WhiteKnight777
2018-05-13, 05:46 PM
From a puckering sphincter of a mouth never meant to shape human speech came a voice. It was throaty and liquid, but somehow, its pronunciation was eloquent, each syllable sliding into place on a trail of good-natured grease.
“Good Evening Blitzfiends – Or good Antipeak, to those of you watching in Sigil. I’m Urglethrax, your mind-flayer on the mic. The draft is over, the teams are settled, and it’s time to get things started. With me tonight is an all-star cast of commentators. First, we have Remi “Iron Lady” Dechambeax, Champion of the 3033rd season. AKA, “The Lady of Infinite Blades.” Said the lean, mauve-colored illithid, gesturing with a tentacle to a statuesque woman. Although she wasn’t so much “statuesque” as “an actual statue,” animate, and made of something that looked like, but was definitely not iron.
“Not to be confused with Her Bladed Majesty, mind you. Great to be here, Urg. The competition this year looks especially fierce!” She said, before being interrupted by an androgynous person all in green
“ Lots of vicious contendeI’m betting on at least one total team-wipe in the first contest.” Said the figure with an elegant smile. Every detail of his appearance was at once inhumanly perfect and apparently effortless.
“Thank you, Greenjack.” Replied Urglethrax, giving the fey a withering look with his huge, milky-white eyes. There was an edge in his smooth tones. “But do let me introduce our final panelist, Marquess Pale” He said, gesturing to a curvaceous woman who was, it had to be said, only a little transparent. She was dressed in an old-fashioned frock coat, riding leathers, and knee-high leather boots, with a tricorn hat perched on her head.
“A pleasure as always.” She said, her voice carrying a faint edge of well-worn melancholy.
“We’re in the preparatory stages for the first contest.” The mind flayer said, directing his attention straight at the audience now. As he explained the contest to the jaded viewers watching all across the city of Tantalus.“Each team is in their garage. They’ve got one hour to plan a strategy, then they’ll work on building their vehicles for a race around this specially-prepared track that will take them through some of the more dangerous and exotic parts of the elemental and demi-elemental planes
Urglethrax gestured, and a very solid-seeming illusion appeared, depicting a set of planar bubbles linked by a road seemingly made out of a solid, scintillating rainbow. The bubbles themselves were opaque balls of grey mist, indicating that the particular environments would be a secret until the first contestants reached them - another measure meant to equalize the contest. Or, at least, make it more dramatic, since contestants in the lead would run face-first into any lurking trouble, of which there was sure to be pl “First team to cross the finish line with their vehicle wins. Any thoughts on strategy?”
Remi spoke up first, her metallic voice strangely mellifluous “The real key here is going to be the race for parts. Nobody knows exactly what parts they’ll get out of the junk piles, but each one is garunteed to contain something better than the basic rolling stock in their garages. Finding and securing important parts is going to be the key. The question is, who’s going to go straight for the parts, who’s going to try ambushing, and who’s going for a mix of the two”
“Don’t forget about the no-teleport zones.” Said Marquess Pale. “No one can teleport in or out within a thousand feet of the junk piles. That’s going to make it significantly harder to get safely in and out with the parts. And there’s always the old “Murder them now and get the bits when you have a chance” strategy.”
“I’m not sure that’s going to be viable.” Said the Greenjack in an airy tone. “Some of these contenders are pretty tough, and focusing on the kills too much in this game could very well lead to having nothing but the base parts
“A valid point.” Said Urglethrax, stepping back in. “Who would you say are the contenders to watch.”
“Slippery Pete the Fleshclown, I’d say. He was number 13 in the draft, but he seems like a particularly nasty one. And that trick of his with the eyes – Marvelous!” Said the Greenjack. Or possibly just Greenjack. No one had ever been able to figure out if it was a name or a title.
“He’s all show.” Growled Remi, in a voice that iron would make, if it could purr. "Now Three-Club Dan, there's a being to watch..."
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The volume on the wall-mounted display falls as your handler and liaison, an unusually corpulent illithid named Xargax, touches a part of the screen and slides his finger downward. “As Urglethrax said, you have one hour. I suggest you get to know each other and begin discussing strategy. Also, you’ll need to decide on a team name. I’m here to answer your questions.” He pauses, and you get the distinct sense that, despite a lack of proper lips, he is smiling slyly “although not every question has an answer – or an answer you’ll like.”
You were all ushered into a cavernous room that smells of smoke and grease and hot steel. A pit crew of goblins, gnomes, Minotaurs, and a long-fingered, blue-skinned humanoid species you don’t recognize are clustered by a pile of parts – the standard-issue, basic pieces from which a number of different combinations can be formed. You don’t have a good sense, yet, of what’s in the pile, and your crew is apparently sorting them by function.
You are strangers, but now teammates. Some of you might have met in the Winnowing. Most of you know nothing of one another. But now you have a task to accomplish: Build a vehicle capable of beating your opponents – or beat your opponents into a pulp so they can’t do the same.
“Good Evening Blitzfiends – Or good Antipeak, to those of you watching in Sigil. I’m Urglethrax, your mind-flayer on the mic. The draft is over, the teams are settled, and it’s time to get things started. With me tonight is an all-star cast of commentators. First, we have Remi “Iron Lady” Dechambeax, Champion of the 3033rd season. AKA, “The Lady of Infinite Blades.” Said the lean, mauve-colored illithid, gesturing with a tentacle to a statuesque woman. Although she wasn’t so much “statuesque” as “an actual statue,” animate, and made of something that looked like, but was definitely not iron.
“Not to be confused with Her Bladed Majesty, mind you. Great to be here, Urg. The competition this year looks especially fierce!” She said, before being interrupted by an androgynous person all in green
“ Lots of vicious contendeI’m betting on at least one total team-wipe in the first contest.” Said the figure with an elegant smile. Every detail of his appearance was at once inhumanly perfect and apparently effortless.
“Thank you, Greenjack.” Replied Urglethrax, giving the fey a withering look with his huge, milky-white eyes. There was an edge in his smooth tones. “But do let me introduce our final panelist, Marquess Pale” He said, gesturing to a curvaceous woman who was, it had to be said, only a little transparent. She was dressed in an old-fashioned frock coat, riding leathers, and knee-high leather boots, with a tricorn hat perched on her head.
“A pleasure as always.” She said, her voice carrying a faint edge of well-worn melancholy.
“We’re in the preparatory stages for the first contest.” The mind flayer said, directing his attention straight at the audience now. As he explained the contest to the jaded viewers watching all across the city of Tantalus.“Each team is in their garage. They’ve got one hour to plan a strategy, then they’ll work on building their vehicles for a race around this specially-prepared track that will take them through some of the more dangerous and exotic parts of the elemental and demi-elemental planes
Urglethrax gestured, and a very solid-seeming illusion appeared, depicting a set of planar bubbles linked by a road seemingly made out of a solid, scintillating rainbow. The bubbles themselves were opaque balls of grey mist, indicating that the particular environments would be a secret until the first contestants reached them - another measure meant to equalize the contest. Or, at least, make it more dramatic, since contestants in the lead would run face-first into any lurking trouble, of which there was sure to be pl “First team to cross the finish line with their vehicle wins. Any thoughts on strategy?”
Remi spoke up first, her metallic voice strangely mellifluous “The real key here is going to be the race for parts. Nobody knows exactly what parts they’ll get out of the junk piles, but each one is garunteed to contain something better than the basic rolling stock in their garages. Finding and securing important parts is going to be the key. The question is, who’s going to go straight for the parts, who’s going to try ambushing, and who’s going for a mix of the two”
“Don’t forget about the no-teleport zones.” Said Marquess Pale. “No one can teleport in or out within a thousand feet of the junk piles. That’s going to make it significantly harder to get safely in and out with the parts. And there’s always the old “Murder them now and get the bits when you have a chance” strategy.”
“I’m not sure that’s going to be viable.” Said the Greenjack in an airy tone. “Some of these contenders are pretty tough, and focusing on the kills too much in this game could very well lead to having nothing but the base parts
“A valid point.” Said Urglethrax, stepping back in. “Who would you say are the contenders to watch.”
“Slippery Pete the Fleshclown, I’d say. He was number 13 in the draft, but he seems like a particularly nasty one. And that trick of his with the eyes – Marvelous!” Said the Greenjack. Or possibly just Greenjack. No one had ever been able to figure out if it was a name or a title.
“He’s all show.” Growled Remi, in a voice that iron would make, if it could purr. "Now Three-Club Dan, there's a being to watch..."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The volume on the wall-mounted display falls as your handler and liaison, an unusually corpulent illithid named Xargax, touches a part of the screen and slides his finger downward. “As Urglethrax said, you have one hour. I suggest you get to know each other and begin discussing strategy. Also, you’ll need to decide on a team name. I’m here to answer your questions.” He pauses, and you get the distinct sense that, despite a lack of proper lips, he is smiling slyly “although not every question has an answer – or an answer you’ll like.”
You were all ushered into a cavernous room that smells of smoke and grease and hot steel. A pit crew of goblins, gnomes, Minotaurs, and a long-fingered, blue-skinned humanoid species you don’t recognize are clustered by a pile of parts – the standard-issue, basic pieces from which a number of different combinations can be formed. You don’t have a good sense, yet, of what’s in the pile, and your crew is apparently sorting them by function.
You are strangers, but now teammates. Some of you might have met in the Winnowing. Most of you know nothing of one another. But now you have a task to accomplish: Build a vehicle capable of beating your opponents – or beat your opponents into a pulp so they can’t do the same.