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{Intro thread!!!} This Can't Be

Discussion in 'Pandora, Year 1 - 7' started by King George III, Sep 22, 2017.

  1. September 22, Year 7
    "I need some time." The king trekked down a hall to one of the few and far between empty rooms in here. "Alone, please?" He didn't even look back to see if anyone was following. It's possible, although highly improbable, that he was talking to himself and the pages left him alone for once. All he had with him was a copy of the Declaration of Independence, as the writers across the sea named it. Of course, he wore gloves to handle the paper. Any document of this impact ought to be treated with respect, even if it seems to not be written with respect in mind. Yes, between the countless lines of professionalism and intellectual and humanist displays of righteousness, there were some nasty intentions. A comprehensive itemized list of 16 years of disagreements? That seems a bit much. The colonists need to be put in their place, right. To nudge them back, George wrote a self proclaimed masterful rebuttal. He even put it to sheet music to the best of his ability. Music will keep it in their heads better for sure.
    George tightened his grip on the sheets from the colonies, wrinkling it just a bit across the center. Sorry, it was unavoidable. The man hooked a left turn into the washroom and latched the door.
    While looking in the mirror to make sure he was still presentable, there was a… presence. The candles blew out all at once. There was suddenly a crisp autumn breeze and a vaguely sweet smell coming from behind his back. What is this? George stood there, not knowing what to do. What to do? Ehh, he felt numb in his hands, as if the blood circulation had been cut off for quite a while and he was just now noticing it. After jerking his arms closer, there went a snapping sound. The pressure was suddenly relieved and a few strips of violent dark violet found their way onto the floor. Before he could run, the strips grew back in a greater quantity, like the Hydra monster of Greek mythology, to wrap around his whole upper half. He struggled to no avail. Even his attempts to scream produced no sound at all. A sound filling the whole castle would put less strain on his precious windpipe than this, yet he was completely silent. This isn't a matter of hearing loss, either, as he can hear the rustling of the vines holding him and the erratic tapping his shoes are making. This bondage would be enough to pull the man anywhere. Indeed it did pull him backwards into what would be a wall any other day, but resembles a black curtain of fog. And scene, the sensations of the fog are too much to stay conscious through.

    Next thing George knows, the breeze and sweet aroma are even more intense. It’s cold and sugary like ice cream. He hasn't opened his eyes yet, but it’s obvious he’s somewhere else. Somewhere lighter. He felt freed of of a burden on his shoulders, when he sought vision and realized somebody took advantage of his unconsciousness to nab that heavy crown. He’s been propped up against the storefront of a strange building, probably by that thief. He’d track down the bugger that did this, but he doesn’t want to face this new reality quite yet, so he stayed sitting.
    #1 King George III, Sep 22, 2017
    Last edited by a moderator: Oct 12, 2017
    Jefferson likes this.

  2. Why was it that the most simplistic of errands always turned out to be the most irksome? Compared to all of the ingredients-be it organic, magic, ancient or otherwise that Nine found herself all but traveling through the seven layers of hell itself to lengths in order to acquire for herself, this should have been a cake walk. Fresh Basil-just three days before it browned-was far more easy to obtain than, say, Amphisbaena’s venom. Yet somehow, a trip that called for a simple trip to the market turned out to be far more frustrating and-above all else, fruitless than any quest for a creature obscured by the common masses perceptional distortions. “Never mind,” was all The Magister said as she swung open violently the store’s exit; one of several she had visited today. The lowlife manager who had been doing a less than exemplary job at assisting her called out nervously after her, “Ma’am, your request is awfully specific, but I promise if you just let it sit out-even if it takes a little longer than three days—”

    Needless to say, there was no need to repeat herself. She strode out the door, ceasing to aknowledge the store’s clerk as a living, feeling human being from hereon out. As far as she was concerned, someone might as well have hit a mute button on his voice. Nine heard him no longer. Not even looking back, she raised a hand, and with a curt gesture of her eccentric gloved hand, the door shut just as violently as it had opened. Already she had told him and every other person she had approached today that she did not have that kind of time. Pandora Town was limited as far as what herbs it had to offer—and the likelihood of actually finding that one particular herb with that exact amount of shelf life remaining was poor at best. But even though she half expected to return home empty handed, that didn't mean that she would ever be pleased by failure. It looked as though she would have to settle for a sub-par substitution after all. Cutting around the corner, mantel cracking behind her like a whip, she would have headed straight back to Silverpool with no distractions...

    ....However, a familiar sensation caught her attention before that could happen. It was the residual, negative energy left behind by an old nemesis, namely, those damned tendrils responsible for dragging each and every person into this accursed prison in the first place. The lasso of the Gods. Whenever her senses latched onto this energy, it could only mean one thing. A new arrival was nearby. No, no, correction. It would seem the new arrival was right at her feet. Coming to a complete halt, The Magister’s single, hellish pupil shifted its gaze downward from the shadow casted by the wide brim of her hat. Ah, and there he was. A man in a regal garb was on the ground, his back propped up against the side of a building. By no means was this your average bum taking a nap. This was by all appearances a king, lost and surrendered. What a fall from grace, she thought coldly. Instinctively, Nine was compelled to flare her nostrils and be on her way, however….here in Pandora, she was bound to her obligations from both the Government and The Mages Guild. Narrowing her gaze, she rested her hand on the curve of her hip and sighed out loud to herself, her statuesque frame towering over the unfortunate newcomer, “How pitiable. It looks like you’re the latest plaything for the Pantheon to amuse itself with.”

    Then, pushing the hat out of her face, allowing a lick of fire to singe the rim, Nine spoke to this regal looking stranger directly. Her tone was laced with disgust--the concept of this place would forever repulse her. "Judging by the wrinkles in that flamboyant cape of yours, you've been sitting there stunned for some time. How about rise to your feet and allow me to properly welcome you to Pandora?"

    #2 Konoe A. Mercury, Sep 28, 2017
    Last edited by a moderator: Sep 28, 2017
  3. Amidst the flow of people who seem to desperately need to get from point A to point B, there was a carriage or two or a lot passing on the road splitting the buildings. None of which had horses.

    This is fine. If someone could bring George this far without him waking up, anything is possible. But... horseless carriages. My god.

    Also in the crowd, a woman in a witch hat approached. Now, there are many other descriptors that could set her apart from the crowd, like rosy hair. Ample breasts. Golden-yellow eyes that seemed to glow just a bit. George averted his eyes so as to resist the urge to focus on every adjective in every thesaurus that could possibly apply.

    "That would be nice." he replied to the woman's offer for help. Feeling lightheaded still, he used the building's outer wall as a support to get up. Wrinkled coat? It's impossible that he's been here so long that too much damage has been done, especially if he's been stock still this whole time. It's not as if the ground he's been on was dirty, right? "I've never heard of a place named Pandora. Where is it, specifically?" George added on. Sure, there's Andorra, but that's so far away.
    #3 King George III, Oct 3, 2017
    Last edited by a moderator: Oct 12, 2017
    Konoe A. Mercury likes this.
  4. Nothing is going to be nice about this, Nine thought bitterly to herself as the newcomer pulled himself to his feet. Judging by the way he clung to the wall, it was safe to speculate that his equilibrium was off. Still, she did not offer him a hand, and instead watched him with an icy countenance as he struggled. Her jaw tightened. She was not mad at him--he had hardly been in her presence for not even a minute and had done nothing more than display some trouble while standing, after all. Rather, she was angry at the idea of this happening---over and over again---people from all different worlds and walks of life being snatched up and dragged here against their will, all for the sake of entertainment. Like they were nothing but clowns in one elaborate circus act. It was positively insulting. Of course, anyone outside of her head would have understandably interpreted that it was this man she was frustrated with, considering the scalding expression she wore.

    "I've never heard of a place named Pandora. Where is it, specifically?"

    Taking in a breath in an attempt to wash away the fury swelling up inside of her, The Magister proceeded to answer exactly what he wished to know in a curt, matter of fact tone. “Specifically, Pandora it is located within an enclosed dimension in the shape of a cube.” However, that answer alone was never going to do. Her malicious gaze scrutinized the newcomer. Although evaluating the expressions of others, especially strangers, was admittedly never her strong suit, even she could recognize the look of someone who had yet to even begin to comprehend what was going on. The poor fool probably figured he had just been drugged and dropped off on some random street corner only a few miles away from his residence-or perhaps he was just having a very vivid dream. With a puff of wind generated with the flick of her clawed fingers, Nine extinguished the small fire dancing on the corner of her hat before speaking, "But, you’re going to want and need to hear more than just that, though. I can guarantee it.” Then, brushing a lock of hair off of her shoulder, she asked without providing him with any explanation as to why, “Are you able to walk?” With that, she abruptly about faced, mantel cracking behind her, and started across the street with the disinterested demeanor of a runway model.

    This was undoubtedly going to be a tedious conversation. If she was going to have to offer a healthy portion of her precious time to a complete stranger, then they were going to talk somewhere where they could sit down; a place where she could keep her head from fogging over midway. With that in mind, the nearest cafe was obviously the only worthwhile destination. “Follow me. You and I are going to have lots to talk about, and it's useless to stand around here to do so.”

    The Magister only glanced back once to see if he was following. She was confident he would, otherwise she would just have to levitate him over. It was no skin off her hide either way.

    #4 Konoe A. Mercury, Oct 6, 2017
    Last edited by a moderator: Oct 6, 2017
  5. George III watched as the stranger occasionally adjusted her oversized witch's hat. It was hard to read her face oftentimes, as the hat's brim would flop down shortly after. From a view a bit less than half a foot above her face, this would completely obscure whatever's there. When he could see the woman's face, all it showed was quiet rage. Her eye almost looked as if it glowed, what with the bright even shade of yellow.
    Her face is saying she craves blood, her eyes show she couldn't care less, and her words imply she's kind enough to help.
    That's what he could interpret. His sky colored eyes were wide with curiosity and confusion. When she started walking down the street, then there was the conflict. To follow this girl or not to follow? On one hand, she has the most dominating spirit of any woman he's ever met. It's terrifying to say the least. On the other hand... She wore fire as a normal hat wearing person would wear a cockade. Imagine what could happen if he angered her.
    George attempted walking after the other's question. There was something about the experience before that had him ill, even after the initial light feeling wore off. He was careful not to make it worse. An amber leaf and unknown needle bobbed up and down with his cape, as if they were hooked on. Every spectator but him knows this.
    She's slipping away..
    She just can't get away.
    She is the one rose anchor in the wine sea.
    Pointy, heavy yet distinguished.
    He just had to suck up whatever blight decided to invade his system and keep moving forwards. Rather than running, he power walked, trusting his legs to naturally get him through the walkways, crowds and turns. He put on more of an impression of determination as he got closer to the lady's back.
    #5 King George III, Oct 12, 2017
    Last edited by a moderator: Oct 12, 2017