Fantasy Forum Fun, or that game from the three spells thread.

General GTG Off Topic
41

[It's night time right now, isn't it? According to phantaskippy's first post.]

Booker moved his fingers rapidly, beckoning the bird to land on his fingers.

"Hey. Hey. Hey! Listen! Hey! Come on! Kwee!"

Extinguishing the flame over his fingertip, he caught Kwee on his first two fingers.

"Come on, settle down Kwee. Stop making so much noise. You realize what people would think if they saw me talking to a bird? Don't want anyone thinking I'm crazy, do we?"

Bringing Kwee along with him, the prince began walking toward the stables. 

"We need to go get Malcolm. It's time we took a trip." Booker said as he swung the stable doors open.

 

42

Ugh, not the stallion. Sometimes Jessico took great pleasure in following people, shooting from hiding place to bolt hole under cover of darkness, shadowing his target like - well, like a shadow. And that had been so much easier when said target was Rowan. Jessico had a fondness for Rowan, mostly because she was easy to follow; her and the prince would meander together, giving Jessico ample time to keep up. On Malcolm, on the other hand? Jessico had to run at full pelt, just to keep up.

Wearily, resignedly, he followed. He could never resist the call of the hunt, even if he knew it was fruitless. Even if his target wasn't prey. Still, compelled, he followed.

43

(OOC - Oops, I saw the bit about the sky being "a beautiful array of colours" on my re-read to double-check as to whether it was day or night, and made the wrong assumption, then didn't re-read the rest of the post to the bit where it said it was night time. Oh well, just pretend I went on about the moon and stars being bright and pretty instead of the sun, then ;))

 

"Ooh, a trip? Where are we going?" chatters Kwee excitedly as Booker enters the stables. "Is it somewhere fun? Does it have pretty colours? Hee-hee-hee, I like pretty colours! I suppose I should be going to sleep seeing how it's night time, but you're always just so interesting!"

44

All throughout the woods the animals were startled.  The night was full of snorts and splashes, and all kinds of animals making panicked noises.  The entire world seemed to be in chaos.

A Dragon was taking a bath.

45

The sound of high-pitched twittering from the direction of the stables drifted through the still night air to Rowan, who was resting one hoof and dozing in the shelter of the beech hedge in the paddock, snug in her crocheted blanket.

Awake now, she caught a few words from a familiar voice. "...crazy...talking to a bird...trip...Malcolm..."

Malcolm. Prettyboy Malcolm! Rowan choked back a sob. An adventure, without her?

More twittering. More muffled speech. The slight squeak of one of the stable door hinges, that the youngest stableboy kept forgetting to oil. The clatter of Malcolm's immaculate black hooves on the cobblestones. More twittering. Rowan couldn't help sneaking a peek through the bars of the paddock gate, and was rewarded with the impressive sight of the prince astride the big black horse who, as usual, was pretending to be spirited and sensitive instead of walking sensibly. The bird fluttered excitedly around the pair, tweeting pretty much non-stop.

Of course Rowan knew Kwee - the prince called the bird to join them almost every time they went for a ride - and found her amusing, but tonight she was in no mood for all that chirpy lightheartedness. You wait, Kwee, she said to herself. One day he'll find himself a handsome black shiny raven or something and won't have time for you any more. Then you'll be bored and lonely and then you might shut the hell up!

But it wasn't in her nature to be spiteful, and the pony's irritation faded almost as soon as it had begun. It wasn't Kwee's fault, after all. Stupid Malcolm was the one to blame! I don't trust him. Dancing around like that and not watching where he's going, he'll put a foot in a rabbithole before he's trotted a mile through the woods, and then what will happen to the prince? It's just not safe for him to be travelling without the supervision of a sensible pony - there are some dangerous creatures in Ronway Forest.

And that decided things; Rowan was going with him, whether he wanted her or not. A short run and a neat leap and the pony was over the gate landing as softly as she could into the moonlit courtyard. Better keep back, so he doesn't spot me until he's far enough away that he won't just turn around and bring me home, she though.

46

[Can the cat speak, or is he just a cat? Relatedly, does Kwee (and Jessico if he can speak) know that Rowan can, since the prince doesn't?]

47

(OOC - Since I've got the "talk to any fauna" ability, I'm playing it that Kwee is unaware she has any particularly special ability - she's just always been able to be understood by anything. So aynone who hears her speak will hear it in their own language, while conversely she hears everyone in hers. So from her point of view, everyone is speaking exactly the same language as her. If Rowan and Kwee have ever met before, they'll know they can be understood by each other because Kwee will have happily started wittering away to Rowan, and understood anything Rowan said in her presence - the same goes for Jessico, though I suppose Kwee might be a bit less willing to get too close ;). Do all our characters already know each other or have some of us not met yet?)

48

You can play it how you want, but you are a pony and anyone who knows youcan speak is a huge liability to all ponies everywhere.

However if you speak pony and the bird understands other people still won't, and it won't reveal anything special about you at all.

Of course everyone believes Ponies can't talk, so they would likely think the bird was silly if it starts relaying messages from the pony, or they might trust the bird, who knows?

Just don't go confirming it to people, or you'd ruin the entire setup that ponies have.  You aren't those big dumb horses after all, you are Ponies.

49
(Sorry for the delay. Busy weekend)
 
Whiskers hated baths. The slightest hint of moisture could compromise the fire heart deep in his belly. It takes Red Dragons hundreds of years to build up a respectable fire core temperature and the relativly young Whiskers is too far ahead of the game for it to all be for nothing. But desperate times were calling for desperate measures...
 
"Scales are not supposed to itch like this!" Whiskey snorted as he slowly lowered himself into the bath tub. As luck would have it, Whiskey had just looted some magical calamine lotion from a Wizard who was unlucky enough to have his eyes on one of Whisky's many magical staves. He was suffering from a case of cursed chicken pox at the time and whats the point of having all this treasure without a practical application for it every once in a while?
 
The tail was the first thing to be dipped in. Almost as soon as his tail was submerged in the enchanted remedy, the itching came back and with great intensity.
 
"no No No NO NO NO! RRRRAAAAAARRRRRRGGH!!!" His tail flailed wildley, knocking over the tub and sending thick pink colored water everywhere. Looking around the room and mumbling some dragonish obsenities under his breath, Whiskey decided he might need some help. The itching he was experiencing was no doubt magical and if it got any worse he feared he might end up burning his home down to the ground in frustration. Plus the one thing he did not own was a mop.
 
"First things first." Whiskey, after setting up the tape recorder to play sounds of dieing and screaming adventurers by the door (got the idea from watching Ferris Beuller), took to the sky. His first stop was to a nearby horse stable. There was certainly a mop to be found there, as well as some delicious horses...

 

50

[So Jessico can't speak then, except to Kwee?]

Jessico Von Whiskers watched Rowan leap from his enclosure and trot after Malcolm and the prince. Well, that was unexpected.

51

Booker gave Kwee a light toss onto his shoulder, mounting his magnificent black steed, Malcolm. The stallion wasn't his favorite horse--the two of them didn't have as much syncronization as the prince had with other horses in years past--but Malcolm was a princely horse, and that was what was important. Image. Booker knew he had to look good no matter what; a prince was supposed to be handsome at all times, he thought to himself as he scratched his head and straighted his bow tie.

Kicking Malcolm to action, he trotted out of the stables, making his way towards a small dirt path that led to a nearby small village--Jagarciaosburg. He wasn't supposed to visit that village this late, but this was important. The air was wrong, Booker thought as he scratched his arm. Something needed to be done.

"Something's not right, Kwee. Something's wrong with... the air. Some of my servants were acting strangely before I left, and I don't feel right either. We need to go see the old man. He'll know what to do."

Scratching his bare chin, the prince turned down the dirt road leading through the Ronway forest. It wasn't a direct path to the village, but Booker was not about to use the uneasy Malcolm to cut through the forest at this time of night.

"Kwee, have you noticed anything wrong? I know it can't be just me, it has got to be... Oh great."

Seeing a figure laying facedown off the side of the path, Booker scoffed. Surely just another drunken peasant who fell victim to bandits. The prince loosened his sword, in case the robbers were still near. Skilled with a sword, ordinary thugs would be no match for him. Scratching his leg, he continued down the path.

However, upon approaching the body, Booker's eyes widened. Across the man's back was a cape showing Booker's family crest: a shining silver leaf on a green background.

Leaping off his horse, He approached the man, recognizing that he was one of his father's knights. The bandits must have been incredibly strong! Drawing his sword, he approached the body, turning it over to see the man's face.

"By the Great Scholar's beard!"

The man had no face! That is to say, the skin on his face had been torn off! And there were large chunks of skin missing from his arms! And his legs! And his chest! And his hands were covered in blood! Creating a flame in his hand to better examine the body, Booker shivered, scratching his cheek.

"Kwee, what could have happened to him? Why is there no blood anywhere else? Could he have... done this to himself?"

52

All characters can speak human.  Whether they do or not is up to the player, except in the case of Silverleaf, whose Pony can speak human, but it would violate the pony code.

Jessico can speak Cat and Human.  It is up to you if he chooses to reveal that or keep it hidden.  Cats don't do rules, they just do what they choose.

Kwee speaks everything, but Ameena has her unaware of the ability, she just doesn't understand that there are different languages, and everyone hears her speaking their language.  Prince Booker thinks she speaks human, Jessico thinks she speaks cat, Pony thinks she speaks Pony, and the Dragon will hear her speak Dragon (The Dragon might figure out something is strange with that)  Kwee hears everyone speak, and speaks in return.

I'm now very interested in where this story is going.

53

(Are we actually hearing Kwee in our native launguage or do we hear chipping but are somehow able to decifer it somehow?)

54

(Despite how entertaining this is I might have to stop reading, I have an uncontrollable urge to scratch when I do!)

55

Whiskey landed at the stable and did not like what he saw.

Nothing. The stable was completley empty. Whiskey, who had worked up a rather sizable appetite on his flight there, was getting a little impatient. Nothing was going his way at the moment. Not only was the itching grating on his already usually grumpy demeanor, but the stolen artifact from 8703Y Division A4, sub-division TT5 of his treasure room had him on edge. And now, to top it all off, that large grey horse that Whiskey had been eyeing for weeks has vanished and there was not even a consolation prize for him to munch on.

He started pacing anxiously, quickly gaining speed until it culminated in a deafening roar that took the form of a large fireball that smashed into the stable, setting the wooden structure ablaze. 

Whiskey stook in silence for a few seconds looking at what he had done. *Snort* "Ok, I feel slightly better. Needed to get that one out of my chest."

But in Whiskey's rash action, he ended up burning the only mop into oblivion. "I do NOT want my treasure room to be pink. I HATE pink! How am I supposed to become a Legendary dragon and strike fear into the hearts of adventurers if my lair looks like a human suckling station?"

Without a clean Lair, Whiskey has no chance at finding clues to his lost treasure. He needs that mop. And food. Possibly a drink. Whiskey knows of a village not far from this location known for its potent Ale's. Whiskey loves Ale (in fact, ales and liquors were the secret to how he was able to attain such a hot Fire Core at such a young age). He takes some time to rub his back against the only nearby tree that's not a smoldering pile of ash. Just as he is about to lift off back into the sky, he notices something that gives him pause. Tracks. Horse tracks to be precise, and large ones at that. They were headed in the same direction as the village.

*Sniff* *Sniff* *Sniiifffffffff*

"Smells like....royalty..."

56

(You're just jealous there is a Ronway forest and not a Matchstick forest.)

57

[OOC: I reckon Rowan hears Kwee speak Human when she's talking to the Prince (since he can't understand Pony it's be weird if Rowan thought Kwee spoke Pony to him), but in a very twittery kind of way, like with a heavy Bird accent. And I think that Pony and Horse are dialects of the same language although it can be very difficult for a pony and a horse to understand each other, a bit like someone with a broad Glaswegian accent trying to explain to a South African where the railway station is.

Edit: There could be even more weirdness here - what happens if Kwee talks to both Whiskey and Jessico at the same time, for example?

Edit 2: Rowan's been very careful about pretending not to speak or understand Human. It would be a very bad idea to reveal that to anyone. She responds to the usual human-to-horse commands and such, as well as body language, tone of voice, etc. She just gives the impression of being a very smart pony.]

58

Jessico had no idea what the prince and Kwee were looking at - it was dark, and distant, and the prince's ungainly body was blocking his line of sight - but his keen ears couldn't fail to hear Booker's words, nor the tone of horror with which he spoke them. He had to get closer, to see this new development. Straight towards it was not an option, if he wanted to remain hidden. Up, on the other hand...

-----

The cat crouched on a tree branch was having great difficulty comprehending what he was looking at. This was a human who had, it seemed, attacked himself. He would have had to be a madman, a man possessed, but even then... It just seemed an insane, incomprehensible thing to there was a robin watching him. It was sitting on the tapering branch of another nearby tree, eyeing Jessico with almost a hint of smugness.

This would not stand.

Jessico pounced. He had often wished that he could watch himself attack, see himself leaping through the air. He could imagine it, just about, the lithe grace with which he moved, muscle and sinew encased in fur, but it just wasn't the same. He envied the world their view of him, but then, they didn't get to be him, and that was the greatest joy of all. The little bird saw him, took flight, but the claws of Jessico Von Whisker found him, plucked him out of the sky.

What he had not considered was the size of the brance on which the robin had perched; it was really very thin. Jessico hit it, it snapped, and the cat plunged downwards with considerably less grace (and one more dead bird) than he's possessed a moment ago.

On the bright side, he observed, it at least looks like the horse is going to break my fall.

59

(This is how I see Kwee's linguistic abilities - anyone who hears her speak, regardless of whom she's speaking to, hears her speaking in their own language, with a sort of high-pitched, childlike voice. She herself hears everyone speak in her language. She doesn't think anything of this, because it's something she's always been able to do so has never thought of it as unusual.)

 

As the night-coloured horse moves off with Booker on his back, Kwee takes off and flies alongside, preferring to avoid the bumps and jolts she'd get were she to stay on Booker's shoulder. She flits along roughly level with Booker's head, occasionally performing some mild aerial acrobatics as she encounters the occasional small gust of wind. She isn't really sure what Booker is talking about when he says that something seems wrong, but when he stops the horse and goes to look at something lying on the ground, she alights on a nearby fence post and peers down at whatever's making Booker so agitated. Then she sees what it is.

"Blood? Blood!" she quavers, suddenly nervous. "What do you think did it? Was it something with big teeth? Maybe it's something that might try to eat us! Maybe it started eating this one and then we distracted it!"

She starts hopping anxiously from side to side.

"I think we'd better go. Shall we go? I think we should go."

She's peering all around when suddenly she hears the sond of a tree branch snapping, somewhere above her head. She looks upward, just in time to see…something…plummeting out of a nearby tree toward them.

"EEEEeeeee!" she squeals, launching herself into the air away from the falling shadow.

60

Continuing his investigation of the body, Booker scratched at his face. For some reason, he couldn't stop scratching himself, as if his whole body itched. This was odd. Dismissing it, he checked the man's bloodied hands. Inspecting his fingers, he found something under the man's nails. It looked like...

"EEEEeeeee!"

"Kwee, what are you--"

Booker's thought was cut mid-sentence as a cat fell straight onto Malcolm's head, at which point, Malcolm decided to lose his calm and begin bucking wildly. Booker took steps away from Malcolm, yelling at his horse to calm down. Of course, Malcolm did not obey. Instead, he took off into the Ronway Forest, throwing the cat to the ground a few meters away from Booker.

"Well, great. There goes my transportation."