06-11-2015, 03:33 PM
The closer Mickey and his young companion got to Minas Tirith, the closer to the ground their jaws fell.
Berthe’s descriptions had not done it justice. Plateaus jutted out of the mountainside, protected by walls of white marble that shone in the sunlight. At the base of the city, a single black wall rose, separating the magnificence of the Kingdom’s capital from the rolling, grassy plains that the mouse and his boy had spent the last several hours trekking over.
Inside the city proved to be even more magnificent. Huge, white buildings towered above the pair. Down on the lower levels, the two navigated marketplaces so extensive and extravagant Mickey knew that those who lived here must not want for absolutely anything.
Asking around on how to get to Dalaran, the consensus seemed to be the same.
“…Pegasus?” Mickey Mouse asked, puzzled. He remembered a creature called Pegasus from his home-world. A majestic, white horse, ridden by the hero Hercules, of Olympus. The creature was here?
“It can fly you anywhere in our great Kingdom,” the passerby explained, pointing past Mickey and Robbie. Following his finger, the two saw a stable on a plateau just a little ways higher than they, with not just one but several winged horses grazing in their stalls. None of them looked exactly like the Pegasus Mickey knew, but the anatomy remained the same.
And golly gee, they sure were magnificent-looking.
At the top of the plateau, a man in armor stood guarding the legion of winged horses. Robbie, nervous as ever, stayed back while Mickey approached.
“Um, ‘scuse me,” the mouse piped up, waving a hand to get the man’s attention. The guard grunted, lazily looking down to where the squeaky little voice came from. The armored man met Mickey’s gaze.
“Oh—oh my God,” the knight sputtered, immediately standing at attention, “It’s… it’s you!”
Mickey’s brow furrowed. “Listen, um… me and my pal here just wanna go to Dala—”
“Everybody!” the guard called out, rushing to the railing and speaking to the crowded marketplace below, “Mickey Mouse has graced us with his presence! The third place winner of Dante’s Abyss!”
Mickey’s palm immediately met his forehead. He seemed doomed to be well-known wherever he went. Heck, Harry had known who he was without him even wasting time on an introduction. What the heck type of world had Omni dropped him into?
Below, the crowd went wild, clambering at the wall. Mickey cautiously approached the railing and looked between the bars, not quite tall enough to see over the top. They looked at him with an awe he had never asked for; just the sight of him put wide smiles on their faces. Why did they love him so much? He hadn’t done anything but cater to the ultraviolent tendencies of the game. If anything, they should be looking at him with disdain for compromising his moral values. Sure, the only time he had killed had been a complete accident, but still.
“You were our favorite,” the knight informed him, squatting down to get on the mouse’s level, “or, at least, some of us. Nobody else in the finale came close to your level of honor. We value honor greatly here.”
“I, uhm…” the mouse stammered. Words couldn’t describe how much comfort was wrapped in that one single expression. “Thank you.”
The knight nodded, and stood up. “Alright, back to business,” he loudly ordered the denizens of the marketplace below, “this noble mouse has his own matters to attend to.”
Mickey smiled, throwing a wave at the people down below, and then turned his attention back to the stable. A few yards away, Robbie still shivered in fear. The poor boy—all of this overwhelmed him even more than it overwhelmed Mickey. He would hurry and place the boy’s affairs in order, so that perhaps he could feel safer.
“So,” the knight smiled, leaning on his spear, “where did you say your business took you, Sir Mouse?”
Mickey chuckled a bit. Sir Mouse. He liked that.
“Dalaran,” the mouse replied, glancing up at the city in the sky. “I’m escorting this boy, who means to enroll in their school for young wizards.”
The knight nodded. “I shall retrieve a steed for you, Sir.”
He turned and walked into the stable. Mickey let out a sigh. His errand here almost completed, soon he would have to think of what to do next—where to go. Perhaps, he thought, he could seek out Erza, or Samus, or Harry. Certainly they wouldn’t be too difficult to find—how large could this Omniverse be, after all?
Behind him, Robbie screamed. Mickey whipped around, his hand on his keyblade, to see the boy cowering up against the stable wall. Before him, a gigantic, hulking green-skinned man—not unlike the orcs that had attacked Bree—stood with his hands clasped behind his back, straight and tall. He resembled the raiders in nothing more than his physical appearance; his demeanor spoke of someone altogether more civilized, and tentatively, the mouse released his hold on his weapon.
“You are Mickey Mouse,” the orc noted. A deep voice; Mickey honestly had not realized a person's voice could reach such low octaves.
“Who’s askin’?” Mickey’s eyes narrowed.
The orc grunted. “I serve Thrall, the leader of the orc population in Camelot and advisor to King Aragorn,” he listed—all in one breath—before exhaling deeply and continuing. “But… I am asking, Sir Mouse. You are Mickey Mouse, the prime who placed third in the recent Dante’s Abyss competition, yes? I am not mistaken?”
The King held his gaze, and relented. “Yep, that’s me.”
“My leader will want to see you.” The orc’s gruff voice vibrated through the marble-scented air. “I request that you allow me to take you to him.”
His desire to stick with Robbie persisted, but at the same time he felt called to obey this big guy’s commands. The idea of meeting this ‘Thrall’—advisor to the king, apparently—intrigued the mouse greatly. He turned to Robbie.
“You’ve got this, pal,” he told the boy, and Robbie’s face grew pale. “Just get on the horse and go to Dalaran. If it’s anything like the Pegasus I know, it’ll get you there safe. Find someone who can help you when you get there.”
“But, Mr. Ears—”
“Robbie…”
“…Mickey,” the boy whined, rushing over to his mouse friend. At that moment, the knight returned, leading a winged horse for the mouse and his boy. Robbie glanced over at the majestic steed, then at Mickey, then at the orc who had approached them. “…o-okay,” he nodded, “I can do it.”
“The wizards of Dalaran will help the boy,” the orc interjected. “They are, after all, the wisest men and women this land has to offer.”
Robbie nodded nervously, and headed over to the knight. After a couple minutes getting him set up, the horse lifted off the ground and Robbie was gone, off on a trip to find himself and the magical potential Mickey knew he possessed.
Mickey turned to the orc. “Alright,” he shrugged, “Take me to your leader.”
Berthe’s descriptions had not done it justice. Plateaus jutted out of the mountainside, protected by walls of white marble that shone in the sunlight. At the base of the city, a single black wall rose, separating the magnificence of the Kingdom’s capital from the rolling, grassy plains that the mouse and his boy had spent the last several hours trekking over.
Inside the city proved to be even more magnificent. Huge, white buildings towered above the pair. Down on the lower levels, the two navigated marketplaces so extensive and extravagant Mickey knew that those who lived here must not want for absolutely anything.
Asking around on how to get to Dalaran, the consensus seemed to be the same.
“…Pegasus?” Mickey Mouse asked, puzzled. He remembered a creature called Pegasus from his home-world. A majestic, white horse, ridden by the hero Hercules, of Olympus. The creature was here?
“It can fly you anywhere in our great Kingdom,” the passerby explained, pointing past Mickey and Robbie. Following his finger, the two saw a stable on a plateau just a little ways higher than they, with not just one but several winged horses grazing in their stalls. None of them looked exactly like the Pegasus Mickey knew, but the anatomy remained the same.
And golly gee, they sure were magnificent-looking.
At the top of the plateau, a man in armor stood guarding the legion of winged horses. Robbie, nervous as ever, stayed back while Mickey approached.
“Um, ‘scuse me,” the mouse piped up, waving a hand to get the man’s attention. The guard grunted, lazily looking down to where the squeaky little voice came from. The armored man met Mickey’s gaze.
“Oh—oh my God,” the knight sputtered, immediately standing at attention, “It’s… it’s you!”
Mickey’s brow furrowed. “Listen, um… me and my pal here just wanna go to Dala—”
“Everybody!” the guard called out, rushing to the railing and speaking to the crowded marketplace below, “Mickey Mouse has graced us with his presence! The third place winner of Dante’s Abyss!”
Mickey’s palm immediately met his forehead. He seemed doomed to be well-known wherever he went. Heck, Harry had known who he was without him even wasting time on an introduction. What the heck type of world had Omni dropped him into?
Below, the crowd went wild, clambering at the wall. Mickey cautiously approached the railing and looked between the bars, not quite tall enough to see over the top. They looked at him with an awe he had never asked for; just the sight of him put wide smiles on their faces. Why did they love him so much? He hadn’t done anything but cater to the ultraviolent tendencies of the game. If anything, they should be looking at him with disdain for compromising his moral values. Sure, the only time he had killed had been a complete accident, but still.
“You were our favorite,” the knight informed him, squatting down to get on the mouse’s level, “or, at least, some of us. Nobody else in the finale came close to your level of honor. We value honor greatly here.”
“I, uhm…” the mouse stammered. Words couldn’t describe how much comfort was wrapped in that one single expression. “Thank you.”
The knight nodded, and stood up. “Alright, back to business,” he loudly ordered the denizens of the marketplace below, “this noble mouse has his own matters to attend to.”
Mickey smiled, throwing a wave at the people down below, and then turned his attention back to the stable. A few yards away, Robbie still shivered in fear. The poor boy—all of this overwhelmed him even more than it overwhelmed Mickey. He would hurry and place the boy’s affairs in order, so that perhaps he could feel safer.
“So,” the knight smiled, leaning on his spear, “where did you say your business took you, Sir Mouse?”
Mickey chuckled a bit. Sir Mouse. He liked that.
“Dalaran,” the mouse replied, glancing up at the city in the sky. “I’m escorting this boy, who means to enroll in their school for young wizards.”
The knight nodded. “I shall retrieve a steed for you, Sir.”
He turned and walked into the stable. Mickey let out a sigh. His errand here almost completed, soon he would have to think of what to do next—where to go. Perhaps, he thought, he could seek out Erza, or Samus, or Harry. Certainly they wouldn’t be too difficult to find—how large could this Omniverse be, after all?
Behind him, Robbie screamed. Mickey whipped around, his hand on his keyblade, to see the boy cowering up against the stable wall. Before him, a gigantic, hulking green-skinned man—not unlike the orcs that had attacked Bree—stood with his hands clasped behind his back, straight and tall. He resembled the raiders in nothing more than his physical appearance; his demeanor spoke of someone altogether more civilized, and tentatively, the mouse released his hold on his weapon.
“You are Mickey Mouse,” the orc noted. A deep voice; Mickey honestly had not realized a person's voice could reach such low octaves.
“Who’s askin’?” Mickey’s eyes narrowed.
The orc grunted. “I serve Thrall, the leader of the orc population in Camelot and advisor to King Aragorn,” he listed—all in one breath—before exhaling deeply and continuing. “But… I am asking, Sir Mouse. You are Mickey Mouse, the prime who placed third in the recent Dante’s Abyss competition, yes? I am not mistaken?”
The King held his gaze, and relented. “Yep, that’s me.”
“My leader will want to see you.” The orc’s gruff voice vibrated through the marble-scented air. “I request that you allow me to take you to him.”
His desire to stick with Robbie persisted, but at the same time he felt called to obey this big guy’s commands. The idea of meeting this ‘Thrall’—advisor to the king, apparently—intrigued the mouse greatly. He turned to Robbie.
“You’ve got this, pal,” he told the boy, and Robbie’s face grew pale. “Just get on the horse and go to Dalaran. If it’s anything like the Pegasus I know, it’ll get you there safe. Find someone who can help you when you get there.”
“But, Mr. Ears—”
“Robbie…”
“…Mickey,” the boy whined, rushing over to his mouse friend. At that moment, the knight returned, leading a winged horse for the mouse and his boy. Robbie glanced over at the majestic steed, then at Mickey, then at the orc who had approached them. “…o-okay,” he nodded, “I can do it.”
“The wizards of Dalaran will help the boy,” the orc interjected. “They are, after all, the wisest men and women this land has to offer.”
Robbie nodded nervously, and headed over to the knight. After a couple minutes getting him set up, the horse lifted off the ground and Robbie was gone, off on a trip to find himself and the magical potential Mickey knew he possessed.
Mickey turned to the orc. “Alright,” he shrugged, “Take me to your leader.”
![[Image: 2agonyw.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/2agonyw.png)