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Old 08-27-2003, 11:13 AM   #51
Thenamir
Spectre of Capitalism
 
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Join Date: May 2001
Location: Battling evil bureaucrats at Zeta Aquilae
Posts: 990
Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!
Sting

Gateskeeper, as in the incident of the trolls, was knowledgeable in many languages ancient and current. From the common languages of Muddled-Mirth he seldom strayed, but could at need negotiate in the cryptic Sea Language of the Eunuchs he had long battled. He was even versant in the ancient dinosaurian dialect of Kho'bal, for their kind was not then extinct, nor were the main of their frames yet decayed unto the dust.

"Yo, don' be talkin' that **** to my posse, dawg!" said Gateskeeper to the Middle Lhinebhacker in a voice laced with a healthy dose of bad attitude, pronouncing the asterisks with just the right amount of flying spittle. "Yo' don' know pain 'till yo' dis deez bad homeys. Dey'd knock yo' head clean off if yo' could just stan' up strait on yo bo-legs!" The music of the riders, which had been sounding an ominous melody rising to a crescendo, was suddenly silent, in shock that so small a man would dare challenge...him.

Érry son of Tait the Terrible had never had anyone address him thus. Even the leaders of the Mike had fearful respect for Érry. His job was to keep even the mighty among the Sorethighhim from straying from the laws of the land and the will of their king, and many were the bruiséd among this Sorhéd of the Mike because Érry had caught them in some minor misdeed with a flying tackle. One rider, his arm in a sling, was the victim of Érry's gentle correction when he tried to clean his spear without the required spear-mint polish.

When the music resumed after a couple of beats of silence, it was subtly changed -- no less triumphant and sad than before, but with a thumping rhythm that seemed to shake the ground, and odd noises that sounded much like the spasmodic screetches of a drowning cat -- Érry's favorite music to tackle by. Érry's eyes grew narrow as he regarded Gateskeeper up and down, seeing in him only a skinny n'erd, the Sorthighhim term for the weak and craven souls with poor fashion taste. "Yo' could'n even clean my stable, white-trash geek-boy. Don' make me op'n up a fresh can o' medieval on yo butt, 'cause when Érry's th'name, pain's th'game! Whooooo!!" Érry finished with a flourish, finger in the face of the bespectacled man with the bad haircut. Gateskeeper did not flinch, but the chanting of the riders subsided a bit, in a musical embodiment of the phrase, "Guess he done tol' you, sucka!"

Vogonwe listened carefully to the challenge unfolding before him, trying furiously to write down all the new words he was hearing, in case any of them might provide a rhyme when he was otherwise stuck, marvelling at the Gateskeeper's command of language. The Lord of Dun Sobrin kept his hand to his sword in pretense of being ready to attack, when all he fervently wished was for Érry to use that bulging bicep to punch Gateskeeper's pimply face. Still, he had to give Gateskeeper points for courage, even though Érry was about to squash him to jelly -- this was the second time in as many subplots that Gateskeeper had intervened to save the It-ship from destruction, and Earnur knew he owed him big time. Even Merisu looked with fresh awe (for she had none left over from the last time) at the skinny geek kid, and though her pure heart was still pining for the loss of her beloved Gravlox it skipped a beat beholding the raw bravery before her.

Gateskeeper, of course, was nothing of the sort. Though the It-ship still did not know it, he was a wizard of some power, and knew he had the upper hand (and the lower one too for that matter). The very air that filled the distance between their locked eyes seemed to smoulder as he quietly folded his glasses and placed them in their case in his shirt-pocket, next to his three quills in their leather pocket-protector. Gripping his staff, he allowed a tense beat to pass before he spoke his challenge, "Well c'mon, then, girly-man, bring it!" There was collective gasp among both the Sorethighhim and the It-ship as they backed up a few paces. Érry uttered a loud growl as by blind instinct he dropped to a three-point stance, and Gateskeeper matched the motion, keeping the staff balanced in his free hand.

One of the riders called out, "Down!" "Set!" "Hut HUT!" Upon hearing the second "hut" Érry detonated from his position towards the Gateskeeper in a rush of muscles and chainmail. Gateskeeper too streamed out from his stance with a quickness born of outrunning disgruntled armed customers. The second before the two contestants converged seemed to slow to a crawl, each step hanging in the air like a dream-sequence of a slow-motion replay of a geriatric footrace. Yet Gateskeeper awaited his opportune moment, and just before the two of them were actually to collide, when Érry's huge bulk would cover the flash-that-always-accompanies-magic he lowered his shoulder and muttered a Word of Command-line, "firewall.exe!"

The effect was astounding. Érry bounced off Gateskeeper's momentary shoulder-mounted magic firewall as if he'd run face first into a granite monolith, flying 6 feet through the air and landing in an undignified manner on his rump, dazed. The It-ship immeidiately broke into cheers and whoops of joy as Gateskeeper did an odd dance of celebration, screaming "Uh-HUH! Who's yo' daddy?! Pain awaits, beware the Gates! Whoooo!!" The riders of Soreham looked vexed and sullen on their side, and their music became sad and defeated.

Érry shook his head to clear the effects of the sacking. Though the world was still spinning like a lazy corkscrew he saw Gateskeeper standing over him in token of conciliation, extending his hand to help him up. Upon rather unsteadily regaining his feet, Érry looked at Gateskeeper, smiled, and slapped him on the rump, saying, "nice hit, dawg. C'mon over to Improvas, lemme buy yo' an' yo' posse a drink." "I be down wi' dat," Gateskeeper grinned in return, then rejoined the It-ship on the sidelines, who welcomed him with much backslapping and dumping of cold water upon his head.
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