maskormenace | Video; open to Action for Nonah #03 residents

Entry tags:

Video; open to Action for Nonah #03 residents

[This is not Rincewind's first attempt at accessing the network. Shamefully, it's not even his fourth attempt, even after all the helpful advice (which he smiled brightly through and nodded at and didn't listen to at all). Obviously he's managed to get the unfamiliar technology to finally work for him though, as that's definitely his sullen face coming across the imPort channels. He's on the floor of his new room, his back against his bed and his arm slung over a large wooden chest. His broad-brimmed hat proclaims him to be a 'Wizzard'.

He is also, quite obviously, very drunk.]

Right. I think we can all agree that this is absolutely mad, right? And not even - not even all these things that are going 'round doing stuff without any sort of magic or tiny imps painting pictures inside them, that's not even what I'm talking about here, that part I could almost like, since it seems somewhat sensible, the principle of it. ...Although it still isn't, is it, because there's apparently all these powers and such, which totally throws that whole thing about being sensible right out the window. And being handed out like meat-pies or something too, with no thought as to who's getting them. M'sure that's not something that's going to blow up in anyone's face, is it? Probably literally, if I had my guess.

...Right, where was I going with this?

[there's a pause as Rincewind casts about for the tenuous line of focus that brought him here in the first place, and which he's sure to be appropriately horrified he followed when he sobers up tomorrow.

Apparently he finds it again, and slaps his hand (the one not currently holding a bottle of wine) on the wooden trunk for emphasis. The chest lifts its lid some, in grumpy protest.] - Heroes! Heroes, that's what I was getting at - this whole business about people being fished out of their own perfectly good - well, okay, mostly good. Somewhat. ...At least familiar worlds, and then being asked to - to - to do what? Be a hero? I've met heroes, you know, quite more than I'd have liked, and do you know what heroes are?

Dangerous, that's what. [firmly.] Dangerous, utterly reckless madmen, that's what heroes are. People who have as much trouble realizing why you shouldn't go barreling into dark caves full of horrible monsters to get the gold, or rescue the girl, as they do recognizing a good thing when they have it. Which is living. ...Which they risk. ...To be heroes.

But you know the most important thing about them? [he continues, fervently] The most important thing about heroes is that - ! Well, it's that - !

...It's that I'm not one.

[Rincewind quiets, and swipes the sleeve of his robe across his nose with a miserable, dry sniff. He frowns, sighs.] Not that it matters, I suppose. Not that it ever matters.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Obviously excepting myself. [ look at that smartass grin.

And....Dorian just can't help but straight up laugh as the Luggage tries to lick (or possibly eat) Rincewind ] Well, I like it already! Good on you, trunk, keep it up.

Right, [testily, rubbing at some wine he's spilled on his robe in the clamor as he settles back] let's just see if you've still got the same opinion the next time it tries to terrorize you out of your dinner at a pub, hmm?

Knowing me and my circumstances, it probably won't change. Have you tried squirt bottle training the thing?

Your circumstances?

...You must be joking.

Let's just say that a homicidal luggage attack would be interesting, but not the worst thing I've dealt with and certainly not the worst thing I've survived.

[probably he doesn't want to know, but he's drunk enough he's willing to ask, so:] What would be the worst, then?

...And, ah - [this is such an awkward question. Feels private, like asking someone what sort of knickers they prefer to wear] - do you... I mean, is it because of these "powers" and whatnot, that you did survive? I mean did you - get some? Here, I mean, or, well, I guess - elsewhere counts too.

I've had my 'powers' back home as well as here. As for the worst? [ Dorian can't help but frown for a moment, pretending to think. And then, too chipper for his own good, he responds with, ] Probably when I got my heart ripped out! That stung like a bitch.

Oh. Gods. [he really wishes he couldn't imagine that. He really, really does. How is it his imagination only seems to wake itself up when it sees the chance to twist itself round something absolutely terrible?]

How - you said you survived that? [even Rincewind isn't entirely sure he'd want to.]

[ whereas Dorian is just SMIRKING LIKE A SHITHEEL, he is having too much fun right now. ]

Indeed I did! So, the question of the hour is: how?

[Rincewind had really intended to find out more about the powers here in general, just how real or ridiculous they were, since he's so confused about what he's read in his own file - but Dorian has really knocked him off his gait with this whole organ-removal business. It's the sort of thing that gets attention.

He thinks very seriously about what sort of power would let someone survive getting their heart taken from their chest. - An illusion? Wait, no, he'd said it had hurt, didn't he? Quite a lot.]

Um. You've...

...you've got the power to stop your blood from getting everywhere, or something? - No, wait, that wouldn't work...

[ Dorian is not a very nice person. As such, he's absolutely enjoying Rincewind's confusion and just sheer horror at the idea of organ-removal powers. ]

Stopping blood from getting everywhere would still make me dead, wouldn't it? After all, what matters in this scenario is the heart.

Right, yes, obviously. [a little annoyed he can't come up with anything.] And I suppose you just grew it back then, did you? Is that your power? To have - to have a little organ garden?

[he means to be sarcastic, but just the thought of that sends a disturbed shudder down his back.]

Of a sorts. I'm immortal. I can heal from any wound, regrow any limb, survive any poison, recover from anything that threatens to damage perfection.

[ such a pity that immortality doesn't come with modesty ]

[Rincewind considers this. Slowly, he frowns, his mouth twisting unpleasantly.]

...Well that just figures, doesn't it? There's a power as useful as that, a power to not die, and I get saddled with - with "human lockpick", whatever that means. [it sounds painful. With his luck, it probably will be.]

So how did that happen, anyway? Immortality. You the son of a god, or something?

I imagine it means you either turn into a lockpick or can magically unlock doors. [ said as nonchalantly as someone's discussing the weather.

And the son of a god, that is not good for his ego in the slightest, Dorian can't help but perk up at the suggestion. ] I wish! I've just made your bog-standard Faustian bargain for immortality.

It's that first part that concerns me. I've seen how people use lockpicks. It's never gently.

Oh, you mean a demon pact. [impossibly, his mood sours further. He had just come from the rather long and tiring experience of being mistakenly summoned as a demon and held to do a young fool's bidding.] Seems a dangerous venture. I suppose you offered your soul?

[ whereas Dorian is just still smiles and nonchalance. Got it in one, Rincewind. ] In my defense, it was an entirely accidental venture. Still, I'm not complaining.

But yes, I offered my soul. Technically, I'm soulless.

[ that.....is a big fat lie because hey, Dorian has his soul back. However, the state of his soul is a big fat secret and he is not telling Rincewind the truth. ]

Oh? Just tripped over some chalk and accidentally drew a magic summoning circle?

[even before his unwanted experiences with it, Rincewind has never had much love for demonology. If there was ever any power in it, he's always been sure it was with the demons.]

Get into trouble with that yet? Not having a soul, that is.

More like I idly made a wish that I didn't expect someone to answer.

[ they are just gonna get along terribly wrt demonology, aren't they. ]

And nope! Really, not having a soul's saved me more often than not.

[oh probably.]

Because of the... heart being ripped out bit? And, ah, other unpleasantries?

Well yes, but do you know how many supernatural whatevers out there specifically target souls? A surprising amount. And, technically, my lack of soul came in handy when my heart was ripped out because it turns out the thing that we thought ate hearts actually ate souls.

Well sure. [pretty much everything in the Dungeon Dimensions, for one thing. And the ancient horror that is The Sender of that-number-between-seven-and-nine, and which even in another universe Rincewind is not going to risk thinking of aloud.]

I guess that would take you off the menu, in that respect. ...And yes, while I know I brought it up, let's just stop talking about the heart bit for now. [despite every desire, he keeps imagining it.] But how did you get to messing about with something like that in the first place?

It literally happened by accident. I casually wished for eternal youth, something heard me and struck a bargain.

[ world's worst demonologist ]

And you just... agreed, did you?

Of course I did. It's eternal youth!

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;

video;