10-05-2016, 08:18 PM
Kuzuru sniffed the air, filling his lungs with the sweet scent of flowering fields. Long swathes of soft grass and bright flowers danced to the wind’s gentle song. The sung hung fat and lazy in the sky, only moving because it was forced to do so. Stalwart oak trees stretched towards the heavens, mimicking mankind in some sort of eternal play. Camelot was a simple place, or rather simplicity found a pleasant home in this verse of lords and knights. The demon smiled, kicked off his metal-plated flip-flops, and carried them by their thongs. The feeling of the gentle earth between his toes tingled his spine. He glanced over his shoulder and said to the others, “y’know as much as I love our toasty little home, this place ain’t half bad.”
“It ain’t bad,” Gaige nodded, “y’know besides the mind-crushing boredom, we’ve been walking for hours.”
“It’s only been like fourty minutes, maybe an hour” Kuzuru responded, “what’s your point?”
“Do you even know where we’re going?” she asked.
The demon seemed to deflate ever so slightly. He adjusted his jacket and spoke, “we’re heading to ehm, Minas Tirith. Namely the Colosseum and the surrounding area.”
“Oh,” Claptrap perked up and asked, “are we going to watch some poor meatbags fight eachother in gladitorial combat?!”
“Eh, maybe?” Kuzuru offered, not having the heart to burst Clappy’s bubble.
“Great,” the plucky robot exclaimed.
“Anyways,” Kuzuru said, “that cripple kid didn’t kill Ballad after their fight so after recovering he probably went to a bar or something.”
“What,” Gaige asked, “how are you so sure?”
The demon shrugged and flashed her a smile, “after losing us badass types tend to drown our sorrows with copious amounts of booze, women, or drugs -- sometimes all three.”
“Sounds like bullshit,” Gaige dismissed him.
Kuzuru shrugged. While what he said was indeed closer to truth than fiction the demon put together a more concrete idea of Ballad’s path of destruction. The explosion that put Ballad on the bounty board was only a few streets over from a prolific bar. Said bar’s bartender had gone missing shortly afterwards and hasn’t been seen for a while. While the demon admitted that there was a decent chance of pure coincidence he had few leads to go on. As an afterthought he relayed this information to his companions. Gaige muttered something about endless boredom. Claptrap whistled a tune of his own design. Kuzuru sighed, scowled, and kept on walking.
It was a form of culture shock the demon supposed. After all for the past God knows how long his only real companion was that feckless bladesman known as Renji. Sure there were millions -countless really - souls within the Ourobouros blade, all of them were his prisoners. Now, as much as he hated to admit it, he walked among relative equals. Primes of dubious origins, but they were primes nonetheless and that thought made Kuzuru nervous. In his mind secondaries like Charlie and Mal were fixed in strength, and to an extent he was right. But, primes, primes were another beast altogether limitless in their power and just as unpredictable as himself. It filled his gut with an exotic tonic of giddy excitement and primal fear. Like a kid poking a caged gorilla Kuzuru wanted to see just how far he could step before being swatted back amongst the mortals. Today Ballad. Tomorrow Diablo. The day after that, Omni. The thought sent titters through his body.
The group arrived at the Colosseum district as the sun reached its zenith. Posters advertising upcoming Colosseum events plastered any flat surface they could find. Street vendors sold snacks and refreshments to anyone brave enough to try their fair. Crowds pulsed through the city like fatty clots clogging up viens. Absolute sensory overload. Some sort of festival was in progress and they managed to land right in the center of it. Forming a fiery pillar of lights and sounds fireworks erupted from somewhere nearby. Another salvo of brightly coloured pyrotechnics illicited a cry of “kickass” from the mechromancer.
“Alright, looks like we chose the absolute worst time to come here,” Kuzuru said.
“Uhhh, more like BEST time, WHOOO!” Gaige exclaimed..
A small group of grubby children surrounded Claptrap. Murmers of excitement rippled throughout the young Tirithians. Despite living in the Omniverse for most of their lives none of them had seen a robot before, let alone one that would talk. A natural showman the steward bot wasted no time in showing off for his young audience. “Behold minions!” he exclaimed and produced a pistol, “state of the art Hyperion weaponry, perfect for kids of all ages!”
Kuzuru suppressed a giggle and shook his head. He glanced at Shadow then back at the other two before speaking, “okay I suppose we’ve got some time to burn, we can meet up back here in an hour. Let’s have some fun, but keep an eye out for anything that might seem like a lead okay?” Without waiting for a response the demon disappeared into the crowd. He had no intentions on participating in the festivities, but who was he to deny the others from a good time? The demon made his way to the bar that once was the home of the semi-famous bartender known simply as “Tender”.
A pinprick of familiarity bit the nape of his neck as he entered the building. It was a classier joint than Ambrosia’s, but the acrid scent of liquor was the same. Telltale patches of fresh stucco dotted the walls, the perfect size for bullet holes. Kuzuru smiled. It wasn’t much, but every potential lead was another nail in Ballad’s coffin. Despite the festivities outside the interior of the bar was quiet. Only a few regular barflies sat scattered throughout. Kuzuru sauntered towards the bar counter and took a seat. Sawdust covered the floors, no doubt to sop up any spilled drinks or haphazard tabacco spit. Despite this rustic addition and the stucco-filled bulletholes Kuzuru had to admit this place was on the up and up.
“It ain’t bad,” Gaige nodded, “y’know besides the mind-crushing boredom, we’ve been walking for hours.”
“It’s only been like fourty minutes, maybe an hour” Kuzuru responded, “what’s your point?”
“Do you even know where we’re going?” she asked.
The demon seemed to deflate ever so slightly. He adjusted his jacket and spoke, “we’re heading to ehm, Minas Tirith. Namely the Colosseum and the surrounding area.”
“Oh,” Claptrap perked up and asked, “are we going to watch some poor meatbags fight eachother in gladitorial combat?!”
“Eh, maybe?” Kuzuru offered, not having the heart to burst Clappy’s bubble.
“Great,” the plucky robot exclaimed.
“Anyways,” Kuzuru said, “that cripple kid didn’t kill Ballad after their fight so after recovering he probably went to a bar or something.”
“What,” Gaige asked, “how are you so sure?”
The demon shrugged and flashed her a smile, “after losing us badass types tend to drown our sorrows with copious amounts of booze, women, or drugs -- sometimes all three.”
“Sounds like bullshit,” Gaige dismissed him.
Kuzuru shrugged. While what he said was indeed closer to truth than fiction the demon put together a more concrete idea of Ballad’s path of destruction. The explosion that put Ballad on the bounty board was only a few streets over from a prolific bar. Said bar’s bartender had gone missing shortly afterwards and hasn’t been seen for a while. While the demon admitted that there was a decent chance of pure coincidence he had few leads to go on. As an afterthought he relayed this information to his companions. Gaige muttered something about endless boredom. Claptrap whistled a tune of his own design. Kuzuru sighed, scowled, and kept on walking.
It was a form of culture shock the demon supposed. After all for the past God knows how long his only real companion was that feckless bladesman known as Renji. Sure there were millions -countless really - souls within the Ourobouros blade, all of them were his prisoners. Now, as much as he hated to admit it, he walked among relative equals. Primes of dubious origins, but they were primes nonetheless and that thought made Kuzuru nervous. In his mind secondaries like Charlie and Mal were fixed in strength, and to an extent he was right. But, primes, primes were another beast altogether limitless in their power and just as unpredictable as himself. It filled his gut with an exotic tonic of giddy excitement and primal fear. Like a kid poking a caged gorilla Kuzuru wanted to see just how far he could step before being swatted back amongst the mortals. Today Ballad. Tomorrow Diablo. The day after that, Omni. The thought sent titters through his body.
The group arrived at the Colosseum district as the sun reached its zenith. Posters advertising upcoming Colosseum events plastered any flat surface they could find. Street vendors sold snacks and refreshments to anyone brave enough to try their fair. Crowds pulsed through the city like fatty clots clogging up viens. Absolute sensory overload. Some sort of festival was in progress and they managed to land right in the center of it. Forming a fiery pillar of lights and sounds fireworks erupted from somewhere nearby. Another salvo of brightly coloured pyrotechnics illicited a cry of “kickass” from the mechromancer.
“Alright, looks like we chose the absolute worst time to come here,” Kuzuru said.
“Uhhh, more like BEST time, WHOOO!” Gaige exclaimed..
A small group of grubby children surrounded Claptrap. Murmers of excitement rippled throughout the young Tirithians. Despite living in the Omniverse for most of their lives none of them had seen a robot before, let alone one that would talk. A natural showman the steward bot wasted no time in showing off for his young audience. “Behold minions!” he exclaimed and produced a pistol, “state of the art Hyperion weaponry, perfect for kids of all ages!”
Kuzuru suppressed a giggle and shook his head. He glanced at Shadow then back at the other two before speaking, “okay I suppose we’ve got some time to burn, we can meet up back here in an hour. Let’s have some fun, but keep an eye out for anything that might seem like a lead okay?” Without waiting for a response the demon disappeared into the crowd. He had no intentions on participating in the festivities, but who was he to deny the others from a good time? The demon made his way to the bar that once was the home of the semi-famous bartender known simply as “Tender”.
A pinprick of familiarity bit the nape of his neck as he entered the building. It was a classier joint than Ambrosia’s, but the acrid scent of liquor was the same. Telltale patches of fresh stucco dotted the walls, the perfect size for bullet holes. Kuzuru smiled. It wasn’t much, but every potential lead was another nail in Ballad’s coffin. Despite the festivities outside the interior of the bar was quiet. Only a few regular barflies sat scattered throughout. Kuzuru sauntered towards the bar counter and took a seat. Sawdust covered the floors, no doubt to sop up any spilled drinks or haphazard tabacco spit. Despite this rustic addition and the stucco-filled bulletholes Kuzuru had to admit this place was on the up and up.