Re: Epic Clash Round 1 - Dungeon of the Crimson Fish
02-15-2010, 10:30 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by suomynonAyletamitlU.
"Lovely." Spender smiled tightly, but it was fake. "I don't suppose there was another way in or out of there?
"Not that we could find," Eric admitted.
"Truly." He wasn't hiding his grouchiness very well. "Well, I suppose that means I won't likely be interrupted in my work."
"Work?" Eric gave him a quizzical look.
"Come see," he said, and strode towards the hole in the floor. He slipped his hand comfortably into his jacket as though to reach an inside pocket, and it came away with three small coins. He flipped one to Thomas, who caught it, then took the second and third and held them between his fingers, moving his hand downwards as though putting the two into imaginary coinslots. To Thomas' attuned ears, they seemed to make a slight electric buzz, then disappeared.
After a moment, two things happened; Spender lifted off the floor, and a floating rectangular shape appeared in front of him. With hardly a pause, he took the rectangle in hand, flipped over in midair, and dragged it down through the hole in the floor, propelled by what Thomas assumed to be some form of flight spell. When he went over to the hole to look, Spender was setting the box up next to the gravity generator, where it seemed to expand into a set of scaffolding with several wiry anchors that buried themselves in the nearby rock.
Thomas looked at the coin; it had a golden triangle on the face, with a pair of triangular gray wings and a triangular gray tail, all set on a deeper gray. This would be where we decide if we can trust him, I think, pointed out Greg to himselves. That is the "magic machine" that man told us about... but this coin could be anything. Do we use it?
"You can stay there if you like," called Spender amicably, although he was already elbow-deep in the mechanisms. "It's not like those things ever go bad anyway. Ah, I see, is that...? No, but if this was going to..." his voice cut off a bit as he futzed a bit more.
Eric pursed his lips and looked around. Not a good idea to sit up here if I'm going to be talking to him. You never know where people could come from. If I'm down there, at least they can only come from one direction. Still...
A few minutes later, Spender looked up from the machine to see a sweaty-looking Walt finish climbing back down the wall. He grinned a bit, but reinserted his upper torso into the generator. "I meant what I said about the coin; you can keep it, throw it out, whatever you like. It's just spare change to me."
Walt blinked, and Eric looked at Spender, trying not to breathe heavily. "You know, you don't strike me as the mechanical type," he said, wiping his brow.
"It's just part of being part of the EDA. You see reality, and you see illusion, and you have to know which is which; that's why, you gotta know how they both work. Something like this..." Spender knocked on the machine from somewhere inside, and it echoed like his voice. "It's interesting, because it reveals how much of this place is truth, and how much is fantasy." He paused only a beat. "It's like this one time, I remember. We were investigating a probable invasion somewhere in northern Colrad, you see. It turns out that the incoming aliens--they bring fantasy into reality sometimes, you see--they had invaded this industrial complex, and..."
...
Somewhere in the meandering tale, at least three of Thomas's brains broke. Eric found himself quite puzzled at the idea that feathers, given voice, could sing opera but not rock, and Walt was fascinated by the idea of a robot getting a hangnail. Greg was still trying to piece together how all the explanations worked together well enough that Spender could talk about it in a way that didn't immediately sound insane. Bern was struggling not to think about any of it by any means possible.
All the while, Spender worked, dissecting the machine from the inside and examining its power supply and its various mechanisms.
"Lovely." Spender smiled tightly, but it was fake. "I don't suppose there was another way in or out of there?
"Not that we could find," Eric admitted.
"Truly." He wasn't hiding his grouchiness very well. "Well, I suppose that means I won't likely be interrupted in my work."
"Work?" Eric gave him a quizzical look.
"Come see," he said, and strode towards the hole in the floor. He slipped his hand comfortably into his jacket as though to reach an inside pocket, and it came away with three small coins. He flipped one to Thomas, who caught it, then took the second and third and held them between his fingers, moving his hand downwards as though putting the two into imaginary coinslots. To Thomas' attuned ears, they seemed to make a slight electric buzz, then disappeared.
After a moment, two things happened; Spender lifted off the floor, and a floating rectangular shape appeared in front of him. With hardly a pause, he took the rectangle in hand, flipped over in midair, and dragged it down through the hole in the floor, propelled by what Thomas assumed to be some form of flight spell. When he went over to the hole to look, Spender was setting the box up next to the gravity generator, where it seemed to expand into a set of scaffolding with several wiry anchors that buried themselves in the nearby rock.
Thomas looked at the coin; it had a golden triangle on the face, with a pair of triangular gray wings and a triangular gray tail, all set on a deeper gray. This would be where we decide if we can trust him, I think, pointed out Greg to himselves. That is the "magic machine" that man told us about... but this coin could be anything. Do we use it?
"You can stay there if you like," called Spender amicably, although he was already elbow-deep in the mechanisms. "It's not like those things ever go bad anyway. Ah, I see, is that...? No, but if this was going to..." his voice cut off a bit as he futzed a bit more.
Eric pursed his lips and looked around. Not a good idea to sit up here if I'm going to be talking to him. You never know where people could come from. If I'm down there, at least they can only come from one direction. Still...
A few minutes later, Spender looked up from the machine to see a sweaty-looking Walt finish climbing back down the wall. He grinned a bit, but reinserted his upper torso into the generator. "I meant what I said about the coin; you can keep it, throw it out, whatever you like. It's just spare change to me."
Walt blinked, and Eric looked at Spender, trying not to breathe heavily. "You know, you don't strike me as the mechanical type," he said, wiping his brow.
"It's just part of being part of the EDA. You see reality, and you see illusion, and you have to know which is which; that's why, you gotta know how they both work. Something like this..." Spender knocked on the machine from somewhere inside, and it echoed like his voice. "It's interesting, because it reveals how much of this place is truth, and how much is fantasy." He paused only a beat. "It's like this one time, I remember. We were investigating a probable invasion somewhere in northern Colrad, you see. It turns out that the incoming aliens--they bring fantasy into reality sometimes, you see--they had invaded this industrial complex, and..."
...
Somewhere in the meandering tale, at least three of Thomas's brains broke. Eric found himself quite puzzled at the idea that feathers, given voice, could sing opera but not rock, and Walt was fascinated by the idea of a robot getting a hangnail. Greg was still trying to piece together how all the explanations worked together well enough that Spender could talk about it in a way that didn't immediately sound insane. Bern was struggling not to think about any of it by any means possible.
All the while, Spender worked, dissecting the machine from the inside and examining its power supply and its various mechanisms.