Re: Epic Clash Round 1 - Dungeon of the Crimson Fish
02-21-2010, 03:11 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by suomynonAyletamitlU.
"I see... Asteira." He paused and tried to recall the words. "she lied, cheated, stole, and killed her way to the top of an illustrious political career, and stole a lance which would seem to be rather powerful." He paused. "Whatever that man's intentions, his descriptions have been accurate so far." He looked to his hand and the crystalline stone it contained. A coin tumbled out of his coat and into one hand, and then it, and the crystal, vanished, just out of sight of Thomas. He nodded to himself; it seemed to have a stabilizing effect on the pocket dimension that contained it, and it would probably have some effect on anything he did with it, but it wasn't particularly powerful.
Spender set aside his comfort and backed his way out of the machine again, taking no more than half a moment. "She was... a ghost, right? Or a specter, wraith..." he waved offhandedly. "The technical distinctions don't matter. Undead of the spiritual sort."
Eric nodded. "She said she had the ability to possess people... but, that won't work on us, and she knows it."
"Mm." Spender dusted off his clothes for a minute, then spent a coin to tidy them up, watching the grease stains work their way out of the fabric and fall to the ground, and the rumpled folds of his outfit straighten themselves out--for the moment. He jumped down off the scaffolding, landing on a flatter boulder, then knocked twice on the scaffolding appreciatively before commanding it to vanish. The spell over, the holographic structure faded away, looking for all the world like it had been made of a million tiny metal threads, all of which had just come undone and were blowing away in the breeze.
"I wouldn't trust her," he said with some emphasis. "If she can't beat you in single combat, she'll have to find some way to get someone else to kill you, don't you think? Whether that's by possession, or politics," he spit the word again, "she will find a way. Somehow, I doubt whatever she promised would keep her from finding a weakness in you and exploiting it, while your own promise keeps you from taking initiative in preventing such things."
As Spender finished straightening up, it struck Thomas that any sign of the rambling, jovial man had vanished with the platform, as though those tiny shining threads had wrapped themselves around his heart and blocked the warmth--and frivolity--he had been letting out.
He walked towards the partially unblocked exit, passing Thomas by mere inches--enough for the man to notice, a moment later, that he hadn't felt the slight pressure from the field he'd sensed before, nor the sudden wave of information it had contained.
"It reminds me of Glere, in a way," he said after a moment, thinking of the note. "Whatever he's up to... whatever she's up to... and James too, and perhaps Emilio. They are people who have no... earnestness, who will see the world through their twisted hearts, and kill for that reason. It's sad, you know," he added as an afterthought. "When you see the reasons why, but are powerless to stop it. Whoever they are now, they were made into that by others--by their betrayal, by their hatred. But the people and things that brought them there have left, and the scars remain."
As Thomas weighed those words, Spender started picking at the rubble silently, his thoughts dwelling on the idea of a spirit with the ability to possess. Would he be able to trust other people? How would he know if Asteira had her claws in someone he hadn't yet met? Suddenly, finding the others seemed like a priority. Was she in league with Glere? The two seemed to have similar tastes in mischief.
His eyes held a bit of sadness as his body moved, almost automatically, but they never really lost their determination.
"I see... Asteira." He paused and tried to recall the words. "she lied, cheated, stole, and killed her way to the top of an illustrious political career, and stole a lance which would seem to be rather powerful." He paused. "Whatever that man's intentions, his descriptions have been accurate so far." He looked to his hand and the crystalline stone it contained. A coin tumbled out of his coat and into one hand, and then it, and the crystal, vanished, just out of sight of Thomas. He nodded to himself; it seemed to have a stabilizing effect on the pocket dimension that contained it, and it would probably have some effect on anything he did with it, but it wasn't particularly powerful.
Spender set aside his comfort and backed his way out of the machine again, taking no more than half a moment. "She was... a ghost, right? Or a specter, wraith..." he waved offhandedly. "The technical distinctions don't matter. Undead of the spiritual sort."
Eric nodded. "She said she had the ability to possess people... but, that won't work on us, and she knows it."
"Mm." Spender dusted off his clothes for a minute, then spent a coin to tidy them up, watching the grease stains work their way out of the fabric and fall to the ground, and the rumpled folds of his outfit straighten themselves out--for the moment. He jumped down off the scaffolding, landing on a flatter boulder, then knocked twice on the scaffolding appreciatively before commanding it to vanish. The spell over, the holographic structure faded away, looking for all the world like it had been made of a million tiny metal threads, all of which had just come undone and were blowing away in the breeze.
"I wouldn't trust her," he said with some emphasis. "If she can't beat you in single combat, she'll have to find some way to get someone else to kill you, don't you think? Whether that's by possession, or politics," he spit the word again, "she will find a way. Somehow, I doubt whatever she promised would keep her from finding a weakness in you and exploiting it, while your own promise keeps you from taking initiative in preventing such things."
As Spender finished straightening up, it struck Thomas that any sign of the rambling, jovial man had vanished with the platform, as though those tiny shining threads had wrapped themselves around his heart and blocked the warmth--and frivolity--he had been letting out.
He walked towards the partially unblocked exit, passing Thomas by mere inches--enough for the man to notice, a moment later, that he hadn't felt the slight pressure from the field he'd sensed before, nor the sudden wave of information it had contained.
"It reminds me of Glere, in a way," he said after a moment, thinking of the note. "Whatever he's up to... whatever she's up to... and James too, and perhaps Emilio. They are people who have no... earnestness, who will see the world through their twisted hearts, and kill for that reason. It's sad, you know," he added as an afterthought. "When you see the reasons why, but are powerless to stop it. Whoever they are now, they were made into that by others--by their betrayal, by their hatred. But the people and things that brought them there have left, and the scars remain."
As Thomas weighed those words, Spender started picking at the rubble silently, his thoughts dwelling on the idea of a spirit with the ability to possess. Would he be able to trust other people? How would he know if Asteira had her claws in someone he hadn't yet met? Suddenly, finding the others seemed like a priority. Was she in league with Glere? The two seemed to have similar tastes in mischief.
His eyes held a bit of sadness as his body moved, almost automatically, but they never really lost their determination.
Spoiler