03-18-2018, 02:09 AM
(This post was last modified: 03-18-2018, 06:44 PM by King Ghidorah.)
I very nearly attack him in earnest, but I manage to compose myself, fuming silently. I am not a man; Although my hominid form bears them some resemblance, I will never be so insignificant.
My self-control is bolstered somewhat by the fact that I've already allowed the people of Harnburg a certain amount of misapprehension regarding my nature - and helped further by the realization that being able to pass more convincingly as a lesser creature might prove useful in the future. Most of all though, it's the knowledge that I can shortly look forward to correcting any and all false impressions which buoys my restraint.
"Very well," I say. "But I wonder what exactly you're proposing I should learn; I've already mastered the ability to exist in a room containing a crowd of deluded, fragile humans without slaughtering them all. If you don't want me to cater to their meaningless egos as well, then what else could you possibly require?"
Chatterly's face dips into a shallow, thin-lipped frown. "The slightest inkling of manners," he says, turning abruptly. "Come. I've prepared a venue."
I expect him to lead me back into town, but instead we follow the cliff's edge. We bypass the path to the bottom and continue around to the Northern lip of the valley, where the sheer red rock-face gives way to smaller crimson ledges scattered amid steep grassy slopes. The spymaster guides me down the side of the valley to one of the lesser stony outcroppings which upon upon closer examination turns out to hide a cave; its entrance is concealed by a wooden door painted to match the surrounding rock.
"What is this, Chatterly?" I ask, eagerness creeping into my voice at the prospect of learning another of the man's secrets. "Where have you brought me?"
Chatterly unlocks the door, releasing a gust of moist air, and ushers me inside; within we find a stone tunnel buttressed with timber, and lit by lanterns mounted on iron sconces. Their hazy golden light reflects off my lustrous body, casting a rippling aurora across the walls.
"Someplace where you can't kill any bystanders or destroy Harnburg Castle-town if you grow frustrated with your 'education'," he says. His boots whisper across the damp stone floor as he leads the way forward. "It's one of several bolt-holes I have concealed around the valley in case of disaster. I absolutely refuse to tell you where the others are, in case you were wondering."
I was, of course, but I don't give him the satisfaction of hearing me say so. We follow the passage deeper into the hillside until it gradually widens out into a little cave; the space is no larger than my room at the castle, lit by the sapphire glow of a small, luminescent pool of water which laps against the far wall. There's a a plain wooden table and several matching chairs in the middle of the floor, and a stack of large, ironbound wooden crates in one corner. The air smells of wet rocks and lichen.
I immediately notice that we aren't the only people present: Cutter and his lesser counterpart, Violent Angus are seated on opposite sides of the table, dressed in matching leather armor over dark clothing. The two enforcers are playing with their knives in much the same way they did when we first encountered each-other all those months ago.
"I believe you already know Cutter and Violent Angus," says Chatterly, the light of the pool glinting off his eyes and casting webs of luminescence across his angular features. He opens his mouth to continue, but I'm not paying attention to him anymore.
"Hello Cutter," I growl, flexing my clawed fingers as I stalk towards him. "It seems we missed each other last night. I heard you had something you wanted to tell me."
A look of confusion passes across the sturdy thug's caved-in face. He looks from me to his master and back again, fumbling his knife and nearly stumbling in his rush to get out of his chair, scraping its legs across the floor of the cave.
" 'ere, Mister Chatterly, what's 'e talkin' about? I thought we wasn't doin' that part anymore."
His bafflement seems so genuine that it almost makes me pause. Almost - but not quite. "What part would that be Cutter? It sounds like you expected something different. I'd hate to think that I've gotten predictable."
Astral charge crackles across my fingertips, adding its jagged golden-orange glow to the caves placid blue ambiance - and then a crossbow quarrel shatters against my back. For a moment, nobody moves. I turn around slowly to cast a withering look at Chatterly. "Do that again," I say, hissing through gritted teeth. "See what happens."
Chatterly smiles without a trace of mirth and slinks up beside me, setting his crossbow on the table between myself and his minions with a decisive clack. "We have more urgent matters to attend to, Ghidorah. Cutter and Violent Angus are here to assist in preparing you for the Gala. As to whatever appointments with these gentleman you might have previously had - you'd do best to put them out of your mind."
I study the three men for a long moment: Chatterly observing me in turn, revealing nothing; Cutter backed up against the wall; Violent Angus with his knife in one hand and the other flat against the table, watching to see what I'll do.
My teeth grind audibly as my eyes flicker between my handler and his henchmen, a stuttering clatter echoing in the dark.
The spymaster breaks the stalemate with an indulgent sigh. "Cutter," he says, "Was supposed to calm you down last night. Following our heated exchange, I arranged a distraction in order to help keep a lid on your temper. It did not, however, turn out to be necessary. I assume that Mr. Cartwright is dead?"
I stare at him blankly, without the faintest idea who he might mean. A look of genuine surprise races across his face and vanishes behind a mask of amused tolerance.
It's not until he's already begun to speak again that I realize he must have been talking about Heath.
"In any case," Chatterly says, dismissing the topic with a perfunctory clap of his leather-gloved hands, "It's past time that we began. We have a fair amount of material to cover, and I expect we're going to have to go through it several times, so if everyone is done posturing I'd prefer that we start immediately."
My self-control is bolstered somewhat by the fact that I've already allowed the people of Harnburg a certain amount of misapprehension regarding my nature - and helped further by the realization that being able to pass more convincingly as a lesser creature might prove useful in the future. Most of all though, it's the knowledge that I can shortly look forward to correcting any and all false impressions which buoys my restraint.
"Very well," I say. "But I wonder what exactly you're proposing I should learn; I've already mastered the ability to exist in a room containing a crowd of deluded, fragile humans without slaughtering them all. If you don't want me to cater to their meaningless egos as well, then what else could you possibly require?"
Chatterly's face dips into a shallow, thin-lipped frown. "The slightest inkling of manners," he says, turning abruptly. "Come. I've prepared a venue."
I expect him to lead me back into town, but instead we follow the cliff's edge. We bypass the path to the bottom and continue around to the Northern lip of the valley, where the sheer red rock-face gives way to smaller crimson ledges scattered amid steep grassy slopes. The spymaster guides me down the side of the valley to one of the lesser stony outcroppings which upon upon closer examination turns out to hide a cave; its entrance is concealed by a wooden door painted to match the surrounding rock.
"What is this, Chatterly?" I ask, eagerness creeping into my voice at the prospect of learning another of the man's secrets. "Where have you brought me?"
Chatterly unlocks the door, releasing a gust of moist air, and ushers me inside; within we find a stone tunnel buttressed with timber, and lit by lanterns mounted on iron sconces. Their hazy golden light reflects off my lustrous body, casting a rippling aurora across the walls.
"Someplace where you can't kill any bystanders or destroy Harnburg Castle-town if you grow frustrated with your 'education'," he says. His boots whisper across the damp stone floor as he leads the way forward. "It's one of several bolt-holes I have concealed around the valley in case of disaster. I absolutely refuse to tell you where the others are, in case you were wondering."
I was, of course, but I don't give him the satisfaction of hearing me say so. We follow the passage deeper into the hillside until it gradually widens out into a little cave; the space is no larger than my room at the castle, lit by the sapphire glow of a small, luminescent pool of water which laps against the far wall. There's a a plain wooden table and several matching chairs in the middle of the floor, and a stack of large, ironbound wooden crates in one corner. The air smells of wet rocks and lichen.
I immediately notice that we aren't the only people present: Cutter and his lesser counterpart, Violent Angus are seated on opposite sides of the table, dressed in matching leather armor over dark clothing. The two enforcers are playing with their knives in much the same way they did when we first encountered each-other all those months ago.
"I believe you already know Cutter and Violent Angus," says Chatterly, the light of the pool glinting off his eyes and casting webs of luminescence across his angular features. He opens his mouth to continue, but I'm not paying attention to him anymore.
"Hello Cutter," I growl, flexing my clawed fingers as I stalk towards him. "It seems we missed each other last night. I heard you had something you wanted to tell me."
A look of confusion passes across the sturdy thug's caved-in face. He looks from me to his master and back again, fumbling his knife and nearly stumbling in his rush to get out of his chair, scraping its legs across the floor of the cave.
" 'ere, Mister Chatterly, what's 'e talkin' about? I thought we wasn't doin' that part anymore."
His bafflement seems so genuine that it almost makes me pause. Almost - but not quite. "What part would that be Cutter? It sounds like you expected something different. I'd hate to think that I've gotten predictable."
Astral charge crackles across my fingertips, adding its jagged golden-orange glow to the caves placid blue ambiance - and then a crossbow quarrel shatters against my back. For a moment, nobody moves. I turn around slowly to cast a withering look at Chatterly. "Do that again," I say, hissing through gritted teeth. "See what happens."
Chatterly smiles without a trace of mirth and slinks up beside me, setting his crossbow on the table between myself and his minions with a decisive clack. "We have more urgent matters to attend to, Ghidorah. Cutter and Violent Angus are here to assist in preparing you for the Gala. As to whatever appointments with these gentleman you might have previously had - you'd do best to put them out of your mind."
I study the three men for a long moment: Chatterly observing me in turn, revealing nothing; Cutter backed up against the wall; Violent Angus with his knife in one hand and the other flat against the table, watching to see what I'll do.
My teeth grind audibly as my eyes flicker between my handler and his henchmen, a stuttering clatter echoing in the dark.
The spymaster breaks the stalemate with an indulgent sigh. "Cutter," he says, "Was supposed to calm you down last night. Following our heated exchange, I arranged a distraction in order to help keep a lid on your temper. It did not, however, turn out to be necessary. I assume that Mr. Cartwright is dead?"
I stare at him blankly, without the faintest idea who he might mean. A look of genuine surprise races across his face and vanishes behind a mask of amused tolerance.
It's not until he's already begun to speak again that I realize he must have been talking about Heath.
"In any case," Chatterly says, dismissing the topic with a perfunctory clap of his leather-gloved hands, "It's past time that we began. We have a fair amount of material to cover, and I expect we're going to have to go through it several times, so if everyone is done posturing I'd prefer that we start immediately."