind its ear, a small greenish slug began to crawl forward, twitching gently.
DifCorp wasn’t particularly pleased about the recent turn of events, but being a megacorporation and hundreds of years old to boot had given it a sort of laissez-faire attitude towards life. It hadn’t been particularly attached to its body, certainly not any more than an ordinary man would be to his car, and was currently mostly regretting its sudden loss of legs. The corporation was just beginning to consider an unplanned transfer to the nearby orphan child when a haunted bat came down and, without any further notice, ended that particular train of thought abruptly.
It isn’t an easy task to lure a hero into the Inner Sanctum of the Great Catacombs, let alone four. Things have to be arranged, enemies have to be killed, a certain level of dramatic tension has to be set in place and really it’s all just horribly inconvenient and can never seem to be resolved neatly. The thieves found that out quickly, bless their absent souls. The Guardians of the Orbs knew this and felt a certain sense of existential satisfaction when Aaron entered the chamber and voided their contracts, causing them all to simultaneously detonate in a burst of arcane light and leave behind a measly 34 gold and Small Shiny Rock each.
Aaron staggered into the Sanctum with a look of wonder on his face, trailed by the beslugged DifCorp host. The corporation was busily calculating the best angle to shoot for when it announced its discovery of this archaeological Mecca- the sword over there had to be Babylonian, albeit in remarkable condition, and wouldn’t that make for an excellent subplot when the inevitable film was made? The Cultural Relevance team was going to have a field day with this. The slug host smiled broadly out of habit. It was a good day to be in business.
The orphan’s concerns were more pedestrian. He dove mindlessly through heaps of treasure, ignoring the fat gold coins that clattered around his feet and the ornate chalices that rang like bells when he touched them. He couldn’t eat those. He felt the ghosts hovering around his shoulders (it’s coming, it’s coming, wait for it, wait for it), growing anxious as he fiercely tossed aside artifact after artifact, blind to everything that wasn’t a cup, a sword, a pendant, all the objects he dug through in search of anything that was simply food.
Something glittered at him out of the corner of his eye, and Aaron turned to see a fat red apple resting primly on a stack of gently twitching carpets. He lunged for it as if at any second it might vanish and tore into it with feral strength, nearly biting off his own fingers in the effort. He was so hungry that it took him several seconds to realize that the juice running over his fingers was blood, warm and red and soaking his hands to the bone, but he was starving, starving, and the corporation looked on in interested horror as the orphan devoured it anyway, grateful to have something in his stomach at last.
The ghosts were frantic now, and he finally took the time to listen just as one of them whispered in his ear, you’re not alone.
There was a man at the door with a sword swinging in his hand, looking worried. Behind him, a floating skeleton grumbled at a smug-looking pigeon.
As they entered, a faint chiming sound rang throughout the Sanctum and a golden light fell over the entire room. In its center a kingly statue blazed to life and rotated with a grinding of stone to face the adventurers clustered at the entrance. The corners of its mouth cracked upwards as it began to bellow in a voice made to cow the enemies of Justice, “HAIL, WARRIORS! YOU HAVE CONQUERED THE EVIL THAT RESIDES WITHIN THESE CURSED HALLS AND PROVEN YOUR WORTH AS CHAMPIONS OF THE LIGHT! YOU HAVE DEFEATED THE GUARDIANS OF THE ORBS AND VANQUISHED THE BEARERS OF THE DEAD!…”
A child, the wolf was laughing in Talmadge’s ear. How monstrous.
“Was this what you were telling me about?” Talmadge said nervously. He rolled the sword’s hilt in his hand. “Was this it?”
there’s danger here, there’s danger, you have to run, boy you have to run, he’s here, he’s here-
don’t listen to him
listen
you have to run
YOU HAVE TO RUN
“I’m so sorry.”
“-CLAIMED THE SWORD OF THE WORLDBURNER AND TASTED THE FRUIT OF PROPHECY-”
“You seem like such a nice person,” Talmadge cried, and brought the sword down with all his might at Aaron’s neck.
Quickly, faster than anyone should have been able to move, Aaron grabbed the shoulder of the bewildered DifCorp host and shoved him forward, bracing the man’s back with his arm. He heard the rush of air as the blade hit flesh and gasped in pain as blood sprayed across his face, burning hot from the fire of the sword and running down the Corp’s back from the gaping red stump where his head used to be. He felt the tall man’s body spasm and go limp, and it fell to his feet with a sick wet thump.
Talmadge shrieked,in horror, letting the burning sword clatter to the ground. “No, no, no, no,” he wailed, dropping to his knees and shaking the corpse’s shoulders frantically as if trying to wake it. “You were the wrong one! You were the wrong one, no no no, stop! You’re not him! You’re not him at all! Stop!”
Aaron backed away stiffly, nearly tripping over DifCorp’s gently rocking head. Its glasses glittered up at him, the lifeless mouth almost smirking. From behind its ear, a small greenish slug began to crawl forward, twitching gently.
DifCorp wasn’t particularly pleased about the recent turn of events, but being a megacorporation and hundreds of years old to boot had given it a sort of laissez-faire attitude towards life. It hadn’t been particularly attached to its body, certainly not any more than an ordinary man would be to his car, and was currently mostly regretting its sudden loss of legs. The corporation was just beginning to consider an unplanned transfer to the nearby orphan child when a haunted bat came down and, without any further notice, ended that particular train of thought abruptly.