Re: Mini-Grand 5101 [Round 2: Medieval Village]
07-05-2011, 09:19 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by BlastYoBoots.
Boy, these devs sure love their anachronism.
The humble abode of Berlin Baga- sorry, 'BERLIN BAGAVOUNCE THE FIFTEENTH' - was filled with a mishmash of useless and semi-mystic garbage from all time periods and corners of the world. Broken crystal balls and RC cars of various sizes cluttered the floor, most with dead batteries hanging out (including some of the crystal balls). Dusty bookshelves clung desperately to a mess of disorganized tomes, tax papers, scrolls, and stamp collections. A gramophone belted a fuzzy-sounding record of a woman singing, skipping backward every eight seconds or so; the wizard didn't seem to notice the error. Giant pots bubbled putrid brews of every variety in the back, while a nearby George Foreman grill was busy cooking French toast. Authentic-looking pages from Da Vinci's journal plastered one wall, next to an autographed poster of Elvis Presley. An enormous claymore jutted out at an angle from a ponderous boulder near the entrance; as they entered, Berlin hung his wizard hat and (horrifyingly) his robe from the sword's hilt, revealing a sweat-stained wifebeater and heart-patterned boxers.
The round-bellied, scraggly-bearded old man took a seat in a plush recliner, reached into an eternally-steaming ice golem's head on the floor, pulled a pair of beers from the eye socket, and unceremoniously tossed one at Nate. "Sit the hell down," he chided in a codgery, annoyed tone.
Nathan complied, setting his equipment down before seating himself in a rickety rocking chair. They cracked their beers open and took some sips. Berlin sighed gruffly.
"So... dimension hopper, I take it?"
"Huh? Er... yeah."
"Yeah. Fucking hoppers barging in all the damn time, all this magic crap attracts them or some shit. Having you selfish bastards in for a beer seems to be the easiest on my goddamn back, though having nothing worth stealing certainly helps."
"Even tried poisoning you guys, too," – Nathan nearly choked on his swig of beer – "-but that leaves fucking corpses. And more corpses means more fucking mobs. Can't these idiots go without forming a mob every goddamn month? 'Ooh, bad mister wizard's smelly brews must be causing a plague'," he mocked as he gestured to the noxious cauldrons at the far end of the room, "even though we pay him to keep a FUCKING DRAGON away with them! 'Ooh, bad mister wizard turned my prized bull into a newt!' Well WHERE THE FUCK ELSE was I supposed to get a newt? Do you know how many goddamn recipes call for goddamn eye of newt? Why the FUCK don't they use a more common ethereal binder than fucking newt eye? I don't see any goddamn newts around this town, do you? But every recipe, even the ones that pretentious bastard Theomore just the town over writes, calls for EYE OF FUCKING NEWT. So either I do days of alchemy and..."
Nathan resorted to tuning out the old-timer entirely. Occasionally he'd attempt to interject and explain what he knew about his situation, but the wizard kept on ranting, apparently quite hard of hearing. Nate took his time relaxing, gazing at the room's oddities, rifling through some of the junk on a side-table near him – Look at all these cassettes! I mean, Tom Jones? How much did they spend on licensing for this shitty game? – and gradually finishing off his beer.
As he downed the last drops, flickering torchlight from out the window caught their attention. "So I slept with his mother and... oh GOD DAMNIT SON OF A BITCH! Go hide in the stairway, I've got this shit."
Outside, a small group had branched from the larger mob to check the wizard's house, while others were busy checking other abodes. This group was clearly hesitant; they drew straws before sending a terrified blonde man with an enormous adam's apple up to the door. Berlin swung it open before he could knock.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS IT THIS TIME?"
"W- well, there was a d-demon, a-and, uh-"
"GODDAMNIT SPIT IT OUT!"
"Uh um WE'RE LOOKING FOR A LARGE BIRD AND A YOUNG MAN WITH PINK EYES!"
"YOU WANT PINK EYES SO GODDAMN MUCH? IRIDES ROSEUS!" Berlin slammed his staff into the man's midsection, sending him tumbling from the porch as a puff of smoke enveloped him. When he struggled to his feet, the man's eyes were pink.
"NOW GET OFF MY GODDAMN PORCH!" The door slammed shut again.
"Christ, boy, what the hell did you do? At this rate, they'll all want pink eyes!"
Boy, these devs sure love their anachronism.
The humble abode of Berlin Baga- sorry, 'BERLIN BAGAVOUNCE THE FIFTEENTH' - was filled with a mishmash of useless and semi-mystic garbage from all time periods and corners of the world. Broken crystal balls and RC cars of various sizes cluttered the floor, most with dead batteries hanging out (including some of the crystal balls). Dusty bookshelves clung desperately to a mess of disorganized tomes, tax papers, scrolls, and stamp collections. A gramophone belted a fuzzy-sounding record of a woman singing, skipping backward every eight seconds or so; the wizard didn't seem to notice the error. Giant pots bubbled putrid brews of every variety in the back, while a nearby George Foreman grill was busy cooking French toast. Authentic-looking pages from Da Vinci's journal plastered one wall, next to an autographed poster of Elvis Presley. An enormous claymore jutted out at an angle from a ponderous boulder near the entrance; as they entered, Berlin hung his wizard hat and (horrifyingly) his robe from the sword's hilt, revealing a sweat-stained wifebeater and heart-patterned boxers.
The round-bellied, scraggly-bearded old man took a seat in a plush recliner, reached into an eternally-steaming ice golem's head on the floor, pulled a pair of beers from the eye socket, and unceremoniously tossed one at Nate. "Sit the hell down," he chided in a codgery, annoyed tone.
Nathan complied, setting his equipment down before seating himself in a rickety rocking chair. They cracked their beers open and took some sips. Berlin sighed gruffly.
"So... dimension hopper, I take it?"
"Huh? Er... yeah."
"Yeah. Fucking hoppers barging in all the damn time, all this magic crap attracts them or some shit. Having you selfish bastards in for a beer seems to be the easiest on my goddamn back, though having nothing worth stealing certainly helps."
"Even tried poisoning you guys, too," – Nathan nearly choked on his swig of beer – "-but that leaves fucking corpses. And more corpses means more fucking mobs. Can't these idiots go without forming a mob every goddamn month? 'Ooh, bad mister wizard's smelly brews must be causing a plague'," he mocked as he gestured to the noxious cauldrons at the far end of the room, "even though we pay him to keep a FUCKING DRAGON away with them! 'Ooh, bad mister wizard turned my prized bull into a newt!' Well WHERE THE FUCK ELSE was I supposed to get a newt? Do you know how many goddamn recipes call for goddamn eye of newt? Why the FUCK don't they use a more common ethereal binder than fucking newt eye? I don't see any goddamn newts around this town, do you? But every recipe, even the ones that pretentious bastard Theomore just the town over writes, calls for EYE OF FUCKING NEWT. So either I do days of alchemy and..."
Nathan resorted to tuning out the old-timer entirely. Occasionally he'd attempt to interject and explain what he knew about his situation, but the wizard kept on ranting, apparently quite hard of hearing. Nate took his time relaxing, gazing at the room's oddities, rifling through some of the junk on a side-table near him – Look at all these cassettes! I mean, Tom Jones? How much did they spend on licensing for this shitty game? – and gradually finishing off his beer.
As he downed the last drops, flickering torchlight from out the window caught their attention. "So I slept with his mother and... oh GOD DAMNIT SON OF A BITCH! Go hide in the stairway, I've got this shit."
Outside, a small group had branched from the larger mob to check the wizard's house, while others were busy checking other abodes. This group was clearly hesitant; they drew straws before sending a terrified blonde man with an enormous adam's apple up to the door. Berlin swung it open before he could knock.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS IT THIS TIME?"
"W- well, there was a d-demon, a-and, uh-"
"GODDAMNIT SPIT IT OUT!"
"Uh um WE'RE LOOKING FOR A LARGE BIRD AND A YOUNG MAN WITH PINK EYES!"
"YOU WANT PINK EYES SO GODDAMN MUCH? IRIDES ROSEUS!" Berlin slammed his staff into the man's midsection, sending him tumbling from the porch as a puff of smoke enveloped him. When he struggled to his feet, the man's eyes were pink.
"NOW GET OFF MY GODDAMN PORCH!" The door slammed shut again.
"Christ, boy, what the hell did you do? At this rate, they'll all want pink eyes!"