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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Mar 9, 2011 4:15:30 GMT
"Not just yet, I'm waiting for a barometer and a saw first..."
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Post by jokester on Mar 9, 2011 13:50:42 GMT
The door is opened violently, and Quartermaster Fuhrer storms in.
"Would you like to explain to me why you feel the need to waste several rations' worth of fat?" he demands.
The Somalian walks in silently behind him, and casually tosses a saw to the ground. Stuck to the saw is a note saying "Apparently, the answer is 'One whose crew respects the sea and knows how to pay attention to other forecasts.'."
Hod clicks his tongue in something that may or may not be sympathy and walks up behind Talhoffer.
"You know, if ya happen to know where a barometer is then I guess I could get it for ya..."
Current Xylia Status: Still asleep.
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Mar 9, 2011 15:28:54 GMT
"Actually, there's no need of the fat now. Thanks anyway. As for the barometer, I can probably do without, it was just a secondary thing."
if (xyliaStasisStatus == 'Sleep') {cout << "Why won't you wake up?" << endl;} else {cout << "Ah, Good morning Xylia" << endl;}
In other words, she's still asleep, aint she?
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Post by jokester on Mar 9, 2011 15:48:49 GMT
The quartermaster is not happy.
"Excuse me?" he demands. "Do you think this is funny? Is this all some joke to you?"
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Mar 9, 2011 17:08:52 GMT
"No sir, I am merely attempting to carry out the orders I was given by the Cap'n."
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Post by jokester on Mar 9, 2011 19:14:13 GMT
The Fuhrer scowls.
"Are you indeed?" he growls. "That figures."
He swiftly turns around and leaves. The Somalian regards you for a few seconds, then leaves after him.
"Well," Hod says, to break the awkward silence. He opens the box of 'spare sealant'. "I tell ya what I'm wondering now, Prof: what exactly is an undead scientist such as yourself doing on a ship with a dwarf, several fairies and a whole lotta humans? Ain't you all currently at war?"
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Mar 9, 2011 19:17:39 GMT
"Are we? Oh... That's nice for us. But I don't really do the whole politics thing..."
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Post by jokester on Mar 9, 2011 19:51:17 GMT
"Oh yeah, sure. The Impartial Ruler was killed, didn'tcha hear? Dat leaves a power vacuum, my friend. Human nature, isn't it? And dwarf nature, and fairy nature - especially fairy nature, trust me... Anyway, shall I apply the sealant now?"
Urgent Xylia Update: Still asleep, but just rolled over a bit.
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Post by Snowfire on Mar 9, 2011 20:09:21 GMT
In the process of rolling over, the entire cabin changes in appearance to an apparently flawless replication of deep space. This may or may not be a representation of Xylia's dreams.
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Mar 10, 2011 5:41:07 GMT
"Hmm, that makes sense I suppose. Well, I'm more of a freelance so I'm not going to attack the people who rescued me simply because some necromancer chappy wants a bigger throne..."
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Post by jokester on Mar 10, 2011 14:26:18 GMT
Hod smiles the mildly-depressing, punchable smile of a cynical realist who's lived too long in an ideal-driven and unrealistic world.
"Nice outlook, Mack. If only the whole woyld was made uppa freelancers, we'd be - well, we'd be up to our ears in Extremist Knight-Templa lunatics without a system ta keep them in line, but it's a toss-up wetha that's any woyse than what we've got. I just applied yar sealant by the way, hope ya don't mind."
"Er... what?" Talhoffer replies, glancing down at the crate in Hod's hands, which contains several cans, one of which is now empty.
"I'm a hobgoblin," Hod shrugs. "We woyk fast."
Meanwhile, the spacescape in Xylia's room is interrupted when a paperclip folds itself out of nowhere.
"It looks like you are trying to create a dream sequence. Would you like some help?"
A faint pattern of light and dark caused by the arrangement of several stellar bodies turns, gaining colour and solidity as it does so, to become the image of an uncomfortably familiar barmaid, who slaps the paperclip. The paperclip is knocked into a spin, morphing as it does so into a chessboard, hanging in the cosmos at a jaunty angle. Arranged mathematically on this chessboard are tiny carved figurines of Xylia herself, Talhoffer, a manxome foe whom Xylia would recognise from her earlier scryings, an unknown dwarf and an unknown human. The Talhoffer-carving has a curious golden aura around it. The barmaid seems displeased with this, and flicks the piece slightly, causing the aura to swirl and coalesce into a little green crystalline arrow above its head.
The barmaid steps back and the chessboard grows, the squares shrinking simultaneously, more squares appearing in-between existing ones, allowing more pieces room to spontaneously appear at seemingly predesignated points. One of them looks like Tink, and another like the dwarf that was following Talhoffer around, and yet another like Titania. In fact, quite a few of them would be familiar to Xylia, but even awake she couldn't place exactly where she recognises some of them from. The board keeps growing and more pieces keep appearing, but Xylia wouldn't recognise any of these new ones.
One thing that is noticeable, however, is that very few of the pieces are black or white. They're all varying shades of grey. Some - such as the one that looks like Titania - are so dark a grey you might as well call it black. Some - such as the one shaped like Talhoffer's dwarf friend - are such a pale grey as to be pretty-much white. But there are only two properly-black pieces on the board - neither of which are familiar; one of which isn't even a proper piece, but a weird half-there hologram; and both of which look human. There are a few pieces that seem to be properly white dotted around - mostly manxome foes for some reason, but there appears to be at least one of each major race. Two of them are fairies whom Xylia would recognise vaguely, but couldn't place. And one of the others appears to be not a person but a crown, which is, oddly, tied to one of the darkest greys on the board with a length of string.
The barmaid leans down with much overacting and makes a show of blowing on the chessboard delicately. It flips over, changing as it does so into a cube with a chessboard on each side. There are two faces other than the one we started on which are visible from Xylia's sleeping position. One is entirely filled with illogically-shaped things, kinda like the three that attacked the ship earlier, and every single one of them as black as black can get. The other is mostly empty save for two pieces that stand in the very centre, facing the edge just beyond which are all of the humanoid, fairyoid, foeoid, dwarfoid and undeadoid pieces. One a cloaked figure, a scythe grasped loosely in his hand, and such a burning white that it's almost painful to look at. The other a coldly beautiful woman, such a yawning black that starlight seems to get sucked into it and eaten.
And then, balancing perfectly on the exact corner of these three faces, rotating as if it wants to see everything, and with one hand up as if waving jovially, is a piece that looks like the barmaid herself. And it's pink.
The real barmaid kicks the chess-cube, causing it to morph back into a paperclip, which twists itself into a bicycle. The barmaid hops on, rings the bell happily, and cycles away into the distance.
Maybe someone's been eating cheese lately?
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Mar 10, 2011 17:35:56 GMT
"Right, that's fine." I will now build a keel, saw a keel-shaped hole in the floor and sink the structure into it. I shall then seal the edge, and leave.
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Post by jokester on Mar 10, 2011 21:57:49 GMT
Talhoffer's unorthadox keel-building goes surprisingly successfully - Hod feels the need to supply a running commentary on the fish visible through the hole, despite not knowing anything about fish, and then launches into a philosophical monologue on the sensibilities or lack thereof of supplying a running commentary in an airtight room with a limited supply of oxygen, but the action itself proves to be not that hard. After checking that it's worked, he goes to leave.
The door doesn't open.
"Whoops," Hod says, with dull surprise. "I forgot how good that sealant is. Guess I really shouldn't have been breathing so much."
Xylia: asleep.
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Mar 10, 2011 22:49:40 GMT
Sigh, must I do everything myself? Break the door open with my sword.
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Post by jokester on Mar 10, 2011 23:43:35 GMT
There is a startled cry of pain as Talhoffer's sword smashes through the wood of the door. Talhoffer stops and peers through the hole. Kapn is leaning on the opposite wall, clutching his side.
"What in the Devil's name was that?" he demands.
"I think it's called a stab wound!" Hod feels the need to call in response.
Xylia still in Sleepsville, North Dakota.
No, not really. But she's asleep.
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Post by Snowfire on Mar 11, 2011 2:01:31 GMT
My eyes flicker a few times as the initial dream sequence fades. If someone with telepathic ability was close enough, they would sense a faint sigh of mixed exasperation and annoyance. Along with the words "Damned. Barmaid."
The spacescape remains constant, but the music-box suddenly stops playing. Then it restarts. Playing the Star Wars theme. Yellow letters start to move up from the 'bottom' of the spacescape, facing the door.
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Post by jokester on Mar 11, 2011 2:15:02 GMT
Back with Talhoffer, Tink tinkles something and Hod frowns. They turn to look at each other.
"Who's this Barmaid?" Hod wonders aloud.
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Post by Snowfire on Mar 11, 2011 2:26:47 GMT
There's about a minute of telepathic 'silence' and then Xylia's eyelids flicker again and a yell shatters that silence. Apparently more powerful than most gods. And bloody annoying! There's a slight, rather more questioning pause. And just how the hell am I talking whilst asleep?
Meanwhile, the yellow lettering has vanished in the spacescape's 'ceiling' and the opening few minutes of Episode 2: Attack of the Clones have started playing.
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Post by jokester on Mar 11, 2011 2:44:30 GMT
"O...K..." Hod says, before raising an eyebrow at Tink, leaning forwards and tapping Talhoffer on the shoulder. Tink tinkles something very fast. "Has your fairy friend told ya anything pertaining to a 'bloody annoying barmaid'?" he inquires. Meanwhile, back in the spacescape, the entire thing goes fuzzy with static and is replaced with a blank whiteness and a red-bordered sign informing anyone who cares to look that "We interrupt this motion picture to bring you a very bad petty joke". The music box cuts out. And then, suddenly, starts up the same tune again, with the opening chord played twice as loud as before. Back to a starscape. Back to yellow lettering. Swords, Sorcery and Shotguns Xylia/Talhoffer
Diversity has been thrown into more-than-usual chaos by the sudden, untimely and suspicious demise of its Impartial Ruler. Two unlikely heroes have been brought together in the acts of fleeing away from their respective countries, and found themselves on a pirate ship headed for Albion with a ragtag crew and several accidentally-acquired acquaintances. But even here, all is not well - Xylia has been having strange dreams, Talhoffer is technically a fugitive from his own people and both have been menaced by various mysterious and powerful entities with indecipherable motives. As Talhoffer continues irritating progressively more members of the ship's crew, Xylia begins subconsciously complaining about barmaids and her recently-picked-up habit of interacting with people while supposedly asleep...
And then, more fuzz, and it resumes the film.
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Post by Snowfire on Mar 11, 2011 2:46:06 GMT
.................
That, in telepathy. In response.
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Mar 11, 2011 6:32:19 GMT
"No, she hasn't. But I can make a pretty darn good guess who it is...
Sorry Kapn, but if you will lean against doors in the very depths of your ship whilst you know construction work is being done there... Here, let me heal that for you."
Just a slight note: Why has he received a stab wound from me clubbing the door?
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Post by jokester on Mar 11, 2011 14:57:36 GMT
"Nobody told me you were doing it on the bloody door!" Kapn protests. "I'm not used to having to wear armour to open doors on my own ship!""
You were clubbing it open with a bastard sword. In a universe where Comedic Sociopathy is pretty-much universally standardised. What the heck were you expecting?
Xylia: as the Fisher King.
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Mar 11, 2011 15:38:27 GMT
"Sorry, sorry..."
Slashes, not stabs... Both more likely, and much less harmful. In fact, stab wounds in this situation would be nigh impossible. Bastard swords don't have that much of a point, and I wasn't thrusting...
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Post by jokester on Mar 11, 2011 20:58:12 GMT
No, but you're pretty strong and pretty freaking fast. You can stab someone fatally with a bluntened curtain rail if you happen to be strong and fast-moving enough. And are you really complaining about something "unlikely" happening? You? A teleporting, sea-worm-boiling, gender-switching undead?
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Mar 12, 2011 12:48:42 GMT
Hey, I'm just saying. At that angle a stab would require some kind of freaky muscle spasm...
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Post by jokester on Mar 12, 2011 20:06:58 GMT
Actually, all it requires is for the victim to have been occupying the corner of the parabolic arc caused by the clubbing motion. Which, given he was about to open the door which said arc moved through, isn't too much of a stretch even without Rule of Funny.
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Mar 12, 2011 22:23:24 GMT
Even then, it's a cut not a thrust.
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Post by jokester on Mar 12, 2011 23:48:54 GMT
I do believe I said "stab wound". Not "thrust wound" or even "thrusting-based stab wound". Your point is invalid.
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Post by Professor H. Talhoffer on Mar 13, 2011 8:40:36 GMT
No, because a stab requires a thrust. That's what makes it a stab.
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Post by jokester on Mar 13, 2011 10:40:45 GMT
No, no, no, my poor dear, non-linguistically-minded friend. What makes it a stab is that it fulfills one or other of Oxford's definitions:
1. To pierce or wound with or as if with a pointed weapon 2. To plunge (a pointed weapon or instrument) into something 3. Make a short, forceful movement with a pointed object 4. (of pain) Cause a sudden sharp feeling
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