Prologue - 009

Prologue - 009

Parson and Sizemore talked and drank into the afternoon. Maggie's participation, and in fact her consciousness, seemed to waver in and out. At times she sat up and made perfectly lucid contributions to the conversation. But then she would ask for the wineskin, and that began about a fifteen minute countdown to another giggle fit and brief catnap.

At one point, she sat bolt upright with a confused look on her face. Then she relaxed, breathed out heavily and said, "Turns' end."

A horn from the other tower sounded with a flatulent braaap. Some of the Archons fired off titanium-white flares of light, and many of the dwagons roared. A nearby blue breathed a lightning bolt that arced over their heads with a boom.

Parson nodded. He was having a damned fine time. He'd learned a lot already, about many of the questions which had nagged at him. Movement, magic, the little details of daily life. He felt like he had millions more questions, but also plenty to digest.

Maggie was still sitting up, with a glazed and wandering gaze. "You arright, Maggie?" said Parson. "You with us?"

"Yes," she said, too suddenly. "Where is my helmet?"

Parson and Sizemore looked at one another. "On your head," Parson said.

Maggie nodded with great seriousness. "That is well. That is precisely where I left it, and precisely where I expect it, and precisely where it ought to be. It serves well." She lay back down on the blanket, her helmet resting on the stone. "It is no pillow," she said, conversationally, as if now addressing the sky. "But it can so serve, when called upon. It is good. It is useful. ...Lord Parson."

Parson had been watching her with a bemused grin. "Yes, Maggie?"

"You claim... You claim you are from a place...where the sky is stationary, but the whooole of the world spins beneath it."

"Yes."

"I think..." she looked, gazing wide-eyed up at the sunlit heavens, "I can see it now. I can see very clearly what it must be like to be on a world that spins. Excuse me."

In a swift, single motion she rolled over, whipped off the helmet and buried her face in it.

A few difficult moments later, she lifted up her head. She turned around and sat up almost gracefully, placing the upturned helmet on the stone floor behind her, out of the view of her companions. Parson and Sizemore looked at her with concern, but she wiped her mouth on a napkin, and smiled politely.

"Poor helmet," she said. "Not..." She hiccupped once, softly. "Not at all how it would choose to serve."

 

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Guest art by Nathan.

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Another totally useless update :(
WarFAN wrote:
Another totally useless post:(


FIFY

Quite enjoyed the update, Parson is learning more every turn. I also enjoyed the fanfare and the art.

Was I the only one expecting a Spacebals reference with all the attention paid to the helmet? :D
Maybe Maggie sees the helmet as an allegory for herself. It's very interesting how she maintains this cold formal ruthless exterior, protecting the real person underneath. Apparently it takes a lot to win her trust.
Welf von Ehrwald wrote:
I just realized, that Erfworld is the perfect place to party. You can drink yourself into coma, and the very next morning you will woke up with full hit points and clean cloths.


The trick is to not stop drinking until the next turn starts. That way you avoid all problems; one would be foregoing sleep, of course.
Wonder if sleep is even needed, if one wakes up clean and 'refreshed'.
OneHugeTuck wrote:
Wonder if sleep is even needed, if one wakes up clean and 'refreshed'.


Maggie indicated that, at least for a caster, sleep will help her performance.
and wanda more or less tortured jillian until the next turn started. didn't seem to hinder her abilities the following turn. she even offered her rations to the "visiting" barbarian. it's just as likely another unnecesary hobby erfworlders take up. probably lowers the upkeep
moose o death wrote:
and wanda more or less tortured jillian until the next turn started. didn't seem to hinder her abilities the following turn. she even offered her rations to the "visiting" barbarian. it's just as likely another unnecesary hobby erfworlders take up. probably lowers the upkeep

One would assume that even hobbies on Erf revolve around warfare. That's what makes Sizemore all the more remarkable.

EDIT: I'm still halfway impressed that the comic spelled "ridonkulous" the same way twice.
A thought occured to me after re-reading this update:

As far as we know, GK is not in battlespace with anyone right now. They only have one city to monitor/maintain the production of units.

So, we must ask why did GK's turn take as long as it did? I mean, its great for the narative of the story, and gave Parson and company time for discussion and getting plastered.

Can the length of turn, by a side in contact with no others, give us any indications of the mechanics of turn itself? (probably not, but bear with me here)

The turn ends in the afternoon, not dusk. So, either a turn for an isolated side doesn't simply last from dawn to dusk by default, or maybe it does and Stanley ended the turn arbitrarily in order to get to "tomorrow" sooner.

And, if Stanley was the one to end turn, I find myself intensely curious about what he's been doing or talking to/about all day while Parson "kicks it with the homies" on the battlement.

Just some random musings from a very tired brain...
Good question. I can think of a few things Stanley could be doing, including getting acquainted with his new city, his new army, and his new chief warlord.