Mini-Grand 5802 [Round 1: The Heat Death Lounge]

Loading Mini-Grand Framework... Done.

Generating Administration Personality... Done.

"Fuck, it’s bright. Christ."

Generating Characters... Done.

Four beings suddenly found themselves nowhere, able to see one another but nothing else. A synthesized voice came out of the nothing surrounding them.

"Shit. Well, I’ve woken up next to worse things. Let’s see what we got.

"This chipper-looking dude is Chuck Feldstein. He wants to sell you food, or something... look, this made sense last night, alright? Not much to look at, is he. He’s got you covered if you’re hungry, though! Holla at your boy, he’ll be there, no matter where "there" is. I don’t even think he charges.

"This next one is, uh... this is a baby. Let’s call him Eppon. Save us all the headache. Poor guy was made in a tube and told to kill things. That’s some quality childcare right there, ladies and gentlemen. I’m not usually one to make dead baby jokes, but I’d be real careful about letting this kid get any bigger, which he’ll do. Quickly. Whoops, that wasn’t a joke!

"Aaaand... a wardrobe. Sure, why not. Let’s call it Aranina for shits and giggles. Much as this thing looks like it needs a one-way trip to a bonfire, it’s secretly full of all the kinds of magic and wonder that you wished would happen to you as a kid, but didn’t. That’s life, bitch. Maybe you’ll get a second chance here- the wardrobe’s full of all kinds of wizards and fairies and crazy bitches with superiority complexes. Just what you always wanted!

"And lastly... is this a dog? With, uh, wow, a laser. A big one. Looks like this girl’s got some political ideologies in common with a couple of guys on my floor as well. You’ll be calling her Molniya, or more likely "here, girl, hereGHKHHKKKKK dead." Don’t expect her to aim too well. She’s a dog. We cool here?

Generating Setting... Done.

The four generated characters suddenly found themselves moved, scattered in various locations around the exterior of a sleek-looking building bolted onto what appeared to be a meteor. Turrets clung to its roof like sleeping pigeons, occasionally letting off sporadic bursts of laser fire. Lights of every color, size, and pattern covered its surface, advertising an endless stream of vaguely-defined excitements. The reek of money rose off it like heat waves from a desert road.


"So this is the last place I remember being last night, or at least the last thing I think I remember. The Heat Death Lounge, worlds-famous for its wide variety of drinks, drugs, and gladiatorial combat. Mind the lasers, there, they’ve been having a problem with raiders lately. Don’t get me wrong, I love the place, but... eh. It’s been getting stale, you know? A little past its prime. Don’t worry about causing some collateral damage here and there, they’re insured out the heat vents.

"Oh, right... you cats have a curfew of dead o’clock, which is to say that when one of you dies, so does the party. That’s how we roll, kids. I’m out."


The voice fell silent.

Show Content

SpoilerGuest List:

1) Pinary: Chuck Feldstein- #804020
2) AKillerCuppaTea: Eppon- #007500
3) Ixcaliber: Aranina- #0000FF
4) TimeothyHour: #FFFF00 on red

Username: Pinary
Name: Chuck Feldstein
Gender: Male
Race: Hubert B. Manguyperson
Colour: #804020
Biography: Chuck Feldstein, 46, is the owner of Daily Fresh Groceries, a small grocery store in Creek Brook, Michigan. They stock quality local and imported goods, and they beat their large, corporate competition with a heavy emphasis on locally-focused advertisements. These ads all feature Chuck providing quality local and imported goods to local people who are in need of quality local and imported goods.

For example: "Boy," said Florence Wells, local principal and member of the community, "I sure could use some quality local and imported goods!"

The catch-phrase activated, Chuck Feldstein, owner and proprietor of Daily Fresh Groceries, appeared in a puff of savings! With him was a display featuring the new Sharp Cheddar Cracker-Bites being offered at the store. "Hey there, Mrs. Wells! What can I help you with today?"

"Well, Chuck, I need to give all these students something healthy and delicious to go with their lunch, and I'm just stumped as to what I could give them!"

"Why, Florence, I've got just the thing! Try these new Sharp Cheddar Cracker-Bites; I'm sure the kids will love them!"

She accepted the proffered box of tiny crackers, popped one of the delicious morsels in her mouth, and exclaimed, "Why, Chuck, these are perfect! Their sharp cheddar taste will definitely make them a hit with the kids!"

"Glad to hear it, Florence! Plus, I'm sure their parents will appreciate that they're low in fat and high in vitamins!"

"Wow, Chuck! Where can I get some for myself and my family?"

"Why, they're available at Daily Fresh Groceries for just $3.59 a box!"

His job done, the grocer vanished, taking the display with him. "Wow," the principal finished, "That's just what I needed!"

The ad then finished with the usual Daily Fresh Groceries jingle.
Description: Chuck is about 5'8", noticeably overweight, and a bit balding. He's never seen outside of his trademark white polo, blue jeans, and green apron, and his face seems to have his typical friendly, neighbourly smile etched unerringly into its surface.

Items/Abilities: Whenever someone expresses a need for quality local or imported goods (whether it's in those precise words or not), Chuck is instantly teleported to their location, and a display featuring something relevant to their needs appears next to him. Whenever he leaves, people invariably say that "That's just what I needed!"

Username: A Killer Cuppa Tea (but most people call me Tea)

Name: Experiment x1593U8 (Also Known As Eppon)

Gender: Male

Race: Scientific Experiment (based on human)

Colour: [color="#007500"]color="#007500"[/COLOR]

Biography: Experiment x1589U8 was authorised by the New Earthen Republic, a new political organisation that managed to spread through the entirety of the Planet Earth. Originally hailed as a New World Order designed to bring peace and prosperity throughout the world, this New Age way of thinking was, in fact, a way to oppress the people.

It took many years and decades before humanity came to realise just how much they were being oppressed. Scientific, economic and cultural progress had been stifled for years. Funds had instead been siphoned to a comparative minority of people who lived a life of luxury whilst the rest of humanity toiled day in day out, just to get by.

The change in their lives had been gradual, but slowly but surely, the entire race had become an army of slaves. Education was now almost non-existent. Leisure time was unheard of. Reading about history was banned, and ignorance was common throughout the land.

But then, little stirrings began to occur: little pockets of unrest – quickly put down by “the authorities”, but never forgotten; small cells committed to freeing the human race. At first, these were naught more than a nuisance: unorganised gangs making petty threats and attacking unimportant targets...but slowly but surely, these cells began to contact each other and merge; organisation became more commonplace and the word of them spread.

Almost as though in denial, those in power turned a blind eye too long. Suddenly, it seemed that the entirety of the human race was against them. Even once loyal soldiers dedicated to their wellbeing were becoming restless and betraying them. Seeking a solution, these few people turned to the sciences to help preserve their way of life.

Many things were invented, and many experiments carried out. Before long, it became an all out war: the uneducated, under-equipped masses with the heart and resolve to see their long-due victory, and the evil, the powerful, the few who fought with desperation to retain the way of life they had come to love.

Experiment x1593U8 was one of their most evil projects. A baby born in a test tube, its DNA altered and its brain washed, it was designed to me the most loyal of soldiers. Designed by a mad scientist – who came to love the project, as a piece of engineering genius, rather than a living, breathing human being – to be unfailingly loyal to those who had commissioned it, to have an insatiable urge to kill those who did not fit into this category, and the physical means with which to do so, the prototype was also designed not to have the mental acumen to truly think for itself.

This prototype – based off a male human child – will enter the battlefield as a newly born baby. Wrested from its mechanical womb, and thrust straight into the world of battle it was bred for, it is still just a little too soon. Although its DNA structure is designed for it to grow to full size in much less time than a normal human, x1593U8 will still start the battle essentially defenceless – but will grow more and more powerful with each second that goes by.

The name Eppon comes from the only word the child knows how to speak – “Weapon” – the only word that was cooed to it as it grew.

Description: Male baby, bright brown eyes, black hair, projected to grow into a largely built human being within a few short days or hours.

Items/Abilities: Currently none, but in a few short hours he will be a strongly built young man, and not long after that he will begin to mutate into something not quite human. Generally, his mental strength is almost definitely not his strong point, and he is likely to be rather naive and innocent, if prone to extreme violence. He is programmed to have a large capacity to learn, and in particular, be instinctively able to use most forms of weaponry as well as be proficient in hand to hand combat and pick up quickly on warfare and strategy. All this will all be instinctual, however: whilst he will likely be a bright child, “normal” knowledge such as etiquette, manners and even language will likely not come easily to him. As he is effectively “still a child” he will likely be easily manipulated, too. Eventually he will begin to mutate and become less and less human. His mutations are likely to be relative to his current situation.

Username: Ixcaliber
Name: Aranina
Gender: None
Race: Wardrobe
Colour: #0000FF
Description: Aranina is in appearances a normal wardrobe. It is tall, made of mahogany and has pictures of a strange and far away land carved into it.

On the surface there does not appear to be anything unusual about it. It does not have the ability to move or speak or directly interact with the other contestants. However upon opening the doors you might find that it is much deeper than you had any right to expect. A particularly curious person might climb into the wardrobe and push their way past the old musty items of clothing hanging therein, eventually finding that the floor starts to crunch underneath their feet and that the clothes they are brushing out of the way are replaced with bristly branches.

If they kept going they would emerge from the trees to find themselves on the outskirts of a Victorian era town populated by all kinds of fantasy creatures with steampunk machinery. In the distance a macabre castle looming over the snow covered land.

This is Aranina proper. A grim land ruled by a wicked queen with a penchant for turning her victims into ice sculptures. One day a hero might rise and free the land from her grip and end its eternal winter, but that is neither here nor there.

Aranina is not a gateway to a distant land, it is a magical kingdom contained in a wardrobe that is vastly bigger on the inside that it is on the outside.

Items/Abilities: But do not be fooled, Aranina is not a passive combatant. It has a mind and a way to interact with anyone who might intend to cause it harm. You see though it generally lets its inhabitants get on with their lives it can at any point seize the mind of any native Araninan and use them for its own purposes. This ability extends to any living creature born of Aranina.

Biography: Aranina is a construction of a being known as The Carpenter. It was an early experiment on making a pocket dimension of his very own and he figured one day he would probably use it as a round in one of his very own Grand Battles. It went missing before he had the opportunity.

Username: TimeothyHour

Name: Molniya

Gender: Female

Race: Robotically enhanced dog, a mutt.

Colour: FOR THE MOTHERLAND (#FFFF00 on red)

Weapons: Permanently back-mounted laser-cannon, which fused with the nervous system at the spine (the bone is augmented so that the load doesn’t eventually crush Molinya; in fact, the weapon feels so natural that she doesn’t know its not one of her limbs.) She can also bite and scratch with augmented teeth and claws with enough power to rip through a tank’s exterior. Molinya is also has the weapon of her DOG SLASH COMMUNIST CHARM.

Abilities: All of the normal abilities of a dog (enhanced running, jumping, smell), but amplified several times. Molinya can run faster than most cars, and jump up to about 30 feet. She can also fire a gigantic laser from her back and be really cute. And she even subscribes to a communist ideology. (It is important to note, however, that Molinya isn’t sentient. Still a communist, though.)

Description: A fairly big and pretty dog, Molinya has a stylish grey coat and cute hazel eyes that are complimented by the yellow sickle and hammer accents on the otherwise red laser cannon mounted on her back. Her teeth and claws shine from her augmentation, and she’s the model of fitness, big and strong and all around pretty awesome.

She has the personality of a really playful dog, and was in the middle of being trained on how to actually control her laser cannon when she taken, so she will probably end up randomly using it. A lot.

Also, she likes communism. It makes her happy.

Biography: WOOF WOOF LAZARRRRRRRRRRR

Molinya had no idea what was had just happened. She was just a dog, after all. A communist dog. She had been placed in a rather isolated part of the building, so nobody had notice her. Yet.

Despite her confusion, she was a good dog. She stood upon the green carpet of that disgustingly capitalist building, and positioned herself like any member of the Great Red Army would: with pride.

Molinya barked a few times, excitedly prancing in place a bit. She must be out of training. This must be the battlefield. This must be the place she can finally shine.

The dog hopped up and down a bit, the excitement getting to it and making it act very un-Communist. The emotion must have caused some sort of trigger, because a bright light began forming at the mouth of the laser, an electronic noise building from it, growing louder and louder.

Molinya knew what this was. This was her laser! Her pretty, communist laser! It was going to fire, oh my gosh, it was going to fire and strike down those capitalist swine! Then The Motherland would love her and give her treats and everyone would be SO PROUD-

The laser fired, the deep, concussive бум filling the small hallway with noise. The laser tore through the wall, into whatever room lay next door.

~~~

Tonight was Go-fish night.

Most people say Go-fish is a stupid game. If those people said those words to Stanley Maxwell’s face, they’d be shanked faster than you could say, “Holy fuck Go-fish is fuckin’ serious business.”

Go-fish was Stanley Maxwell’s game, and tonight, well, tonight was Go-fish night.

“Do ya have any nines?” he said to the eight-armed robot sitting across from him. “’Cause I’m pretty sure you do.”

If the machine could frown, it would.

“Indeed I do,” it replied, handing the cards to Stanley. “This is most unfortunate.”

“It really is, you robofucker,” the Go-fisher said with a smile. “’Cause now I have all four nines.”

The nines were promptly slapped down on the table, and then a communist laser suddenly burst through one of the neighboring walls.

Another proclaimation was being made in the land of Aranina. Today alone Queen Wyntara had forbidden chewing gum, public displays of affection, clicking your fingers, the name Simon, that thing where you can't find your keys, Mondays and the colour blue. In a small tavern called The Wand and Dagger conspirators met up to discuss plans for her removal. From the outside the tavern appeared fairly unremarkable; looking through the window would afford you a view of a group of miserable fire elves drinking those cocktails with little umbrellas in them (the only alcohol Wyntara was yet to outlaw) in silence.

This was of course just an illusion, projected by the master illithid illusionist Ka'then'ge. The Wand and Dagger Tavern was just a front for the illegal activities of the Freedom Brigade (Working Title); a group of unlikely allies who had united with one goal; to bring down the rule of the Cruel Queen Wyntara. Inside the tavern was filled with stacks of banned items, which ranged from chairs to weapons to Goldheim's stash of smelting tobacco. They weren't exactly sure what to do if someone actually tried to enter the establishment, the illusion being a simple illusory veil draped across the windows of the inn. However they didn't expect customers any time soon, not after the stories they'd leaked to the Aranina Gazette about this place.

The group were gathered around a map of the castle that Lightfingers the goblin rogue had lifted from the pocket of a snoozing guard that very afternoon. As ever Blogo, the quarter-orc priest and Goldheim the dwarven barbarian were arguing, this time over the best way to infiltrate the castle.

A tendril of sentience reached out and wrapped itself around the minds of the Freedom Brigade (Working Title). Suddenly discussion about the castle and the overthrow of Queen Wyntara seemed irrelevant. Now they had new and unusual targets to scheme against, ones they could barely even understand. They grabbed their equipment and left the tavern, and indeed the city, heading deep into the woods to where hidden amongst the trees there was a door.

--------

Merucira was coming back from the ladies bathroom, obnoxiously tucked away at the end of some twisted corridors, when her attention was drawn to an ornate wardrobe standing in the middle of the corridor. Her attention was partially drawn to it because it was out of place and hadn’t been there before, but mainly because it was blocking off the entire corridor. Merucira’s chartreuse skin crackled with curious electricity, she wasn’t exactly sure what it was that made her want to open the door and climb inside the wardrobe.

She would have said, if asked, that she felt almost as if something wanted her to climb inside, except clearly that would have been a silly thing to think. Either way she pushed her way deeper and deeper into the wardrobe and left her world, never to return.

A little baby lay on the doorstep of the building. The poor thing was wrapped up in a nice little blanket and seemed to have been dumped unceremoniously on the doorstep as though abandoned.

A man exiting the building nearly stood on him on the way out. Despite his rugged exterior – the man had lost one of his limbs and half his face in a mining accident on some distant planet, and had replaced his lost limbs with a prosthetic arm and eye – he felt something stir in his heart as he saw this little bundle of innocence in amongst the depravity that was seen on this meteor on a daily basis.

He picked the little child up. Little did he know that this child’s first physical contact with another living being would be that one cold, metallic arm and one warm, fleshy one. Once he had picked the child up, however, he was at a loss for what he was meant to do next. Deciding that he might as well give the kid something to drink – babies liked milk didn’t they? – he took the child inside with him and into a communal kitchen. Luckily, no one was there just yet.

He pulled the milk from the fridge and put it into a cup. He turned back to the kid and realised that there was no way that the kid would be able to drink the milk from the cup. The kid had woken up and was staring at him intently in wonder. It gurgled a little and began to giggle. It? He thought. I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl! And...doesn’t it look a little bigger then before? I swear he was a newborn, now he looks like he could be a few weeks old.

He began to construct a makeshift bottle from some random things in the bedroom as the kid gurgled and giggled behind him.

“Eppon.” Came a solemn voice from behind him. Turning in a hurry – fully expecting there to have been someone else in the room – he realised that it was only the kid who was there. Except, now he – for he was a he – was now standing up tall. He looked as though he was at least a year old already. The kid was looking at him with very serious look on his face – too serious for a child surely not more than a few hours old – and said it again. “Eppon.”

“Eppon? What’s tha’ then?” But the child remained silent. “Well, if you can talk, what’s yer name?”

“Eppon.” The child replied. It seemed to be the only thing he could say. With a mental shrug, the man picked up the cup and gave it to the kid. After all, he could probably handle it now that he was...well, grown.

“I’m Simon.” Said the man as Eppon – for that was what he had mentally named the kid. “This ain’t the righ’ place for a kid to be growin’ up...although at the rate you’re growin’ you won’t be a kid fer much longer. Anyways, there’s a lot of fightin’ and whatnot here, you might wanna stay away from it all. I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, you probably can’t even understand me. Why the hell did I even pick you up in the first place?” The man stared at Eppon, realising this kid was, for now – like it or not – his responsibility.

“Eppon.”

He wasn’t ready to be a father!

The Freedom Brigade (Working Title) passed by Merucira without comment. Though guided by the same force their purposes couldn’t have been more different. Merucira watched the odd group as they traipsed through the snow towards the door she had entered through. Though she was used to seeing odd people in Heat Death there was something different about the Freedom Brigade (Working Title).

Merucira quickly arrived at the border, a small snow covered kiosk in which a gnome rocked precariously only his chair and read the latest copy of the Aranina Gazette. A plank painted yellow and black blocked the way into town. Merucira had never really gotten along with law enforcement and since the gnome was far too interested in the opinions of the buxom half-ogre on page three, she decided to just sneak past the border station. However as she tried to walk past the black and yellow pole something prevented her from doing so.

This elicited a chuckle from the gnome border guard, who promptly folded up the newspaper. “You’d be surprised how many o’ you outsiders can’t tell when they’re coming up against powerful warding magic.” The gnome said. “Or maybe you wouldn’t. You don’t look that bright.”

“Hey!” Merucira protested.

“Sociability ain’t in my job description lady.” The gnome casually retorted. “If you want to come up to the counter then maybe we can see about getting your immigration processed but if you’re gonna stand there and stare at me like some kind of broken down golem then you’re gonna be there for quite some time.”

Merucira did just stand there and stare at the gnome like a broken down golem for a little while, before the compulsion that had brought her into Aranina in the first place made her go up to the counter as requested.

“Well lookee here who decided to be a big girl and do things by the book.” The gnome said. “You wanna immigrate into Aranina you’ve gotta answer some questions. Is that okay, do you understand? You can just nod if speaking is hard for you.”

“I can speak just fine.” Merucira snapped.

“That’s good for you young lady but I’m burning daylight here.” The gnome replied, not missing a beat. “You want in yay or nay?”

“I want in.” Merucira folded her tendrils huffily.

“Okay. First up are you or have you ever been a nuclear bomb?” The gnome asked.

“What?” Merucira asked.

“Are. You. Or. Have. You. Ever. Been. A. Nuclear. Bomb.” The gnome repeated in a slow voice for the hard of thinking.

“No.”

“Are you carrying the illegitimate offspring of an Incubus?” The gnome asked.

“Pardon me?” Merucira asked, her eyes widening. “No I am not.” She added before the gnome had a chance to repeat the question back to her.

“Will you at any point in your stay in Aranina be making an attempt on the life of Queen Wyntara?” The gnome asked.

“No.” Merucira replied.

The gnome paused, tilting his head to one side. “It’s okay if you are you know.”

“I’m not.” Merucira replied sternly.

“Well if you feel like having a go at her later go and see my cousin at the Apiary.” The gnome said, as he stamped forms. “He’s always coming up with these crazy plans to assassinate Wyntara and is usually in need of dumbass volunteers to give them a go.” Merucira said nothing, fuming silently at the obnoxious gnome. “Anyway there you go.” He slid a sheaf of papers over the desk to Merucira. “You should look into investing in some warmer clothes, I don’t know if you noticed but it’s a bit chilly here in Aranina.”

Merucira glanced down at her miniskirt and tube top combination, which had been fine for Heat Death but which was really not up to snuff for the perpetual winter of Aranina.

“There’s a bureau de change on the corner opposite the alchemist’s.” The gnome said. “Tell them Namnock sent ya… or don’t I guess they aren’t going to give you a special exchange rate just because you dropped my name.” A momentary pause before: “Now would you mind you’re holding up the queue?”

Merucira turned to see that rather surprisingly a queue of prepubescent children had formed up behind her. They were dressed in their nightgowns and had the look of kids going off on some marvellous adventure. She left them to it, waiting for the magical bar of warding to lift and finally entering Aranina proper.

--------

In the Heat Death Lounge The Freedom Brigade (Working Title) were straining under the weight of the wardrobe. Ka’then’ge, the illithid illusionist, strode ahead of the group, randomly opening doors and declaring for various reasons that that was not the right place to store the wardrobe. After a lot of grumbling from the other members of the Brigade he eventually agreed to hide it in the women’s toilets using his illusion magic to disguise it as an occupied stall.

"God dammit," Simon mumbled, "where in the hell are the peanuts around here?"

He didn't hear Chuck Feldstein appear behind him in a puff of savings, but when he turned around a moment later to find the grocer grinning at him, he nearly dropped the crackers he'd settled for.

"Hey there, Mr. Finch! What can I help you with today?"

Simon blinked at him. Did he know this guy from anywhere? "I'm, uh... I'm just trying to find the peanuts. Y'know, for the kid."

"Why, Simon, I've got just the thing! Try these new Samberson Lightly Salted Nut Clusters; I'm sure the kid will love them!" He picked up a package from the display that had appeared next to him and handed them to the man.

The grocer's grin was starting to really creep Simon out, so he took the box of clusters from him and stepped back a bit. When it became apparent that the conversation was over, Chuck vanished, as did the display.

"Wow," Simon breathed, opening up the box and pulling out a packet of clusters. "That was... well, really freaking creepy."

Popping a cluster in his mouth, though, he had to admit, "In fairness... they're just what I needed."