Sythyry's Journal
[Most Recent Entries]
[Calendar View]
[Friends]
Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
Sythyry's LiveJournal:
[ << Previous 20 ]
| Wednesday, May 22nd, 2013 | | 8:42 am |
OOC: poll about ... um ... something
Poll #1914820
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 12
Which is the best way to think about it?
View Answers
| Bard cracked a tooth, is having it removed, and is getting an implant |
   3 (27.3%) |
| Bard is turning into a cyborg with a partially-titanium skeleton |
| 8 (72.7%) |
For a good time, call ...
View Answers
| 555-1212 [actual number redacted] |
| 1 (8.3%) |
| Sexually Available Personages Я Us |
| 1 (8.3%) |
| PartyTime |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| System.nanosecondClock() |
| 10 (83.3%) |
Which of these is the greatest pleasure of those listed here?
View Answers
| Watching major motion pictures |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| Feeling the bones of your enemies crunch beneath your feet |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| Experiencing amateur artistic works by unknown artists |
| 5 (41.7%) |
| Sleeping in climate-controlled conditions |
| 2 (16.7%) |
| Devouring delicacies from all around the world |
| 5 (41.7%) |
Which of these is the greatest sorrow (of those listed here, not of all
possible sorrows)?
View Answers
| Breaking up with that person you date/boink once in a while |
| 6 (50.0%) |
| Toothache leading to extraction and low-grade cyborging |
| 1 (8.3%) |
| Missing the winning lottery ticket by one number |
| 2 (16.7%) |
| Watching tornadoes destroy a city half a continent away |
| 3 (25.0%) |
| Boy bands |
| 0 (0.0%) |
Which of these is the most tempting sleazy 17th-century inn? (All taken from
a real table in a real RPG which Bard did not write)
View Answers
| The Choked Yolk |
| 2 (16.7%) |
| The Spent Buns |
| 3 (25.0%) |
| The Gushing Bottom |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| The Angry Pedant |
| 2 (16.7%) |
| The Odious Trousers |
| 1 (8.3%) |
| The Engorged Beetle |
| 4 (33.3%) |
| The Sickening Belch |
| 0 (0.0%) |
Which of these is not a real town?
View Answers
| The Dud of Flamister |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| The Candle of the Sneuk |
| 1 (9.1%) |
| The Wee Tuffer of Snough |
| 2 (18.2%) |
| The Head of Work |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| The Tongue of Gangsta |
| 3 (27.3%) |
| Gentleman's Ha |
| 1 (9.1%) |
| Flossy Groups |
| 2 (18.2%) |
| Da Scrodhurdins |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| Da Niggards |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| The Point of the Sluther |
| 1 (9.1%) |
| Flae-Ass |
| 1 (9.1%) |
Which of these should be a real place?
View Answers
| A despair-removal stand run by a cute anime angel |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| A find-your-true-love detective agency run by a cute anime catgirl |
| 4 (33.3%) |
| A negative-calorie cookie shop run by a cute anime fox-girl |
| 4 (33.3%) |
| A free electronic device shop run by a cute anime lightning alien girl |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| A cure-any-disease clinic run by a hideous anime tentacle monster |
| 4 (33.3%) |
Where are you on this scale?
1 = Secure in the knowledge that your hair color conveys spiritual supremacy.
10 = Able to emit devastating energy blasts from your ears.
How scientific is a religion with "Science" in its name, such as
Scientology or Christian Science?
1 = not at all; 10 = totally.
How scientific is an academic discipline with "Science" in its name, such
as Computer Science, Food Science, or Social Science?
Which of these would make a better superhero?
View Answers
| The Bicuspid |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| The Orange Ocelot |
| 1 (8.3%) |
| Honey Badger |
| 3 (25.0%) |
| The Stitcher in Time |
| 1 (8.3%) |
| The Snap-Dragon |
| 4 (33.3%) |
| The Living Torpedo |
| 2 (16.7%) |
| Peacey Pea |
| 1 (8.3%) |
And which would be that superhero's nemesis?
View Answers
| The Tooth Pastor |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| The Mauve Manatee |
| 3 (25.0%) |
| The Fastest Food |
| 1 (8.3%) |
| Wormgetter Bird |
| 1 (8.3%) |
| The Dandy Lion |
| 4 (33.3%) |
| The Eggbreaker (and sidekick Omelette) |
| 3 (25.0%) |
If you were, speaking entirely hypothetically, going to secretly administer
anti-flatulence drugs to a coworker without their consent or knowledge, you
would
View Answers
| Put them in coffee |
| 8 (66.7%) |
| "Accidentally" stumble against the coworker while holding them in a
charged hypodermic needle |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| "Accidentally" administer nitrous oxide to the coworker and implant a
six-month time delay drug capsule |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| "Accidentally" seduce coworker with offers of anal sex, but instead of
a normal phallus or analog, use a syringe of specially engineered odorless bacteria |
| 1 (8.3%) |
| "Accidentally" hypnotize company president, have him order coworker to
take the damn anti-gas pills already. |
| 3 (25.0%) |
| | Saturday, May 18th, 2013 | | 2:51 pm |
| | Monday, May 13th, 2013 | | 1:21 pm |
| | Saturday, May 11th, 2013 | | 10:34 am |
Chrono-Gender-Bender Poll
A followup to the supervillain poll of yesterday.
You have perfected a chrono-gender-bender ray, allowing you to adjust the sex
(body type) of historical figures from the safety and comfort of your own
Laboratory of Doom. So what do you do?
Poll #1913108
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 18
Calibration shot, applied to a currently-living celebrity, but back when they
were age three or so, so they have no particular memory of being otherwise.
View Answers
| Lady Gaga → Lord Gagus |
| 6 (37.5%) |
| Madonna → Mondonno |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| Boy George → Girl Georgina |
| 4 (25.0%) |
| Reese Witherspoon → Rhys Withisspoon |
| 5 (31.2%) |
| Blue Ivy Carter → Pink Ivy Carter |
| 1 (6.2%) |
Now for something more significant! Still a short-range shot, but at one of
the most important people of the 20th century! It is difficult to rank these
people, so let us pick at random
from this page
View Answers
| Princess Diana |
| 1 (6.2%) |
| Richard Nixon |
| 4 (25.0%) |
| Pol Pot |
| 2 (12.5%) |
| Charlie Chaplin |
| 1 (6.2%) |
| Ernest Hemingway |
| 8 (50.0%) |
Bonus science: predict what that would do!
Now for something dear to your heart — science! Looking
at this
list of scientists for targetting!
View Answers
| Albert Einstein |
| 1 (5.9%) |
| Marie Curie |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| Sigmund Freud |
| 9 (52.9%) |
| Max Planck |
| 1 (5.9%) |
| Niels Bohr |
| 2 (11.8%) |
| Ivan Pavlov |
| 4 (23.5%) |
Bonus science: predict what that would do!
On to bigger targets! Let's try five runners-up
from this list of the most
important people of all time.
View Answers
| St. Thomas Aquinas |
| 9 (50.0%) |
| Archimedes |
| 3 (16.7%) |
| Charles Babbage |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| Benjamin Franklin |
| 4 (22.2%) |
| Abraham Lincoln |
| 2 (11.1%) |
Bonus science: predict what that would do!
And finally — the grand prize! One of most important people of all time,
according to the same list!
View Answers
| Muhammed |
| 9 (50.0%) |
| Isaac Newton |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| Jesus Christ |
| 2 (11.1%) |
| The Buddha |
| 6 (33.3%) |
| Confucius |
| 1 (5.6%) |
Bonus science: predict what that would do!
Actually, there's no reason to stop there. If you fit the device with a
diffraction grating and some unstable molecules, you can get an entire nation!
Here are choices courtesy
of this site
View Answers
| China, 100 A.D. |
| 1 (5.9%) |
| Rome, 100 A.D. |
| 6 (35.3%) |
| France, 1700 A.D. |
| 4 (23.5%) |
| England, 1815 A.D. |
| 2 (11.8%) |
| America, 1945 A.D. |
| 4 (23.5%) |
Bonus science: predict what that would do!
| | Friday, May 10th, 2013 | | 6:14 am |
You are a supervillain!
Congratulations! I think! You're a supervillain!
Poll #1912934
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 28
What event triggered your villainy?
View Answers
| Your great novel was edited into dullness! |
| 12 (42.9%) |
| Humanity put a mall on your sacred place of power! |
| 8 (28.6%) |
| Those ignorant fools said that your paper-making process had been
around for a century already! |
| 6 (21.4%) |
| Your parents were shot dead as you looked on, and you wish you had
thought of doing it first. |
| 2 (7.1%) |
| You were bitten by a were-vampire. |
| 0 (0.0%) |
But you also want revenge! What for?
View Answers
| The atrocities committed against purple-haired people! |
| 1 (3.6%) |
| The loss of your right to smoke indoors! |
| 1 (3.6%) |
| Those fees the banks charge to use out-of-network ATMs! |
| 9 (32.1%) |
| Low-grade pickles served on your sandwiches. |
| 6 (21.4%) |
| The Windows operating systems |
| 11 (39.3%) |
What is the source of your power?
View Answers
| Radioactive shampoo |
| 1 (3.6%) |
| The Loathsome Limericks of eviL |
| 1 (3.6%) |
| Mystic secrets whispered to you by your evil gerbils |
| 10 (35.7%) |
| You won them at a card game |
| 13 (46.4%) |
| The rage you feel when you hear Lady Gaga |
| 1 (3.6%) |
| Guns. Lots and lots of really big guns. |
| 2 (7.1%) |
What is your primary weapon?
View Answers
| Trick umbrellas |
| 1 (3.6%) |
| Trick bananas |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| Trick typewriter |
| 9 (32.1%) |
| Trick pickles |
| 2 (7.1%) |
| Tsunami |
| 13 (46.4%) |
| Guns. Lots and lots of really big guns. |
| 3 (10.7%) |
What is your nefarious plan going to do?
View Answers
| Move everyone on Earth to Venus so that you have the whole thing to yourself! |
| 2 (7.1%) |
| Go back in time and gender-bend major historical figures! |
| 11 (39.3%) |
| Steal all the Earth's helium and sell it to balloon-makers at vastly
inflated prices! |
| 4 (14.3%) |
| Steal all the anti-depressants in the world and cause another Great Depression! |
| 5 (17.9%) |
| Construct the Ultimate Super Apple Turnover, so that everyone in the world
eats them and gets super-fat, and then you can outrun them all and steal all
their money |
| 6 (21.4%) |
What do you sneer as you have the heroes helpless before you?
View Answers
| Now my cuisine reigns supreme! |
| 5 (17.9%) |
| I've won, I've won, I've winny-winny-won! |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| So much for your vaunted vauntedness, vaunted pig-alpaca! |
| 5 (17.9%) |
| You are now helpless, so I'm afraid it can't be helped. |
| 7 (25.0%) |
| Oh dearie me, this is where you escape by some very contrived means and defeat me, isn't it? |
| 11 (39.3%) |
What do you wail as they defeat you?
View Answers
| Oopsie! |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| Curses! Foiled again! |
| 3 (10.7%) |
| I shall escape and turn the tables! |
| 10 (35.7%) |
| Drat, drat, and double-drat! Mumblety-pegs and foo! |
| 1 (3.6%) |
| Bother! |
| 14 (50.0%) |
| | Thursday, May 9th, 2013 | | 8:54 am |
Chimera Poll
It's time for a poll about chimeras! Inspired by Borges' quote about
Rabelias' quote about chimerae: a celebrated joke of Rabalais' ("Can a
chimera, swinging in the void, swallow second intentions?") clearly marks the
transition.
The actual quotation is the title of a mythical book in Latin:
Quaestio subtilissima, utrum chimera in vacuo bombinans possit comedere
secundas intentiones..
Poll #1912804
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 28
How would you like to pronounce "chimera"? I'm not asking how
it's really pronounced, but how should it be pronounced?
View Answers
| KAI-meh-rah |
| 11 (47.8%) |
| chim-MER-ah |
| 4 (17.4%) |
| chimmer-AH |
| 6 (26.1%) |
| KHAI-may-rah |
| 2 (8.7%) |
| shee-may-RAH |
| 0 (0.0%) |
What is the best plural of "chimera"
View Answers
| "chimerae" |
| 15 (57.7%) |
| "chimeras" |
| 3 (11.5%) |
| "a chimera ... no, more than one" |
| 1 (3.8%) |
| "chimera". As with the creature itself, the word is singular and
plural at the same time. |
| 7 (26.9%) |
How is a chimera best arranged?
View Answers
| Head of one animal, body of another, tail of a third |
| 1 (3.8%) |
| Head of one animal, forequarters of another, hindquarters of a third |
| 7 (26.9%) |
| Three heads on a peculiarly-blended body |
| 4 (15.4%) |
| Three heads and bonus serpent tail |
| 2 (7.7%) |
| As awkwardly as possible |
| 12 (46.2%) |
The first component of the best chimera on this quiz should be
View Answers
| Goat |
| 3 (11.1%) |
| Wallaby |
| 5 (18.5%) |
| Boar |
| 1 (3.7%) |
| Oryx |
| 10 (37.0%) |
| Bison |
| 3 (11.1%) |
| Clydesdale |
| 5 (18.5%) |
The second component of the best chimera on this quiz should be
View Answers
| Lion |
| 5 (18.5%) |
| Weasel |
| 7 (25.9%) |
| Dire Wolf |
| 2 (7.4%) |
| Narwhal |
| 6 (22.2%) |
| Parrot |
| 5 (18.5%) |
| Octopus |
| 2 (7.4%) |
The third component should be
View Answers
| Dragon |
| 14 (51.9%) |
| Manticora |
| 2 (7.4%) |
| Blennye |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| Troll |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| Kraken |
| 4 (14.8%) |
| Catoblepas |
| 1 (3.7%) |
| Another chimera |
| 6 (22.2%) |
How does the chimera react when confronted with puns?
View Answers
| Eats the punster |
| 4 (14.8%) |
| Runs away |
| 2 (7.4%) |
| Fails to understand |
| 6 (22.2%) |
| Eats the puns |
| 15 (55.6%) |
If a chimera were a superhero, its epithet should be:
View Answers
| The Tripartite Chimera |
| 3 (12.0%) |
| The Obstinate or Fierce or Deadly Chimera |
| 9 (36.0%) |
| The Mismatched Chimera |
| 5 (20.0%) |
| The Unpronounceable Chimera |
| 8 (32.0%) |
What does a chimera really do in a void?
View Answers
| Swings |
| 1 (3.7%) |
| Buzzes |
| 1 (3.7%) |
| Hangs / flails |
| 2 (7.4%) |
| Bombinates |
| 6 (22.2%) |
| Takes a nap |
| 9 (33.3%) |
| Vilifies Rabelais |
| 3 (11.1%) |
| Nothing: chimeras avoid voids |
| 5 (18.5%) |
How intelligent is a chimera?
View Answers
| Animal intellect |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| Three times animal intellect |
| 8 (29.6%) |
| Witty and urbane, but superficial and sarcastic |
| 9 (33.3%) |
| Intelligent enough to be quite tired of Borges and Rabelias both |
| 10 (37.0%) |
What should the collective noun of chimeras be? (like "a murder of crows" or
"a gaggle of geese")
| | Wednesday, May 8th, 2013 | | 4:25 pm |
| | Monday, May 6th, 2013 | | 10:31 pm |
| | Sunday, April 28th, 2013 | | 5:26 pm |
| | Friday, April 26th, 2013 | | 9:05 am |
OOC; Unpopular Music Poll!
Poll #1910645
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 13
Do you recognize the song from which this bit of lyrics is extracted?
View Answers
| Hey |
| 5 (38.5%) |
| Hey, hey |
| 2 (15.4%) |
| Hey, hey, hey |
| 3 (23.1%) |
| Hey, hey, hey, hey |
| 2 (15.4%) |
| Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey |
| 1 (7.7%) |
Do you recognize the song from which this this big of lyric is extracted?
View Answers
| This octopus! Let's give him boots! |
| 1 (10.0%) |
| Slice the rock … In the loft! |
| 1 (10.0%) |
| Pastor, repent! It's hard porn! |
| 2 (20.0%) |
| Now we'll take the senate on a seven-year hunt! Woo! |
| 3 (30.0%) |
| Kobaia iss de Hundin! |
| 3 (30.0%) |
Which of these would make the best topic for a top-40 song?
View Answers
| Peanut butter |
| 1 (7.7%) |
| Anagrams |
| 5 (38.5%) |
| Angular momentum |
| 1 (7.7%) |
| The law of supply and demand |
| 3 (23.1%) |
| The annoyance of packing |
| 3 (23.1%) |
Which one of these pop song topics is the most overworked?
View Answers
| Falling in love |
| 6 (46.2%) |
| Falling out of love |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| Falling in lust |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| Unfortunate lust situations |
| 1 (7.7%) |
| Nonspecific horniness |
| 6 (46.2%) |
Which of these alternate sex-related pop song topics would make for the best
music?
View Answers
| menstrual cramps |
| 1 (7.7%) |
| blue balls |
| 1 (7.7%) |
| pubic hair |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| the awkwardness of acquiring contraceptives |
| 7 (53.8%) |
| cleaning up afterwards |
| 4 (30.8%) |
Why?
Which of these alternate sex-related pop song topics would improve the
wholesomeness of pop music the most?
View Answers
| menstrual cramps |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| blue balls |
| 1 (7.7%) |
| pubic hair |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| the awkwardness of acquiring contraceptives |
| 4 (30.8%) |
| cleaning up afterwards |
| 8 (61.5%) |
Why?
| | Monday, April 22nd, 2013 | | 12:49 pm |
Nexterie on Isange 17: In the Forest of Nudibranches
Nexterie on Isange: In the Forest of Nudibranches
Gumdash is provided with a train, underneath the main walkway that is the length of the bridge. When one has money in hand, as we did then, one can buy metal marbles which allow one to enter the train (when it is stopped — a fine point I did not quite do right the first time!), and square steel sigils that allow one a seat, and little metal fans painted in various colors that entitle one to particular treats from carts that wander along the aisle of the train.
Eric and I shared a seat, to conserve money. The view from inside of Eric is distressing. Your eye interprets every color as a variation on white. The green-brown cover of the seat in front of you is a greenish-brownish shade of white. The blackness of Vong’s coffee is a blackish shade of white. If you actually try to look at the color, it’s actually normal. But if you’re just looking around, everything is white, almost as if you had gone blind or stuck your head into a snowstorm or a kiln.
“What do you expect when you look through a glinkery ghost?” said Hditr, when I mentioned that to her.”
“So I’m glinkery now, am I?” moaned Eric. “What does that even mean?”
I asked «Language», which pouted and told me that it was a pseudo-obscenity: without actual meaning, merely intended to suggest a vulgarity.
“It’s probably something about Vong’s hydrothalamus,” I told Eric, because I was bored. I didn’t manage to start a fight between him and Vong though.
Eventually the possession of a purple-striped fan brought me the ownership of a vast pile of sticky buns stuffed with honeyed mushrooms, which I gobbled up in four and eleven-fourteenths seconds and promptly fell asleep.
⁂
Thirty-one hours later, the train arrived at Spellicose Station, and we waddled out in a giant cloud of mushroomy crumbs. And we looked around, and, as one, we said, “I don’t think we’re on Gumdash anymore.”
The porter -- a badger in a burqa -- said, “Now you are really Gumdash. Bridge end by Greatbridge is stupid Gumdash, circus Gumdash, midnight Gumdash. Now -- Gumdash!” He picked up a brightly-colored boneless creature with many silver-green fronds, and displayed it to us. “Gumdash!”
Vong sneered at it. “That is not a Gumdash!! The bridge is Gumdash!! The monstrosity which you are displaying to us is a nudibranch!!”
“Yes, yes, nudibranch. Squerry-scorpio, nudibranch. Very friendly. Very deadly. Very Gumdash!” explained the porter.
“We’re getting close to the Idol of «Nudibranch», then?” asked Hditr. “Would you say that there are more nudibranches here than near Greatbridge?”
“Here no nudibranch, no idol,” said the porter, presenting Hditr with his nudibranch by way of explanation. “Up bridge Dringo, left, along, this way, that way, back this way, then is the idol! You have baggage?”
Hditr shook her head sadly. “Just a backpack for me and Tllith’s saddlebags. We’re travelling light. Actually we lost our loogy luggage in ancient adventures ages ago.”
“Agonizing ages ago!” I added, in the spirit of the thing.
“Apoplectic apples ago!!” said Vong, who obviously did not understand. “How poisonous are these squerry-scorpio nudibranches, anyhow??!!”
“Very deadly, sirry! One bite and you die-die-die! Two bite and you die some more!” cried the porter.
“Hmm!! Hmmm!!” hmmed Vong.
Questing
The quest for the Idol of «Nudibranch» proceeded through many deadly and devastating adventures. These include:
- Getting rid of the porter, who wanted to perform various services for us in exchange for money. We do not want those services, except that Hditr sort of does but she can get them without paying pretty easily, plus she’s taken a vow not to that she obeys whenever it’s 100% convenient.
- Catching the #18 bus. This involves lying in wait at the bus’s favorite resting spot, waiting for it to wander naively by, leaping out, pouncing it, paying small amounts of money, and curling up inside a ghost for a while.
- Consulting a local manufacturer of muffins for directions. Escaping with half a dozen pilchard muffins, four of which vanished into Vong despite Hditr being the one to pay for them. Enduring the resultant scolding and bickering.
- Ogling a tree full of crimson and blue tentacled creatures the size of a badger’s hand. A cat stalked them for a while, but they waved their tentacles at him, and he snorted and chose to take a bath rather than hunting them further.
“There are a lot of nudibranches here,” said Hditr. “It’s almost as if the universal essence of nudibranchery were calling them to itself.” “There were just as many in the swamp where we arrived,” I said. “I didn’t notice, I was too busy pulling my boots out of squelchy mud,” said Hditr. “Are you actually sure about that?” “I am a swamp dragon — a swampiste supreme! I saw a lot of nudibranches.” “Why didn’t we see any in Norshub or the other end of Gumdash?” asked Hditr. “No plants around there, I guess. The ones we see here are all on the trees or bushes. But Norshub area is all metal floors and technology. No shrub in Norshub!” I explained. “Huh. That makes sense,” said Hditr. “OK, you can be my research assistant some more, Tllith.” - Consulting the Magistrate of the Ceremonial Order of the Grand Guardians of the Idol of «Nudibranch». He was a human in a pompadour and sparkling camiknickers and a very formal sash.
“You understand that the Idol is very dangerous? A single touch will cause it to imprint itself upon your body, thereby losing you the use of that limb? Losing a hand is a serious matter. Losing your abdomen or head is far worse.” “We know. Tllith, show your wings,” said Hditr. I spread my wings, showing off «Cuisine» and «Language». “Right then. A domain sorcerer,” said the Magistrate. “I suppose you know what you’re doing, then, taking the print of «Nudibranch». “I’m not going to. We’re just looking!” He frowned, as if displeased that someone could choose other domains and not his. “Well, I suppose that’s your own business. I have administered the warnings. Please sign these documents absolving various agencies and municipalities from moral and financial guilt about having a domain sigil inflicted upon one. What, you are dead and insubstantial, so you cannot wield a pen? Then you may not see the Idol. It is very simple, ghost.” Hditr looked at the documents. “I seem to be absolving the North Dringo Brewing And Weatherproofing Organization of blame.” The magistrate looked at her papers. “That is an advertising circular that somehow found its way into the official documents.” - Enduring a brief ride to the actual Idol on a small electric cart. Actually the ride wasn’t very hard. Hditr was fussy about her equipment, measuring the relative pungencies of «Nudibranch», «Cuisine», «Language», «Cloth», and «Manners». Her language and manners were quite pungent, which may have upset her science.
The actual Idol of Nudibranches was a two-inch-long wiggly rune thing, like all the other domain sigils, sizzling innocently on the floor of Dringo. A heavy iron cage had been erected around it, with a latched and locked gate. Dry leaves had accumulated around the cage. It was not a place where many people came, either to observe or to gain its power. The magistrate opened the gate for us. “And there, behold. The great Idol.”
“I claim the might of this idol for myself!!” cried Vong, shoving the magistrate aside and slapping his left hand on the Idol. The magistrate picked himself up, and inspected his garments, where pointy bits of the cage and my horns had rent them. “You didn’t have to shove, toad. Give me a few seconds to get out of the way.” Hditr grumbled, and struggled to get measurements. “The Power Is Mine!!!” cried Vong, holding his sigil-inscribed hand high in the air. “Vast armies of deadly creatures will obey me!!! All miners must submit or die under the stings of my glorious nudibranches!!! Thugs and ruffians must cower out of the way when they see me approach, or they will suffer and die worse than the victims of Henderloch’s hair!!!” “Um ... you do know that nudibranches don’t have stingers? They’re just poisonous to eat?” asked Hditr. “Knowledge of all things nudibranch is mine!!!!!!” howled Vong. ”... We’re going to have to hold your friend for counselling,” said the Magistrate. “He doesn’t sound quite right in the brain.”
Nexterie on and off Ixange
The Magistrate held Vong for two days for treatment. His therapy consisted largely of placing him in a tub of cuddly, brilliantly-colored, poison-fleshed nudibranches, and letting them comfort their new master. After the first day, he learned to change his skin to a variety of intense and tentaculous colors, and, I think, to make his own flesh quite poisonous as well. Nobody tried to eat him.
I took advantage of the delay by performing a few unbonded black-market translations. Did you know that the Bun̮phíd͖a̦la̯̽ have an amazing black market in ancient pornography? I didn’t. Did you know that the secret ancient Bun̮phíd͖a̦la̯̽ stories, especially about H̓e̞e͖b̐o͖, involve such a rich variety of bodily interpenetrations that Hditr flattened her ears and Eric told me I shouldn’t be involved in the translation? That H̓e̞e͖b̐o͖ and Da͔n͋da͉tḧ́rum copulate in ways that, if they somehow result in pregnancy at all (which is impossible when mortals do that, says a very embarrassed Eric, and he wouldn’t let someone do that to him) would result in a highly feculent child indeed. “Just like Bu̼r̕l̋ash͋!” said everyone. | | Friday, April 12th, 2013 | | 8:07 am |
Nexterie on Ixange 16: The Last Battle
Irontrias was in our path, lounging against the frame of a store that sold wearable pastries. “Well-met by bridgelight! Three of you are alive now, and against three I will simply slightly exert myself. This shall be straightforward, and simple, and my Iron shall perform its music of skull-crushing, and all those alive shall be happy and full of rejoicing.”
Hditr glared at him. “I’m not in the hoopery habit of getting beaten up by buttery boys.”
«Language» says that ‘buttery boys’ refers to a human pseudo-mating practice that should not be further described. The words seemed to sting Irontrias. “But I am in the habit of striking insolent badgers on the head until their brains burst forth and spill into the street.”
Vong cried, “Hditr!! Call upon the mighty gods of the Rogalian Pantheon to destroy this assassin!! I do not wish to be slaughtered!!”
Hditr smirked. “Which spell are you thinking of? Rejection of Pus, in which Ethelea cures certain diseases? An Effusion of Sweet Lemons, in which Ethelea causes a seed to sprout into a mature plant? Canticle of the Architect, in which Vlutscrag trebles the effectiveness of construction workers? Or perhaps you’re thinking of Dulce et Decorum, in which Vlutscrag makes the subject die instantly?”
“Yes, yes!! That one!! Make Irontrias die!!” cried Vong.
Hditr shrugged. “It only works on willing subjects. Irontrias? Are you willing to die right now, quickly and without pain?”
Irontrias scowled. “Precisely the opposite. I am willing to kill right now, slowly and painfully. The preconditions for your wicked magic shall not be fulfilled!”
“It’s not wicked magic, Ironny. It’s for mercy death. Very nice really,” said Hditr. “Anyways, Vong, I ain’t got any clubbery combat magic.” She folded her arms, with her hands in the voluminous sleeves of her semiformal travelling anti-bishoply robes.
“Quite right. The only one with the least bit of combat ability is the three-headed lizard, and even that isn’t anything to worry about,” said Irontrias. He stepped towards Hditr, raising his steel rod for a crushing blow.
Hditr whipped her hands out of her vast sleeves, and dashed a jar of some clear fluid into his face. Irontrias wailed in pain, let his rod fall, and frantically wiped at his eyes. «Cuisine» disapprovingly identified the fluid as an over-proof distillation of fermented oats, cheap and harsh-flavored, most reasonably used for (1) getting drunk quickly, or (2) as an inexpensive and inferior alternative to good brandy for flambéeing strongly-flavored dishes.
Well, that was a good suggestion on «Cuisine»‘s part. I tried to cast a «Cuisine» spell to flambée Irontrias, but «Cuisine» complained that Irontrias was not currently an entrée. So I darted forward a few steps and breathed my blue-purple flames on him. He caught fire quite nicely, pale cyanic alcohol flames covering his head and hands, and pouring down his shirt.
Hditr took the opportunity to pick up the Iron of Irontrias and administer a pair of sharp blows, one to each of his elbows.
”— !!” cried Vong. I turned one head to look at him. Softbelt, evidently giving up on the purity of his nickname, had a thin metal chain in both hands, wrapped around Vong’s throat. Eric was all in Softbelt’s face, waving his ghostly arms and yelping and trying to distract the strangler. It did no good. Softbelt evidently did not need to see to strangle.
I trotted over, and took advantage of the fact that Softbelt’s hands were busy and his eyes were blocked. Specifically I rammed the twirly horn on my right head into Softbelt’s belly, breathed ice into his face with my left and fire on one of his hands with my middle. The breath weapons didn’t do much. (They’re not really heavy enough to hurt something human-sized, unless the human has been properly marinated in high-proof liquor.)
But my horn made a nice big bloody hole. Softbelt cried, “Tllith, why are you being so stabulous? It is not you I am strangling, but the the traitor Vong! He is foeluous to you even as to me!” He did let go of Vong, and draw a knife and a buckler.
Hditr had, by this time, broken Irontrias’s knees and elbows. “Eric, get your intangible eyes over here! Tell me if this hoombly human is doing anything dangerous!” She strode into combat with Softbelt, aiming a quick blow at his knife.
He flicked it out of the way and tried to slice at her arm in riposte. He obviously knew what to do with a knife. I glared my large middle eye at his belly-wound, which instantly swelled into an angry scarlet, radiating streaks of infection all across his chest. (I presume – that’s what it usually does. He was wearing a shirt so I couldn’t see.)
I’m not exactly sure what happened for the next minute or two. Softbelt really knew how to fight with a knife, but he started out wounded and feverish. Hditr is tough and fast, but not very warlike. I’m fast and a good killer of small swamp creatures, but not very dangerous to human warriors several times bigger than me.
Softbelt cried, “Irontrias! A mite of assistance here, if you please! I am beset and woundulous!”
“I am keeping Vong out of the fight,” said Irontrias calmly.
“Vong is standing aside, dancing as if he most severeulously needs to pee, far away from you!” exclaimed Softbelt.
“I am keeping my eye upon him; he is mightily intimidated by me. My non-ocular activities are limited by my injuries,” explained Irontrias calmly.
“Do not speak of me as if I were not here!! As if I were a briscuit of venison being prepared for your delectation!! I am a mayor, and, hence, mighty!!” cried Vong. He bravely ran away.
“You are now credituous of driving him off,” cried Softbelt in a passion. “But this is useless. We were to kill him, not send him fleeing.”
So it wasn’t a brilliant combat on anyone’s part. Irontrias, already rendered hors de combat by his own Iron, was obliged to offer a commentary. “Oh, Softbelt! Watch out for … yes, that, that sharp horn about to pierce the back of your leg. Now quickly wheel forwards to block my stolen club with your buckler — la, you managed it! Swift, swift Softbelt! Disregard the flames playing over your shoulder, for they not reaching your hair and they are not hot enough to claim your shirt. But do not disregard Hditr’s clumsy slash at your elbow …thus … yes; had it connected you would have been in a poor way. Pay no attention to the dancing, japing ghost, for it cannot hurt you. If it obscures your vision, simply listen to my directives. Block low-left, feint low-left, slash right — hah, you have sliced the lizard’s flank, your knife has tasted the blood of both! But you should have moved your wrist away quickly; I fear the beast’s head of purple ice has generated a field of lightning, which has stung you.”
Softbelt cried, “I am knowulous of this thing, Irontrias! Your ex-post-facto commentary is disingenuous and disinusefuluous!”
Irontrias pouted. “Then I shall not give you a piece of advice which is on the tip of my tongue and which you will regret not knowing.”
“Your advice is as useless as your lying-there-ness!” said Softbelt. Then he fell beneath a mighty blow of a sledgehammer in Vong’s hands.
“Actually, that particular piece of advice might have been useful,” said Irontrias.
Hditr stared at Vong and his hammer. “You’re back.”
“I am mighty!! I told you!! Unarmed, I found it needful to go to yon nearby hardware store and purchase a weapon!! Then I can fight and fight well!!”
Hditr crouched by Softbelt. “You crushed his slumpering skull. I don’t know if he’s going to survive that.”
“He can die for all of me!! Let him suffer the concussions or the death for his attempt on my life!! But now!! You are wounded, Tllith is wounded!! You are not such great warrior-generals as I, for you have not come through this battle unscathed and victorious!! But I am generous!! A private doctor makes his place of office next to the hardware store!! I shall treat you to treatment for your wounds and your injuries!!” said Vong.
“Some observers might disagree with your asinine assessment of the fight,” grumbled Hditr. “But I’ll go to the doctor. What should we do with Irontrias and Softbelt?”
“They are defeated murderers and assassins!! Leave them to live or die as they see fit!!” said Vong.
“Actually, let’s take them to the doctor too. If we don’t the police will be here and we’ll probably get jailed or something,” said Eric. “That’s what it sounded like the law is like from when Suzie Spunglemarr got killed, anyhow.”
“The dumbledorous doctor better keep them there for a good long time!” said Hditr. “Hey, Tllith? You can undo the wounds you inflicted, can’t you?”
“Just the ones from my horn,” I said.
“Why don’t you do that now. I hear doctors don’t like when their patients die.” (So I did. Not the infections since those aren’t horn-wounds.)
Outcome: We were at the doctor’s for about three hours. One hour while he tended Irontrias and Softbelt’s most life-threatening injuries; one hour for treating us, and another hour while we left for lunch and came back to see how the matter was going. Softbelt will probably die; a human skull is not much protection from a sledgehammer. Irontrias was never in danger of dying from his wounds, but he will probably be ugly from burns on his face, and he will probably be stiff and slow from broken joints. We emptied the assassins’ purses to pay the doctor for everything — Vong wound up not actually treating us.
“Let’s go see the Idol of «Nudibranch» and get out of here,” said Hditr.
“Why see this idol in the first place?!! Will Tllith inscribe that mighty rune upon its wings?!!” wailed Vong. “I wish to depart!! I wish to be in a different universe than Xshaothshash!!”
“I don’t want «Nudibranch»,” I said.
“Research program in how the idols work. That’s the actual purpose of this trip,” said Hditr. “Remember?”
“Which nobody but you actually signed up for. Remember?” said Eric. | | Tuesday, April 9th, 2013 | | 9:05 pm |
| | Saturday, April 6th, 2013 | | 10:29 pm |
OOC: publishing poll
Poll #1906772
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 19
Getting A Marriage of Insects as a free e-book was so good that Bard
should put The Wrath of Trees as a free e-book too.
View Answers
| Yes! I'll read it that way! |
| 2 (11.8%) |
| No! Its current price of $3 is fine! |
| 7 (41.2%) |
| $1 is the new free for ebooks! |
| 2 (11.8%) |
| Postcardware is the way to go! |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| This sort of high finance is beyond me! |
| 6 (35.3%) |
Bard's less-published novel Mating Flight is naturally a two-part
story. Bard should:
View Answers
| Give the first part away as a free e-book, charge $5 for part 2 |
| 2 (11.8%) |
| Give the second part away, charge for the first |
| 0 (0.0%) |
| Give them both away |
| 1 (5.9%) |
| Sell them for a modest price as a single e-book. |
| 10 (58.8%) |
| Put moose and skvirrel in rocket ship, send to moon |
| 4 (23.5%) |
Bard's next novel should include:
View Answers
| A world-spanning cybernetic dragon |
| 5 (31.2%) |
| Humans genetically engineered to be farm animals |
| 4 (25.0%) |
| The Order of the Knights Kevlar |
| 3 (18.8%) |
| A school that's not Hogwarts, really it's not. |
| 3 (18.8%) |
| A space habitat constructed by super-arrogant super-MENSAists. |
| 1 (6.2%) |
How many sex acts should be directly depicted in Bard's next attempt at pornography
View Answers
| One, in such coy language that you're not even sure if there was
sex happening or not |
| 6 (33.3%) |
| One, in an extremely hot one-sentence offhand remark. |
| 1 (5.6%) |
| Several, in insulting retrospect as the characters have a massive
argument and dig up past dirt on each other. |
| 1 (5.6%) |
| 0+1i, as the entire story takes place in a flying squirrel's wet dream |
| 4 (22.2%) |
| 0-1i; the story is about a cyberpriest's techno-ordination, in
which all sexual feeling and imagination is drained from his psyche. |
| 6 (33.3%) |
| | Friday, April 5th, 2013 | | 6:51 am |
| | Tuesday, April 2nd, 2013 | | 1:10 pm |
| | Monday, April 1st, 2013 | | 8:31 am |
Nexterie on Ixange 15: Bad Hair Day
“So who’s after me?” asked Hditr.
“Henderloch!!” said Vong with a shudder. “His very hair is poisonous!!”
“How does that work?” asked Hditr. “Are we talking a spiky mohawk hairdo, and he butts you with it and you die of a fast-acting toxic purple dye?”
“Nothing so direct!! His locks are long and lanky!! The tips are dipped in tibliocaust!! He has killed seven strong men by letting his fringe splash in their tea!! They die when they drink it unawares!!”
Hditr snorted. “OK, no hairy tea for me.”
Vong wailed, “That will not save you!! Oh, Henderloch is a sly one!! He disguises himself as a waiter, and the tea is rendered poisonous between kitchen and table! Or — soup, water, gravy, even milk!!”
Hditr looked pained. “I’m just going to have Tllith make dinner for me from scratch for a while. That would be a spallaciously stupid way to get scragged. I don’t exactly fear death, mind you. I’m not even expecting to die with dignity. It’s just, I’m expecting to die an undignified death when somebody’s high-caste husband comes home and catches me in bed grooming his high-caste wife all up and upside-down. That’s the death for me, hey!”
Vong hadn’t listened to much of her rant. “Actually, I do believe that Henderloch is the human over there, in the sequinned red wimple, staring at us with murderous eyes!! No!! Stop!! Do not go to confront him!! He will destroy you altogether!!”
Hditr ignored Vong’s advice. “Hallo there, Henderloch. Vong here says you want to kill me.”
Henderloch blushed and stammered. “Not so much want. There’s a weeny commission. Contract. On you.”
“By that big dragon, Xshaothshash or Xshit or whatever he’s called?”
“Yes,” admitted Henderloch.
“Well, then, let’s go to the corner bar and have a drink together like civilized people and discuss what our next step is going to be!” said Hditr, with a big smile. Henderloch blinked and stammered. Hditr grinned. “What, people you’re trying to poison don’t usually offer to have drinks with you?”
“Nothing, really,” said Henderloch. “I don’t mind. If you don’t.”
“Oh, I haven’t been at a meal where someone was trying to kill me for mullaceous multitudinous months!” said Hditr. “Unless you count that time with Vong on the world-boat.”
“And the time in the miner’s camp. Vong tried to have us killed then too, didn’t he?” I added.
“Not exactly!!” cried Vong.
“Why do you travel with him, if he keeps trying to murder you?” asked Henderloch.
“Same reason we’re going to the bar with you,” said Hditr. “Waiter, table for five! Bring us brilliant purple wine that will not show signs of tampering, and five unmarked identical cups!” These were soon brought.
Henderloch looked nervously at the wine. “I won’t be trying. To poison you, I mean. Today.”
“Whyever not?” exclaimed Hditr. “The perfect opportunity is hellaciously here!”
“I’m not really sure about it,” said Henderloch. “I mean, about how I’d fare. If you start swapping glasses on me. I’ve seen people die of tibliocaust. I don’t want to go that way. It’s nasty. I usually carry glorfune so I can die fast and clean. If I need to. Not today. I forgot it.”
Hditr patted him on the head. “Oh, don’t fret your flibberties so flabbergasted, Henderloch! You’re just trying to kill us. It’s nothing personal, right?”
“I wouldn’t be killing you. On my own, I mean. I don’t do that. It’s just business.” He coughed. “I’m trying to get into it. As a business. I mean.”
“I thought you’d killed seven people already with just your hair!” I said.
“Me? No, no. Only one,” said Henderloch. “It, well. Wasn’t business.”
“Practice?” I asked with my left head. “Or a demonstration piece?” with my right. “Or just for fun?” with my middle. Polyphony always rattles the single-headed.
“Oh, no. Not those. It was personal. My mother-in-law. Ex-mother-in-law. My wife had died, you see. In childbirth. I’m a widower. Lost the baby too. But my mother-in-law insisted on getting bride-price payments. For a dead wife! She took me to court. She lost, of course. But she sent a man around with a stick. Irontrias. He’s after you, Vong. Now he is, I mean. So I killed her first. Self-defense, you’d call it. Easier than killing Irontrias. Making sure he’d never get paid even if he did for me.” He took a big gulp of his wine, as if the words hurt his throat to say.
“And now you’re working for Xshaothshash? Alongside Irontrias?” Hditr asked.
“Well. Trying to. This is an audition. He’s paying, but not much. A little for you, Hditr. More for Vong of course.”
“What?!!” yelled Vong. “Why is he for the killing me!!?”
Henderloch swigged again, and said, “You stole his things. Some of them. Gem-cards. Tipliki figurines. Coins. He’s a dragon. He doesn’t like when you do that.”
“What?!! Impossible!!”
“I wouldn’t know impossible. He says you did it. He can tell. Somehow. I don’t know how.”
Hditr laughed. “Well, you’ve got the toobber-loobies, stealing from a dragon you’re guesting with, Vong!”
“I was careful!! Impossible, for him to find out!!”
“He did, he’s mad. Killing the other three is, well, there are four of us. Were four. Three now Suzie’s dead. So four of you, one each. Makes Xshaothshash look serious, like a gang-lord that the bridge invited in by mistake,” said Henderloch.
“Well, Henderloch. Here’s the thing. I’m a priestess of the Rogalian pantheon, and that means I have a spell against poison.” (I’m pretty sure it only works on diseases, and not all of those.) “The little lizard has «Cuisine» on its wings, so it’s pretty much impossible to poison even if I’m not around.” (That’s not how «Cuisine» works.) “Eric isn’t even alive —”
“I know. Suzie had to borrow special equipment. To kill him more, I mean. It didn’t work,” said Henderloch.
“So that leaves Vong. I’d lovingly love to leave Vong. Tllith seems to like him though, and we’re not really in the mood to give Xshaothshash what he wants, so we’re going to stay with Vong and not let you poison him.”
“Xshaothshash isn’t going to be happy,” said Henderloch. “If Vong stays alive. I mean.”
“Vong, pay the man,” said Hditr. Vong stared at her as if she had suggested he eat a live scorpion. “Seriously. You’ve got cash. Pay him more than he’d get for killing you. Otherwise you are gonna have to watch what you drink. And probably end up paying me for a cure spell when you slip up.”
“Well!! A mad suggestion!! Henderloch!! I shall give you so and so much cash, in cash!! You shall report failure to Xshaothshash!! Is this understood!!?”
“Oh, and if I catch you trying to poison us, well, our dragon has deadly breath weapons, and I’ve got sneaky spells, and there’s no way you can outrun a gleeping ghost,” said Hditr. I puffled frost breath over Henderloch’s head for extra intimidation.
“Right then,” said Henderloch. He scooped up Vong’s cash, gulped down the last of his wine, and scurried off.
“Hm. Did anyone see if he dipped his hair in any of the wine?” asked Hditr. Nobody was sure, and «Cuisine» said that tibliocaust wasn’t part of its magic at all so it wouldn’t or couldn’t check. So we poured out every drop, just in case, and called for yellow wine to drink instead because nobody felt like drinking anything the least bit like the purple. | | Friday, March 29th, 2013 | | 9:13 am |
| | Wednesday, March 27th, 2013 | | 12:49 pm |
| | Sunday, March 24th, 2013 | | 9:38 am |
Nexterie on Ixange 14: Murder at the Museum
We went to get Eric, and go. (Packing for Eric is easy: he doesn’t own anything.) We walked, waddled, and waded through wiggly ways to the Museum of Extradimensional Curiosities. Which, it turned out, was the waiting-place of four local detectives. They took depositions from everyone willing to give one to them, including me. Mine was about what Vong had said about Spunglemarr, and the incidents with Irontrias and Softbelt, which I have already described. Here’s Eric’s:
For me it was a normal day at work. Well. Not that you have ‘days’ on Ixange. I came to work. I chatted with a couple dozen people in the road. I got seven of them into the museum. That’s normal. Then this girl sticks a broadsword through my chest. Well, I’ve been dead for weeks now, so it’s not a really big deal. I turn to her and say, “Hi, sweetie. If you are interested in wonders from weird worlds, there is no better place to see them on Ixange than right behind you.” That usually gets some kind of a noncommittal reaction from the tourists, you know. There are better ways to start a conversation, but maybe I was a bit put off by that broadsword. It’s not quite friendly. She looks a bit put off too. You can see she’s wearing that backpack full of zapping coils and sparky electronics. She attaches a couple of wires to the hilt of the broadsword. All of a sudden it’s lit up with this horrible color, this unspeakably nasty color. I’ve only seen that color once before. It’s the color of the crowns on the god of death who cursed me into a ghost. So I get the impression that maybe if that sword hits me, it might hurt me. So I run away into museum through the wall. It’s a big wall, too, bricks on the outside, then fiberglass insulation, then a heavy cardboard where I would expect particle board. On the other side is the Cryptic Crypt of Cryptopher Crant, a spinny mirror sort of thing from the world of Lorzune according to the sign on it. It hallucinates you sort of. It’s a good thing for a ghost to walk out of — one of the best ways into the museum for me, if I’m not using a door. And good for me that I did it, ‘cause right straightaway the point of the broadsword comes through the wall. Through the bricks, that’s hard. Through the fiberglass and cardboard, not so hard if you can go through brick I guess. Through the Crypt. OK, into the middle of this spinning array of mirrors. There’s a cracketty crash and a squacketty squeal. Slivers of mirror go showering all over the place, through me, and into a roomful of tourists. Like twenty or thirty of them. Including the faces of a couple badger kids who had been staring right into the Crypt. Damn near the broadsword takes their noses off too, and it does shower their eyes with mirror shards. Well, aren’t there twenty or thirty upset tourists about that! I can see the sword change color, back from that hideous one to regular metal, so I stick my head out to see what’s going on. The woman is trying to pull her broadsword out of the hole. Only the sword has gotten bent by the crypt, and the wires have come undone again. I tell her, “You’d best put that down and come to the office to sort things out. You might have blinded a couple kids with that, and wounded any number of people, and broke a valuable exhibit to boot.” “I don’t care about that stuff,” says she. “It’s you that the dragon wants dead, you and the toad, and I am to be the one to do both.” “Well, you’re halfway there. I’m dead. But you’ve got this little problem with collateral damage. Oh, here comes Norven. He looks upset.” Norven being the bouncer at the museum, a human guy. He seems to know her. So Norven and the girl get into a big argument about all sorts of things. Who’s responsible for getting her pregnant. Who’s responsible for getting Morwenna pregnant. Who’s responsible for that bar fight when Norven’s nose got broke. When the museum docents come out, the argument gets a bit more practical and immediate: who’s responsible for the hole in the wall, the tourists’ medical bills, paying for the Crypt, and all that. Well, it’s not a really good discussion. The girl — Spunglemarr is her name, Suzie Spunglemarr — she takes out a razor, slices up Norven’s arm with a long bleeding cut, puts a big hole in Bostritude’s belly, and starts to run off. So Norven pulls out a gun and shoots her in the back of the head. He seems to regard this as an unambiguous and well-stated comment on their relationship. Then all the docents get upset about how Spunglemarr is dead and they won’t be able to collect any damages for anything at the museum. Norven is all how they wouldn’t be able to anyways because Spunglemarr can’t keep two coins in her pocket for two minutes without gambling them away — nor an engagement ring on her finger for that matter. Then the detectives get here, and the medics, and my friends.
The docents asked if my twirly right-head horn can cure wounds, like a unicorn horn from Earth. It can’t. I offered to cauterize some wounds with fire breath, but nobody wanted that. Hditr worked with the medics, casting Rejection of Pus on all the wounds so they wouldn’t get infected. That mirror thing hadn’t been dusted in a while.
Three hours later the detectives were satisfied. Norven was in custody. “Custody” in this case meant “A shirt that doesn’t let your arms move, full of chains, attached to a lamppost”. The first of the children was in an eye-doctor’s office, paralyzed and asleepitized, with the doctor extracting glass slivers from his eyes with tiny tweezers. (I didn’t actually see this, so maybe he was using a fantastical glass magnet for all I know, or a wooden mallet blessed by the spirits of five thousand generations of eye doctors. Eric says tweezers, but Eric isn’t always enthusiastic about the more interesting bits of our worlds.)
And we were free to go. |
[ << Previous 20 ]
|
sythyry