RPG lounge

Quoten leaned over to the waitress.

"Do you have any idea what's going on, and if it will take long? I have an audience with one of my nobles this evening that I can't miss. Last time I failed to attend, he was so angry he wouldn't speak with my messengers for a week. Of course, he never spoke before then or since either. I suppose being made of marble renders one uncommunicative..."

 

"Do you have any idea what's going on, and if it will take long? I have an audience with one of my nobles this evening that I can't miss. Last time I failed to attend, he was so angry he wouldn't speak with my messengers for a week. Of course, he never spoke before then or since either. I suppose being made of marble renders one uncommunicative..."

Oh, this bloke. Maybe if he'd spoken a little louder, I could've gotten him his drink before.

"Here's the deal, bucko. We're going to be participating in some sadist's idea of entertainment. Ever read books about the Romans, and how they made prisoners fight lions or whatever? We're the prisoners, being put against a bunch of supernatural and/or alien lions. 'Cept we're doing this willingly so Mr.PMS-daemon over there can get Bugs Bunny back. By that, I mean his pet. You were at the bar, right? Remember the adorable killing machine? That's the one."

Demosthenes trailed behind Tim and Abraxas. They were talking to the recruitment agent. Wonderful. Abraxas is flaunting his wings. That's what we need. Attention.

The recruitment agent was an ugly fellow. A bald, twiggy, neon green baboon with a saggy nose the size of his face and a purple unibrow.

He kept a constant pokerface as he took out four pages and set them on the counter.

"These are your contracts. Fill out the information. Sign them. Then return them to me for further instruction."

 

"These are your contracts. Fill out the information. Sign them. Then return them to me for further instruction."

Tim waved a hand over one of the flyers, it blackened and strange archaic symbols alligned over it, the paper then whited out and all the symbols became english. Tim passed the sheet to the alien and gave the other 3 out to the others.

 

......I suppose being made of marble renders one uncommunicative? Who is this guy? I haven't seen someone as crazy as this since Don Quixote. Any ways, it seems I have a contract to sign.

As with all Angels and Demons I have to sign my contracts in blood. I take the contract and reach up to my forehead. The fingernails on my right hand are longer and sharper than those on my left hand and with those I draw four drops of blood; two pure white, two pure black. I allow the powers of Heaven and Hell flow through me; Destruction and Creation. A drop of white and black blood are totally obliterated, their very existence erased, and at the same time a pen is formed. One for signing contracts, made from swirling strips of Ebony and Ivory, filled with my own blood. I sign the contract.

"There, one contract signed in blood." I say as I hand back the contract.

 

Demosthenes let out a sigh.

I guess I've got to sign this thing. Dead either way. Nice knowing you, world.


She didn't have a pen, so she'd have to make one. She glumly turned her left hand into a black pen that was attached to her arm, and used her right hand to take it and write out her general information and signature.

Naturally I'd read what this is about, but does it really matter?

She looked over at the man who referred to himself as some sort of king earlier.

Gee. Got this guy into this mess by not paying attention. Wonderful. Guess I gotta be nice to him or whatever.

"Oy, kingy. Need a pen?"

She sunk into pen form and landed at his feet.

 

"Here's the deal, bucko. We're going to be participating in some sadist's idea of entertainment. Ever read books about the Romans, and how they made prisoners fight lions or whatever? We're the prisoners, being put against a bunch of supernatural and/or alien lions. 'Cept we're doing this willingly so Mr.PMS-daemon over there can get Bugs Bunny back. By that, I mean his pet. You were at the bar, right? Remember the adorable killing machine? That's the one."

"Ah! Negotiations! Wonderful! You will be pleased to know that I am quite skilled in this area thanks to all the time I spent undercover in Old Zealand, trading auks as a front for my true mission: to find and eat the egg of a seal! Unfortunately, I do not speak space-lion, so we will need a translator.

Now, I will need some more details here. Do we have anything more to offer than insects and a rabbit? And what do we seek to gain in return?"


"These are your contracts. Fill out the information. Sign them. Then return them to me for further instruction."

"Oy! We finished with negotiations already? I must say, that went awfully fast! Well, if you have no further need of my services, I shall be waiting in the ship! Tallyho!"

He waves and begins walking away...into the bowels of the facility and away from the ship.

 

Demosthenes rose into a clone of Tim wearing tie-die clothes and a hippie hat. (Just to be a bother.)

"Oy, Abby. King Clueless is walking away. Shouldn't he stick around? Might be bad for him to be alone with all these bloodthirsty alien things. What happens next anyway? Got any idea?"

 

"Oy, Abby. King Clueless is walking away. Shouldn't he stick around? Might be bad for him to be alone with all these bloodthirsty alien things. What happens next anyway? Got any idea?"

He looked over at the girl, she turned into him, but had a different tone of voice and wore entirely different clothing. He furrowed his brows, although she was addressing the creature he replied to her,

"1. he'll be fine, 2. doubt you could wield the blade I wield, might want to change into something else, 3. we go in there kill whoever the hell is in this thing, and 4. you really are asking for a death sentence aren't you."

He turned back to the baboon like alien, "Here are the forms, tell us where to go now."

 

"1. he'll be fine, 2. doubt you could wield the blade I wield, might want to change into something else, 3. we go in there kill whoever the hell is in this thing, and 4. you really are asking for a death sentence aren't you."

"Naw, I'm just looking to have a little fun, Babybutt Tim. We're all gunna die here, might as well have fun with it."

She winked and proceeded to morph into the form of a small, neon pink bird. She flew up and perched herself on Tim's shoulder.

"Just adding a little color to your outfit, hun."

"Thank you, please proceed to the check-in, where you'll be searched for possible signs of ISTF status. Here's a tip, if you ARE part of the ISTF, I suggest leaving now. Once you get past this point, the characters you'll meet will be slightly less tolerant. I'm giving you an option here.

If you do decide to continue, it's up that way and to the right." The baboon had not changed his expression since they had arrived. He hadn't even blinked. He was obviously hired for his apathy. He didn't care who died.

Demosthenes caught the bit on leaving.

"Oy, Babybutt, did you hear that? He DID give us the option of leaving..."

 

"Naw, I'm just looking to have a little fun, Babybutt Tim. We're all gunna die here, might as well have fun with it."

"Never said I was gonna die, never said I was gonna let you die, and him, he's a halfer, he can't even die."

She turned into a bird and perched on his shoulder, the slight weight a bit of a bother, but not too much.

"Just adding a little color to your outfit, hun."

He merely just stared at her, not even bothering to get her into a an argumentative conversation.

"Thank you, please proceed to the check-in, where you'll be searched for possible signs of ISTF status. Here's a tip, if you ARE part of the ISTF, I suggest leaving now. Once you get past this point, the characters you'll meet will be slightly less tolerant. I'm giving you an option here."

He gave a nod to the creature, "only depends on how tolerant I am of them," his eyes flashed crimson.

"Oy, Babybutt, did you hear that? He DID give us the option of leaving..."

He began briskly walking down the hall, the half angel/demon creature following in close proximity, "we're not leaving without the lagomorph and," he turned to her as he was walking, "what did I say you could call me?"

 

"what did I say you could call me?"

"Oh, c'mon. Boss?! Seriously?! I'm not even WORKING."

She sighed and decided to think of ways in which the name 'Boss' could be turned into something good.

"And this whole thing's about the BUNNY, right? So, OBVIOUSLY, we don't HAVE to fight, if we find the bunny. Well, do you want me to scan the place rather than waste time going through this whole check-in process? I mean, seems like a good way to get side-tracked, doesn't it? Who KNOWS what it could be doing the general public. Hell, we might not even HAVE to kill ANYONE if Bugs escapes."

They came to a metal door with the words 'check in' etched in boxy letters, not only in English but in many other languages, both human, alien, and unknown.

 

"And this whole thing's about the BUNNY, right? So we don't HAVE to fight, if we find the bunny, right? Well, do you want me to scan the place rather than waste time going through this whole check-in process? I mean, seems like a good way to get side-tracked, doesn't it? Who KNOWS what it could be doing the general public. Hell, we might not even HAVE to kill ANYONE if Bugs escapes."

"All work and no play makes Tim a dull boy, its been a little while since I've had some good sport. Lagomorph can take care of himself, for now, I'm sure the only reason this bastard took him to his arena was to have a little entertainment set up."

They came upon the check-in there were over 300 languages that said so, he recognized about 160 of them, apparently there was a large crowd that enjoyed a bit of bloodshed. Tim wasn't fond of public fights, especially when he himself was involved, but personal matters came at drastic prices.

"We're here for the competition."

 

"I'm sorry, but I still don't understand. Is this Chess or Gin Rummy?"

The creature with whom Quoten spoke roared in frustration. "You idiot! This isn't any game! Why don't you get it? This is Bloodbath; a very real, to-the-death fighting tournament. You are trying to kill, incapacitate, or destroy your opponents until you or your team is the only one left standing!"

Quoten's face lit up with sudden understanding. "Oh! Now I understand! This is a Poker competition! Well, I'm never able to keep hierarchy of the values of the different hands straight, but I'll join in. After all, what have I got to lose? Tell me, how much is the entry fee?"

"No! You...it's a...how can you think...it's..." The creature roars in frustration again. "You know what? Never mind. I don't have time for this. You'll figure it out for yourself in the first round. Although, you'll need this if you even hope to survive ten seconds..." It tossed Quoten a small laser-pistol.

"Lovely time talking with you, sir! Or ma'am!" Quoten waved at the creature as it walked quickly away, then turned his attention to the pistol. "I daresay, what a strange contraption."

 

Looks like a full house... Blekarv thought as he watched the last attendee move to the stairwell at the back. Taking up his seat in the one-lizardman cockpit and looked up at the monitors showing the various cabins. Sure enough, there were only three seat to spare. He waited for the last attendee to find one of them.

I remember way back when I first came to Gor'trek's, back when it was just a bunch of muckwood posts in the ground in the middle of some forgotten swamp on Egn... How long ago was that? 3,238 years ago? Man, time sure flies.

Blekarv took a brief view of the monitors. The last attendee was still looking for an empty seat.

This place has a lot of history, and unfortunately almost none of it is documented... perhaps I should talk to Gor'trek about that when I get back. I remember back in its prime, it was the grandest star station in the entire galaxy! Capable of fending off an entire invasion fleet, and it did several times!

Blekarv chuckled as he thought back to the failed ISTF invasion back in millenia 13.709.765.345. Hehehe, good times...

Blekarv saw that the last attendee had finally found a seat and was putting his bag into the over-head shoot which lead to the cargo bay. Once He had sat down he pushed the button for the safety lecture and began flipping the switches to cast off the mooring arms.

Though after the ISTF got its hands on those interplanetary artillery plans, we were completely unprepared. Now we have to hide in this damn rock and wait for the ISTF to get some undeniable evidence of both our presence there and what we're doing.

Blekarv eased the space-bus out of the lounge's hanger and began scanning the way from there to Gor'trek's for anything which may get in the way of the hyperdrive.

Oh, what the hell is this?!

Hundreds, thousands of small space-time anomalies began popping up in a perfect line from the lounge to Gor'trek's.

Ah hell, it'll take forever to wade through this... I bet it was that damn over-compensator rich-kid with some fancy experimental hyperdrive...

He reached for the intercom, switched it to ship-only and said, "Folks, you better fasten your seat belts, it's going to be a bumpy ride." Blekarv let the computer plot out a safe course and began preparing the hyperdrive. Just as he flipped a switch, he heard a bang come from the cargo hold.

Damn piece of junk's held together with chewing gum and bailing wire...

 

... And now he's got a lazer pistol... Is this a blessing or a curse?

"Old man, that there is a highly advanced poker-cheater-killer. There are bound to be a lot of cheaters here, people who want to hurt you. If someone runs at you or sends flying flashy things at you, point at them, press the button, and they'll be disqualified. Got it?

When talking to a crazy you've got to speak crazy.

 

Beside the door of three hundred languages, there was a speaker. The average eye would not be able to tell it was a speaker, seeing as it was a hole in the wall the size of a pencil prick, but Tim knew.

"We're here for the competition."

An irritating horn sound rang, indicating that they could enter.

The room was cylindrical in shape, made of dull, gray metal, and completely empty. Well, not completely empty. Four blue, muscular, glowing men sat in four separate protrusions coming from the floor. In front of each man was a similar chair-shaped protrusion, obviously for the contestants to sit in. And though it did not seem as if anything separated them, if you looked closely, three walls of silvery air stood between each one.

Upon the group's entry, the four men stood in unison. In a slurred, hypnotic voice, they spoke.

"It appears some contestants have arrived for questioning ahead of time."

 

[occurs before the group enters the Dr. Manhattan room]

Quoten looked up from the device and saw the others approaching.

"Oh, hullo again! I seem to have become involved in a poker tournament here, so I'm afraid I will be unable to accompany you back to the bar. Don't worry, I'll just walk back."

"Actually ," someone said, "We're in the tournament too, but it's not actually a poker..."

"Splendid! I hope we are placed at the same table at some point, that I might witness your prowess at the cards." He held up the device. "Incidentally, do any of you know what this device might be?"

"Old man, that there is a highly advanced poker-cheater-killer. There are bound to be a lot of cheaters here, people who want to hurt you. If someone runs at you or sends flying flashy things at you, point at them, press the button, and they'll be disqualified. Got it?"

"Oh, I see..." he said, sadness in his voice. "It's that sort of thing, is it? I was actually looking forward to playing cards, but I guess I have no real choice, now do I? However," The normal mirth returned to his tone. "I suppose being chosen as a judge of the tournament is a great honor!" He paused for a second as the group exchanged glances. "Of course, I am not sure to where or whom the judges are meant to report. Do any of you know?"

"Err...just follow us."

 

"It appears some contestants have arrived for questioning ahead of time."

"I'm not the type who likes to arrive late," he looked about the room and sat in one of the chairs, "so then, you have questions, I might just answer these questions," he put his fingers together, "depends if you ask the right questions."

A small grin crossed his features.

The blue men looked at each other for a moment, then they returned back to the contestants, they all spoke in unison,

"you have already answered our questions."

Tim's eyes widened for a moment, these aliens were good, he hadn't noticed the tinge until it was too late, they had read his mind, and thoroughly, they read his past life, his daemonic ascension, the darkness that lay within his heart. Damn them all to hell, he was angry, and yet at the same time impressed.

"You are indeed worthy to go into the arena, you may proceed."

A door opened, Tim got up, "we go onward then, to our next trial."

They left and the door closed behind them, leaving the 4 figures to themselves.

 

The group entered a long, curving metal hallway bustling with hundreds of strange creatures of all shapes, sizes, colors, and varieties (though almost all of them had muscles the size of tree trunks, various natural weapons, scars from head to foot, and expressions that would unsettle even a hardened veteran ). Through the waxing and waning of the crowd a glowing hologram could be seen in an indentation on the far side of the hallway. Above this read the words "NEW RECRUITS" in hundreds of different languages all compressed into one space, yet only the languages that one could read were visible.

Pushing and shoving their way over, they see that the hologram is a detailed map of the entire asteroid along with its contents. Just below the surface of the asteroid are hundreds of hidden hallways spanning the entire outer shell asteroid, one of which had a dot with the words "You are here" next to it. Deeper within the asteroid are many, many rooms of varying sizes, most of which appeared to be arenas. In the very center of the asteroid, spanning (according to a scale near the bottom of the hologram) well over a mile in every direction, is a huge arena with enough seats to house millions and enough room in the arena itself to hold hundreds of thousands. Suddenly, a small dot near the "you" of "you are here" flickered into existence. Beside the dot appeared the words "you need to be here".

 

... That blue guy just read my mind... My entire mind. The history of the Earth and the secrets of Heaven and Hell... That can't be allowed...

As I walk out following Tim, I give a flick of a finger and destroy the blue aliens memories of what he saw and replace them with simpler memories, one that don't involve the secrets of Heaven and Hell. After we leave we come upon a room filled with all varieties of warriors along with a holographic map in the center of the room.

"Looks like we need to be over here" I say as I point to a gym sized room not to far away from where we are.

 

"Looks like we need to be over here" I say as I point to a gym sized room not to far away from where we are.

"Excellent observation, Abby. I would have never guessed." She grumbled sarcastically. "Now, as our little genius over there pointed out, we gotta get over there. How about, rather than sittin' around gawking at this excellent display of holographic technology, we start moving? I think it's just past this room, and... through that one hallway? I can't really read this too well, but that looks about right. Shall we?"

She pointed a wing forward and flashed the bird version of a smile.

"ONWARD!

...

Wait, no. Okay, HOW THE HELL DO YOU READ THIS THING?!" Maps had never been her thing. After a minute or so of staring at the map in confusion, she swallowed her pride and turned to Abraxas. "Alright, you're the genius. I'm sure you can read this. Go ahead, Abbykins. Lead the way."

 

Tim continued onward, ignoring the directions the incredibly annoying worker was giving out, he wondered if she could turn into a robot and shut her off. He chuckled inwardly at the thought.

"We follow the signs, easiest thing to do."

He made his way to the arena, the others close by, millions of cheers were shouted out as the other contesters looked ready for battle. Aliens of many shapes, sizes, ethnicity, and profession were here. None of them however, proved to be any worth fighting to Tim, this might be easier than he thought.

 

As Tim and the others made their way through the crowds awaiting their turn to slaughter (or be slaughtered), one of the guards took notice of him and said to the other, "'Ook's like we got areselves an inpatient git. Betta go teach 'im a lesson." The other guard made a deep chuckle and watched his partner weave through the crowds.

"'Ey! 'oo're you, an' whys do ya get to skip all these otha fellers into the arena?"

Tim simply began unsheathing his sword. The guard, anticipating this, pushed a button on a strange rod-like weapon. With a low-pitch whoom, a shockwave shot out of the weapon and embedded itself into Tim's chest. He immediately crumpled to the ground, giving no sign that he was still alive besides an occasional twitch.

"'E's currently experiencin' the worst pain ya can feel on this side of the mortal plane! Naw, unless ya's be wantin' ta join 'im, I suggest you get your arses movin' to wherever it is that yer supposed ta be! And you," He pointed the rod at Abraxas, "Take yer friend with ya. 'E'll be functionin' again in about ten minutes."

(This next bit is assuming Abraxas follows the guard's order)

As Abraxas picked up Tim's body, he noticed his heart wasn't beating nor was he breathing, yet he continued to twitch.

 

Tim was approached by a guard,

"'Ey! 'oo're you, an' whys do ya get to skip all these otha fellers into the arena?"

Tim was annoyed by such presences and started to materialise his sword from the darkness, but before anything could happen, a rod was stabbed into his chest and he was shocked, more like an elotrocution death sentence and he crumpled to the ground.

Darkness, that was all he saw, that was all he was used to, he could see his body in a spotlight, muffled voices, the feeling of someone hoisting him up. Two figures began to approach him,

"My son, you made a small mistake, but we can fix it," two crimson eyes and a long clawed hand protruded form the shadows.

"Yes boy, a minor mistake, those guards are only doing their job, however, revenge is a sweet opportunity," a second figure, one completely back, his head alien like and glowing green, he wore fancy wear, even those little napkin things puffed out of his dress coat. A wicked grin was on his face.

Tim nodded his head, "Aziral, Nergal, it seems I've been incapacitated, would you mind?"

Then both spoke at once, "you rest, we'll do what we do best."

* * *

Tim's eyes shot open, a flashing mixture of green and crimson coarsed throughout his eyes, until it finally settled on crimson.

"Put me down," a mixture of Aziral's daemonic voice and Tim's own voice commanded, the halfer did so.

Aziral looked about through the eyes of his possessee, then he saw the two guards, he approached them.

"You forgot something you incompetant fools," they turned and surprised, but not impressed they shocked him again, this time he stood, "I feel no pain."

They were scared, Tim began to protrude claw like features from his nails, he slashed the throat of the first guard and taking the second he tossed him aside like paper and he slammed into the wall.

"There, that was easy," a grin curled up his face.

 

The blow Tim took had forced Demosthenes to perch on the ground. Which is uncomfortable if you're a bird. It makes you feel short.

This was the only reason she was glad Tim had regained consciousness.

"Alright, Mr.Trying-to-be-badass. How about next time you listen to me when I tell you that maps are hard to read, so we can avoid crap like this. Now, OBVIOUSLY, we're at the wrong place. Why don't we--" Demosthenes scrutinized Tim carefully. "Oy, why'd you change color? We don't match 'nymore!''

She changed her color to black, and found her spot back on Tim's shoulder. "Alright. The maps are useless, and these things don't look friendly enough to provide directions. I say we follow the crowd. There's a line here, and a line over there kinda close to the entrance. How 'bout we check out whatever's in that general direction?"

She pointed her wing in the direction of a large, round door that read 'Ability Gauge'.