PLOT BREAKTHROUGHS!
AN: Both of these scenes occur sometime after the last one I posted. Pardon the gaping hole in between.
...As the words poured forth from Angelita's gaping maw, Fern frond Found herself agreeing more and more with the Evil Overlord's statement that those who used words like "soulbonded" deserved some form of punishment. Stringing up by the toenails and an ugly haircut, while popular seemed harsh (and moot). Fern spied the shiny beads in a vase by the end table. A small fine seemed appropriate. She slowly extended a frond. As it crept out, it knocked over a small portrait of Chef Philippe. Fern Froze. One ill-timed movement, and her cover could be blown. It would be a public relations nightmare for both herself and the Evil Ferret Overlord, not to mention the Forgers. She considered how much pressure it would take to sever a toenail. She curled her toes and winced.
"...and as long as your souls are on the same level..." Angelita continued, barely bothering to pause for air. The sudden movement in the corner hadn't even merited a twitch of the little folds beneath her eyes. Fern pressed a button labelled "suction" and a sub-pod opened and began to siphon the shiny beads. Not too many, just enough to be unsettling once the blathering behemoth got around to noticing their absence. She thought of the many uses the Overlord would find for the shinies, many of them far more practical than storing them in a vase.
*PLOT BREAK*
"Please to has make deliveries!" Philippe begged. "They sees me, they will eats me!"
"It would be nice to serve as something besides a coat rack for a change. Do you really think they will eat you?" Rosencrantz asked.
"Might. They seems to think food-making brain has high market value."
"Well, we'll see if it's as bad as all that."
*Slightly Smaller Plot Break*
To the attorney's dismay, the arrival of the pastries was met not with cries of joy, but with ones of alarm. She had patiently explained that she was "just filling in, but by the third dropping point, the rumors of Philippe's untimely demise had circulated through the village and a crowd of mourners had begun to follow the attorney through the streets. They seemed unwilling to let her return to the castle unaccompanied, so she turned to face the crowd.
"Rumors of Philippe's death have been exaggerated"
"Then where is he?" the villagers cried. "We have a right to know."
"Philippe will return to work tomorrow." Rosencrantz thought for a moment then pulled out a pen and a pad of legal paper, "on one condition: On this piece of paper, I am writing a pledge that none of us will eat him, and we will allow him to make his deliveries in a timely manner. I need the signatures of everyone here."
Unfortunately, the attorney had forgotten the qualifier "only" and most of the villagers chose to amend their signatures with personal messages. By the time they were through, Rosencratz had been deprived of several pads of legal paper and the better part of an afternoon. She slipped the paper back into her briefcase and bid the villagers goodbye.
Authors' Notes cont'd: 1. Am considering dropping the character of Anglita's Mother, and making A. herself quite old.
2. The attorneys may have a fondness for office supplies, depending on the comedic value of this quirk.
3. Must create a suitably maudlin song for the Raffia Mafia to sing.
4. Some of the Raffia Mafia's more loathesome acts may be inspired by the Dungeon Players, rather than being an act of rebellion against them.
5. Hopefully the creative juices will continue to flow.
...As the words poured forth from Angelita's gaping maw, Fern frond Found herself agreeing more and more with the Evil Overlord's statement that those who used words like "soulbonded" deserved some form of punishment. Stringing up by the toenails and an ugly haircut, while popular seemed harsh (and moot). Fern spied the shiny beads in a vase by the end table. A small fine seemed appropriate. She slowly extended a frond. As it crept out, it knocked over a small portrait of Chef Philippe. Fern Froze. One ill-timed movement, and her cover could be blown. It would be a public relations nightmare for both herself and the Evil Ferret Overlord, not to mention the Forgers. She considered how much pressure it would take to sever a toenail. She curled her toes and winced.
"...and as long as your souls are on the same level..." Angelita continued, barely bothering to pause for air. The sudden movement in the corner hadn't even merited a twitch of the little folds beneath her eyes. Fern pressed a button labelled "suction" and a sub-pod opened and began to siphon the shiny beads. Not too many, just enough to be unsettling once the blathering behemoth got around to noticing their absence. She thought of the many uses the Overlord would find for the shinies, many of them far more practical than storing them in a vase.
*PLOT BREAK*
"Please to has make deliveries!" Philippe begged. "They sees me, they will eats me!"
"It would be nice to serve as something besides a coat rack for a change. Do you really think they will eat you?" Rosencrantz asked.
"Might. They seems to think food-making brain has high market value."
"Well, we'll see if it's as bad as all that."
*Slightly Smaller Plot Break*
To the attorney's dismay, the arrival of the pastries was met not with cries of joy, but with ones of alarm. She had patiently explained that she was "just filling in, but by the third dropping point, the rumors of Philippe's untimely demise had circulated through the village and a crowd of mourners had begun to follow the attorney through the streets. They seemed unwilling to let her return to the castle unaccompanied, so she turned to face the crowd.
"Rumors of Philippe's death have been exaggerated"
"Then where is he?" the villagers cried. "We have a right to know."
"Philippe will return to work tomorrow." Rosencrantz thought for a moment then pulled out a pen and a pad of legal paper, "on one condition: On this piece of paper, I am writing a pledge that none of us will eat him, and we will allow him to make his deliveries in a timely manner. I need the signatures of everyone here."
Unfortunately, the attorney had forgotten the qualifier "only" and most of the villagers chose to amend their signatures with personal messages. By the time they were through, Rosencratz had been deprived of several pads of legal paper and the better part of an afternoon. She slipped the paper back into her briefcase and bid the villagers goodbye.
Authors' Notes cont'd: 1. Am considering dropping the character of Anglita's Mother, and making A. herself quite old.
2. The attorneys may have a fondness for office supplies, depending on the comedic value of this quirk.
3. Must create a suitably maudlin song for the Raffia Mafia to sing.
4. Some of the Raffia Mafia's more loathesome acts may be inspired by the Dungeon Players, rather than being an act of rebellion against them.
5. Hopefully the creative juices will continue to flow.