| Registered User
Join Date: Jun 2002 Location: Klamath Falls, Or
Posts: 1,852
| Slip - Speech Text Color Background
“Iteration seven hundred and forty-three,” thought the silvery being within his home. “The count is seventy-three thousand, six hundred and fourteen.”
Although calling the six and a half foot tall crate and its three feet wide by three feet deep dimensions a home would be a grandiose exaggeration. Its interior is full of thick, dry straw that muffles the sounds without, what little there are, and would most likely suffocate a being of flesh with claustrophobia, not to mention driven them insane with isolation.
“Awaiting instruction on standby,” thought the warforged, for that is what it is, within the crate. “Keeping the count until proper unit activation phrase, if phrase is not received evade capture and adapt until found.”
It was the same every day for over two years, only the iteration and count changed, only those numbers kept the warforged’s mind sharp and sane. The ghulra upon its forehead were four lines of unequal length, which started at an even point at the top, but hung unevenly at the bottom with the one upon the left side the shortest with the lines growing longer as they traveled right. The fleshy beings who worked with him before, as he was a male-imprinted construct, dubbed him ‘Slip’, as if the ghulra was a curtain behind which the stealthy warforged would slip and hide.
However, no one had called him that, save for in his memories, in a long,long time.
“Iteration seven hundred and forty-three,” continued the thoughts within Slip’s mind. “The count is seventy-three thousand, six hundred and fifte….”
A noise stopped the fixation of thought on the count; however it continued none the less within Slip’s mind. It was a sharp noise, even through the heavy straw and thickness of the crate, upon which was a date that shows it shipped the day before the Day of Mourning.
“What .. … ..an there’s a cr..e?” Slip hears a voice say, although he cannot make out the words. It is heavy, guttural, with a goblinoid sound to the common. But, then the high thrill of a Halfling joins it. “It’s a b.. ..e, too. Probably . … crown. .nd septer. In th…”
“Something is not right,” thinks Slip to himself. “They don’t sound like those who’d be Eyes and Ears for Cyre.” Quietly, oh so quietly, the warforged slides his rapier from its blackened sheath. Inch by inch, with his movements modest, even holding the blade with his finger tips.
“What wa. ..at?”
“The crate is still closed,” thinks Slip. “So I must wait, what at the ready.”
“Prob…. .ust Rats,” states the more guttural voice.
Slowly the count increases until it reaches seventy-four thousand, two hundred and forty-nine until the front of the crate is opened and a half-orc and Halfling stare in surprise at the armed and resolute warforged inside.
"Seems the games got new content, Bob," says the half-orc to the halfling, while unhooking a heavy mace from his belt.
"Shiney tin, at that, Bob," says the halfling rogue as he uncurls a whip from about his waist. "Shall I cly the jerk?"
Fortunately for Slip, Thieve's Cant is the same in this iteration, as it was thousands of iterations before.
“I see no symbols of nationality,” states Slip. “And I doubt you know the pass phrase, I’m sorry.”
With that simple statement, with perhaps a shadow of regret within his wood and metal frame, Slip slays the first living beings in seven hundred and forty-three iterations and a count of seventy-nine thousand, six hundred and sixty-seven. However, that cannot be his focus, for something has obviously changed during the time he was within his crate, so Slip quickly gathers his gear, as well as inspect that of those who came for him, seeing if there was any intelligence or items of note, before slipping into the rainy dark night in the City of Towers, Sharn.
One of the first adaptations that Slip made was to no longer keep iteration and count, as it only reminded him of what was from before, as he learned of the Day of Mourning, the day that followed his shipping out to Sharn, and he felt it was an unlucky count.
Last edited by Friadoc; 14th November 2008 at 07:03 AM..
Reason: Formatting fixes
|