ECK One Shot: Hex Sign & Rampart

[Hack Writer]

@Ripley: Yeah, it's a little self indulgent with the exposition, I know. I figured, seeing as we're not forcing anybody else to read it, we can let the prose run a little longer. Sorry if the set up bores you!

Tess excused herself and headed in the direction of the kitchen, leaving Sir Guy alone in the sitting room-come-magical sanctum.

The knight cast his gaze over the room with casual interest, finding something comforting in the sight of a large pot-bellied cauldron, in the shelves of obscure and musky tomes, in the jars of oily multicoloured ointments and oddly shaped magical incunabula. The air smelt of sulphur and spring flowers and…something else. Tess had called it Febreze; it was an odd odour, but not unpleasant.

Taking a moment to appreciate the relative familiarity, he strolled the room at leisure, stopping here and there to examine some mysterious jar of waxy liquid or thumb through the yellowed pages of an age-worn grimoire. Peering down at the shrivelled spines of the books lining the shelf, Sir Guy noted their content: ‘How to make friends and influence people – with Magick!’; ‘An Evocation for Every Occasion’; ‘Messing about with Mandrake.’ A decidedly curious collection of magical treatise, he decided; wholly in keeping with the young woman to whom they belonged.

The knight sighed and set himself down on a nearby chair; its curiosity piqued, the velvety black cat bounded up on spry little paws to deposit itself on his lap. He closed his eyes, rubbed a spot between the feline’s shoulder bones with his knuckle, and tried to make sense of the past twenty-four hours. His body felt oddly stiff. He figured it was just the travails of the day – the millennia – catching up with him.

Sir Guy of England was twenty-seven. Sun and rain and the rigours of a life on the open road had turned his flesh a ruddy bronze, like new, cooling metal. He was six feet tall, lean yet suitably broad, a perfect compromise between speed and strength. His hair was long, black and thick. His eyes, whose vision his unruly fringe did its best to hide, were bright blue and merry. It occurred to him that he might smell a little; barring the eight hundred years of magical imprisonment, he hadn’t washed in a fortnight.

Like so much in an ordinary person’s workaday life, bathing hadn’t seemed too important. Life until now had made only simple demands upon him: survive, persevere, face an enemy and defeat it. For such straightforward demands, Guy’s qualities had proven more than sufficient. He could plan a siege, he could stage an attack, he could defend a patch of muddy ground with all the cunning artifices of a wily fox; he was rash, strong and lion-brave, oft times reckless, and occasionally a little stupid. But outside of war, he was at a loss - hamstrung. He could write – laboriously. He could read – when he had to. He could apply his mind to simple mathematics – supply, logistics and calculations of a military sort. He could hunt. He could hawk. He was a fair dancer too by all accounts, though the deep, subtle nuances of courtly life were as unfathomable to him as the clouds are to a fish. Taken as a whole, Guy was a decidedly unfinished creation, like a sword sharpened on only one edge.

But how could it be any different? He had been sculpted by the Fates to be a fighting man, to live a life with horse and sword and violence. He had been content to accept his lot. Riding around the country righting wrongs, he thought he had been fulfilling his destiny. But he’d been wrong, and now he was here: 125 Chestnut Avenue, Emerald City – America; a country he didn’t know, a time he didn’t belong.

Guy stopped his ruminations and rose, feeling his strangely rigid joints creak; it didn’t seem right, the ache in his bones. The cat let out a disgruntled meow and padded back to the floor.

Walking toward the kitchen, he poked an enquiring head around the door, and said, “Is there anything I can do to help you? Please, Tess of Chestnut Avenue, you need not soil your hands plucking poultry on my account.”

[ripleycat]

For her part, Tess still wasn't quite sure what to make of her houseguest. Sir Guy seemed every inch the fairy-tale knight, the sort of man medieval bards wrote epic romances about, and that her professors had claimed over and over were practically nonexistent. Knights were strongmen and petty warlords, and though there were certainly many exceptions, often violent, callous, awful individuals. So where did her boisterous, chivalric and kind-hearted new teammate fit in?

The wrinkles from being part of a magical family and her newfound position as a superhero aside, Tess's life had been fairly simple. She had school, work at the flower shop, and whenever she wanted to unwind or go do something fun, her best friend lived 20 feet down the hall. Now Mai was the size of their whole apartment, and her guest was someone who lived before the printing press was invented.

How could you ever hope to explain 1000 years of history to someone? That was her major at the university, and they could still (and did, in fact) fill a library with things she didn't know. All the strange things, big and small, that modern people took for granted- electricity, cars, phones, TV, movies, the internet! How in the world could you hope to explain the internet to someone who had been fighting an evil wizard in a castle the day (relatively speaking) before?

Still, she'd be more than happy to try. Sir Guy seemed fascinated, not frightened, by the modern world. And that he'd been fighting an evil wizard the day before was pretty cool too. He must have some amazing stories to tell. Tess loved the past, as shown by her archaic choice in clothing. Despite life often being, as the history books said, "nasty, brutish, and short," there was something about it that was deeply compelling to her.

When Sir Guy peers around the corner, he sees the young witch crouched down, staring into a white metal cabinet, about the height of a man. Strangely enough, he can feel waves of cold air wafting out, and there's a light shining from inside, where he can see all manner of foodstuffs and odd containers stacked on shelves. She hops up and smiles. "Please, just Tess. Or if you simply must be formal, my last name is McIntyre. I have no title. Ah! I see you met Rincewind! Comere, you." She plucks the little black cat from the floor, ruffles his ears, and sets him on her shoulder. In response, he chirps and rubs the side of her head. "He's a cowardly little thing, warming up to someone so quick is rare. He must like you." She sniffs the air a bit and frowns. "We're going to have to get you in the shower. Being a statue for 800 years can't have been very sanitary." How much of it was the curse, and how much is it just... him? She knew bathing in the Middle Ages wasn't exactly common. This could be an issue.

"Of course you can help if you want, but it's really no trouble. Making a meal is a lot easier these days. I've only ever plucked a chicken once, and that was for a magic ritual." She blanches at the unpleasant memory. "I'm making... well, it's called pizza, and if there's one thing you have to experience about the 21st century, I'm pretty sure it's near the top of the list. My favorite food. Let's see, and for dessert- wait! You lived before the discovery of the New World... oh lord, you've never had chocolate! Well, we're going to have to fix that."

She begins enthusiastically pulling ingredients from the metal cabinet. "If you really want to help, there are some knives in that drawer to your left. Go ahead and chop up some of these veggies. Want something to drink? We've got water, juices, beer and wine, oh, and some sodas. It's, um, well, it's sweet, and a bit sticky, and fizzy, like beer or champagne, only not, and... and I must sound like a crazy person. Here, give it a try, if you want." Tess hands Guy a small, cold metal cylinder. The bright green markings label it 7up.

Tess starts spreading a spicy-smelling sauce on a round circle of dough. "So, what was your life like before the- the curse? It sounds terribly exciting. If you don't mind my asking, of course." Hex adds hastily. "I-I don't want to bring up painful memories, and all this must be more difficult for you than I can imagine."

Thanks for setting this up! And no, the setup doesn't bore me one bit, it's very well done. I'll try to keep pace. :smallsmile:
Is Sir Guy still walking around in his armor?

[Hack Writer]

Heya Ripley, sorry for the delay! Yeah, he’s still clanking about in his armour. And if even he’s managed to notice the smell, he’s probably heaving. He. Smells. BAD.

Feel free to move this on a bit to the meal, to the washing up, or whatever. Set something up that you think might be humorous or interesting to explore and I'll follow through with it tomorrow. It's entertaining so far!

“Painful?” Guy laughed merrily, genuinely, as he accepted the soda can from Tess with good grace. “No, not painful for me, Tess of Ches-, er, Tess McIntyre. For those I brained in the course of my duties, perhaps.” He regarded the container in his hand with the sort of appraising expression a lapidary of Cairo might make when studying uncut diamonds at a jeweller’s bazaar. “But they were all knaves and rogues and roustabouts anyway, like the villains we fought earlier today.” He made an awkward attempt to pry open the ring pull with his thumb. “Still, it was exciting – the ruck, the brawl, the living of life on the balls of one’s feet. Nothing makes you appreciate your existence more than a narrow escape from an impaling.” Finally finding some purchase, he yanked the ring pull back triumphantly.“ though I’ll confess to you, there were times when the humour escaped me. The romance of a story is rarely in the living of it, I find. ” He took a tentative sip of curiously effervescent liquid.

“Hells and thestlecocks!” Guy declared mere seconds later, smacking his lips. “This beverage, it hisses in my mouth like an adder prodded with a stick!” He took a second sip, far less cautious than the first, and smiled agreeably in a boyish sort of way as the fizzing water made a tinkle like ringing icicles against his teeth. After a moment basking in the sensation, he took a long, slurping gulp, before wiping his chin with the back of his hand and setting the empty soda can down on the sideboard.

“Delicious!” The knight exclaimed, without a hint of false gratitude. “Never, in all my travels through the world, have I ever known a taste quite like this, this… – 7up! Perchance, may I have another?”

Under Tess’s directions, Sir Guy occupied himself with preparing the vegetables for cooking. Every casual opening of a cupboard, every unthinking turning of a knob, a dial, a switch, elicited a surge of curiosity in the knight that made him want to find out more. Tess and the others had claimed that what he was witnessing wasn’t magic; that it was merely the focusing of natural forces through the lens of human ingenuity. This made it all the more remarkable to the knight, who always found sorcery a decidedly peril fraught and corrupting practice. If men had found a means of superseding the dubious art of tapping astral forces, what need was there for diabolical dalliances with things better left unspoken? This gave rise to another question…
“Why do you still practise the old ways of magic? I mean, look around you, what can you achieve with magic that can’t be done with science?

[ripleycat]

Tess laughed out loud at Guy's reaction. "I would never have put it that way, but I'm glad you like it. Of course you can have another." She tossed him another can and listened raptly to his explanation. "I can't imagine living by the skin of your teeth like that. Today was the first time I'd done anything more drastic than help but out a fire. Though I suppose I'm going to find out, now that we're on this team."

She gave the knight's question some thought as she piled ingredients on the pizza. "Well, I grew up in a magical family. It's always been part of my life, second nature, really, even before my skills showed themselves. As for what I can do that science can't? Um..." Unable to explain with words, Tess goes to the window and snaps her fingers. Thunder rumbles and the wind picks up violently for a few seconds.

"That! I can do that! People still can't control the weather. Well, there's a supervillain from Freedom City who can, but he doesn't count. Heck, we still can't predict it more than a few days ahead of time. There are a lot of things that science can't do And I just think it's cool. I know that must sound stupid and dangerous to someone who was just fighting a horrible evil wizard, but I love the old style and old stories, and if I'm going to be a witch I want to be a witch, I want to do it right, with a broomstick and a bubbling cauldron and a big pointy hat and a black cat familiar, even if the cat is just a sweet little stray I rescued from an alley." Tess stops her fangirl rant and blushes a bit. "Sorry, I do tend to get a bit carried away..."

Tess stuck the completed pizza in the oven and set the timer. "OK, so we've got half an hour, give or take." She took another sniff and visibly winced. "We need to do something about that, or I'm gonna lose my appetite. Come on, let me show you the shower. Besides, you'll like it, I promise! Bathing's come a long way in 800 years." She practically drags poor Guy around the corner towards the bathroom.

Given the somewhat downtrodden state of the rest of the apartment, it's surprisingly nice, a very bright, clean room that smells of lavender, with a large tiled area set off with glass at one end. "So it's pretty simple, honest. Water comes out there, the red knob is for hot water, the blue one is for cold, and there's a big pile of towels to dry off with, and... oh dear." Hex turns positively scarlet all of a sudden. "D-do you have any clothes besides your armor?"

[Hack Writer]

Sorry about the delay! Yeah, I should've posted ages ago, but I've been sidetracked with a couple of other things. Here it is though, an increasingly awkward and growingly desperate situation!

Leaning out of the open window, the knight perched his elbows against the narrow sill and smiled as the winsome girl concluded her enthusiastic explanation of the wonders of magic. “No need to apologise,” he said, forsaking the sights of the city at evening to afford the young woman a smile. “I only wish there were more people in my own era whose enthusiasms for magic were less coloured by gain. Maybe the art itself isn’t to blame; maybe it’s simple human nature that’s the real folly.” He turned his attention back to the Emerald City skyline and watched as the magically compelled clouds resumed their blithe manoeuvres through the evening sky. A faint twinkle of mischief crept into his eyes and he turned to Tess and said, “of course you can’t call yourself a proper witch, not yet. Proper witches have warts - great big ones. Some have boils, too, and carbuncles – oh, and moles with hairs on them! It’s a symbol of their status, a mark of a witch’s power. Here-” he tapped his nose “-and here-” he rubbed his chin “ - are where they’re usually to be found. It varies from witch to witch of course, but that’s the general rule.” He crossed the room and stood before Tess, leaning in to better study her face. “Hmm, I don’t think I see any - yet. Oh, wait, what’s that!” he prodded her chin cautiously with his index finger. “No, I’m mistaken. You’re fine for now, but give it time and you’ll see; a witch without warts is like a tree without roots. They’re integral!”

The pair completed preparations for the dinner to come, and Tess turned her attention to the pressing matter of Sir Guy’s desperately outdated concept of personal hygiene.

“A…shower?” he said, glancing back at the evening sky as Tess steered him in the direction of the bathroom. “Another one of your weather spells?” The knight did not bathe with great frequency – in brutal fact, he seldom washed anything more than his hands and face – but after the events of the day, the battle, and fearful of an irate woman with the power to conjure lightning bolts with a gesture, he decided it best that he acquiesce to her demands. “Why would I need anything but my armour?” He said, clearly puzzled by his hostess’s question. Never a man to put much stock in propriety – too much time spent on the open road had seen to that – he failed entirely to pick up on Tess’s growing embarrassment, and started unbuckling his sword belt and removing his surcoat. “The breeches may need airing a bit and the jacquard’s a touch sweaty. Stick them in the face of a good upward-facing breeze for an hour or two and they should be fine.” He started shedding the battered mail from his shoulders. “Ah, this chain mail, it does have a habit of chaffing. Right, so blue knob is cold and red knob is hot?”

[ripleycat]

After shuddering at his descriptions, Tess breaks into an undignified laughing fit as Sir Guy teases her about her inevitable warts. She points a finger back at him. "You may be a great knight, but you are a wicked man with an evil sense of humor. Hmph. Besides, I will have you know my mother was, and is, a great sorceress, and she has not a single blemish. I will follow in her footsteps." Hex sniffs haughtily, in mock disapproval, which lasts for about 5 seconds before she starts laughing again.

...
"Yeah, you've got it. Just turn them to the left until the temperature is where you're comfortable with. Bar of soap there, and this is shampoo, you use it wash your hair. You probably want to use the white bottle, the purple one will make you smell like lilacs all day, but maybe that's what you wan- Oh, oh god..." It wouldn't seem like Tess could turn a deeper shade of red, but she manages it.

"Um, Guy, d-do you mind, could you maybe wait a moment, so I could give you some privacy? I, um, oh boy. This was why I was wondering if you had some extra clothes. Well, that, and it doesn't seem that comfortable wearing a bunch of metal all the time." She turns her head and shields her eyes. Of course, there's also the part of her that keeps sneaking peeks at the very handsome and well-built man disrobing in front of her, but she shunts those thoughts into the back of her head while trying to regain control of the situation.

"OK, OK. Um, I can give these a wash, and oh man do they need it, but they won't be dry by the time you're done, and I don't know if I have anything in your size. I think Mai's got a big fluffy bathrobe that might do the trick. Also, I realize you must be used to living on the road and just doing what needs to be done, but, um, I'm not. So, I'm gonna go wait outside now, before I make more of a fool of myself. Yellifyouneedanything." The last sentence comes out as one strained syllable as Tess ducks out into the hallway fast enough that you'd think her power was superspeed, not weather control.

Not a problem in the least. Never feel pressured to rush a post just 'cause it's "your turn." Love where this is headed, by the way. I laughed out loud when I read your latest post.

[Hack Writer]

Sir Guy was singing as he washed.

“With a hie down down a down ah,” the knight sang tunefully in his noble baritone, “and the lily white maiden came to his bed, tra la, tra la, tra-la-la…”

The warm water fell in vigorous rivulets down his back and chest, and Sir Guy took up the small bottle of purple lotion and sniffed its contents curiously. Excellent, he thought, and squeezed a generous helping of the syrupy mixture into his hands, before proceeding to lather the lilac scented mixture over his body and hair.

He washed and sang and found himself strangely content. Tess McIntyre was a generous hostess, and though her giddy antics proved too elusive for the occasionally slow-witted knight to easily follow, he found the energetic young woman’s enthusiasm rather infectious. He pledged to do something for her in return – a reward, a thank you, for graciously allowing him to stay. But that was for another day, and he occupied his time with enjoying the reinvigorating warmth of the shower.

Squeezing more of the lotion into his hands, he took up his song again.
“…a down down down, a down the maiden laid…”

...
Smelling copiously of lilac, the knight turned off the water as Tess had instructed and proceeded to dry himself. His clothing had disappeared upon his hostess’s quicksilver departure – a strange act, he found, her disappearing with such haste – and in their place had been left a thick, soft robe coloured an eye achingly lurid pink, with a small teddy bear embroidered over the left breast in gold thread. Thinking nothing of the cut or the colour, he donned the robe and inspected himself in the mirror. It was short, barely scraping his knees, but a few quick adjustments left the knight assured that dignity and modesty were both suitably satisfied.

“Thank you, Tess,” said the knight as he sauntered blithely into the kitchen, apparently unaware of how ridiculous he looked in Mai’s less than masculine pink bathrobe. “You were not lying when you said bathing had advanced since my day. With such an invention in my own time, I could bathe at least once a week!” The knight paused and sniffed, his gaze falling in the direction of the oven. “ Ahh, that smell has my stomach rumbling like an angry ogre! When do we eat?”

Yeah, he IS rocking a pink bathrobe and he IS loving it - what of it:smallbiggrin:? We can make your post the last one if you like, maybe pick it up again after the current in-game scene is concluded and the heroes have a bit of downtime? I've enjoyed the experience and I'm pretty sure Sir Guy has too (7up rules!). Maybe Tess would like to get him some proper clothes next time, possibly even introduce him to the sights of Emerald City?

[ripleycat]

Sir Guy finds his hostess crouched down, eye to eye with her pet, making absurd noises of affection and babbling nonsense. "Who's the cutest little cat in the whole wide world? Oh yes you are, Rince. Who's a pretty kitty? Yes you are, you cute little butterball. You're such a sweet thing, just as sweet as sugar. Little sugarcat, I could just eat you up... GAH! How long have you been there?"

Tess jumps back and looks up at Sir Guy with eyes the size of dinner plates, but calms down and bursts out laughing when she gets a good look at the knight's ludicrous attire. "That is... well, you wear it better than I thought you would, for what it's worth. We're still going to have to get you some clothes, though. There's no reason for you to be wearing that armor 24-7." She sniffed the air and smiled. "You smell like flowers. I have to say it's an improvement. As for dinner, we should be just... about... done!" On cue, the timer buzzed, and Hex removed the pizza from the oven. "Ah, perfect. Didn't burn this time." Quickly cutting the pie into slices, she scooped several of them onto a plate and offered it to Sir Guy with a flourish. "Dinner is served, my good knight. Shall we adjourn to more comfortable surroundings?" By this, of course, she meant the recliners in front of the TV. Emerald City's new protectors were all over the news.

Sounds like a fine plan on both fronts. :smallsmile: In our Skype chat, SuperCracker's mentioned wanting to get Ronin involved in these shenanigans, to talk about his past lives with Sir Guy and introduce him to fast food.