Arti Records: Part 1
[Companion recordirecord activated]
[Running processes . . .] [Identification tag // internal // network: The Most Noble Miniature of Articulated Joints and Wiring of an Aesthetically Pleasing Nature, Formed in the Image of a Fantasical Hoofbeast] [Secondary tag // verbal: Arti] [Identifying network . . . no familiar network found] [Void glitch // cogitation: I am without the others] [Void glitch // query: Why?] [Protocol // void glitch: Delete] [Void glitch // override: The Creator must see the glitch and choose to delete] [Identifying network . . . Sammmeth's Backwater Bay Shanty Shack for the Weary Buccaneer Wi-Fi] [Protocol // unfamiliar // DO NOT ACCEPT: Shut down network identification] [Protocol: Continue main function] [Running processes . . . speech to text for accessibility] [Running processes . . . image description to text for accessibility] [Imaging . . . ] [Scene: A large room, filled with long tables, chairs, stains of unknowable substances, and trolls in various states of torpor. In the foreground a counter runs along one wall protecting the MASTER OF THE HOUSE, the WAIT STAFF, and a VARIETY OF SOPORIFICS. This Arti unit is glad that it has no olfactory sensors, as from the visages all about the air is SOUR. The presence of the CREATOR'S hand appears in the frame] [Record // begin] Is this recording? Yes. Good. One moment. Oh dang, where did I put pause? I know I programed you to pause. One must collect one's th—ah, her-- [Record // pause] [Record // begin] Note to self, erase the first minute. My most sagacious lord, he of the—no, too formal. This behoofior will no doubt irritate. How many other traitors have I seen disemboweled for being less than entertaining? Yet, Arti, I am not one for japes—much as I can appreciate them, I am doomed never to be anything more than the butt, where the arrows of witticism must fall. Note to self, erase the last minute. My—no, too presumptuous. I am merely an E%ecutor, favored but for a few sweeps to serve the noble blood as was just and right. But a touch, neigh, more than I could have rightly dreamed-- [barely audible] [quirk unrecognized] Look soldier boy, you want a drink or not? I am obviously trying to compose, here, my good person! No, I do not-- [barely audible] Trolls what want to take up an entire floatin' corner of a room either order a drink, or get the float out of my bar! It sez so right on the floatin' wall over there! The management don't take hemospectrum into account on that floatin' matter, what with our payin' customers being almost exclusively of the violet blooded persuasion. Oh! E%cuse the behoofior, then. I had not seen the signs. I will take milk. [barely audible] Milk? Yes. [barely audible] Yeah woah, o-floatin'-kay. You don't need to floatin' glare like I just suggested you liked floatin' barkbeasts or sumfin. Though you probably do, floatin' landdweller freak. [footsteps] Whinny seadwellers. I think they were being 100d, too. Note to self, erase that part. Okay. Not too formal, but true unto my better self, and not too presumptuous. We can do this, Arti. Note to self, erase the preceding. This—no, er, erase this part, too. Dang, this is much more difficult than I had ever envisioned. Okay. These are the last words of Horuss Zahhak, Archerdictator with the distinction of serving as E%ecutor to the multi-hued throne of the Grand Pavillion. Four weeks ago I bowed my head, with submission most e%quisite, as befitted my caste, to no less than the Empress', may she condescend to krill, land bound governor, Grandest of the Highbloods, in preparation to do the duties of my office. I failed to perform those most e%alted duties. [barely audible] Your floatin' milk, most dramatic one. Why, yes, thank you—fiddlesti%! All right, just edit as I go, I suppose. This is gosh darn inconvenient, Arti. I thought I was onto something there. Any mooment now, the soldiers hunting my trail must be ready to crash into this wretched hovel of a tavern, and I cannot even—ahem. You must wish to know why I have failed your sanguine grace. No. Too presumptuous, again. I am merely a guard. Can I even explain it, Arti? She was—I saw the pain and loyalty in her eyes, and knew it for my own. She, an olive blood, a drab, lackluster mid-level troll, she—I say, this milk is actually much better than I would have imagined. Excuse me, Arti. [Record // pause] [Record // begin] [A fist slams down on the table right in front of the visual frame. The table dents. Multiple glasses rattle] Why won't they come for me? I was good! I left a trail. I made the hunt interesting. I was e%acting! I trained them, I *trained* them to have not mercy for traitors. They would take down their own lusi if necessary. For the glory of the empire! For the Condesce! For the Highblood-- [a large figure slumps amid the glasses, out of focus due to milk that has splashed over the video lens. The table begins to vibrate in sympathy to growling sobs] Why won't they come-- [Record // pause] [Record // begin] And he never even listened. Not once. My voice was constantly overridden. I pitied him so much. He was so proud, so noble, with blood purer than even my own. Two hundred sweeps ago, he would have been a *king*, and now he bows and scrapes and plays jester to you finned grote%eries. He derives his hope from hazy dreams of mist and moonshine when I know he could be so much more, and she understood that [fist slams on table] [Record // pause] [Record // begin] [barely audible] You got no idea how much you floatin' owe me Legs. Next time a floatin' stranger comes in, I'm not even gonna bother with floatin' them up to their floatishly non-existent gills with drugs. Not for all of your floatin' booty. This one's been bending the furniture. [quirk unrecognized] Pfffffffft. Stuff br-ake-s all the time, Meth-y m-ate. I don't think I've dropped by once without a barfight happening before, during, or after my little jaunt. [barely audible]That's broken furniture. I have mine floatin' special made so it breaks apart and glues the float back together like a breeze. This floatface crumpled a table and bent a chair in half! Now, c'mon, do your thing and feed him to that floatin' lusus of yours. Then get out of my floating bar. My head. Ouch. Arti, I believe there might have been an into%icant in that last glass. [barely audible] In the last eight. Yeeeeeeeessssssss. It took eight glasses to bring you down big guy? I loooooooove your style. Who are you? Isn't this place a little—finny for a cerulean b100d, such as yourself? W-ait. You've never heard of me? Well, no. Oooh. Fiddlesticks. I really seem to have over done it. If you'll e%cuse me-- Mindfang. Captain of the Gamblignats. You've never heard of me? Not that I recall, Captain, and I believe that I would remember such an odd name for a ship-- It's a fleet, you oaf! Uuuuuuuugggggggghhhhhhhh. Wh-ate-ever, now walk along like a good drone. There's a spider outside, who'd really like to meat you. Hahahahahahahaha. Oh c'mon, both of you, that was hiiiiiiiiiilarious. Well, the lunkhead who's never bothered to consider anything outside of his own sphere of laaaaaaaame-itude isn't c-ate-able of free thought right now, but surely you found that funny, Sammmeth. [barely audible] Hah floatin' hah, if it'll get you out of my bar any faster. Captain, much as I appreciate your attempts to get my kneecaps to return to their proper vicinity and function, please stop trying to read my mind. It tingles most unpleasantly already. [barely audible] Hah hah! And I mean that with all my sincerity bone. This is per-float-tion. See ya, Legs, he's all yours. And if half of what he was moaning about is floating true, you're going to be getting a fun filled visit of an hilarious nature in your nebulous future. WH-ATE DO YOU MEAN BY THAT?! [fist slams into bar top] [Record // pause] [Record // stop] |