Applicant: Vizier Prandine (Emily Rodda's 'Deltora Quest', saga)

[vizierprandine]

((OOC: I've been unable to find a specific name for his headdress, as it has aspects of a Chaperon, yet is also similar to the Sultan's headwear in Disney's 'Aladdin'. So, for the purpose of this application and any role-play involving Prandine, I'll be referring to his headdress as a 'bourrelet' as it is the culturallyl evolved form of the

Comments

[400_years_young]

Answers like this to the Hufflepuff question gave him a headache. Was it really so hard to figure out?

"I'm guessing you've never heard of 'performance-based interviewing'," John Amsterdam said. Personally, he loved those types of interviews, having over 400 years of performance to draw on.

"Something tells me that Shadow Lords might not be up on the latest hiring practices. The idea is that you tell the person about something you did in the past, so that they get an idea of what you'll do in the future. That's how the Hufflepuff question works. Otherwise, I'm going to assume that you're about as useful as a paperweight, and frankly, they look a lot better than you do."

[vizierprandine]

"I could have said I have the ability to command fire, or that I levelled an entire city, which would mean I was lying." Prandine narrowed his eyes. "Writing something doesn't make it truthful, I would know. I would rather show my usefulness doing something of merit, instead of simply writing down some impromptu activity that may in fact be a falsehood."

Prandine flicked the feathered tail of the quill, it clicked against the rim of the ink well. He paid little attention to John after that 'performance-base yaddah-yaddah' thing, but once his mouth stopped moving and that annoying sound stopped vomiting from his lips, he stared at the man. He indulged the man for a second. "I have killed three generations of kings and queens of Deltora, and I can shapeshift." He tilted his head, evaluating John. "What can you do?"

[400_years_young]

"You know, I think I would prefer the bald-faced lies. Do you know how many people answer with 'I'm powerful because I said so!'? I'm sure that you're more useful than they are, but there's no way to tell." That wasn't sarcasm, more constructive criticism. John liked creativity in his evil servants.

When asked what he could do, John had to think about it for a second. Odds are Prandine didn't know or care what a lawyer or a detective was.

"Me? I can shoe a horse, fix a roof, perform surgeries on the battlefield, make you a fine piece of furniture, and make a mean drink." Jack of all trades, and master of all.

[vizierprandine]

Prandine nodded to the criticism, but held no worth. It seemed he was only nodding to have the discussion mute. Despite his disrespect, he had actually listened.

He coughed gruffly; Jack of all trades and master of none, more like.

"What's your signature drink?" he muttered, shuffling in his robes. He wasn't a young man, Prandine, in fact he was nearly in his mid-forties, but being the Shadow Lord's servant had added some years to his personage; the greying hair and bags under his eyes for example. There was a slight green-eyed monster growing on his shoulder, matching the target of Prandine's brittle stare: John Amsterdam.

[steff_is_a_girl]

Steff was feeling, well, Stefflike. She read over the application, favoring Prandine with a smirk before pronouncing her judgment.

"Fucking poser."

[vizierprandine]

"Excuse me!" he cried shrilly.

[steff_is_a_girl]

"You heard me." Steff said with a smirk. "I obviously touched a nerve, didn't I?"

[vizierprandine]

Prandine worked the muscle in his jaw, glowering at Steff. His golden eyes darted to his poison-laced dagger that rested on the table, then back to Steff. He weighed his options: she'd probably get to it before him, it was much to far away. But he kept the thought postulating in his mind as he erected himself to his full height.

"Obviously," he muttered through his teeth.

[my_soul_itches]

((Is the dagger enchanted or magic, or is it just a yellow dagger? Megan can feel dark magic.))

Megan frowned. "If he's the king, shouldn't he know about all the letters and stuff? It's kind of his job. It'd be like if an ambulence dispatcher didn't feel like passing along the calls to the actual ambulence. I don't think that's right."

[vizierprandine]

((The dagger is normal unfortunately, the yellow sheen was my way of subtly saying how the blade is laced with poison. Sorry!))

Prandine narrowed his sunken eyes at her, muttering a choice swear word under his breath. "You don't need to bother yourself with it, now do you? You snivelling interloper! My orders were clear, and I succeeded in keeping the King in the dark, long enough for the Shadow Lord to work his way in. The hearts of the people of Del were black as tar by the time the King fell," he chuckled gleefully.

[my_soul_itches]

((Gotcha. Unfamiliar with the canon, so I had to ask!))

"Sniveling?" Megan bristled. "You want to talk about black hearts? Part of my soul was ripped out and replaced by black magic." She held out a hand, and a red dagger appeared in it, pulsing with a bright red light. Her black eyes glittered, shadows forming in their hollows. "I've been to hell twice, fought demons, and never gave in. I'm an X-man. I don't snivel. And I'm not afraid of you."

[vizierprandine]

((Nah, it's cool! :D))

Prandine glowered at the vocal minx. "I don't pertain to care if you're afraid of me, little girl! You have a big mouth! I would suggest to you, as we are in a school: TO LEARN TO KEEP IT SHUT!" Prandine hollered.

[shoggies]

Several Shoggies, including Shoggies 4.6 and 10, two of Toki and Skwisgaar's 'eyesball throw-ups children' squelched into the Sorting Room. Too many eyes to count scoped out Prandine, who was clearly a cultist, since he was wearing a robe. And he'd offered them a knife, how nice!

Most of the Shoggies swarmed around Prandine, some poking towards him with curious pseudopods, while a few others eyed the knife, including the 'eyesball throw-ups children'.

"Gives to us the knife! We wants it." Shoggy 10 told Prandine, while Shoggy 11.3 asked, "Whose cultist are you?" The Shoggies weren't excellent at reading, and so the application was of little use to them. "I like your hat!" added Shoggy 16. "It's sooo cool!" a few other Shoggies agreed in eerie unison.

[vizierprandine]

His eyes widened at the sight of such grotesque creatures. He shuffled back some feet until that swarmed the hem of his robe. The muscle under his eye twitched, as it so often did when faced with stress.

"Ah," he croaked.

When one extended its grossly ... arm? he flinched. Then the things, with there many inappropriate eyes, started to talk! He nervously stared from the dagger to the ... things and let out a shaky breath. "Just take it, it's yours ... " he gestured feebly to the dagger, hoping very adamantly that the things ... arms ... could reach the dagger without him needing to fetch it for them.

"Cultist? Ah, ah ... I am the Shadow Lord's--" he squeaked when the other one, Shoggy 16, chimed in with its altered voice filled with such interest. "Ah ... thank you. You're very kind," he gulped.

His eye twitched again when the affirmations erupted in the pseudopod throng.

[shoggies]

The Shoggies found Vizier Prandine's reaction to them to be really quite welcoming and friendly, as seemed typical at Hogwarts. They were used to driving most people insane on a glance, as the amorphous creatures and their mutable temporary organs tended to be a bit much for most. So, any reaction that wasn't screaming and running away tended to be interpreted as a friendly one.

"Sooo cool!" exclaimed Shoggy 10, and shuddered briefly before rearranging its shape again, oozing up along a table leg in order to fetch the dagger with a tentacle-like pseudopod. It waved it around a moment, as Shoggy 4.6 and a few other Shoggies joined Shoggy 10 in admiring the weapon. The rest continued to mill about Prandine, more interested in him than in his bribe.

"Do we know the Shadow Lord?" Shoggy 16 asked the surrounding Shoggies, to which Shoggy 29 replied, "It's Master Nyarly, I bet." At this, the other Shoggies piped in with their usual chorus of 'sooo cool', evidently approving. Shoggy 5 3/4 was meanwhile eyeing Prandine's hat with interest,

[vizierprandine]

Prandine gawked at the metamorphic globs with clear, and utter, disdain. There was a certain aspect to his expression that would have sprung up a particular thought in others: Why are you touching/looking at me? Prandine was not the touchy-feely sort, and kept staring at the dagger he had now foolishly relinquished to the shoggies, and back at the ones still talking to him.

"I wouldn't believe you'd know him," he ventured a little sickly. This Master Nyarly sounded like some rotund feline: regardless, no one could live up to the Shadow Lord's reputation and brilliance. As such, he didn't believe he was still in his own world, in Deltora.

His thoughts shattered with the insufferable question question Shoggy 5 3/4 had asked. He glowered down at the thing, all pretence of sickness at their sights, and used as much authority in his high voice as possible: "No."

[ugly_old_hat]

"Hello gorgeous!" the Hat said to Prandine's headgear. "I haven't seen you around here before."

[vizierprandine]

Prandine stared up at the talking hat, that was clearly leading up to engage in coitus, with his own bourrelet. Prandine was transfixed, a dopey look on his face as he tried to comprehend this. His own hat couldn't speak, so after a very uncomfortable three minutes of silence, he answered: "Um, hello?"

[ugly_old_hat]

"Shh!" the Hat shushed him angrily. "We're having a moment here."

[vizierprandine]

Prandine's eyebrows fell over his eyes, and glared at the space in front of him. If this hat started groping it with its straps ... he shuddered at the thought. For now, he would remain as calm and composed as possible. But ... if any touchy-touchy occurred, the hat would be sorry.

Unbeknownst to him, however, was the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that screamed: DON'T UPSET THE HAT!