06-13-2017, 06:41 AM
[CENTRAL HALLWAYS, Recall Teleportation Platforms]
Bright and all-encompassing LIGHT! Little Ghost almost flinched, but this light was different from the searing radiance of the gates, it was calmer and... softer? Yes, and definitely much bluer! This calmed him for some reason, and once the light diminished to such levels that one could once again see their surroundings Little Ghost quickly cast his gaze left, right, up down, and behind him as well. This wasn't the same room he had been in before! He had never been awake for such a transport before, or at least he had never been through one where he did not have to pick himself up from a collapsed and unconscious state on the floor and/or ground where he appeared. Something cleared its throat and Little Ghost's eyes immediately focused on the source of the noise, hand drifting down to the handle of his Nail. The recall-station operator responsible for this particular platform was caught eye-to-eye with Little Ghost's gaze, the short Prime's diminutive frame putting their heads at equal height and thus quite close together, taking the height of the teleport's receiver dais into account.
Oh, it was another strange bug. This one was dressed similarly but differently than the one that had caused Little Ghost to end up here, it must be another attendant-bug! Secure in this conclusion, Little Ghost relaxed and let his right arm fall inside the folds of his cloak once more. The attendant-bug still had this look assembling nervousness on its face and Little Ghost didn't quite know why. There was no reason to be nervous of him, the attendant-bug wasn't an infected one, nor was it hostile. Maybe if Little Ghost smiled at it? At first nothing happened, for with the protecting mouth-plate deployed one could not see Little Ghost's smile. At least not until the smile began to reach further on Little Ghost's face, a process made slow by lack of practice. It took another few seconds of Little Ghost directing an 'eye-smile' at the technician before the human relaxed enough to make a smile of his own, though tinged with nervousness it may be. Much better! Little Ghost walked down from the dais and out into the hallways proper, his head on a swivel as he tried to take in all the strange things around him at the same time. But there were so many things! Where should he even start?
Well, the fact that there were a lot of these strange soft-carapaced bugs around is as good a place as any. Clearly the fact that he had a carapace properly hardened for the rigours of combat would tell you something about these strange bugs? But then again, how did they ambulate like this without being shaped like the similarly soft-carapaced grubs, each of them a larvae, or the airborne spherical grubberflies? Little Ghost had no small amounts of trouble with wrapping his head around this, then again he imagined that even Monmon would have been unable to explain these circumstances off the cuff. Wait, who was Monmon?
About to delve deeper and follow this instance of small memory to its source, Little Ghost was interrupted by the hustle and bustle of people walking through the corridors, a person named Ron Burgundy in particular, who almost accosted Little Ghost with a mike and a camera the moment the reporter's eyes had fallen on the insectoid. "And here we have another one! Greetings, Prime, would you care for an interview?" The man was nigh instantaneous in how he transitioned from observing at a distance to close in questioning and Little Ghost could only do one thing in return, stare questioningly at the strange bug. Little Ghost blinked in confusion, looking first to his left, then his right, and finally behind him before facing the journalist. A hesitant hand emerged from underneath his cloak and pointed to himself, as if questioning the reporter's choice. Let it not be said that Ron Burgundy is not a consummate reporter, for this lack of rejection, this eye contact was all he needed to press further with his questions. Perhaps the man's earlier genteel and calm manners had been enforced by a drunkenness that had now transitioned into stark sobriety? "My name is Ron Burgundy, here for the Omniverse News Network. With me I have one of the contestants for this year's tournament of Dante's Abyss!" What? Little Ghost could not really follow the reporter's rapid train of conversation and instead settled on hesitantly nodding as a way of replying. "Excellent! Might you regale the viewers with your name, mister... ?" Oh, this name business again, all right, how was he going to do this? Little Ghost quickly took stock of his surroundings, trying to spot some kind of writing implement. Ron took this to be a refusal to answer his question, a slight contortion of his face as if preventing it from contorting into a grimace with near perfect success.
"Very well then, mister mystery contender, your name shall not be a part of this conversation!" Little Ghost's eyes widened and he went to shake his head in reply, but Ron was already forging ahead! "Given the nature of this contest, do you have any plans for how to last past the initial free-for-all? Or are you perhaps one of those who would take things as they come? What about your reason for joining the tournament in the first place? And now that I mention it, what are you? Man, bug, something in between? You're not human, that's for sure!" Oh come on! What was this level of beetle-dung coming out of the reporters mouth? Little Ghost was growing increasingly annoyed and frustrated by the reporter's rapid-fire questioning as the man wouldn't pause long enough for Little Ghost to find a writing implement or even begin to for a structured response through his Void Soul Imaging. Eventually the little bug grabbed the reporter's microphone which finally accomplished something the irritated insect had tried to do for the last 20 seconds at least, halt this ceaseless questioning. Meaningfully looking Ron in the eyes, eyes that were now growing increasingly nervous, Little Ghost used his control over Empty Void and Useful Soul to formulate a picture of black and white colours hovering in the air right next to his head, a slight tether of glowy white leading to his form. This picture accurately depicted a moving replica of Little Ghost's head. The replica opened its mouth and lines with notes on them, clearly depicting musi- no, vocal sounds, emanated from the opened orifice. And then a large and clearly outline cross was placed over the image, signalling that this was very much not going to happen.
Ron Burgundy, stumped and blinking, needed a few moments to actually grip the meaning of this pictogram in the air. Little Ghost took this moment to let go of the microphone, allowing the reporter to bring it up to his own human mouth. "You mean to say that you won't- can't speak? That you are... mute?" Little Ghost's countenance had hardened upon the first version of that initial question, for it was not as if he had a choice. At the change from "won't" to "can't" he nodded resolutely. He was mute, how hard was that to get? Ron was quiet now, understanding exactly how badly he had stepped into it this time. "Why did I stop drinking before the event had started?" he rhetorically asked himself, paying no heed to the microphone that was still held by his hand, perched by his mouth. A prime position to broadcast his own speech, indeed. Little Ghost shrugged his shoulder in response to the man's question. He did not see how drinking water or nectar would help this strange 'hooman'-type bug in the current situation, but he was not able to do much. Commotion erupted further down the hall as someone named Nealaphh, or Tearen Wover, announced something concerning the status of a 'Diablo' character? Ron's head snapped around, as did the cameraman behind him when the Obsidian Prime commented on the status of Diablo's seal, Little Ghost all but forgotten. The insect in question simply threw his hands up in the air, frustration evident via his eyes, as the TV-crew ran to catch up with Nealaphh.
If Little Ghost had not been mute, the words 'fuck this shit!' would surely have left his lip at this and the hollow vessel stormed off to find something else interesting, heading in the direction of some strange smell. This direction happened to be opposite that of Illidan and Gildarts, being the direction of the Bar, entering it in a huff.
New Location: [BAR, at the entrance]
Bright and all-encompassing LIGHT! Little Ghost almost flinched, but this light was different from the searing radiance of the gates, it was calmer and... softer? Yes, and definitely much bluer! This calmed him for some reason, and once the light diminished to such levels that one could once again see their surroundings Little Ghost quickly cast his gaze left, right, up down, and behind him as well. This wasn't the same room he had been in before! He had never been awake for such a transport before, or at least he had never been through one where he did not have to pick himself up from a collapsed and unconscious state on the floor and/or ground where he appeared. Something cleared its throat and Little Ghost's eyes immediately focused on the source of the noise, hand drifting down to the handle of his Nail. The recall-station operator responsible for this particular platform was caught eye-to-eye with Little Ghost's gaze, the short Prime's diminutive frame putting their heads at equal height and thus quite close together, taking the height of the teleport's receiver dais into account.
Oh, it was another strange bug. This one was dressed similarly but differently than the one that had caused Little Ghost to end up here, it must be another attendant-bug! Secure in this conclusion, Little Ghost relaxed and let his right arm fall inside the folds of his cloak once more. The attendant-bug still had this look assembling nervousness on its face and Little Ghost didn't quite know why. There was no reason to be nervous of him, the attendant-bug wasn't an infected one, nor was it hostile. Maybe if Little Ghost smiled at it? At first nothing happened, for with the protecting mouth-plate deployed one could not see Little Ghost's smile. At least not until the smile began to reach further on Little Ghost's face, a process made slow by lack of practice. It took another few seconds of Little Ghost directing an 'eye-smile' at the technician before the human relaxed enough to make a smile of his own, though tinged with nervousness it may be. Much better! Little Ghost walked down from the dais and out into the hallways proper, his head on a swivel as he tried to take in all the strange things around him at the same time. But there were so many things! Where should he even start?
Well, the fact that there were a lot of these strange soft-carapaced bugs around is as good a place as any. Clearly the fact that he had a carapace properly hardened for the rigours of combat would tell you something about these strange bugs? But then again, how did they ambulate like this without being shaped like the similarly soft-carapaced grubs, each of them a larvae, or the airborne spherical grubberflies? Little Ghost had no small amounts of trouble with wrapping his head around this, then again he imagined that even Monmon would have been unable to explain these circumstances off the cuff. Wait, who was Monmon?
About to delve deeper and follow this instance of small memory to its source, Little Ghost was interrupted by the hustle and bustle of people walking through the corridors, a person named Ron Burgundy in particular, who almost accosted Little Ghost with a mike and a camera the moment the reporter's eyes had fallen on the insectoid. "And here we have another one! Greetings, Prime, would you care for an interview?" The man was nigh instantaneous in how he transitioned from observing at a distance to close in questioning and Little Ghost could only do one thing in return, stare questioningly at the strange bug. Little Ghost blinked in confusion, looking first to his left, then his right, and finally behind him before facing the journalist. A hesitant hand emerged from underneath his cloak and pointed to himself, as if questioning the reporter's choice. Let it not be said that Ron Burgundy is not a consummate reporter, for this lack of rejection, this eye contact was all he needed to press further with his questions. Perhaps the man's earlier genteel and calm manners had been enforced by a drunkenness that had now transitioned into stark sobriety? "My name is Ron Burgundy, here for the Omniverse News Network. With me I have one of the contestants for this year's tournament of Dante's Abyss!" What? Little Ghost could not really follow the reporter's rapid train of conversation and instead settled on hesitantly nodding as a way of replying. "Excellent! Might you regale the viewers with your name, mister... ?" Oh, this name business again, all right, how was he going to do this? Little Ghost quickly took stock of his surroundings, trying to spot some kind of writing implement. Ron took this to be a refusal to answer his question, a slight contortion of his face as if preventing it from contorting into a grimace with near perfect success.
"Very well then, mister mystery contender, your name shall not be a part of this conversation!" Little Ghost's eyes widened and he went to shake his head in reply, but Ron was already forging ahead! "Given the nature of this contest, do you have any plans for how to last past the initial free-for-all? Or are you perhaps one of those who would take things as they come? What about your reason for joining the tournament in the first place? And now that I mention it, what are you? Man, bug, something in between? You're not human, that's for sure!" Oh come on! What was this level of beetle-dung coming out of the reporters mouth? Little Ghost was growing increasingly annoyed and frustrated by the reporter's rapid-fire questioning as the man wouldn't pause long enough for Little Ghost to find a writing implement or even begin to for a structured response through his Void Soul Imaging. Eventually the little bug grabbed the reporter's microphone which finally accomplished something the irritated insect had tried to do for the last 20 seconds at least, halt this ceaseless questioning. Meaningfully looking Ron in the eyes, eyes that were now growing increasingly nervous, Little Ghost used his control over Empty Void and Useful Soul to formulate a picture of black and white colours hovering in the air right next to his head, a slight tether of glowy white leading to his form. This picture accurately depicted a moving replica of Little Ghost's head. The replica opened its mouth and lines with notes on them, clearly depicting musi- no, vocal sounds, emanated from the opened orifice. And then a large and clearly outline cross was placed over the image, signalling that this was very much not going to happen.
Ron Burgundy, stumped and blinking, needed a few moments to actually grip the meaning of this pictogram in the air. Little Ghost took this moment to let go of the microphone, allowing the reporter to bring it up to his own human mouth. "You mean to say that you won't- can't speak? That you are... mute?" Little Ghost's countenance had hardened upon the first version of that initial question, for it was not as if he had a choice. At the change from "won't" to "can't" he nodded resolutely. He was mute, how hard was that to get? Ron was quiet now, understanding exactly how badly he had stepped into it this time. "Why did I stop drinking before the event had started?" he rhetorically asked himself, paying no heed to the microphone that was still held by his hand, perched by his mouth. A prime position to broadcast his own speech, indeed. Little Ghost shrugged his shoulder in response to the man's question. He did not see how drinking water or nectar would help this strange 'hooman'-type bug in the current situation, but he was not able to do much. Commotion erupted further down the hall as someone named Nealaphh, or Tearen Wover, announced something concerning the status of a 'Diablo' character? Ron's head snapped around, as did the cameraman behind him when the Obsidian Prime commented on the status of Diablo's seal, Little Ghost all but forgotten. The insect in question simply threw his hands up in the air, frustration evident via his eyes, as the TV-crew ran to catch up with Nealaphh.
If Little Ghost had not been mute, the words 'fuck this shit!' would surely have left his lip at this and the hollow vessel stormed off to find something else interesting, heading in the direction of some strange smell. This direction happened to be opposite that of Illidan and Gildarts, being the direction of the Bar, entering it in a huff.
New Location: [BAR, at the entrance]
"So you'd pursue the deeper truth? It isn't one the weak could bear."
"Prove yourself ready to face it. I'll not hold back. My needle is lethal and I'd feel no sadness in a weakling's demise."
"Show me you can accept this Kingdom's past and claim responsibility for its future."