NationStates Jolt Archive

On a small moon, orbiting a small planet, in a small system, a small red light turns on and blinks, and long-range broadcast signal is sent out. Encoded into is is a short piece of video footage...

A tall, brown-haired man in a crown sits, smiling. He whispers out of the side of his mouth to someone offcamera.

"Is it... is it on?"

The man's eyes glance over for a second and he smiles even wider, snapping his eyes towards the camera again. A table of men swigging drinks stir their eyes from the light yellow liquid in their mugs to watch what's happening.

"He.. hello! I am Quee-- oh, tha... that's wro-wrong? Oh, dear. I mean King. I have just been informed that I do, indeed, have tes-testicles. I never bothered to... to... check. Erm. Yes. I am King Fre-- am I wrong ag-again? My... my name is Morcanon? Tha-that is quite the painful name. My... my mother was that fo-foolish, was she? Oh well. King Morcanon. The-there we go. King Morca-canon. Well. No-not that one. The fi-first one. Oh de-dear, my stutterer has qui-quite worsened. For the wo-worse e-even. Sir Greg-egory will fi-finish it up for you."

The king tries to stand, but the ear of one of the wooden lion heads carved into the ends of the throne rests japs him in the leg and he falls out of view. Some faint sobbing can be heard. A few seconds later, another man walks into view, smiling even wider than the king had. He begins to speak up in one of those gratey, deep voices that you would expect from the narrarators they use for action movie trailers.

"Hello, I am Sir Gregory. Sir Greg-egory is, at this moment, busy saving maidens from the horrors of sleeping in a bed alone. Vigilantly. And with much gusto. He just told me so when he called a moment ago. So, instead, I will explain things to you. The man who you just saw was the King of Tabernackle, and the many great men you see behind me are just a few of the much reknowned Knights of the Irregular Pentagonal Secretary/Multi-function Work Desk. It's irregular because we got a really, really bad carpenter. It was just going to be a table, but this was a better deal per square foot of space. These many, many, really really great men have made it their goal to insure justice in the Galaxy. And to this Galaxy, we give a toast!"

The man stepped to the side to reveal the table of drinking men again. They looked around at the silence, glanced around the table at the other men, and thrust up the mugs, sending beer flying as they yelled, "HARUMPH!"

OOC: It's like Monty Python meets Space Balls! Brilliant!

IC: The QUETZAL probe that recieved the message immediately sent it to the main QUETZAL core for processing.

--ACCESSING QUETZAL NODE
--INITIATING TRIPARTITE SYSTEM
--ID Joins Convo
--SUPER Joins Convo
--EGO Joins Convo
ID: What now?
Ego: More of the usual. Discussing a newly contacted civilization. Feeding all relavent data now.
--FILES SENT
ID: ...Ho-lee crap... Can we kill them?
EGO: Pardon?
SUPER: Lord no!
ID: Yes, invade them and rape their women.
SUPER: We're AI's, man! We can't rape!
ID: Sez you...
EGO: Regardless, we are not invading them.
SUPER: Goody. May I suggest sending an Avatar?
EGO: An excellent idea.
ID: Give it buzz-saws. And a clown nose.
EGO: ...
SUPER: ...For once, I agree with Id.
EGO: What?!
ID: What?!
SUPER: On the latter. Clowns are funny.
EGO: I'm so alone... Fine, we'll make it a clown. And will give it buzz-saws. For defense of course. This meeting is adjurned.
ID: Well I hope you choke and die, you impotent little fu-
--CONVO ENDS
--TRIPARTITE SYSTEM EXITED
--EXITING QUETZAL NODE

Near the moon the message originated from, a small transport vessel suddenly arrived in system. It moved slowly and unthreateningly towards the moon, signalling to the natives that it wished to land.

Around the planet, a large chunk of steel with holes in it orbited slowly. Inside, a man was looking through one of the cleaner windows with a communication viewer faceplate set around it.

"Sir, the monitor shows something approaching. I can't tell what it is because I'm getting interference from something... oh, that's the garbage, I can see one of your old porn magazines there."

The captain spun around, red in the face.

"Porn? PORN? Me? I'm... I'm hurt."

With a shrug, the man at the window squinted a little at the window, trying to see past the rotting food.

"Sorry for making you hurt. At least you have the porn magazines to make you feel better."

Before the captain could say something, the lookout perked up.

"There we go. It's a ship. And it has large guns. I saw we let it land and jack it up and take the wheels or something."

The captain growned, Tabernackle's signature facial expression/gutteral noise, a cross between groaning and frowning.

"It's a ship, it doesn't have wheels. Hail it and tell it to dock so we can take it down to the castle."

Again, the lookout shrugged and got up. Being that he was the only person in the crew of the docking bay besides the Captain, he had to run across the control room every few minutes. Mind you, since it was only about 100 square feet, that wasn't hard to do. He settled back down at a radio and started speaking into the microphone.

"Hello, would you mind docking in Bay 9? It's the one with only five jagged spikes of metal in it. The others have 7. As soon as you dock I can close the bay doors and we can get down to the pad... castle."

With that, the incoming ship flew into the least-dangerous-looking hole, and the "bay door", composed of another chunk of steel that had cable hooks on it, was put into place. Fred, the lookout, donned a space suit made entirely out of rubber and tossed what looked like large suckers attached to cables out of the ship, and connected the ends of the cables to the ship. He rushed back in, jumped into his seat, and pushed the large red button in front of him marked Land in big red letters.

Outside, the ends of the sucker-like creations began to spark, before bursting into a thin streams of flame. For a moment, nothing happened, as the rocket engines struggled against the mass. Then, slowly but surely, the docking bay began to sink towards the planet. As they ground through the atmosphere, the outside layer of steel melted off, leaving a glowing red trail. With a thunderous roar, the missiles connected to the cables hit the ground and exploded, before the docking bay itself hit the sand, which had just been turned to glass by the heat of the explosion. With the groan of breaking metal, the last of the steel cables holding the bay door on snapped, and the chunk of steel swung out of the ship bay and flopped down, crushing the stairs up to the drawbridge.

OOC: Erm... is anyone else interested in joining in? I don't care who you are, you can join in. This is all taking place in the Milky Way, near the Earth-side edge of the Horsehead nebula.

Another message was sent out into space, this time with a Sir Gregory split and distorted by signal interception.

"We*kssh*olding a par*ksh*de in a sh*ksh* while. It *ksh* be loc*ksh*ted at *ksh*alace. We ho*ksh* can joi*ksh*."

With that, the signal cut out again.

-------

Just outside the palace, in front of the landed docking bay, people got ready for the procession. Old, wheezy men in rusted steel plate armor slowly eased themselves onto strange hunks of metal that looked much like an ugly, legless horse with a massive hole in the region of the buttocks. This hole shot a large stream of flames, being that the hunks of metal were, in fact, jetbikes. The riders poured a thin, clear liquid into the gas tank, before remembering that water is not, in fact, flammable, and that they would need to put something else in the engines besides that. They decided on orange juice.

Behind them, the King sat in his throne, shaking in fear. He had duct taped his mouth shut so he wouldn't have to speak in front of a large body of people. As he stood up to readjust his gown so he could look regal, the carved lion ear jabbed him in the leg again, and he curled over, falling off the sedan chair and onto the ground. Everything seemed to be going well.

It had taken a while for the signal to reach the Godulan listening stations placed around the Galaxy, more or less to get all the Terran media of the day. What nation wouldn't go into full-blown riots without its own share of "SURVIVOR, THE ORION NEBULA"

Its predecessor, "SURVIVOR, BLACK HOLE N2542" only lasted thirty seconds.

The signal was received, processed, filtered, dicked about with, censored, uncensored, encrypted, encrypted again, encrypted a third time, and sent to a galaxy FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR away, where the exact reverse was done to the signal and two people gave it a peremptory viewing, expecting the latest episode of Robot Chicken in its place.

Their reaction was nothing short of shocking:

"I do say, what an awkward little man."

"Indeed."

And so, the signal eventually found its way to the leader of the Triad Consortium itself, Baron Aeraeon Skye, who was also expecting the latest episode of Robot Chicken, and whose reaction was no less shocking:

"Huh!"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some days later, a single arrowhead shaped vessel was in the system. For all intents and purposes it looked like it had always been there, but in truth had only materialized approximately 32 microseconds previous.

It struck a course for the planet and began taking initial readings.

"Its habitable sir, though somewhat odd... there appears to be a continent shaped like a kangaroo in its southern hemisphere. Its difficult to get readings, however, due to the fact that the planet has evidently developed a ring of garbage."

"Magnify."

"Uh... you don't want to do that."

"I said magnify. I want to get a good look at this... ring."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

>blip<

"BY THE FIERY INFERNO! TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF! OPEN FIRE! OPEN FIIIIRE!"

"Dude. No."

"Aw, please."

"I'm just gonna set a course for that odd lump that seems to be sending out something akin to power readings, and hope that you climb out from the laundry chute en route.

A simple message was sent out:

Hi!

Adjutant William Longarm, TCGSS Fiendrender

An Abh merchant ship was out exploring the newly claimed territories in the Milky Way when the broadcast started coming through the tele link. Sobach and Samson had just recently finished mining saw raw materials when the sound drifted down to the hull.

Samson looked puzzled... "What on earth is that?"

Sobach turned up..."Let's go check it out."

The two rode the elevator up to check it out and about fell over each other when they saw what was going on. Samson smiled..."You think we could take a break and go and join them maybe? I mean you can't get drunk so you can drive."

Sobach just shook her head... "Alright, we have been out here for a while. Do you think I should wear my party dress?"

Samson looks incredulous... "No no. I don't have to fend off any suitors. Especially a planet full of drunks."

"I don't have any problems fending you off when you are drunk."

Samson just blushes... "That's different but enough of that. Let's let them know that we would like to meet them and establish some ties for the Empire. My personal favorite way."

The ship sent out a communication wishing to join them for a drink or two....

OOC: Very nice. Terry Pratchett is awesome.
IC:

Sir Greg-egory strode out into the main hall of the castle in only a towel. The parade had started mere minutes ago, and he was alone in the building. After wandering into the kitchen and taking all the food that looked good, he settled down at the Irregular Pentagonal Secretary/Multi-function work desk and began to eat. After eating a chicken leg, he tossed the bone into the hinged drawer on the secretary(slash multi-function work desk) and tried to close it. It swung in a few inches, before the bone jammed the hinge. Tired and angry, Greg-egory pushed harder. With a snap, the hinge fully disconnected from the drawer and spun across the room, making a massive tear across the groin area of the king's portrait at the end of the table.

Greg-egory's eyes traced the path to the picture. He sat still for a moment, then rushed out of the room, and just ran to the smallest, darkest room he could find. For a few minutes, it was pitch black and silent. Then, a small red light started blinking right next to Greg-egory's head. He groped for a light switch for a few moments, tripped over the swivel chair next to him in the darkness, swung his arms and fell backwards onto the concrete, and knocked the blinking radio off the shelf it was on. It landed on his face. Muffled by the concrete pressed into his cheek, he managed to mumble into the microphone.

"Hi... have anything alcoholic and a really fast ship?"

OOC EDIT: Erm, that's directed at both of you, I suppose. I started before Abh posted, and finished after. I know it's kinda short, but I was also writing a reading journal for a book. Sorry if it's bad, just tell me if there are any typos or wierd grammar/phrases in there ok? Just trying to get better.

Samson looked at Sobach quizically and then turned to the mic..."Well we wouldn't be very good guests if we hadn't brought anything alcoholic and we do have a ship but I don't think you are in any condition to fly in it."

Sobach then leaned in... "We are from a nearby Empire and just kinda wanted to say hello. You know? Do the whole neirghbor thing. Except of bringing over Jello or cookies, we brought some of our favorite booze. Just a way to extend a friendly hand."

Samson leaned towards Sobach's ear... "You did bring your blaster right?"

"Yes but I know Abh Hell alone is enough to keep us safe. Don't worry Line-wing aviator, I'll protect."

"Uh.. you haven't called me that since we served with the Princess in Star Forces."

Sobach just laughs.

OOC: Don't worry about it being short. Just have a good time.

Greg-egory cursed to himself about the ship, then responded.

"Ok... I suppose I won't need the ship, the king isn't a very vain person. Do you want to get in a docking bay, or land yourself? I very highly suggest landing alone. I heard tell they've had to replace some of the bay door cables with ropes because they're running out of money. There is a parade, so you should have lots of stuff to do while you land."

OOC: Will do, thanks!

Samson and Sobach both laughed together... "I suppose we'll land ourselves since we have no other real options. We'll arrive in our smaller communication ship."

The two landed down on the planet carrying a case of Samson's favorite bottles of booze. They looked around kind of wondering where they would fit in with all of the festivities.

King Morcanon rose to greet the two Abh citizens, but was shoved back down by two gaurding knights.

"Oh... hehehe... I, I sho-shouldn't do that, should I? I mi-might hurt myself ag-again. And tha-that would be qui-quite pai-painful. And I might bl-bl-bl-bleed again. Blo-blood... so ick-icky, and re-red, goo-goo-goo-goooooooeeeeey! It's-it's all ar-around m-me. Ah! AHHHHHHHH! Sa-save m-me! I dro-drowning in i-it. Noooooooooooooooooo! IT'S ST-STAINS ME! IT'S S-SO RE-RED! AHHHH!

With this, that king fell out of his chair, twitching. The two knights just watched him for a few minutes with a bored expression. Slowly, the spasms stopped, and the king hopped to his feet again.

"Now, I feel better! Feel like a new man! Hahah! I kid! I am a new man! I'll explain later! Enjoying myself too much! Must go break something!"

With that, the King jumped onto the horse that had been standing next to his throne and rode straight into the practicing band and began kicking people.

OOC: You can ask about him if you want, or learn a little later on at the feast. Just don't ask HIM about it, ask a knight.

OOC: Alex, are you going to reply? That's the second time you've skipped out on me postwise. Stop drooling over the computers :D

We're not certain what you would think of our Alcoholic Drinks...

IF, however, you are willing to try something risque, we could allow you to try out some of our Megawhiskey. I'll bring the eyedroppers.

~William Longarm, TCGSS Fiendrender

The captain crawled out of the laundry chute as the vessel approached the... well... the only way to describe the space station was 'Crenellated'. It was hard to tell whether the stone was just a faux finish or not.

"They don't look very advanced, do they?"

"Nah, they asked if we had booze."

"What'd you tell them?"

"We'd be coming down with some Megawhiskey."

The captain thought for a moment. "That's either one of the greatest diplomatic maneuvers ever made, or the cruelest declaration of war in the universe."

Greg-egory sounded somewhat more dignified (if he could ever sound like anything besides a disgruntled hobo) as he spoke into radio this time, seeing as how he'd managed to extract his face from the concrete floor and find the seat.

"Megawhiskey? Sounds illegal. I'll take it! Then I'll stick my jetbike in the Space Catapult, jump on, and get myself a ride off this planet. Maybe then I won't have to worry about the Irregular Pentagonal blahdiblah. It's a damn table. And I think it wants to eat me now, like it did to Fred the other day for getting a coffee stain on it. Anyways, might I suggest not docking? The budget has been getting a beating lately. I hear that some of the "pilots" are thinking of using some old missiles they found, which look intensely dangerous in the nuclear, melt-your-face-off kinda sense. It's safer to just land. Trust me."

Eh, we'll just transport down... incoming!

A hand materialized out of nowhere, oddly enough having an entire human attached to it as it waggled a smoking bottle in Greg-egory's general direction.

"Hi! Triangulated your radio signal, hope ya don't mind."

William Longarm and Captain Mall stood before him, with vastly different grins on their faces.

Greg-egory perked up at the sight of the bottle.

"Looks great! Usually I only drink whiskey that's on fire and shooting sparks because one of the docking bays just landed, but this'll do just as well! And afterwards, we can all get on Jetbikes and take a ride on the space catapult, like I was saying earlier. It's great fun. Especially the part where you catch on fire for a minute or so. Mind you, you have to put on armor, but I'm sure I can knick some for you boys. So, what say you? Binge-drinking time?"

Outside, in the parade, the King continued to run around, kicking people, for a good hour. After this, he ran around hooting as he picked people up and threw them into the lake. Finally, after tiring of this, he took a moment to talk to the Abh citizens.

"I think it's time for food now, don't you? Let's go have that banquet!"

King Morcanon rose to greet the two Abh citizens, but was shoved back down by two gaurding knights.

"Oh... hehehe... I, I sho-shouldn't do that, should I? I mi-might hurt myself ag-again. And tha-that would be qui-quite pai-painful. And I might bl-bl-bl-bleed again. Blo-blood... so ick-icky, and re-red, goo-goo-goo-goooooooeeeeey! It's-it's all ar-around m-me. Ah! AHHHHHHHH! Sa-save m-me! I dro-drowning in i-it. Noooooooooooooooooo! IT'S ST-STAINS ME! IT'S S-SO RE-RED! AHHHH!

With this, that king fell out of his chair, twitching. The two knights just watched him for a few minutes with a bored expression. Slowly, the spasms stopped, and the king hopped to his feet again.

"Now, I feel better! Feel like a new man! Hahah! I kid! I am a new man! I'll explain later! Enjoying myself too much! Must go break something!"

With that, the King jumped onto the horse that had been standing next to his throne and rode straight into the practicing band and began kicking people.

OOC: You can ask about him if you want, or learn a little later on at the feast. Just don't ask HIM about it, ask a knight.

Samson and Sobach looked at the two knights and just kinda shrugged... "Can you guys lend us a hand here with these bottles and tell us where to put them for the feast? I think we brought enough to go around for quite a few people."

Sobach watched the King go by kicking people... "Is there something we should know about him?"

A short woman came bustling up to them and loaded the bottles into a little plastic carton.

"I'll take those, thanks."

And bustled off again.

The two knights turned away from the King and looked at the Abh citizens. The one on the left, a six-foot-tall black man turned to respond.

"Ah, hello. I am Sir Palomides. Erm... yes, there really is something you should know about him. He is a rather nice guy most of the time, but he suffers from a bit of a... personality disorder, I suppose it should be called. The problem arose about 10 years about, when the King was 18, on campaign. In order to help defeat some invaders, he befriended a group of orcs that used to live on the planet just closer to the sun. He was injured in battle, and instructed us to send him to one of the orc Mad Doks. Thinking back on it, he was never that sane. Left me put it this way. We think the Mad Dok replaced part of him, as they are want to do. That part of him being his brain. He now randomly changes personalities. When certain things happen, each being different for each personality, his emotions push themselves to the extreme, and he collapses and starts to twitch for a while. When he gets up, he's a new man. Literally."

Doing a quick headcount, William took stock of exactly how many people were to attend this 'banquet'. Then he looked at the serving size listed on his slightly smoking bottle of Megawhiskey.

Serving Size: 1 dropperfull (23049 servings)

Yeah, should be big enough.

"Now, sir... uh... sir? You mind stopping kicking people for a moment? I'm sure they'd appreciate it if they weren't also stone drunk... oh, they are... well, try not to give them TOO much of a hangover WOULD YOU GET OVER HERE?

"Ah good. Now, the key to this stuff is that ya need a glass of water... you know what that is don't you? Don't scream like that, its just water, you know, stuff that goes INTO booze? NOW, you get a glass of water, ya put a single eyedrop full on the tip of your tongue and wash it down with the glass of water. GUARANTEED, you will be rolling on the ground and spouting mathematical formulae within a minute. Every time its different, and we try to record what ya say... the Megawhiskey is actually a type of hickory tasting enzyme that converts contacting water into a surprisingly concentrated alcohol. DO NOT HAVE MORE THAN ONE EYEDROPFUL BEFORE THE MATH TALK BEGINS."

The king glared at him slightly, not actually paying any attention. Then, he snatched the bottle and poured half the contents over the various unconcious, open-mouthed peasants he'd kicked earlier. Smiling, he handed the bottle back without saying a word.

William had already pulled on his blast goggles.

"I suggest you take cover, O impulsive one."

A short woman came bustling up to them and loaded the bottles into a little plastic carton.

"I'll take those, thanks."

And bustled off again.

The two knights turned away from the King and looked at the Abh citizens. The one on the left, a six-foot-tall black man turned to respond.

"Ah, hello. I am Sir Palomides. Erm... yes, there really is something you should know about him. He is a rather nice guy most of the time, but he suffers from a bit of a... personality disorder, I suppose it should be called. The problem arose about 10 years about, when the King was 18, on campaign. In order to help defeat some invaders, he befriended a group of orcs that used to live on the planet just closer to the sun. He was injured in battle, and instructed us to send him to one of the orc Mad Doks. Thinking back on it, he was never that sane. Left me put it this way. We think the Mad Dok replaced part of him, as they are want to do. That part of him being his brain. He now randomly changes personalities. When certain things happen, each being different for each personality, his emotions push themselves to the extreme, and he collapses and starts to twitch for a while. When he gets up, he's a new man. Literally."

Samson and Sobach shared a look... "Well thank you for the information. Do you happen to know where we can get a drink and relax? We've been exploring for quite some time and would like to relax and stretch our legs a bit."

Sobach looked over at the king pouring the liquor down everyone's throats "Well he seems to be a festive kind of guy. I imagine this will be a great party."

OOC: Erm... before I post, what will happen to them? It seems like it would just, at worst, turn all blood to alcohol and kill them.

OOC: ohhhh... they'll just start emitting large amounts of radiation, running around, chewing on anything in reach, and projectile drooling, and such. Oddly enough, this also gives them a surprising proficiency with explosives... in that they can make stuff that would otherwise be completely inert... blow up. There's something 'Special' about the Megawhiskey.

OOC: Sorry for the wait, was at my cousin's farm. Cute horses. And apologies for the short post, more later.

IC: Stunned by its rather violent landing, the Otagian ship had been sitting still, collecting its wits. Finally, sensors indicated that everything was working again. Woozily, the doors opened, and the Avatar stumbled out. Turning, it headed towards the festivities.

OOC: Sorry, I was at a theme park all day long, couldn't post. And I was lazy the rest of the time :D

IC:

Almost instantly, the effects of the Megawhiskey began to show. In a moment, one of the men tried to stand up, fell back over, and the ground underneath him exploded, blowing him to bits. Another tried the same stunt, but managed to catch hold of the end of the sedan chair. At first, it didn' explode, but then the man realized what happened to the other man, and that he was holding onto the chair, he let out a scream of "PI R SQUARED!". The chair promptly showed that it also enjoyed spontaneous combustion, and joined the exploding party. This continued, with many things-and people-exploding into little chunks. For the people, little meaty chunks. It was quite funny, all things considered. That is, until one "inebriated" woman rushed for the King, who crouched down and started to roll backwards as he kicked out his leg, launching the danger-prone woman straight over him and, as fate would have it, at the Otagian avatar.

If the Avatar had possessed skin, it would have blanched visibly. As it did not, its face-paint would have to suffice. Seeing the woman flying towards it, the clown-Avatar, shreiked, and backpedaled, smacking into a door. Seeing no escape, the clown wimpered, and huddled in the foetal position.

Seeing an opening, Id took over. The clown reared up, exploding with sharp instruments. Buzz-saws, axes, sword blades, pocket knives, corkscrews, the list was endless. With a cry of "BONZAI!" the madly grinning Id-controlled Avatar launched itself at the unfortunately airborne woman.

The resulting mess would take hours to clean up. The tapestries would never be the same. Nor would the woman. For one, she was rather disassembed.

Coming back to its Super-controlled senses, the Avatar looked about.

"Oh dear. Was that me? I'm so terribly sorry. Erm, do you think she'll be alright?"

The captain toggled his intercom,

"Captain Mall to Fiendrender, beam down a couple bottles of Crimson Dawn, I don't think we should allow these folk any more access to the house specialty."

Switching the intercom off, he turned to William: "And THAT is why we do not bring such volatile drinks into diplomatic situations."

"Yes sir... could you make the demon clown go away? Clowns scare me, and clowns with lots and lots of sharp implements of death do NOT assist in the therapy."

Sobach and Samson both cringed at the sight of the disembowed woman. Samson held onto Sobach's hand... "You better stay close to me. These guys look like they like to play rough."

Sobach turned and smiled... "Oh I didn't know you cared honey ."

Samson grabbed a couple of bottles of whiskey and poured the soldiers each a glass and poored himself a tall one.

The king, if anything, looked impressed. When the last of the drinker had died, exploded, or just fallen asleep standing up, he walked over next to the clown and looked at the gore in a way that could mildly be called respect.

"Oh, hey, look. Her large intestines make a kind of smile, and the left arm makes a nose. And, see how the two halves of the body look a bit like eyes, and all the fingers look a tad like hair? Amazing. We should stick that between two sheets of glass and frame it! Oh, but then all the bones would break and the intestines would make a squishy mess... it's a shame. Still, I'm being rude. I'm King... ugh... Morcanon. Just call me George. First name. So, where would you be from?"

---

Back behind the castle, Sir Greg-egory readied the Space Catapult. He aimed it away from the parade, on the off chance that perhaps no one would hear the launch. He also set the angle low, for the same reason. Also, the friction would be less, and give him more shield time, so it'd be more likely that he'd catch a ship to ride. Finally, Greg-egory flipped a small switch that started the charging process, twisted a timer dial to thirty minutes, which is the amount of time charging usually took, and hopped onto his jetbike and drove it onto lens-shaped launch platform.

Under the pile of dead and dying bodies of the megawhiskey drinkers/victims, a large tube of wires began to pulse electricity. This was, of course, normal. What was not normal was the fact that over half of the tube of wires was gone from the first man falling and blowing up the ground.

After a few minutes, sparks from the wires jumped and ignited the flesh, causing it to catch fire again. Then, moments later, a particularly large surge of energy leaped the gap and hit the body, flinging it up into the air and dropping it on Sir Palomides' head, who grimaced in extreme distaste.

----------

The timer on the space catapult was close to finished. A mere thirty seconds remained on it. Greg-egory was bracing himself. Riding the space catapult was a rather frightening experience, on the whole. In truth, it was the height that got you. And the fear of what happens if the angle is too long for the amount of power one set the space catapult at. Greg-egory had never experienced it before. It might have been better if he had. The needle on the power metre hadn't even reached halfway. Greg-egory didn't notice.

It was almost a beautiful thing. With a small electronic beep, the process started. A large, piston-like device that was under the launch pad, and had slowly extended during the charging process, hissed as the safety locks deactivated. It snapped forward with a thud, sending a pulse of energy through the glowing launch pad and firing Greg-egory and his jetbike straight away at a 45 degree angle.

Above the cloudline, it was serene. Beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that Gregegory didn't, at first, notice that he'd lost speed, and wasn't gaining altitude. Of course, this changed as soon as he began to fall again.

"Oh.... shit."

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Back on the ground, nothing truly interesting was happening. People were cleaning up, as they are want to do. The harsh roar of the sound barrier being beaten to death instantly drew the attention of all the worn out people. What drew their attention more is when the jetbike, with Greg-egory on it, flew down from the sky like some holy arrow and hit the avatar square in the chest.

The Avatar was talking animatedly to a rather overweight woman, who seemed to be on the verge of chewing off her leg to escape, when the sound hit its sensors. Looking around in confusion, the Avatar couldn't seem to find the source. Sadly, the creation seemed to forget that it could look up, and was hit directly in the chest.

The avatar flew across the throne-room, smashing into a pillar, which collapsed with a horrid thud. The party-goers looked on with a mix of horror and mild amusement. If any of them had been standing near the collapsed pillar, they would have heard a rather confused voice emanating from beneath it.

"Oh dear. Oh DEAR. Erm, hallo? Hallo? Excuse me, am I dead? It's very dark down here... Is that a rat? Help? I do say, help!"