Re: The Battle Majestic (Round 4 - Magpie Skies)
07-19-2012, 01:00 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
Stealth was not really an option. Steven was certainly capable of being stealthy, what with the ability to allow his gloves to scout out the way ahead, but the queens that trailed after him were not. He’d earned enough respect freeing them from the dungeon (a simple matter of conjuring up a lockpick and then applying it to the lock wherein the real difficulty had been managing to come up with a plan of action under such intense scrutiny) that the queens had, at his request, ceased their bickering at full volume instead conducting their bickering in periodic bouts of half-whispers and communal shushes. But even in those moments of silence there were still seven people moving down the miserable stone hallways that made up the grey castle, one or two of whom refused to take their high heels off, no matter how nicely Steven asked.
It was rapidly becoming apparent to Steven that they probably wouldn’t be getting through this castle undetected and as for the grey queen’s minions; well he had next to no idea what they were or whether he’d be able to take them on. The thought crossed his mind that he’d be better off without the queens; he would be quieter, he could move faster and, though he hated himself for thinking it, if they were to be caught it would draw the attention of the minions away. On the one hand near certain failure and on the other a fighting chance of survival. He was pretty annoyed with himself that he couldn’t bring himself to take what was undoubtedly the more sensible option. He’d never taken himself for a hero type, yet here he was, rescuing a whole collection of damsels in distress. And then there was the last round; when he’d figured out his gloves could get him out of there he could have just gone, it would have been the more sensible option to just slip away and hope their hosts had presumed him dead, but instead he’d wanted to rescue everybody. And look where it had got him.
There was some part of Steven that didn’t mind too much that they’d never make it up to the roof, as it would save him from admitting that he had absolutely no idea what to do from that point onwards, but he chided himself for being so childish and just had to hope that if and when they reached that point something would present itself. At some point, in one hallway he couldn’t really tell apart from any other hallway in this place, he noticed that the purple queen had broken from the group and was sticking close to his side.
“Is something wrong?” he whispered, and after a short pause he added “your majesty?” unsure whether she was one of the queens who had kicked up a fuss because he hadn’t shown the proper respect.
“No, I just wanted to say I knew you could do it.” The purple queen whispered back, with a warm smile upon her face. “The door back there I mean, when the others were doubting you, I knew you could do it. Oh, and you can call me Violet.”
“Um, thanks.” Steven replied awkwardly. “I’m Steven, you can, um, call me that.” He paused and then concluded the conversation with a polite but firm: “I appreciate the thought, but I really kind of need to concentrate here?”
“You’re not from here are you?” The purple queen, Violet, continued regardless. “I mean it’s obvious you’re not from one of the Kingdoms, and unlike the rest of that lot,” she gestured dismissively towards the queens trailing behind them, “I have actually met a surface dweller, a terrible crude man he was, not at all like yourself.”
“Yeah, uh, I’m a long way from home.” Steven replied curtly.
“Do you have anywhere to stay?” The purple queen (Steven was finding it hard to think of her as Violet) asked. “You could stay at the fuchsia palace. I’m sure you’d get a hero’s welcome…” She didn’t trail off at that point; it was just the point wherein Steven’s attention was suddenly elsewhere.
Floating down the corridor up ahead was one of his gloves. Instantly he was aware of the group of minions up ahead heading their way. He glanced behind him to find the other glove heading their way and knew instantly that their luck had run out. They must have found the empty cell, and it can’t have been that hard to find the queens themselves. The purple queen had trailed off upon noticing Steven’s very visible alarm. The queens had for once gone perfectly silent as well. Steven’s gloves floated to a stop in front of him and he stared at them, trying to work out how to best protect the queens when there were enemies pressing in on both directions.
“I can help.” Violet was at his ear. “If you can magic me up some kind of sabre?” He glanced up at her. “It’s not very ladylike I know, but I always thought I should know how to protect myself.” A moment later she had a sabre in her hand and Steven was leaning against the wall for support. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” He waved her away, and she darted to the back of the group of queens holding tightly to the handle of the byzantium coloured blade. Steven righted himself and readied his gloves in front of him. He was a little drowsy but he was going to put up a fight. Momentarily the grey queen’s minions rounded the corner and bore down upon the group.
--------
A dim grey dot in the distance was growing slowly larger. Streaming through the near-endless azure sky was a carpet, primarily midnight blue but with a complex pattern of silver and gold woven into it. It was a fine carpet, showing no signs of wear and tear, and little signs of use altogether. Seated side by side at the back of the carpet were Sruix and Talis, the latter of the pair looking irate with the current circumstance; though that is not to imply that Sruix was overly pleased either. Standing at the head of the carpet, guiding it with the slightest motion of his arms was a man clothed in swathes of blue fabrics; a scattered spectrum of blue shades running from aqua to zaffre, from periwinkle to sapphire. These fabrics formed a veritable cloak; not an inch of the mage’s skin was to be seen beneath them.
“Not from round ‘ere are yer?” The carpeteer’s voice was surprisingly rough for his arcane appearance. Talis’ response was an incoherent grumble to which Sruix rolled his eyes.
“An astute observation,” Sruix replied, “but don’t worry, just because we are lacking in coin of the realm doesn’t mean we can’t pay your for your services in some other manner.” This was the crux of the animosity between the two former gentlemen.
The man at the head of the carpet was an enchanter, the owner of a shop that they had happened across in their search of the quiet blue village. The carpets had been amongst a selection of other enchanted wares and Talis had proposed that they simply take one, perhaps two, and be off, whereas Sruix had insisted that they pay their way. Had it not been for the well made point that neither of them had any experience piloting a carpet and that they could potentially climb aboard and plunge immediately to their rather untimely demise, they might still have been arguing that point. Though they had known each other a long time, their conflicting moralities had until recently only led to a faint sense of distaste for one another. The fact is however that secluded in their own pocket dimension with the Executive, they’d never really had cause to act upon their beliefs, or rather they’d never gotten in one another’s way before.
“I would ‘ope so.” The enchanter replied. “Else I’d dump yer ‘ere and now and be done with it.” Sruix assured him that he would use his abilities to create a fine enchanted item for him, as soon as they reached the grey palace, while Talis sat impassively. Though he was sullen and not making any attempts to hide that fact, he was holding himself back. He couldn’t afford to alienate his counterpart over something as trivial as a mode of transport.
--------
The group continued their journey through the labyrinthine passageways of the grey castle, now flanked by a group of knee height candy red imps. The minions gave Steven and his gloves a wide berth, which was understandable. He hadn’t grasped the fact that they were not hostile quickly enough to prevent him from punching one of the minions so hard the poor thing was knocked from its feet and sent flying back down the corridor behind it. One of the queens, he would guess the orange one though it was a bit of a blur he couldn’t be exactly sure, called out for him to stop. The minions didn’t speak, but communicated with a series of noises that were somewhere between a low level hum and a series of chirps, which the queens could apparently comprehend without much trouble.
“Mainly they apologised for keeping us prisoner.” Violet explained. “They’re all afraid of the grey queen, and not without good reason. They’re simple creatures; they just want to make people happy.” The purple queen had hung back with Steven, at first offering him a shoulder to lean on while he still felt somewhat drained from the use of his gloves, though now simply offering him company.
The sense of peril which had been so pervasive earlier now felt kind of silly in retrospect. Steven felt like a jerk and less of a hero than he had ever done previously; feelings that were only exacerbated by the fact that most of the queens seemed to have all but forgotten he ever even existed now that they no longer needed him to lead them to freedom. Steven half-wondered why he had ever been prepared to put his life on the line to protect them.
“Don’t feel too bad.” Violet continued. “I almost stabbed one with my bitchin’ new sword. That would have been much worse right?” There was another awkward silence at her failed attempt to lighten the mood and she tried to change the topic. “So, what brings you to our realm?” This was not exactly the great conversation starter that she had hoped it would be; she was about to give up on Steven and try her hand at holding a conversation with one of the minions (despite the fact that her minionese was kind of rusty) when he responded.
“Bad luck.” Steven replied eventually. “I was taken from my life, expected to fight and kill a bunch of other guys, or, well, die trying.”
Violet might have envisioned him pitted against the worst of the worst; criminals, monsters and villains and expected to overcome seemingly insurmountable odds to best them and make the world a better place, however the sour tone of Steven’s voice told her immediately that this was not some heroic endeavour. “That must be awful, to be taken from your home and made to do such a thing.”
“Well…” Steven started, “I wouldn’t say my home exactly. I haven’t been home in years.” There was a moment of silence between the two. It was not awkward like previous pauses in the conversation had been, but somewhat intimate. There was a real sense of homesickness from Steven, a sense of being uprooted from where you belonged so suddenly and not knowing if you could ever return, a feeling of great loneliness. Violet reached out and grabbed Steven’s hand.
“Can you not just say ‘no, I won’t fight’ and not fight?” she asked.
“I don’t think it works like that.” Steven replied sadly.
Suddenly after trekking through seemingly endless series of dim grey corridors they were emerging onto the roof; the bright sunlight burning at their unaccustomed eyes. The roof stretched off before them, in the distance a couple of towers and crenellated battlements were visible marking the edge of the castle and the subsequent surely fatal plunge. There were a couple of minions hanging around, who immediately flocked to the queens as they emerged from the castle proper, but no apparent means of transportation. Steven really hoped that he wasn’t going to be expected to conjure up some form of transportation for them. As the minions led them to the far end of the roof he contemplated such a course of action and was forced to conclude that even the most optimistic option would almost certainly leave him so drained of energy he would be practically catatonic and he didn’t like to think of the queens’ attempting to drive such a thing.
“So, what now?” Steven asked when the group had come to a stop.
“Look.” Violet directed Steven’s attention to the horizon where several distant red dots were getting larger. As they drew closer, they became more distinct. At first Steven thought they were a group of birds, a couple of small ones clustered around a larger one, but as they drew even closer it was clear to see that they were dragons; flame red and oddly angular with small grey eyes. The realisation made him involuntarily draw back, but Violet squeezed his hand and he realised they were chirping the same language as the minions; there was in fact more than just a passing similarity between them. Within a minute or so the largest dragon swooped down and landed upon the roof in front of them. It was large enough for the entire group sans minions to climb upon its back and fly them out of there, and it was apparent that this was the intention.
The queens began to climb aboard the dragon to the same background muttering and moaning that had accompanied more or less every stage of the journey so far. The white queen was especially vocal about how she resented having to ride around upon the backs of animals, but she climbed aboard anyway, not having any real alternative. Steven scanned the skies, noting a tiny square of midnight blue out ahead of them, and behind them a rapidly approaching black shape. Steven stared at it, shading his eyes from the glaring light of the sun with his free hand. It was a slender shape, carried on wings that did not look large enough to bear such a creature with sharp spines trailing behind it and deadly sharp claws.
“Um, guys, there’s another dragon coming.” Steven said, “It doesn’t look as friendly as this one.” Heads turned, and there was sudden sense of panic. The bickering grew louder, the queens that had already climbed aboard the dragon dug their heels into its sides in an effort to get it to fly away immediately, while the other queens pushed and shoved at one another to try to be the next to climb on.
“Oh.” Violet sounded defeated already. “The grey queen.”
Stealth was not really an option. Steven was certainly capable of being stealthy, what with the ability to allow his gloves to scout out the way ahead, but the queens that trailed after him were not. He’d earned enough respect freeing them from the dungeon (a simple matter of conjuring up a lockpick and then applying it to the lock wherein the real difficulty had been managing to come up with a plan of action under such intense scrutiny) that the queens had, at his request, ceased their bickering at full volume instead conducting their bickering in periodic bouts of half-whispers and communal shushes. But even in those moments of silence there were still seven people moving down the miserable stone hallways that made up the grey castle, one or two of whom refused to take their high heels off, no matter how nicely Steven asked.
It was rapidly becoming apparent to Steven that they probably wouldn’t be getting through this castle undetected and as for the grey queen’s minions; well he had next to no idea what they were or whether he’d be able to take them on. The thought crossed his mind that he’d be better off without the queens; he would be quieter, he could move faster and, though he hated himself for thinking it, if they were to be caught it would draw the attention of the minions away. On the one hand near certain failure and on the other a fighting chance of survival. He was pretty annoyed with himself that he couldn’t bring himself to take what was undoubtedly the more sensible option. He’d never taken himself for a hero type, yet here he was, rescuing a whole collection of damsels in distress. And then there was the last round; when he’d figured out his gloves could get him out of there he could have just gone, it would have been the more sensible option to just slip away and hope their hosts had presumed him dead, but instead he’d wanted to rescue everybody. And look where it had got him.
There was some part of Steven that didn’t mind too much that they’d never make it up to the roof, as it would save him from admitting that he had absolutely no idea what to do from that point onwards, but he chided himself for being so childish and just had to hope that if and when they reached that point something would present itself. At some point, in one hallway he couldn’t really tell apart from any other hallway in this place, he noticed that the purple queen had broken from the group and was sticking close to his side.
“Is something wrong?” he whispered, and after a short pause he added “your majesty?” unsure whether she was one of the queens who had kicked up a fuss because he hadn’t shown the proper respect.
“No, I just wanted to say I knew you could do it.” The purple queen whispered back, with a warm smile upon her face. “The door back there I mean, when the others were doubting you, I knew you could do it. Oh, and you can call me Violet.”
“Um, thanks.” Steven replied awkwardly. “I’m Steven, you can, um, call me that.” He paused and then concluded the conversation with a polite but firm: “I appreciate the thought, but I really kind of need to concentrate here?”
“You’re not from here are you?” The purple queen, Violet, continued regardless. “I mean it’s obvious you’re not from one of the Kingdoms, and unlike the rest of that lot,” she gestured dismissively towards the queens trailing behind them, “I have actually met a surface dweller, a terrible crude man he was, not at all like yourself.”
“Yeah, uh, I’m a long way from home.” Steven replied curtly.
“Do you have anywhere to stay?” The purple queen (Steven was finding it hard to think of her as Violet) asked. “You could stay at the fuchsia palace. I’m sure you’d get a hero’s welcome…” She didn’t trail off at that point; it was just the point wherein Steven’s attention was suddenly elsewhere.
Floating down the corridor up ahead was one of his gloves. Instantly he was aware of the group of minions up ahead heading their way. He glanced behind him to find the other glove heading their way and knew instantly that their luck had run out. They must have found the empty cell, and it can’t have been that hard to find the queens themselves. The purple queen had trailed off upon noticing Steven’s very visible alarm. The queens had for once gone perfectly silent as well. Steven’s gloves floated to a stop in front of him and he stared at them, trying to work out how to best protect the queens when there were enemies pressing in on both directions.
“I can help.” Violet was at his ear. “If you can magic me up some kind of sabre?” He glanced up at her. “It’s not very ladylike I know, but I always thought I should know how to protect myself.” A moment later she had a sabre in her hand and Steven was leaning against the wall for support. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” He waved her away, and she darted to the back of the group of queens holding tightly to the handle of the byzantium coloured blade. Steven righted himself and readied his gloves in front of him. He was a little drowsy but he was going to put up a fight. Momentarily the grey queen’s minions rounded the corner and bore down upon the group.
--------
A dim grey dot in the distance was growing slowly larger. Streaming through the near-endless azure sky was a carpet, primarily midnight blue but with a complex pattern of silver and gold woven into it. It was a fine carpet, showing no signs of wear and tear, and little signs of use altogether. Seated side by side at the back of the carpet were Sruix and Talis, the latter of the pair looking irate with the current circumstance; though that is not to imply that Sruix was overly pleased either. Standing at the head of the carpet, guiding it with the slightest motion of his arms was a man clothed in swathes of blue fabrics; a scattered spectrum of blue shades running from aqua to zaffre, from periwinkle to sapphire. These fabrics formed a veritable cloak; not an inch of the mage’s skin was to be seen beneath them.
“Not from round ‘ere are yer?” The carpeteer’s voice was surprisingly rough for his arcane appearance. Talis’ response was an incoherent grumble to which Sruix rolled his eyes.
“An astute observation,” Sruix replied, “but don’t worry, just because we are lacking in coin of the realm doesn’t mean we can’t pay your for your services in some other manner.” This was the crux of the animosity between the two former gentlemen.
The man at the head of the carpet was an enchanter, the owner of a shop that they had happened across in their search of the quiet blue village. The carpets had been amongst a selection of other enchanted wares and Talis had proposed that they simply take one, perhaps two, and be off, whereas Sruix had insisted that they pay their way. Had it not been for the well made point that neither of them had any experience piloting a carpet and that they could potentially climb aboard and plunge immediately to their rather untimely demise, they might still have been arguing that point. Though they had known each other a long time, their conflicting moralities had until recently only led to a faint sense of distaste for one another. The fact is however that secluded in their own pocket dimension with the Executive, they’d never really had cause to act upon their beliefs, or rather they’d never gotten in one another’s way before.
“I would ‘ope so.” The enchanter replied. “Else I’d dump yer ‘ere and now and be done with it.” Sruix assured him that he would use his abilities to create a fine enchanted item for him, as soon as they reached the grey palace, while Talis sat impassively. Though he was sullen and not making any attempts to hide that fact, he was holding himself back. He couldn’t afford to alienate his counterpart over something as trivial as a mode of transport.
--------
The group continued their journey through the labyrinthine passageways of the grey castle, now flanked by a group of knee height candy red imps. The minions gave Steven and his gloves a wide berth, which was understandable. He hadn’t grasped the fact that they were not hostile quickly enough to prevent him from punching one of the minions so hard the poor thing was knocked from its feet and sent flying back down the corridor behind it. One of the queens, he would guess the orange one though it was a bit of a blur he couldn’t be exactly sure, called out for him to stop. The minions didn’t speak, but communicated with a series of noises that were somewhere between a low level hum and a series of chirps, which the queens could apparently comprehend without much trouble.
“Mainly they apologised for keeping us prisoner.” Violet explained. “They’re all afraid of the grey queen, and not without good reason. They’re simple creatures; they just want to make people happy.” The purple queen had hung back with Steven, at first offering him a shoulder to lean on while he still felt somewhat drained from the use of his gloves, though now simply offering him company.
The sense of peril which had been so pervasive earlier now felt kind of silly in retrospect. Steven felt like a jerk and less of a hero than he had ever done previously; feelings that were only exacerbated by the fact that most of the queens seemed to have all but forgotten he ever even existed now that they no longer needed him to lead them to freedom. Steven half-wondered why he had ever been prepared to put his life on the line to protect them.
“Don’t feel too bad.” Violet continued. “I almost stabbed one with my bitchin’ new sword. That would have been much worse right?” There was another awkward silence at her failed attempt to lighten the mood and she tried to change the topic. “So, what brings you to our realm?” This was not exactly the great conversation starter that she had hoped it would be; she was about to give up on Steven and try her hand at holding a conversation with one of the minions (despite the fact that her minionese was kind of rusty) when he responded.
“Bad luck.” Steven replied eventually. “I was taken from my life, expected to fight and kill a bunch of other guys, or, well, die trying.”
Violet might have envisioned him pitted against the worst of the worst; criminals, monsters and villains and expected to overcome seemingly insurmountable odds to best them and make the world a better place, however the sour tone of Steven’s voice told her immediately that this was not some heroic endeavour. “That must be awful, to be taken from your home and made to do such a thing.”
“Well…” Steven started, “I wouldn’t say my home exactly. I haven’t been home in years.” There was a moment of silence between the two. It was not awkward like previous pauses in the conversation had been, but somewhat intimate. There was a real sense of homesickness from Steven, a sense of being uprooted from where you belonged so suddenly and not knowing if you could ever return, a feeling of great loneliness. Violet reached out and grabbed Steven’s hand.
“Can you not just say ‘no, I won’t fight’ and not fight?” she asked.
“I don’t think it works like that.” Steven replied sadly.
Suddenly after trekking through seemingly endless series of dim grey corridors they were emerging onto the roof; the bright sunlight burning at their unaccustomed eyes. The roof stretched off before them, in the distance a couple of towers and crenellated battlements were visible marking the edge of the castle and the subsequent surely fatal plunge. There were a couple of minions hanging around, who immediately flocked to the queens as they emerged from the castle proper, but no apparent means of transportation. Steven really hoped that he wasn’t going to be expected to conjure up some form of transportation for them. As the minions led them to the far end of the roof he contemplated such a course of action and was forced to conclude that even the most optimistic option would almost certainly leave him so drained of energy he would be practically catatonic and he didn’t like to think of the queens’ attempting to drive such a thing.
“So, what now?” Steven asked when the group had come to a stop.
“Look.” Violet directed Steven’s attention to the horizon where several distant red dots were getting larger. As they drew closer, they became more distinct. At first Steven thought they were a group of birds, a couple of small ones clustered around a larger one, but as they drew even closer it was clear to see that they were dragons; flame red and oddly angular with small grey eyes. The realisation made him involuntarily draw back, but Violet squeezed his hand and he realised they were chirping the same language as the minions; there was in fact more than just a passing similarity between them. Within a minute or so the largest dragon swooped down and landed upon the roof in front of them. It was large enough for the entire group sans minions to climb upon its back and fly them out of there, and it was apparent that this was the intention.
The queens began to climb aboard the dragon to the same background muttering and moaning that had accompanied more or less every stage of the journey so far. The white queen was especially vocal about how she resented having to ride around upon the backs of animals, but she climbed aboard anyway, not having any real alternative. Steven scanned the skies, noting a tiny square of midnight blue out ahead of them, and behind them a rapidly approaching black shape. Steven stared at it, shading his eyes from the glaring light of the sun with his free hand. It was a slender shape, carried on wings that did not look large enough to bear such a creature with sharp spines trailing behind it and deadly sharp claws.
“Um, guys, there’s another dragon coming.” Steven said, “It doesn’t look as friendly as this one.” Heads turned, and there was sudden sense of panic. The bickering grew louder, the queens that had already climbed aboard the dragon dug their heels into its sides in an effort to get it to fly away immediately, while the other queens pushed and shoved at one another to try to be the next to climb on.
“Oh.” Violet sounded defeated already. “The grey queen.”
Heaven Help Us | Make Room!!!! | I'm Not Okay (I Promise)
Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You
Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You