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 Posted: Sat Jul 21, 2012 8:22 pm
 --------------------------------------------- WHO: Basil / Banter WHERE: Hedge maze ---------------------------------------------
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Twintastic generated a random number between
1 and 30 ...
30!
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Posted: Sat Jul 21, 2012 11:28 pm
When he had reached the podium near the entrance of the maze, The Other had needed to wait his turn before embarking, allowing five other pairs to go before him.
He had taken no issue with this system, watching patiently as a score of half-bodies became consumed by greenery, two at a time, save for one person he didn't claim to recognize. A fullbody. He drummed his fingers on the top of his forearm. If he were to catch something suspicious, something even more extraordinary than the appearance of the mist, he thought, well, better them than him. His temple throbbed.
The thought both disturbed and excited him, to think of what lay ahead. Was it challenging? Was it dangerous? Did it matter? He could take it. He could take anything. But the others... Would he see them exit from the other side? Cheerful? Congratulatory? ...Would they be intact? ...In pieces? On stretchers?
He thinned his lips into a white line, underscoring an otherwise empty expression. When the name of his alter had been called, his reaction had been delayed by almost a full minute. He didn't beat himself up over it, he'd recovered gracefully enough. After all, how easy was it really, to make a habit of responding to a name that was not yours? But then, he had to say, it wasn't any easier living without a name at all...
Forcing through whatever last-minute doubts he might have had, he had entered with a steely determination, promising himself in a low, almost predatory voice, that nobody was going to get the better of him. He took his first turn into the maze, the challenge was on.
As he went, he ran his hand along the wall of foliage.
He had wondered almost instantly if it were possible to reach his arm through to the other side. He tested the leaves with pressing fingers, and found them to be quite stubborn. There was a little give, but he wasn't going to press his luck.
At this time, he noticed something peculiar. Although the path ahead was arrow-straight, at least so far, he realized that he could see no sign of the people who had entered before him. Not a trace, as if the maze had quite literally engulfed them. He could not hear their voices...
Come to think of it, he couldn't hear much of anything, here.
He listened very carefully, unsettled. His hearing had never failed him before. He wondered, if he yelled, would anybody hear him?
He was concerned, but remained adamant. He would continue forward until something happened.
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Jul 22, 2012 5:06 am
As you turn the corner, you saw a ghostly pair of legs walking in front of you. The legs were white and semi transparent, and terminated just below the knee. Turning to the right in the juction ahead, the legs disappeared around the corner. Do you follow the ghostly footsteps? Or you run in the other direction?
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Twintastic generated a random number between
1 and 30 ...
2!
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Posted: Sun Jul 22, 2012 9:36 pm
RANDOM ENCOUNTER
As he picked along the path, it seemed as if this maze would go on endlessly... Straight. Unchanging. The hedges crowding him at either side.
At first, it had made him feel oddly nostalgic. When Basil had first begun to dream of him, had first heard the sound of his voice, The Walk (as he called it) had been very much like this. A road, enclosed by dense woodland. Never curving or waving. No hills or dips. No porch-lights in the distance. No sign of human life. Like a void only fit for the two of them to occupy. The same every night.
Basil had hated those dreams. Had hated them enough that he would curb days of sleep to avoid the inevitable, and now, The Other was starting to see how it could make a person feel... frustrated.
Every now and then he had stopped to check behind him. The entrance of the maze felt very distant, now. The horizon was shrouded with mist. Made it difficult to tell how far he'd really gone.
He sighed.
The discomfort he had felt before had started to turn into boredom. At the very least, he supposed it would be easy enough to remember the way back. He shook his head. He was confidant it wouldn't come to that...
He considered that maybe it only felt as if he were going nowhere. Maybe it was because he had no-one to talk to. Maybe it was the monotony of it. Or the silence...
Suddenly, he stopped and squinted. Was that a break in the hedges? Yes! Yes it was! A corner! Something different! At this point, even a dead end would have been refreshing. Perhaps it was the boredom that had made him throw caution to the wind, an unfortunate wear in his defenses as he turned the corner. Had he heels, he would have skidded.
He did not flinch or cry out, but became very suddenly still. His face was pale and bloodless. His eyebrows lifted to a height that bordered on the cartoonish. The breath he had been holding wheezed out of him, like a slowly dying party balloon. He wasn't sure what he had expected to be there, but was no less astonished. Astonished was a fine word for... whatever this was.
They hung in mid-air, and yet they behaved like... legs? A pair of thighs? They didn't appear to acknowledge him. Strolling quite casually in fact, and all the while, he remained utterly petrified. He could see right through them... Spectral. Was he... imagining them? This was so... so wrong! Unnatural! To his relief, they were not walking towards him. He wasn't sure what he would have done if they had. He had no defense against... this!
They rounded another corner up ahead. He hadn't blinked once, his back pressed tightly against a wall of leaves. After they had gone, he was washed in a numb stupor, calming at first, but then like a stinging acid-bath of disbelief and shame. He tried to settle his beating heart. The whole thing had been alarming at first, to say the least, but now... now it just seemed so absurd. Even hilarious. Everything about it... He choked on a rueful laugh.
He wanted to be angry with himself for behaving the way he did. What sort of danger did he think he was in for just now? What would those legs really have done to hurt him? What could they have done? They hadn't seemed hostile... In a way, they were actually kind of cute. Another laugh.
Should he see what they were up to? Oh...
Well that was a different situation entirely, wasn't it. He had already been surprised once. Who knew what would happen, what he would come across. The owner of the legs? A different, more threatening body part? He considered waking Basil. Sending him in his place to check for danger. Let him get snapped up by whatever was lying in wait. Wait...
He thumped his forehead. We share the same body, stupid! He couldn't believe it. Had he really forgotten something as important as that? He felt like he was losing it. He shut his eyes. Basil wasn't fit for the job, anyway, he decided. He would have to investigate on his own. There was no way around it.
Bracing himself, he approached the next corner more cautiously. He didn't dare to peek around it just yet. He listened first. Nothing. He had an idea. Crouching, he lifted a wing. He tried to angle it, train his neck. Find a glass shard. Maybe he could use it to see around corners! He pinched one between his fingers. It was murder on his shoulders. A dull ache.
Sadly, though it had been a brilliant thought, it wouldn't do him any good. The glass was too dark, and the mist made it difficult for light to reflect. He couldn't see a thing. He would just have to brave it. He could fight. He was ready. He stood up again, brushing himself off. He would follow the legs, and take the corner.
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 12:13 am
The path before you is covered in scorpions! Nearly every inch of the floor is crawling with the black arachnids, and there are even a considerable amount climbing up the hedge walls, some even nearly reaching the top. The sheer amount and collective movement creating an eerie clicking sound as they moved. How are you going to cross it?
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Twintastic generated a random number between
1 and 30 ...
24!
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Posted: Tue Jul 24, 2012 2:07 pm
RANDOM ENCOUNTER
Little about the maze had not been strange and surprising thus far, as if in an effort to prove that any risk The Other took, he assumed with full knowledge of what he was doing. The bar had been set. By this point, he was choosing to be hurt, confused, or startled without necessity.
The fact was, by fighting the urge to flee from all of this, he was rejecting his better nature.
Of the two of them, Basil generally behaved more as expected of the species. Lashing out at nightmares with his fists. Biting because his words were insufficient. A King in the wild, was by no means, a bloodthirsty brute using its various advantages to court danger, and encourage conflict. It didn't issue acidic comments and make snide observations at parties.
If a King had recently eaten, it would not seek danger for the thrill of it. Not this way... It would glide away from an easy victory of its own volition. There was no sense bringing exorbitant harm to itself, withholding these tools for when it would need to eat again.
Animals did not reward other animals for wanton acts of bravery. Only humans attached the stigma of cowardice for resisting challenge, and it was this that The Other feared above physical hurt.
He expected the worst. An ambush? An assailant somehow able to suspend both breath and heartbeat to get the upper hand? He could detect these things outside of the maze. In it, he could not. What did he have? His wings were his most accessible weapons. He was very strong by human standards. He had a grip like a vice, and a bite to match. Most importantly, he was smart enough to improvise.
Turning the next corner, it was as if a veil had been lifted. The Other relied very heavily on his hearing, he lived by it, and now it was like entering another dimension. An overwhelming fog of chitinous clicking from the legs of more scorpions than The Other had ever known to exist in one place. He leapt back, amazed. His rune burned inside of him as if he had swallowed scalding water. In their natural state, they crawled over one another, struggling for space. Many scaled the walls as if attempting escape. Would the mist repel them, or would any be successful at reaching the other side? Maybe finding an unsuspecting victim there? He was amused by the thought that his challenge was so great, it would spill over, unconstrained, into someone else's piece of the maze! A smile.
Animals ordinarily responded to him with hate and aversion, even the lesser creatures. Strangely, these scorpions could not be bothered to notice him. They scuttled, climbed, and communed with one another. Even so, he was by no means unaware of the danger. The phantom thighs from before were nowhere to be found. Taunting him perhaps. He was no longer smiling.
He could see an opening across the way. He would need to span the sea of insects to reach it (he had yet to learn the finer biological discrepancies between arthropods. To his annoyance and embarrassment, he would refer to crabs as "bugs" many times in his life before being corrected, and at great cost to the corrector).
The challenge seemed to be Raevan friendly. Although the hedges were spaced narrowly from each other, the simplest solution would be to just... float over the problem. But was the simplest solution really the best? Or was it the most suspicious? Did he really have a choice?
He flattened his wings tightly to his back. As a habit, he ordinarily kept his arms close to his sides, but for good measure, he folded them. He had very little sensation in his ribbon, and thus had no way to tell how far it was from the ground at any given time. This was risky. Maybe if he did it quickly...
He took a deep breath, steeled his nerves, and went for it. The sound was even more distressing when you were above it, although in a way, it was almost like fast-food. Flavorless and frightening. It was a shiny-black blur. He would not stop until he had reached the other side. Once there, his heart was racing. He patted himself all over, expecting stings. Amazingly, astonishingly, he was fine... Shuddering, he did not look back. This maze would not win.
Now, more than ever, he was cognizant of the throbbing in his head. Behind his eyes...
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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Posted: Tue Jul 24, 2012 6:13 pm
The end of this path leads to a brick wall with the words ‘Dead End’ written in big, bright red letters. It doesn’t look to be paint. You might want to turn back now before something else horrible happens.
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Twintastic generated a random number between
1 and 30 ...
29!
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Posted: Wed Jul 25, 2012 4:44 pm
DEAD END
After his encounter with the scorpions, The Other was rattled, but not so much that he should feel a panic oncoming. More than anything, he was concerned that something inside of him should be... malfunctioning.
He should have been alerted to the scorpions. He should have known from the moment he entered the maze that somewhere within, he would encounter the clicking of a thousand insects. A few times, he beat his fist to his chest, as if to get a clearer picture on the television. His rune flickered. He frowned deeply. Where was everyone?
He worked his left ear with his little finger, as if to remove a blockage. He stopped for a moment, listening for the winds and birds. There was nothing. Only himself...
He looked behind him. Now he was getting nervous. Did this place have to be so confining. The passages were getting narrower. He knew they were. The walls would squeeze him. Smash the two halves of their brain into one. He and Basil would be indistinguishable, then. Whole and mutated. He couldn't breathe...
Cradling his head, he had been floating at an angle. Looking over his shoulder, with only periodic glances ahead. What would Basil do? He suddenly wanted to know. Desperately, even. He took a sharp breath as he bumped into the wall ahead of him. It was scratchy, like brick. He took a sudden step back, as if burned. The word "dead" bore down upon him. The wall would crumble, it would crush him, this was it!
His mouth felt dry. He didn't want to know what it said. He didn't... He couldn't! He turned, and fled.
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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Twintastic generated a random number between
1 and 30 ...
21!
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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Posted: Thu Jul 26, 2012 2:42 am
T-JUNCTION
He would put several yards between the dead-end and himself before being stricken with the realization that there was nothing for him in the other direction, save the path of scorpions. Some turns and twists. The entrance for last.
He became very still, his forehead dewy with cold sweat. He couldn't believe it... Did that mean the thing had been rigged from the start? He had entered the maze with no chance of progressing beyond that damned brick wall?! He looked frantically around himself. That was impossible! Where else was he meant to go? This could only be the work of a diseased mind. A diseased mind, or a rotten sense of humor.
He was still present enough to deliberate. Was he meant to scale the wall? Leap to the other side like some common delinquent breaking into an auto-yard? The rules hadn't made any mention of this particular situation... Could he? It seemed like a violation. Perhaps he could be persuaded to play within their rules. Only once. No matter how unfair... He told himself that this was called integrity.
Integrity, and the crippling knowledge that no prize be tempting enough to lay hands on the "dead" wall... Not again.
He wanted to scream. He did. His jaw fell, his neck muscles corded with the effort to produce a frustrated bellow of impressive volume. If he had knees, he would have fallen to them. Always, unapologetically, he was a bit on the dramatic side.
Once finished, he swung out at a hedge-wall, snorting through his nose. He grit his teeth, and pressed on.
He rounded the corner, anticipating the scorpions. If he could cross them once, he could do it again. However, he was startled to see that the scorpions were gone. This path was unfamiliar... His insides clenched. His mind went blank. Clean. Then, spoiled by a single guess. The maze hadn't... changed. Had it? He touched two fingers to his mouth. Improbable, but not impossible. Maybe... Maybe he did have a chance. Maybe he could conquer this yet.
He looked.
There were two paths now. This put him a bit more at ease. The Other found a certain comfort in symmetry. Two was his lucky number. His favorite, in image, was 11. And, in his estimate, the best things in life, always came in pairs. It represented equity, and choice.
Choice...
This choice, which was crucial to his success here. He did not feel comfortable taking chances. And yet... That was the way Basil would have it done. Take a chance. Go blindly. He glanced at the ground, contemplative, then decided, perhaps, he would do things Basil's way. There was a first time for everything. First. Once. Singular. The number one, the number zero. The number of the individual, and the absence of. Basil, liked to do things in ones. His mind did not have enough space in it to accommodate things like choices and outcomes. He was very linear. Cause-and-effect. "Huh," he said softly.
Then, with no rationale, no data, and no input, he took a breath, and hung a left.
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Posted: Thu Jul 26, 2012 12:48 pm
Leaves rustle in the wind as an oddly out of place tumbleweed drifts past. Looks like you took a wrong turn somewhere.
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Twintastic generated a random number between
1 and 30 ...
8!
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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Posted: Thu Jul 26, 2012 9:03 pm
DEAD END
The moment he turned the corner, he knew something was amiss. He didn't need to float far to see that he had hit yet another dead end, although mercifully, this one was less... disturbing than the last.
A light breeze tousled his hair. He pushed it back with the flat of his hand. The mist swirled, but did not part, or allow more than a sliver of sunlight. The breeze was persistent. With it, a bristly tumbleweed roamed past. His eyes followed it, until it snagged on a patch of soft grass. To this, he crunched his mouth. It wasn't quite as shocking as the other discoveries, but it was a little... out of place, to say the least.
He had only ever seen tumbleweeds in movies. They were typical of places that were uncomfortably barren. Desolate. Lonely. Sometimes, they were visual cues, to imply that a situation had turned as dry and humorless as the weed itself. Damn this place...
He bent to lift it. He had expected it to be heavier, and nearly tossed it into the air. A quick breath. He palmed the bristly item in his hands, rolling it like a ball of dough. He looked from side to side. He would just have to turn back, and take the other path. He paused there for several minutes.
Then, a sudden and visceral need to destroy. He began to grip the weed between his hands, almost without thinking. It was brittle. It would make a very satisfying sound. It gave in quickly, collapsing. Thorny bits pressing into the skin. Crunching. Then... piercing, but abrupt, like the sound of a mosquito flying into his ear, a scream. A sob of pain. He shook his head. Did that come from inside him? Did he make that sound without realizing? Or... was it the present recipient of his frustration?
He dropped the crumbled mass like hot stones, and carefully backed away.
The other path... He needed to leave.
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Twintastic generated a random number between
1 and 30 ...
15!
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Posted: Fri Jul 27, 2012 4:38 am
DEAD END
He continued to woefully overestimate the continuity of the maze, with every expectation of returning to the junction. Around the corner. Take a left. Progress onward. Stick it out.
Emerging, he cried out with the discovery that once again, he should find himself staring down the barrel of a dead end. He threw up his hands in disbelief. "This is...!" There were no words for it. Not immediately. And The Other had never been the sort of person to suffer any shortage of words.
Between spectral extremities and screaming tumbleweeds, he was becoming overly enamored with the thought that someone had to be at the root of all this. That someone, anyone, should be deliberately pushing him to failure. His was a world that was starkly lacking in coincidences. His mind, rich and viable for the planting of suspicions.
It seemed as though the hedges were conspiring to make themselves smaller and shorter around him. Amputating its passages. Cutting away until he would have nothing but a corner to occupy. He could never survive that... Non one could. Sick with the thought that the scorpions had gone, and so was the entire world.
This was hell.
He pushed his hands to the hedges, groping for signs of an entrance or archway. This maze had changed once before. Why shouldn't it change again? Here, now? Let him through!
He dropped his head, his shirt clinging fast to his back, "This is..."
A quick breath. Then a slow one.
Stop stop stop. Maybe he was going about this the wrong way. Maybe it was just a matter of being patient. Eventually another portal would appear. They had a habit of disappearing and reappearing under his nose. Maybe he should go back, in order to go forward? Perhaps. It couldn't hurt. Not yet... A pause.
Hastily, he began to undo the buttons in his cuffs so that he might roll up his sleeves. Fine.
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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Posted: Fri Jul 27, 2012 3:45 pm
Congrats! You managed to find your way into the heart of the maze. Though your momentary celebration will have to wait as a hairy, large horned brute of a beast is pacing about making noises as if he’s in pain. One might notice the bottle of booze he’s got tucked in one hand, though you may be more concerned with the giant ax he’s dragging about in the other.
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Posted: Sun Jul 29, 2012 4:57 am
CHALLENGE
To The Other's great surprise and relief, this new area was very spacious! He shut his eyes, his shoulders going limp and arms hanging at his sides. Aaah... He could breathe again! He began to inhale deeply, but instantly regretted it. He flinched at the presence of a horrible odor he couldn't begin to identify. Like the stench in a dirty pet-store. Excrement. Mud. The bitter smell of liquor.
Sniff.
Hard liquor.
He was not alone.
He looked down. The grass was worn and flattened, a bit brown in places. Trampled, maybe? There were trees and hedges here, unkempt, the ground strewn with shrubbery and broken stone fixtures. There was moisture in the air. No birds, no wildlife. His eyes widened. Across the way was an arch. Were there traps? Did he have a straight shot at it? He felt completely frozen. He soon understood why.
Suddenly, there was a grotesque bellow that shook him to the core. A grunting sound of great pain and labor. Stepping from behind a gathering of shrubs, was the strange and formidable culprit. He felt his hair raise on end. It was armed. It was sour. Sniff. It was blitzed. There would be no use sneaking past it. It had spotted him. It began to lumber towards him, head weaving under the weight of two horns, each as thick as his forearm and twice as long. With each step, it emitted a soft, plaintive grunt. This intrigued him, sensitive to the sounds of suffering. He scanned its massive body for signs of injury. It didn't appear to be bleeding. Maybe swallowing down all that hootch had given it the dry-heaves... Delightful.
Maybe it was trying to ask for help. It didn't seem to be approaching with a motive in mind, but he had no reason to assume it was friendly. Why would it be carrying a weapon if it didn't intend to use it? He locked his arms, planning his escape. He wasn't stupid. He didn't have a chance of taking this thing in a fight. He hissed. A warning, teeth descending.
The eyes were spaced far apart, large and unintelligent, and rimmed with what seemed to be a yellowish crust. Disgusting. They widened, as if startled. A ropy tail swished ominously behind stocky hindquarters. The monster was either very angry, or very uneasy. It clenched the ax tighter.
His voice gave him courage. "Drinking on the job?" He spat. At this distance, the stench was overpowering, and so, he hitched his shirt over his nose, without a hint of concern for offending the beast. He doubted something so barbaric looking would have much respect for displays of common courtesy. His voice was muffled now, but stern and authoritative, "I'm going to pass through here, and you're just going to stay right there. Do you understand? I'm not playing!"
The beast stood in place, but did not do anything to suggest it had agreed to his terms. The Other put up a hand, cautiously, his body shrinking lower to the ground. He did not break eye contact, slowly weaving a half-circle around the great beast. Once he had reached a point he deemed safe, he would make a run for it.
The Other did not go far before being halted by a horrifying roar, the monster brandishing its ax high above its shaggy head, then burying it heavily in the ground, not several inches from where The Other stood breathless and pale. He would not be passing so easily. Terrified and threatened, The Other hissed a second time, more aggressively, the shirt falling from his face. He lifted his wings, sporting the glint from a dozen black daggers. The monster rushed at him, their bodies colliding with a dull thwump!
The air was thick with the co-mingled sounds of male screaming and bovine roars. The percussive sound of the boy's fists beating muscle like leather. The beast's inebriation worked to its advantage, giving him a savage, unfeeling edge over the flailing cobra, who could feel every sting and ache. There were some blows exchanged, until finally, the minotaur had him pinned to a stone wall, a meaty forearm pressed to his collarbone. Was it going to strangle him? The Other clawed at what could barely be described as hands, his face turning shades. He stared into the eyes of his aggressor with hatred and fear, gasping. "Wait! Wait!" He pleaded.
The beast did not relent. He shut his eyes, as if ready to accept his fate, when suddenly, unexpectedly, the boy opened his mouth wide. A bizarrely vulnerable gesture for someone pinned to a wall. There was a gagging sound, as if he intended to vomit. Gulk. Gulk. Hllgghh—! Surely he didn't expect to get out of this encounter with a disgusting evacuation... No.
Rising at the back of his throat, there was a light. Beautiful, unnatural. A shining gem. Was it...? Yes! His naga mani. A cobra's most prized possession. Resting in his soft palate, it glowed a stunning reddish-orange, setting his mouth ablaze like fire. He arched the back of his tongue, wiggling it. Enticing. When he was sure the beast had gotten a good eyeful, he swallowed it down, gasping, "Did you see? If you let me go, its yours! I swear its worth a lot of money! You... You can sell it! Huh? Buy more booze? Lots of booze!"
Historically, the famous cobra pearl was very valuable, both as a jewel, and as a religious artifact. However, it was only good from the mouth of an older, more experienced cobra. The Other, in his youth, could only produce a sort of dummy gem. He had first discovered this phenomena after a horrible coughing fit, when the dirty thing had fallen into his drink. One could imagine how disappointed he was to learn that it was mostly saliva and phlegm, with a hard, but pliant exterior. Like a tonsil stone that glowed. In a few hours, the outer shell would dissolve away, leaving only a foul-smelling goo. In any event, it was utterly worthless. But... the beast had no way of knowing that, and by the time he learned, The Other would hopefully be long gone.
Would the minotaur accept his offer?
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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