Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Round 1: Everybody's Dead!)
07-24-2010, 08:31 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
As Kaja walked into the pharmacy he was surprised not to be met by the sickly sweet smell of fermenting potions, or the bitter tang of discarded reagents gone bad. He was taken aback that the air was not thick with the steam from the banks of slowly distilling potions that did not exist. Instead there was a scene that was all but completely alien to him; a grim storefront packed with bottles of prescription medicines and packets of pills, and at the back of the room, a counter replete with cash register and pamphlets about health and new exciting medicines that you might like to try. Essentially, aside from the smell of rotting flesh it was a fairly typical pharmacist for the world in which it was situated, and now that you mention it the smell of rotting flesh was pretty typical for world in which it was situated. Doctor Lorrden cast a critical eye across the shelves in front of him; headache tablets, cough syrup, laxatives and so on. As he read the name of each one his disappointment grew greater and greater. By the end of the shelf, when he thought that his disappointment in this world’s alchemy had plateaued he came across packets labelled ‘hair dye’. For just a second he did not react, and then suddenly he was sweeping the useless products onto the floor, and kicking over the shelving, cursing under his breath at this miserable excuse for a pharmacist’s. Looking at the potions created in this pharmacy, made him feel sick. They were insults to the true craft of an alchemist; someone who would brave the wilds to procure rare and valuable reagents. Someone who would brew potions to combat plagues, or mix poisons toxic enough to melt through the armour of a foe. As he stood there, staring at the shelves of inferior potions that purported to be the work of a pharmacist he grew angrier. This building was an affront to him; a mockery of the world that he held dear. His hands started moving automatically, fishing a dash of infernal powder from one of his pouches and a silphid eye from another, and acting simply off instinct he deposited them into his contraption, turning a valve as they boiled and mixed together. His hands were a blur as he manoeuvred the mixture through the contraption by instinct alone, quickly decanting it into one of his breakable flasks he hastily grabbed from the straps that crossed his chest, and finally popping a cork into the flask. Holding the gently bubbling mixture in his hands, he took a last sorry look around this building that purported itself to be a pharmacist’s and left.
The doctor emerged from the building without so much as a backwards glance, his face set in grim tableaux reflective of the anger and of the insult he felt from this sham of a chemist’s, and as he did so he discarded his freshly brewed concoction over his shoulder, into the midst of the fallen medicines. As the mixture bubbled and fizzed, he strolled out to the middle of the road, and turned on his heels to watch. A look of grim satisfaction spreading across his face as the angrily fizzing liquid audibly hissed as it reacted with the air. The reaction grew by increments, and after a minute or so had passed it combusted, blasting through the shop. The explosion tore the door from its hinges, sending it flying into the street, where it skidded to a stop centimetres from Doctor Lorrden’s feet. The windows shattered, scattering shards of glass across the pavement and corpses which lay upon it. The explosion was pretty minor really, the quantities of the reagents carefully measured out to provide just enough force to destroy the building while leaving the surrounding areas in tact. His reaction was not one of triumph, he did not grin sinisterly as he watched the controlled explosion rip through the pharmacist’s. His face remained impassive, the only satisfaction he gained derived from the fact that an affront to his profession had been wiped off the face of the earth. Glancing around him he suddenly became aware that the eyes of the other contestants had become fixed on him and the smouldering remains of the chemist’s.
“My apologies.” He said, miming a tip of the hat to his fellow contestants. “I did not mean to interrupt you all. I just happened to find that building distinctly distasteful. I promise if it has to happen again I will try to give some warning.” And with a bow he turned and marched towards the coffee shop.
As Kaja walked into the pharmacy he was surprised not to be met by the sickly sweet smell of fermenting potions, or the bitter tang of discarded reagents gone bad. He was taken aback that the air was not thick with the steam from the banks of slowly distilling potions that did not exist. Instead there was a scene that was all but completely alien to him; a grim storefront packed with bottles of prescription medicines and packets of pills, and at the back of the room, a counter replete with cash register and pamphlets about health and new exciting medicines that you might like to try. Essentially, aside from the smell of rotting flesh it was a fairly typical pharmacist for the world in which it was situated, and now that you mention it the smell of rotting flesh was pretty typical for world in which it was situated. Doctor Lorrden cast a critical eye across the shelves in front of him; headache tablets, cough syrup, laxatives and so on. As he read the name of each one his disappointment grew greater and greater. By the end of the shelf, when he thought that his disappointment in this world’s alchemy had plateaued he came across packets labelled ‘hair dye’. For just a second he did not react, and then suddenly he was sweeping the useless products onto the floor, and kicking over the shelving, cursing under his breath at this miserable excuse for a pharmacist’s. Looking at the potions created in this pharmacy, made him feel sick. They were insults to the true craft of an alchemist; someone who would brave the wilds to procure rare and valuable reagents. Someone who would brew potions to combat plagues, or mix poisons toxic enough to melt through the armour of a foe. As he stood there, staring at the shelves of inferior potions that purported to be the work of a pharmacist he grew angrier. This building was an affront to him; a mockery of the world that he held dear. His hands started moving automatically, fishing a dash of infernal powder from one of his pouches and a silphid eye from another, and acting simply off instinct he deposited them into his contraption, turning a valve as they boiled and mixed together. His hands were a blur as he manoeuvred the mixture through the contraption by instinct alone, quickly decanting it into one of his breakable flasks he hastily grabbed from the straps that crossed his chest, and finally popping a cork into the flask. Holding the gently bubbling mixture in his hands, he took a last sorry look around this building that purported itself to be a pharmacist’s and left.
The doctor emerged from the building without so much as a backwards glance, his face set in grim tableaux reflective of the anger and of the insult he felt from this sham of a chemist’s, and as he did so he discarded his freshly brewed concoction over his shoulder, into the midst of the fallen medicines. As the mixture bubbled and fizzed, he strolled out to the middle of the road, and turned on his heels to watch. A look of grim satisfaction spreading across his face as the angrily fizzing liquid audibly hissed as it reacted with the air. The reaction grew by increments, and after a minute or so had passed it combusted, blasting through the shop. The explosion tore the door from its hinges, sending it flying into the street, where it skidded to a stop centimetres from Doctor Lorrden’s feet. The windows shattered, scattering shards of glass across the pavement and corpses which lay upon it. The explosion was pretty minor really, the quantities of the reagents carefully measured out to provide just enough force to destroy the building while leaving the surrounding areas in tact. His reaction was not one of triumph, he did not grin sinisterly as he watched the controlled explosion rip through the pharmacist’s. His face remained impassive, the only satisfaction he gained derived from the fact that an affront to his profession had been wiped off the face of the earth. Glancing around him he suddenly became aware that the eyes of the other contestants had become fixed on him and the smouldering remains of the chemist’s.
“My apologies.” He said, miming a tip of the hat to his fellow contestants. “I did not mean to interrupt you all. I just happened to find that building distinctly distasteful. I promise if it has to happen again I will try to give some warning.” And with a bow he turned and marched towards the coffee shop.
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