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Crunchyfrog
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 Posted: Tue Sep 01, 2009 11:08 pm Post subject: Best Supporting Character |
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*PLEASE READ ALL EXCERPTS IN THIS THREAD BEFORE VOTING.*
Last edited by Crunchyfrog on Wed Sep 23, 2009 1:24 pm; edited 8 times in total
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Crunchyfrog
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| Posted: Sat Sep 05, 2009 11:36 pm Post subject: |
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Pinkie from Grim Reaping - by Ashkent
| Quote: | “We’ve been through this before.”
“Arr arrrrarrrr?”
“No.”
“Arararar arrr?”
“Look, you should know by now that pleading doesn’t work on me. I’ve had human’s pleading with me, animals pleading with me, even a couple of dinosaurs tried to sweet talk me into letting them avoid the ice age. I have become somewhat immune to every possible kind of begging there is. So do not ask again.”
“Arr arrr arrr ar?”
“I do wish you were capable of dying sometimes. I’d be more than happy to collect your soul and send it somewhere far away.”
“Arr ar.”
“You don’t need to thank me. Now, we have an appointment to keep, and remember you are not to use that scythe!”
We walked through corridors lined with old faces in frames and mahogany timepieces. The carpeted floors were very dull and unimpressive, although there were a number of chandeliers and decorations to keep the eyes occupied.
People passed by in blissful ignorance of who they brushed shoulders with on their way to and from chambers. I found myself wondering just how many of these souls would be finding there way to Jimmy when I came calling for them. They were not evil, not one of them, but their tendencies for twisting fact, turning the truth and frankly telling bare-faced lies would certainly tip the scales in favour of a warm afterlife.
“Arr arrr arrr?”
“Yes it is.”
“Arr arrrrrarrr arrararararrrr?”
“Well he’s got a speech to make in about half an hour. It is one of those big speeches they make every so often. I would not expect you to understand the entire– ”
“Arrrarrr arr arrrrr arrrrrar. Arrrarararrrr ar ar arrrr arrrrrr arr?”
“I did not know you read human documents,” I said with genuine surprise. “Actually, I did not know you could read at all. What happened to those picture books?”
“Arrr arr arrrrrrr.”
“Well, you should know better than to tell Jimmy what they were. You know he has a weakness for the big ones.”
“Arrr arrrr?”
“Well, you are right. He likes small ones too. I think we should drop the subject now, I have already been caught in one of Jimmy’s sexually orientated conversations today and I would rather not repeat the moment with you. No offence.”
“Arrr arrrar.”
“Ah, here we are,” I said, pulling Pinkie to a halt by his ears. “A little early but never mind. Come on.”
I led the way into the small chamber, where one Hector Carlton sat behind a small desk with a pen in his hand and a half scrawled speech before him. Hector Carlton was fifty-nine years old and had spent most of his life behind that very same desk, writing various speeches for the important people around him.
“It shouldn’t be too long,” I said, turning to admire the somewhat dull view of London.
“Arrrr ar arrrrr arrrrr?”
“Well there’s no reason why you can’t really,” I said, watching the endless rivers of traffic passing by. “You just tend to be a little impatient and end up– ”
Shiff. Thunk!
“– please tell me that wasn’t what I think it was,” I finished.
“What the hell is that thing?” Hector Carlton’s shade asked.
I turned around to find the soul of the very recently deceased Parliament speech writer looking at a guilty-faced Pinkie, who was attempting to hide his scythe behind his back. I moved my gaze beyond, to the slumped cadaver, and more importantly to the half complete speech beneath its cooling hand.
“That,” I replied, “is the bane of my existence. When I said there was no reason why you couldn’t do the job, I was being metaphorical. I have a very good reason why you could not collect this soul, or any other come to that matter, and that reason is the one you have just displayed so impeccably. Do not say thank you! It is not a compliment.”
Pinkie chose to sensibly remain quiet.
“Mr Carlton,” I said to the spirit. “Do you remember what you were writing a moment ago?”
The soul looked at me, but did not reply.
“Mr Carlton?”
The soul looked at its former vessel.
“MR CARLTON?”
“Oh shit,” Hector Carlton said.
“I was thinking something along those lines myself, “ I said.
“I’m dead.”
“You are. A little prematurely though.”
“You’re Death”
“In the circumstances, you can call me Grim. Now, Mr– ”
“I’m dead.”
“We have already clarified that. Now if you could– ”
“But I can’t be dead.”
“I think you will find that you can be, and indeed are. Now, I really need to know how far you got with– ”
“Oh shit. I’m dead. You’re Death.”
“Oh no,” I said, to myself as the spirit of Hector Carlton drifted beyond the ability to respond.
“Arr?”
“Your little impromptu collection, a whole three minutes early, has sped up the loss of his memory. It has also caused a small glitch in the equilibrium of the planet.”
“Ar arrr.”
“That pretty much covers it. Before he died, this man should have completed that speech.”
“Oh shit. I’m dead. You’re Death.”
“That is starting to become annoying,” I said, reaching for my visa book. “Let me get him into Ghost Recon and then we have work to do.”
“Arrrr ar ar?”
“We have a speech to write.” |
Last edited by Crunchyfrog on Fri Sep 11, 2009 1:59 am; edited 1 time in total
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Crunchyfrog
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| Posted: Fri Sep 11, 2009 1:57 am Post subject: |
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Jerry from Sector 17, by Reiso
| Quote: |
"Damn. What sector are we on, Jer?"
"Thirteen, boss. We are showing no positive signs of any mineable deposits, no thermals, no gas emissions, and no bacterial traces. Instruments show we aren't likely to hit anything until grid 212, which are sectors... twenty through fifty."
"I know what the damned sensors say, Jerry, I've been staring at the readouts for eleven hours!"
"So have we, boss."
"I know. Sorry. Just getting kind of cramped in here, you know?"
"Yeah," answered Jerry as he took off his thick glasses and cleaned them with his shirt. "Cramped and hot."
"And stuffy. Sarah, how's the air?"
"Three hours, give or take. We're maintaining a thirty minute range to the feed, so that gives us a little over two hours before we have to beg off and plug in--Jerry, where's that put us?"
Jerry put his glasses back on and keyed in some commands with his console. He stroked his graying red beard as the results scrolled across his screen. "It looks like we'll be around sectors thirty-one and thirty-two by then. Right around there."
Kent glanced at his screen to confirm the details. "So we'll be well into grid 212. Ok, good, good. Sarah, what's the feed integrity looking like where we're gonna hit her up?"
"Gimmie a sec." She brushed long black hair out of her face and flipped the screen switch on her console, then typed in a few commands.
Blue light flashed beyond the portholes, dim survivor of the display from the magnetic storms up on the surface. The lightning was actually purple, but the red light never made it down this far. The deep whir of the submersible's engines droned on, nearly lulling in its monotony. Bulbs blinked, needles twitched, and the displays showed the same old barren stretch of lifeless, resourceless sand illuminated by their floodlights.
"Today, Sarah," Kent said.
"What, you in a hurry? We got a three hour wait, either way."
"Not if the feed integrity is too low, we don't."
"It won't be."
"But what if it is?"
"I said, it won't be."
"Is that your intuition, or your instruments talking?"
"Shut up, Jerry."
Kent shifted anxiously in his chair and stared at the screen of his console, hoping against his better judgment that something would show up that the sensors had missed.
"Sector fourteen. Sensors say there's a five foot drop coming. Adjust depth?"
"No," Kent said, "five feet won't matter for visibility. There's nothing here anyway."
Jerry leaned forward and rested his chin on the palm of his hand.
"Don't be so negative, Will--" Sarah's console beeped and her eyes snapped back to her screen. "Got it! Feed integrity at rendezvous will be... thirty-three percent."
"Jesus," Jerry muttered over the fingers on his face.
"Dammit! God Dammit!"
"I tried to tell you, Sarah."
"I don't want to hear it, Kent," Sarah shouted.
"Don't want to hear it? If I didn't tell you to run that analysis, we wouldn't have found out until we got there, which would have cost us time, and money, and--"
"Like I would have waited that long to run it, what am I, stupid? And so what if you had to tell me, you're the captain, aren't you? Isn't that your job?"
"Oh," Kent said, jumping to his feet. He jerked a thumb at his own chest. "Excuse me if I want a little bit of control over my own damned ship!"
"You two ought to be married," Jerry said.
"Shut up, Jerry," Kent and Sarah both shouted together.
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Crunchyfrog
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| Posted: Sat Sep 12, 2009 11:31 pm Post subject: |
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Mart from Trade Windows, by Smee
| Quote: |
With a few keystrokes, Targh established a cross-system connection.
"Hello?" The voice was deep, and smooth.
"Howdy!"
"Targh! My good man, you're not dead - that's great news! Fioji, Targh, he's not dead, ain't that great!"
Targh winced at the shout, and heard the indistinct response from a voice in the background.
"Fioji, she's happy too!"
"Good, good. We're all happy I'm alive. Listen, Mart, that little worm Garat met me there, with half the shipment. They're trying to throw me through more hoops."
"Half... half! Ack, you're a dead man, you know they won't accept half."
"Yes, yes Mart, I know alright. I refused the shipment and demanded they be there with the full shipment tomorrow or I was pulling the deal."
"Ack, ack, Targh, what are you doing! We can't afford to cancel this deal."
"Don't worry, I called their bluff. They need this deal more than we do, or the 'boss' thinks he does at any rate. They'll deliver. And then you and me, my friend. Big time!"
"Oooh ooh yes, Big time! Direct deals with suppliers, new expanders and plates on the Bestower, no more middle men!"
"That's right, Mart. No more middle men, all the profit in our wallet. You and me."
Targh listened to his friend go on about their upcoming success for a few minutes more, wryly smiling at how quickly Mart's alarm had faded. This was a conversation they'd had many times together, hopefully the last time before it came true. When his friend paused for breath, Targh interupted him.
"Yes, yes Mart. All true. But I need you to be ready. Get that great wallowing beast of yours warmed up for tomorrow's pickup and delivery, and see if you can pick up something fast for me, a shuttle perhaps, anything with some style. You know what I can fly, see what you can do."
"Another new ship, Targh! Our wallet, it drops low."
"You've gotta speculate to accumulate, my friend. How many times have I said it. Besides, we need Mr Feolin and Co to be impressed when we arrive tomorrow with their equipment. It could be the beginning of a long relationship, and we want to make the right first impression."
Martof grunted, which Targh knew to be reluctant agreement. A soft beep in his ear reminded him of his kredit limit.
"I've got to go, Mart. I'll see you bright and early in the morning."
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| Best Supporting Character |
| Jerry from Sector 17, by Reiso |
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11% |
[ 1 ] |
| Pinkie from Grim Reaping, by Ashkent |
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66% |
[ 6 ] |
| Mart from Trade Windows, by Smee |
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22% |
[ 2 ] |
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| Total Votes : 9 |
| Who Voted: Chinaren, Crunchyfrog, Fats_Masterson, Klafarius, scissorkitty, Smee, The White Blacksmith, Thunderbird, Traveller |
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