ThLunarian
Member
Baldur's eyes widen. He leaps up from the wooden chair and perches himself on the table, drawing some attention from others nearby.
He has no memory of entering this place. It was known as a "bar," and it was where men would come to socialize and drink things that dulled their senses. Scanning the room, he recognizes one man - a boy, really. The rest are foreign to him.
"How did I got here?!" he demands loudly.
"Please, relax," a voice chimes in from the next table. A dark-skinned man, wearing robes. "I don't think any of us knows what 's going on. Judging by the surprised looks on everyone's faces, it's safe to assume that we were all brought here against our will at the same time. Let's stay calm and figure out what happened."
Yes, that sounds like an excellent idea, says another man, wearing fancy traveling wizards' clothes. Perhaps we can start by introducing ourselves. I am Menek Intart, and I -
"Oh, gods," another man interrupts him. "Not again. I know what's going on here."
"Val?" says the same dark-skinned man from before.
Val sighs dramatically. "I've been through this before. We've all been summoned here by the one I've taken to calling the Mastermind."
"Mastermind?" says a cat-lady. "You mean like a god?"
"No. Far worse. More like.... an author." He is about to look away from the cat-lady, but her expression is frozen in place, and it registers as peculiar. "Hello? Miss, are you alright?"
Still she remains frozen.
Val stands up and moves closer, peering at her. "Is she...?"
"There's no need to worry," booms a threatening voice. All heads turn to see an imposing, undead Drow, wearing armor and sporting a gun. "She is prone to long periods of silence. She'll come out of it eventually. There is no need to worry. I must insist that you continue with your explanation of this Mastermind. As a matter of fact, unless any would object, I propose that I take the lead in this matter, for I am Lord Shulmor, and my will is abs...."
Shulmor stops talking and starts listening, perplexed. Everyone else can hear it, too; there is the sound of a scream, far off in the distance, but slowly and steadily getting louder and louder.
"I think it's coming from outside," says a red-haired wizard-type, whose hand is skeletal for some reason.
Shulmor steps to the window and looks outside. His eyes widen as he realizes what's happening, but it's too late.
A half-naked, screaming, muscle-bound man leaps through the window feet-first, in slow motion. His booted feet smash into Shulmor's torso, sending the lich flying improbably through the bar. He smashes clear through the opposite wall and careens into the distance, rapidly disappearing into a dot on the horizon.
The newcomer hops to his feet and dusts his hands off. He then poses in such a way to maximize the flex of his muscles and grins. "THAT, boys and girls," he shouts, "Is what it means to be a MAN!"
The bar patrons look at each other. A few offer token applause, which Tiberious readily drinks in.
"Wait a second," says the bone-handed wizard. "What the hell was that?! The physics for that don't even make sense! At BEST that should've sent that Shulmor guy crashing through the wall, and then he should've stopped. Nobody is THAT strong."
Perhaps that mystery can be saved for another time, says the bold-faced traveling wizard. Mister Val, would you mind continuing your explanation?
Val steeples his hands. He then becomes acutely aware that he's steepling his hands, because he hasn't done so in a very long time, and he finds it strange that it's being focused on so heavily. In the end, he stops steepling his hands. "The short of it is that all of us, and this place, were dreamed up by someone from another plane of existence. We're all puppets in the story of a person - or perhaps a group of people - who dreamed us up."
The cat-lady snickers. "I bet Shulmor wouldn't be too happy about that!" She then freezes in place once more.
Val nods. "Yes, I try not to think about it. Existentialism isn't exactly my style. Regardless, I think that's what's happening here. The last time, it was all to celebrate some poor sap's birthday. The gods know what it must be about this time."
"I just want to go on record that I think it's ridiculous that I'm here," says a woman with purplish hair, wearing smart clothing. "I left you jokers in the dust a LONG time ago."
Val looks at the woman and blinks. "Avalyra," he says. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again. You're looking well."
She sniffs and rolls her eyes, then turns around and stares intently at the nearest wall.
"I didn't expect to come back, either," says another wizard-type. "The name's Evaneth. I thought I got killed off a long time ago. I did get to summon a giant celestial alligator though, and it killed Tarkus and Muun, may they rest in peace... That was pretty cool."
"I'm a little surprised I'm here, too," says a pint-sized elf, armed with a bow and arrow. "But I want to go on record and say that I have more street cred than ANY of you. I've been here since the very very beginning! The genesis of the world, even!" As he says this, he tries to discretely scratch his nether regions. It's not as discrete as he would like.
"Yeah but you were around for like, five minutes," says Quintus. "That barely counts at all. I stuck it out almost the entire way. A lot longer than you, anyway."
"As have I," says the dark-skinned man. "Sarm Santee, at your service. And is Ivor around? He and Quintus were in the original group, too."
"You guys just... just stay away!" says a dwarf who has backed himself into a corner of the room. A single bead of sweat is running down the side of his face. "I don't know who's behind it all, but there's something sinister going on here!"
"Not exactly sinister," says the bartender, and everyone turns to look at him, because he directed them to. "But yes, there is something going on here. We're moving on to a new era."
"A new era?" says the youngest character in the room - one with an impeccable fashion sense. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, Nico, it means that someone else is taking the reins going forward. In a completely new world. I'm pretty sure that means all of you are getting left behind, unless Mike M decides to do cameos. But I have a feeling that's not his style."
"Oh yeah?" Nico challenges. "And just who do you and this Mike M guy think they are? I think someone ought to take you down a few pegs."
The bartender just smiles. "Each of you were being controlled by a different player. I'm borrowing you for this snippet because you're my favorite character that any particular player played. I'm giving each of you one last hurrah before it's time to move on. Kind of like the last episode of LOST."
"I'm your favorite?" Sarm says uncertainly. "Somehow I have a hard time believing that. Sometimes I just feel like I'm too idealistic for my own good."
"You would," says the bartender. "Your player felt the same way about you. But I think you're great, so you're in this story whether you like it or not.
"Anyway, like I said. I want to thank you all for letting your players step into your shoes and participate in these silly games we play. I've had a lot of fun with all of you, and I'm looking forward to whatever awesome adventures Mike M puts us through. And all the new characters we'll meet along the way."
"Are you sure we're not going to appear in this Mike M's stories?" asks Val. "Oh, the things I could get up to in an all-new setting with all-new people to swindle..."
"You should probably ask him yourself. He's the one who created you, after all. Well... I guess technically he derived you from another story, but..."
"WHAT?!" Val shouts indignantly. "Are you saying I'm not an entirely original creation? That I am some kind of.... of.... of COUNTERFEIT?!"
"I think that's about all the time we have for now," says the bartender. "This might have been a little premature anyway, since we still have to find out what happens to Viss and Menek."
"I'll get around to it tomorrow. I promise!" says Viss.
"Really?" says the Bartender.
Viss doesn't reply.
Yes, I am quite interested in knowing how I turn out myself, says Menek.
"Right," says the Bartender. "I really hope I didn't forget anyone. I'd feel awful if there were any players I left out. If I did, sorry about that! I might just have to edit them into this story later."
((End))
He has no memory of entering this place. It was known as a "bar," and it was where men would come to socialize and drink things that dulled their senses. Scanning the room, he recognizes one man - a boy, really. The rest are foreign to him.
"How did I got here?!" he demands loudly.
"Please, relax," a voice chimes in from the next table. A dark-skinned man, wearing robes. "I don't think any of us knows what 's going on. Judging by the surprised looks on everyone's faces, it's safe to assume that we were all brought here against our will at the same time. Let's stay calm and figure out what happened."
Yes, that sounds like an excellent idea, says another man, wearing fancy traveling wizards' clothes. Perhaps we can start by introducing ourselves. I am Menek Intart, and I -
"Oh, gods," another man interrupts him. "Not again. I know what's going on here."
"Val?" says the same dark-skinned man from before.
Val sighs dramatically. "I've been through this before. We've all been summoned here by the one I've taken to calling the Mastermind."
"Mastermind?" says a cat-lady. "You mean like a god?"
"No. Far worse. More like.... an author." He is about to look away from the cat-lady, but her expression is frozen in place, and it registers as peculiar. "Hello? Miss, are you alright?"
Still she remains frozen.
Val stands up and moves closer, peering at her. "Is she...?"
"There's no need to worry," booms a threatening voice. All heads turn to see an imposing, undead Drow, wearing armor and sporting a gun. "She is prone to long periods of silence. She'll come out of it eventually. There is no need to worry. I must insist that you continue with your explanation of this Mastermind. As a matter of fact, unless any would object, I propose that I take the lead in this matter, for I am Lord Shulmor, and my will is abs...."
Shulmor stops talking and starts listening, perplexed. Everyone else can hear it, too; there is the sound of a scream, far off in the distance, but slowly and steadily getting louder and louder.
"I think it's coming from outside," says a red-haired wizard-type, whose hand is skeletal for some reason.
Shulmor steps to the window and looks outside. His eyes widen as he realizes what's happening, but it's too late.
A half-naked, screaming, muscle-bound man leaps through the window feet-first, in slow motion. His booted feet smash into Shulmor's torso, sending the lich flying improbably through the bar. He smashes clear through the opposite wall and careens into the distance, rapidly disappearing into a dot on the horizon.
The newcomer hops to his feet and dusts his hands off. He then poses in such a way to maximize the flex of his muscles and grins. "THAT, boys and girls," he shouts, "Is what it means to be a MAN!"
The bar patrons look at each other. A few offer token applause, which Tiberious readily drinks in.
"Wait a second," says the bone-handed wizard. "What the hell was that?! The physics for that don't even make sense! At BEST that should've sent that Shulmor guy crashing through the wall, and then he should've stopped. Nobody is THAT strong."
Perhaps that mystery can be saved for another time, says the bold-faced traveling wizard. Mister Val, would you mind continuing your explanation?
Val steeples his hands. He then becomes acutely aware that he's steepling his hands, because he hasn't done so in a very long time, and he finds it strange that it's being focused on so heavily. In the end, he stops steepling his hands. "The short of it is that all of us, and this place, were dreamed up by someone from another plane of existence. We're all puppets in the story of a person - or perhaps a group of people - who dreamed us up."
The cat-lady snickers. "I bet Shulmor wouldn't be too happy about that!" She then freezes in place once more.
Val nods. "Yes, I try not to think about it. Existentialism isn't exactly my style. Regardless, I think that's what's happening here. The last time, it was all to celebrate some poor sap's birthday. The gods know what it must be about this time."
"I just want to go on record that I think it's ridiculous that I'm here," says a woman with purplish hair, wearing smart clothing. "I left you jokers in the dust a LONG time ago."
Val looks at the woman and blinks. "Avalyra," he says. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again. You're looking well."
She sniffs and rolls her eyes, then turns around and stares intently at the nearest wall.
"I didn't expect to come back, either," says another wizard-type. "The name's Evaneth. I thought I got killed off a long time ago. I did get to summon a giant celestial alligator though, and it killed Tarkus and Muun, may they rest in peace... That was pretty cool."
"I'm a little surprised I'm here, too," says a pint-sized elf, armed with a bow and arrow. "But I want to go on record and say that I have more street cred than ANY of you. I've been here since the very very beginning! The genesis of the world, even!" As he says this, he tries to discretely scratch his nether regions. It's not as discrete as he would like.
"Yeah but you were around for like, five minutes," says Quintus. "That barely counts at all. I stuck it out almost the entire way. A lot longer than you, anyway."
"As have I," says the dark-skinned man. "Sarm Santee, at your service. And is Ivor around? He and Quintus were in the original group, too."
"You guys just... just stay away!" says a dwarf who has backed himself into a corner of the room. A single bead of sweat is running down the side of his face. "I don't know who's behind it all, but there's something sinister going on here!"
"Not exactly sinister," says the bartender, and everyone turns to look at him, because he directed them to. "But yes, there is something going on here. We're moving on to a new era."
"A new era?" says the youngest character in the room - one with an impeccable fashion sense. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, Nico, it means that someone else is taking the reins going forward. In a completely new world. I'm pretty sure that means all of you are getting left behind, unless Mike M decides to do cameos. But I have a feeling that's not his style."
"Oh yeah?" Nico challenges. "And just who do you and this Mike M guy think they are? I think someone ought to take you down a few pegs."
The bartender just smiles. "Each of you were being controlled by a different player. I'm borrowing you for this snippet because you're my favorite character that any particular player played. I'm giving each of you one last hurrah before it's time to move on. Kind of like the last episode of LOST."
"I'm your favorite?" Sarm says uncertainly. "Somehow I have a hard time believing that. Sometimes I just feel like I'm too idealistic for my own good."
"You would," says the bartender. "Your player felt the same way about you. But I think you're great, so you're in this story whether you like it or not.
"Anyway, like I said. I want to thank you all for letting your players step into your shoes and participate in these silly games we play. I've had a lot of fun with all of you, and I'm looking forward to whatever awesome adventures Mike M puts us through. And all the new characters we'll meet along the way."
"Are you sure we're not going to appear in this Mike M's stories?" asks Val. "Oh, the things I could get up to in an all-new setting with all-new people to swindle..."
"You should probably ask him yourself. He's the one who created you, after all. Well... I guess technically he derived you from another story, but..."
"WHAT?!" Val shouts indignantly. "Are you saying I'm not an entirely original creation? That I am some kind of.... of.... of COUNTERFEIT?!"
"I think that's about all the time we have for now," says the bartender. "This might have been a little premature anyway, since we still have to find out what happens to Viss and Menek."
"I'll get around to it tomorrow. I promise!" says Viss.
"Really?" says the Bartender.
Viss doesn't reply.
Yes, I am quite interested in knowing how I turn out myself, says Menek.
"Right," says the Bartender. "I really hope I didn't forget anyone. I'd feel awful if there were any players I left out. If I did, sorry about that! I might just have to edit them into this story later."
((End))
I hope you do laugh at it))