Badstench
07-31-2009, 03:05 AM
THE INSIDE LOOKING OUT
Allura was somewhere on the way to the Land of Nod when the insistent knocking came a tap-tap-tapping at the downstairs door. She rose herself to one elbow and squinted at the still comatosed lump that was Scout lying next to her, then sighed with the realization that he was never going to rouse himself, and got up.
She would let him sleep for now, but he could be damned sure of a royal bollocking once he achieved consciousness. It was that Varsil’s fault… again! Out all night drinking and getting up to gods know what with gods know who, then arriving home smelling like half the taverns of Trithik, the contents of which had been promptly chundered into the hallway! Yes, he would get his, alright.
The knocking at the door grew no less insistent as she wrenched it open, and was surprised to find Vurii, the proprietor of the bar at the Adventurers Collective, standing there.
“Allura! Thank the gods you’re here”.
The immediate thought that came to Allura was, “Oh, hell. What did that drunken idiot do last night?” but what she actually said was, “Vurii! What brings you knocking at my door at this hour of the morning?”
“I need your help, Dear. Something’s happened at the Guildhouse and I fear all Hell will break loose once word gets around. I’ve already got Finkle on standby, and even managed to rouse Gorgon, though he threatened to quit if I ever try the same thing in future, and Varsil is still making a nuisance of himself (the gods only know how he can still be standing), and the bar is a mess, and…”
“Vurii!”
The usually composed bar owner was jolted from her blurtings and blinked at Allura.
“What’s happened?” Allura asked.
Vurii took a deep breath to calm herself. “You wouldn’t countenance it, Allura. Arkrol has finally opened his door for business!”
*
Roosters have a job to do. The job of the rooster chained to the post in the middle of Blade Square is to crow when the sky begins to show signs of day’s dawn, thus to alert peddlers, traders and merchants of the need to wake up, complete their morning ablutions, and get ready for the day of business ahead.
And that was just what the rooster of Blade Square was about to do when it was startled by the sudden appearance of a large number of adventurers making their way in hurried movements to the building fronted by a green door. The rooster was so disconcerted that it quite forgot to crow, whereupon it sulked its way back to sleep without so much as a cock-a-doo.
The consequences of this became evident when seven merchants were late opening their stores. One of the merchants was an arms dealer of unsavoury reputation named Gideon Upp (Giddy-Up to his friends), who was currently at the midway stage of a business transaction with clients from a far distant country called Mungbeen, but because he was late opening his shop, an appointment was missed, the foreigners left without their shipment of weapons, and the political coup that would have resulted never happened. Thus, the ruling Warlord of Mungbeen was able to recall and consolidate his army in time to avert a rebellion, and twelve thousand, two hundred and seventeen people were needlessly slaughtered to set an example.
The moral of this story is… If your cock is an early riser, it’s better to let it have satisfaction than to not.
*
When Varsil Demonsoul woke, face down, in a puddle of his own spittle, it wasn’t because he wanted to, but because an owl had pooped in his ear. This was not a normal occurrence.
“Whazza?” he muttered, and as the blurry shapes solidified around him, he was surprised to find the room was full of people… and an owl… and what looked suspiciously like a giant ghecko.
The people were standing in a line that crisscrossed the room in something resembling an orderly fashion. Varsil determined that the line was moving in the same direction that the people were facing, which was toward the door below the sign that usually said, “The House of Arkrol, Familiar Keeper, (coming soon)”.
That sign was no longer in place; instead, the door stood open, and it was through this that the slow moving line of people was disappearing.
“What the hell time is it?” Varsil asked of anyone who cared to answer, and was shocked when that answer came back as, “Just gone sun-up”.
*
By mid-morn, Jinx had joined Varsil Demonsoul and Young Ned with his owl at the Table of Eight. She regarded the owl ruefully.
“You were fortunate, Young Ned. There are not many people satisfied with their shopping endeavours this morning. I, myself, stood in that line for a whole hour before coming away disappointed.”
“Perhaps if you’d arrived earlier?” Young Ned observed. “I saw you enter long after the line was already formed.”
Jinx hurumphed. “I had an appointment with that slug-of-a-merchant, Gideon, and he never showed up. It was very inconvenient.”
Young Ned just shrugged. He wasn’t really paying attention to Jinx; his mind was still reeling from the strange experience of having his soul spliced, of discovering that he had developed the new skill of telepathy, and of being infused with the benefits of a twin life-force.
“I still don’t understand why your owl pooped in my ear”, said Varsil. He was eyeing the bird suspiciously, like it might attempt another pooping at any moment. Truth be known, the bird had pooped in Varsil’s ear after an experimental telepathic communication from it’s new human.
In other words, Young Ned had asked it to.
“I don’t know why, either”, Young Ned replied
*
By mid-day, Arkrol had served 157 customers, but only processed four sales. Of the four successful shoppers, one had walked away with an owl, one with a black cat, one with a blue-tongued skink, and one with a pet rock.
The Familiar-To-Be whose name was currently Carotid Artery, turned to the other Familiar-To-Be whose name was currently Elasticity, and remarked, “I do believe these humans think they’re lining up to choose one of us”.
“Don’t be silly,” replied Elasticity. “Surely they know… It’s we who choose them?”
Allura was somewhere on the way to the Land of Nod when the insistent knocking came a tap-tap-tapping at the downstairs door. She rose herself to one elbow and squinted at the still comatosed lump that was Scout lying next to her, then sighed with the realization that he was never going to rouse himself, and got up.
She would let him sleep for now, but he could be damned sure of a royal bollocking once he achieved consciousness. It was that Varsil’s fault… again! Out all night drinking and getting up to gods know what with gods know who, then arriving home smelling like half the taverns of Trithik, the contents of which had been promptly chundered into the hallway! Yes, he would get his, alright.
The knocking at the door grew no less insistent as she wrenched it open, and was surprised to find Vurii, the proprietor of the bar at the Adventurers Collective, standing there.
“Allura! Thank the gods you’re here”.
The immediate thought that came to Allura was, “Oh, hell. What did that drunken idiot do last night?” but what she actually said was, “Vurii! What brings you knocking at my door at this hour of the morning?”
“I need your help, Dear. Something’s happened at the Guildhouse and I fear all Hell will break loose once word gets around. I’ve already got Finkle on standby, and even managed to rouse Gorgon, though he threatened to quit if I ever try the same thing in future, and Varsil is still making a nuisance of himself (the gods only know how he can still be standing), and the bar is a mess, and…”
“Vurii!”
The usually composed bar owner was jolted from her blurtings and blinked at Allura.
“What’s happened?” Allura asked.
Vurii took a deep breath to calm herself. “You wouldn’t countenance it, Allura. Arkrol has finally opened his door for business!”
*
Roosters have a job to do. The job of the rooster chained to the post in the middle of Blade Square is to crow when the sky begins to show signs of day’s dawn, thus to alert peddlers, traders and merchants of the need to wake up, complete their morning ablutions, and get ready for the day of business ahead.
And that was just what the rooster of Blade Square was about to do when it was startled by the sudden appearance of a large number of adventurers making their way in hurried movements to the building fronted by a green door. The rooster was so disconcerted that it quite forgot to crow, whereupon it sulked its way back to sleep without so much as a cock-a-doo.
The consequences of this became evident when seven merchants were late opening their stores. One of the merchants was an arms dealer of unsavoury reputation named Gideon Upp (Giddy-Up to his friends), who was currently at the midway stage of a business transaction with clients from a far distant country called Mungbeen, but because he was late opening his shop, an appointment was missed, the foreigners left without their shipment of weapons, and the political coup that would have resulted never happened. Thus, the ruling Warlord of Mungbeen was able to recall and consolidate his army in time to avert a rebellion, and twelve thousand, two hundred and seventeen people were needlessly slaughtered to set an example.
The moral of this story is… If your cock is an early riser, it’s better to let it have satisfaction than to not.
*
When Varsil Demonsoul woke, face down, in a puddle of his own spittle, it wasn’t because he wanted to, but because an owl had pooped in his ear. This was not a normal occurrence.
“Whazza?” he muttered, and as the blurry shapes solidified around him, he was surprised to find the room was full of people… and an owl… and what looked suspiciously like a giant ghecko.
The people were standing in a line that crisscrossed the room in something resembling an orderly fashion. Varsil determined that the line was moving in the same direction that the people were facing, which was toward the door below the sign that usually said, “The House of Arkrol, Familiar Keeper, (coming soon)”.
That sign was no longer in place; instead, the door stood open, and it was through this that the slow moving line of people was disappearing.
“What the hell time is it?” Varsil asked of anyone who cared to answer, and was shocked when that answer came back as, “Just gone sun-up”.
*
By mid-morn, Jinx had joined Varsil Demonsoul and Young Ned with his owl at the Table of Eight. She regarded the owl ruefully.
“You were fortunate, Young Ned. There are not many people satisfied with their shopping endeavours this morning. I, myself, stood in that line for a whole hour before coming away disappointed.”
“Perhaps if you’d arrived earlier?” Young Ned observed. “I saw you enter long after the line was already formed.”
Jinx hurumphed. “I had an appointment with that slug-of-a-merchant, Gideon, and he never showed up. It was very inconvenient.”
Young Ned just shrugged. He wasn’t really paying attention to Jinx; his mind was still reeling from the strange experience of having his soul spliced, of discovering that he had developed the new skill of telepathy, and of being infused with the benefits of a twin life-force.
“I still don’t understand why your owl pooped in my ear”, said Varsil. He was eyeing the bird suspiciously, like it might attempt another pooping at any moment. Truth be known, the bird had pooped in Varsil’s ear after an experimental telepathic communication from it’s new human.
In other words, Young Ned had asked it to.
“I don’t know why, either”, Young Ned replied
*
By mid-day, Arkrol had served 157 customers, but only processed four sales. Of the four successful shoppers, one had walked away with an owl, one with a black cat, one with a blue-tongued skink, and one with a pet rock.
The Familiar-To-Be whose name was currently Carotid Artery, turned to the other Familiar-To-Be whose name was currently Elasticity, and remarked, “I do believe these humans think they’re lining up to choose one of us”.
“Don’t be silly,” replied Elasticity. “Surely they know… It’s we who choose them?”