Where chaos stops and more chaos ensues. Where Filia plays the electric keyboard.
Where anything goes.
-//o_O\\7 *Home of the Awful, Mediocre and Pathetic* -//u_u\\7
|
|
Where chaos stops and more chaos ensues. Where Filia plays the electric keyboard. Where anything goes. -//o_O\\7 *Home of the Awful, Mediocre and Pathetic* -//u_u\\7 |
|
|
Saturday, March 06, 2004 - War of Words, Part VIII.ii - 22. Your mission : "Wha ... aah! No! I don't want to die! Get me out of here, faithful Xkwyr!" - Pwyns Xjrmynq. Translated, get him (and myself, of course) out of trouble ... since the poor sod looks like he can't even find his way out of a speech bubble. "I tell you, he does have a point ... behind all that gabble he's speaking. If only you could listen to him yourself!" I remonstrated while I walked down the corridor, prisoner in the hands of two armed, armoured, nonsensical, yet no-nonsense guards, walking both forwards and backwards as I attempted to present the case to both guards at once. "The point is, lady, that we can't listen to him ourselves!" argued the spearman behind me as he kept a steady pace despite me nearly bumping into him more than once, "That is precisely why we need you to translate his words for us, if you want any leniency on our part." "Don't forget, however, that to us you're still a criminal," reminded the halberdier before me as he kept a watchful eye to ensure I did not make a false move or try to get away, "If you do not translate the villain's words exactly as he speaks them, rest assured you will be punished." "But that's impossible!" I exclaimed, much to the alarm of the guards as they suddenly paused and turned to glare right at me, "I mean ... I'm inevitably going to have to sort through his jumble of words to get through to the essence of what he's saying for you, and in doing so I won't have a choice but to use my own words part of the time, won't I? So I can't repeat exactly what he says ..." "But if you can claim to understand both our languages exactly as they are spoken," considered the spearman, who was more of the stolid, scholarly type, "You should be able to repeat him exactly as he says, if your 'all-tongue' is true." "Even if you speak in the plainest language possible, we cannot trust you entirely," remarked the halberdier, who was more of the suspicious, soldierly type, "Your best option, therefore, should be to repeat him word for words, to sound honest." "But ... but I'm a human, not a trained monkey or a machine!" I protested unhappily as the guards, having finished their reprimanding, hustled me along again, "I don't copy people in such an irritating fashion ... imagine what it would sound like to him, who can't understand you! I'm not a mime!" "I didn't catch some of the words you used," remarked the spearman, "But as far as we are concerned you are still a criminal and a traitor." My, that was encouraging. "As a traitor you're not worthy of humanity," cursed the halberdier, "As far as the law is concerned, however, you are an animal and a beast." Say, that was pleasant. "At least I'm tame ..." I hissed as serpentlike as I could as the pair urged me forward down the corridor. Twisting and winding like some ancient labyrinth, one would wonder how they managed to fit an entire maze into something that looked no more impressive than the average stone building, one not even mansionlike in the least. Passing doors mostly sealed and unlabled, I thought I had finally caught a glimpse of a shaft of light from outside rather than the grim candles and gas lamps of the interior, until the pair shunted me away from salvation and down another deep, dark set of passageways ... until we came to another wooden door, one that looked slightly more polished and ornate than the rest. "Where did you shut him up?" I demanded rather insistently, not thinking that a prisoner would be shut up in a room with such a well-crafted door. I was cooperative, and I got a jail cell with a metal door and bars. "Where are you taking me? What are you doing?" "Oh, it was merely a matter of necessity," the halberdier remarked curtly as he leaned against his weapon for support, while regarding me disdainfully with a flick of his hand, "But judging by who you claim he is you could say we took care to 'accommodate' him." "Ah, I claim responsibility for this tactic," the spearman added happily as he rested his weapon against the wall, while proceeding to unlock the door with a key from his pocket, "He was uncooperative beyond measure, and this was the only way to silence him." "Accommodate? Silence? Sounds ... insidious ..." I murmured as the guard worked on unlocking the door, pondering as to what gruesome and untimely fate befell the bewildered but ultimately good-intentioned (or should it be the other way around?) Pwyns Xjrmynq, only to have my jaw drop in horror as the guard opened the door ... to fill my eyes with crimson. The crimson of cheerful red paint. Lit by numerous slow wax lamps anchored to the wall, the room looked more of a lounge than a prison of any kind. With a three-piece suite of sofas and tables in its centre, a large wardrobe against the wall, and even a dresser for ... wait, this wasn't just an ordinary living room! For starters, there were no windows, which meant that this room was used for ... "Oh, do pardon me for my unpreparedness, you startled me some ..." exclaimed a rather surprised Pwyns Xjrmynq who emerged from behind a couch, folding the news paper he was glancing through on the centre table, an odd way of occupying the time especially since he was unlikely to be able to understand their written language, and also the fact that the paper was probably out of date as well. "Oh, if it should be but those brutish fiends, and ... my good Xkwyr Charlotte!" "I ... um ..." I stammered, knowing what to feel but not really what to say as a guard shoved me into the room from behind, "What, may I ask ... are you doing in a ladies' room?" "Oh, I am in one?" Daft, I say, daft! Weren't the inordinate number of toiletries, accessories, and even the soothing bottle of perfume strategically situated on the table in the middle of the room giveaways enough? "Hmm, that probably figures. These barbarians might be savage and brutal but at least they are kind enough to their ladyfolk ... and to me, I suppose, by virtue of my nobility and standing in the house of Consonance." "Right," I had just about enough of this royal drivel, but there were important causes at hand which needed to be defended, and if this senseless ranting was allowed to continue it would be certain that they would not be, "The point is, whether they put you in here because of it or not, the guards need proof that you're a noble, or they'll have us both killed!" "Oh, but isn't my innate refineness and inherent royal carriage proof enough of the illustrious blood I bear?" proclaimed the royal twit in an overly exaggerated manner which certainly verified his royalty ... that idiocy which tended to run in people able to get away with anything, and exposed him as little more than a skinny starveling hiding under the mantle of a name, "In fact, you are proof of my nobility, as you have been endowed with rank and standing on the mere basis of my charge. Don't you consider yourself blessed for one of your age?" "No," I hissed. First I was reduced to an animal, and now I am a material piece of proof? Besides, I looked and felt like the same old ordinary girl ... not that I had anything wrong with that ... and not just another extension of an overly conceited wad of royalty. "They want material proof ... solid proof! Something they can hold, something that proclaims you! You know they can't understand what you're saying, so give them something that can do the explaining for you!" "Why, you can, dear Charlotte!" smiled Pwyns Xjrmynq in a pleasant ... and deeply unnerving fashion, "You're solid, can be held, and, seeing as to how the people here understand you, you would most certainly be able of doing the favour of proclaiming me to the world as my loyal and most trustworthy Xkwyr! What an honourable person you already are!" "..." I groaned as I slapped myself on the side of my head, in an effort to jolt as much of my grey matter away from the slightest remarks made by Pwyns Xjrmynq ... and to thinking of an idea to save our skins, "I ... hate ... this ..." I was in the midst of my grumbling as a heavy gauntleted hand descended on my shoulder and squeezed it painfully like a piece of paper to be scrunched up. "Yeow!" I screamed as I tried to wring my way out of the iron grasp, but it was useless. The most I could do was to twist my head back, to see the two guards glaring at me, who, having had the patience to endure our futile conversation thus far, had decided that they had come to their limits. "Look, you damned kid," snarled the halberdier, who was the one crushing my shoulder to a fetid pulp, "We can tell that you're not discussing any strategies to escape, but you had better make sense before we start losing our temper!" "Don't waste our time," growled the spearman, who was the one who had abstained from such a threat, "And yours as well! Don't forget that you're still under the death penalty. If you don't talk, you will have to be put to the sword!" "Wait ... please ... just let me get this under control ..." I burbled as I twisted in that vicious vice, only to fall backward unceremoniously and nearly into the arms of a very startled and confused Pwyns Xjrmynq ... who wasn't helping one bit. Doesn't he see that I'm trying to get him out of trouble here? Do people tend to fall into imbecility when they're faced with death staring in their eyes? Not me, hopefully, for my mind was running ... sprinting, searching for that way out. Or, in the words of that guard, I would be put to the sword. Didn't he say poison earlier? Sword ... sword, that was it! "I've got it!" I cried with a nearly Archimidean eureka as I leapt back onto my feet, "You said you recognised the seal on the sword I was carrying earlier, right? Only someone royal would be allowed to have such a seal! Surely, this man here, who gave me the sword, must be something more than an ordinary person!" "Ah, certainly, Charlotte!" applauded the delighted man as he savoured my appraisal of him, "Naturally! Of course, nobility has the most powerful way of permeating every aspect of a person, does it not? It may be somewhat premature of me to say this, but I can declare that you will indeed make a most excellent noble yourself! You have the honoured word of Pwyns Xjrmynq, heir to the throne of Consonance, himself, and it is not given lightly!" Shut up, twat. That doesn't matter now, does it? "The girl has a point," considered the spearman, thumbing his chin in the depth of his thought, "That sword certainly bears that hateful mark of Consonance on it ... and it looks far too unwieldy to be of any real use in battle. Perhaps that could truly be a ceremonial weapon of the enemy?" "You may be right," replied the halberdier, as he loosened his posture in a gesture of approval, "I have never seen a more useless and nonsensical weapon of war in my life. But to ascertain that it is not a counterfeit smithed by brigands, we may have to refer this matter to higher authorities." "So, does it all make sense now? Do you still think that I'm a treacherous traitor?" I exclaimed, overly excited that our certain deaths had been postponed, at least for a while, and that it was my idea that got us out of it, no thanks to the ridiculous piece of royalty over there still grinning gleefully at my graciousness, "Remember, I really didn't hurt anyone or steal anything! I'm a good girl through and through!" "But you aided an emissary of the enemy," snorted the halberdier, his curt tone cutting my happiness in its middle, "The law still considers you a criminal, until a higher official from the Palace judges otherwise. You may, however, enjoy the benefits of a comfortable accommodation in this room for as long as it takes for aforementioned official to arrive. Treasure it well." "Don't forget you are still on the death row," reminded the spearman, his directness deflating my balloon of expectations, "If the Palace decrees it so, you shall be executed as we promised earlier. However, until you are handed over to a greater authority, we shall ensure that you are sufficiently provided for with victuals and drink. Do not take our hospitality for granted." "Fine, fine ..." I sighed as the guards retreated and proceeded to shut the door, but not before peering in to deliver one last reminder ... or threat. "Stay here, and behave well," cautioned the first guard, whom I could not identify due to being unable to see his weapon. "And don't you dare try escaping," warned the second guard, whose identity was a mystery as long as his weapon was. As the door shut for the last time, I fully felt the fatigue of the ordeal weigh down upon me, and, my legs suddenly giving way, I collapsed onto my feet in a kneeling heap. Heaving with relief and exhaustion as the sweat on my back soaked into my dress, I saw only the tips of Pwyns Xjrmynq's boots peeking out from under the hem of his robe as he stood in front of me ... and heard only his voice, draining into my ears like waste water from the sink. "My, splendid performance, an incredible display, an awesome demonstration of strength, resolution and wit from one like you, good Xkwyr," congratulated Pwyns Xjrmynq, the little tones of happiness still ringing in his voice, "One most loyal to my cause ... and the cause of the Kingdom of Consonance, deserves the praise of all of its royalty and all of its denizens, praise which I most graciously lavish upon you on their behalf. Thank you, Charlotte, Xkwyr of our honourable kingdom." "Yes ... right ... okay, enough," I groaned as I sniffed the folds of my dress, which still smelt pleasantly grassy despite the dust and sweat that had in areas spoiled it a dirty grey, "I was doing it because I found this whole enterprise stupid." "This whole ... what's that you say, my dear?" he asked as he bent down to hear a little better ... but thankfully his face was still out of my rather restricted line of sight, "What is stupid?" "This nonsense. Killing people ... killing each other ... killing me, who didn't do a thing, just because people are hateful and paranoid," I grumbled in a tone which, despite my posture and my obvious resentment, had a hint of philosophy to it, "Not to mention really stupid. I'm glad that you're happy about it, because I am, too." "Well ... um ..." he pondered for a moment, before continuing, "I don't really comprehend your meaning, but ... if it's good for Consonance, I am, naturally, in full support of it. Persevere, dear Xkwyr, and together, you and I will see this noble quest of ours through!" "Right," I growled, rather dissatisfied, but when he placed that chilly, trembling hand of his upon my shoulder, still aching from that mauling it had received, I simply knew that I had to get up. "You'll do it. I'll see to that." Wow! Despite heaps upon heaps of blunders, goof-ups and several temporary paralyses of logic and common sense, Charlotte has managed to successfully ... well, temporarily, at least ... defend the cause of Pwyns Xjrmynq of Consonace? What say everyone for a reward? Like a stat modification of +1 Con, +1 Cha (and -1 Int, -1 Wis for being unnecessarily stupid about it)? But since Charlotte has no stats, in more ways than one, we should do with something nice, like a level up! If Charlotte is a Level 2 Swordsgirl, she becomes a Level 3 Swordsgirl! Hurray! Huzzah! Yippee-yay! If Charlotte is a Level 2 Priestess, she become a Level 3 Priestess! Wowee! Yahoo! Tantara-boom-de-ray! If Charlotte is something else, other than a consummate liar ... um, you must have missed something. Oh well. - Your adventure ends. Here? (hmm ... the effects of punctuation!) - posted by Charlotte | 3:04 pm
Comments:
Post a Comment
Disclaimer : The Slayers and Filia Ul Copt and all images thereof are the property of Hajime Kanzaka and Rui Araizumi. I don't own any of them, although if I had a choice I would want Filia ... ~//n_n\\7 |
|
|
|
|
||
|
 |
|||||
|
||||||
