The Thread. Our Magnum Opus, boys and girls, where we will commence the actual torments and trials and tribulations associated with RPs.
((Okay, I'm just gonna make my chars fall out of the sky now. Hope you don't mind!))
Flying was fine. There was nothing wrong with flying. Particularly when Argon drove the shuttlecraft - even if he wouldn't trust his partner with his life, Destin knew he was an excellent pilot.
Falling was another matter all together. Beyond the fact that he was in space and that the wind hitting his face shouldn't be there, he had never much liked the idea of watching the ground get larger and larger and larger and -
Oh gods. He hated heights.
Argon whooped, arms spread out as they fell for the giant turtle that shouldn't be below them. "Don't know what crack we're drugged on, but this is brilliant!" he laughed against the wind.
"Mmhmm," Destin managed through skewed shut eyes and a sick stomach.
It was lucky for then that the magical explosion from the Unseen University cushioned their fall as they bounced to the ground, only coming out with one broken arm (Destin's). They leapt to their feet, trying figure out how they'd come from outer space to the Victorian Era in five minutes.
"We've been here a week. I don't think the devices are suddenly going to magically start working again." Lewis Carrellan said from where he was lounging provocatively on a dingy couch and lazily watching as Inirot Garyod assisted Jonathan Llewellyn with makeshift tools. They were both hunched over the components of a device far too sophisticated and above all logical for Discworld. Llewellyn shot him a look from behind blue tinted glasses.
"If you're not helping, please, don't try to contribute any pearls of wisdom." He snapped. Lew laughed.
"Lighten up man. This place isn't so bad."
"You like anyplace where you can get laid."
"Perhaps we should concentrate on the faulty teleporter?" Inirot suggested.
"You guys knock yourselves out. I'm gonna go play poker." Lew smiled as he walked out the door, and kept smiling in that special predatory way. He strutted down the streets that he'd come to know pretty well. He liked to walk around and watch the people scurrying around in a hurry or else lounging around with nothing to do. And then there was the weird place that made his nanites tingle. The one with the oddly tall tower. And, apparently, a smoking spaceship wreck. Lew stared mildly for a few moments.
Destin cringed, clutching his twisted arm. "You're sure - "
"Yes, Constable, I'm sure," Argon snapped. "He's dead. If the smell isn't enough to prove it."
The other nodded. "Is my scanner intact?"
"Yip, lucky us." Then he noticed Lew. "Who the hell are you?"
Destin shot him a stern look before examining the other quizzically. "What my associate means is, where are we and who are you? This is far too large-scale for some kind of renaissance fair."
"We got a good view," Argon put in wryly.
Destin cringed. He hated heights.
Lew grinned. "Who'm I? Probably the only one besides you who knows that this piece of wreckage used to be a space shuttle. This place is Discworld. Apparently it's flat. And on top of a turtle." His smile turned more smug. "So I'm guessing you guys need some help getting on your feet?"
Argon was trying to keep a straight face.
"Let me make certain I heard you correctly," Destin started calmly. "Argon and I are on disc located on top of a giant turtle?" His partner bent over and laughed silently. Destin paid him no mind. "May I ask how you happen to have knowledge beyond that the others here do?"
"Well, I don't but I won't try to knife you." Lew said with a laugh. "And I won't think you're insane for asking perfectly obvious questions." He folded his arms over his chest. "You can come with me or not... But I'm pretty sure the wizards won't be very happy with you." He nodded at the lawn.
((They can't tell he doesn't belong here?))
"I just want to know, if you what you say is true, how you recognize our craft." Destin nodded, stepping after him. "My name is Destin, and that's Argon."
"Wait- wait- " Argon tried to catch up, still grinning foolishly. "You're not saying you believe him, right?"
"I'm not ruling anything out. Besides, you saw the turtle."
Argon started laughing again at that.
Suddenly, There was the distinct sound of a gunshot, followed by many magical explosions, and lots of wittering coming from the Unseen University. Destin and Argon instinctively whirled in that direction.
"What was that?" Argon demanded.
"Do they have guns here?"
((They haven't been here long - only just saw a little bit here and there, and don't really know what the fashion is on the disc. Back on Arrivia people wear kind of Sherlock-Holmesy and medieval stuff too)
"Oh. Looks just like the pictures of ancient Earth technology." Lew said with another shrug. "Nothing's throwing me for a loop after winding up here." When the gunshot rang out, he looked surprised and began to walk towards the source of all the hubbub. Hefting the solid plastic of his own gun, of course.
"Ancient?" Destin demanded, almost sounding hurt as he went after the commotion as well. He winced as his arm jostled. "That's the newest work of sheer - "
"Shut it, Constable. No one likes piece of junk half as much as you do."
Destin glared at him, but spoke no more.
They came to a room in the University, with a woman in a police officer's uniform held a revolver at ready - constantly turning to fend off the wizards surrounding her. There was a bullet hole in the ceiling, and her badge said 'New York Police'. "Again: where the hell am I?"
"I thought you wanted an average copper!"
"I said stopper! I wanted the most average stopper in all dimensions!"
"What even is a stopper?" the wizards argued.
"Hallo there. What's going on?" Lew asked amiably, giving the newcomer a once over. "Well this is interesting. She's wearing an archaic police costume. And is that a projectile gun?"
"I don't know what you're all talking about," the woman growled. "And 'projectile' gun or not this thing works. So someone: What. Am. I. Doing. Here? "
"Apparently we're all on the back of a big turtle," Argon shrugged.
"Don't insult my intelligence."
"Actually," a wizard pointed out shakily, holding up a finger. "We're on top of a four elephants on top of a giant turtle."
"Would someone please answer me?!"
"Why don't you start by telling us who you are?" Destin suggested calmly.
"Rockelle Thompson; New York police. You?"
"Destin, Constable."
"Of what?" she demanded.
"The Single City."
"What?"
"Wow, we're all coppers!" Lew laughed. "Well, except the guys with the pointy hats. 'Parently they're wizards."
Destin whirled around. "You're a cop?" he looked extremely skeptical.
"Wizards?!" Thompson demanded. "You're telling me I'm surrounded by wizards?"
"Yep. Ordinary street cop, though. Nothing fancy. Well, I do immigration control but we all do... And isn't it a kick?" He added to Rockelle.
Destin still seamed stuck on: this guy's a cop?
"Why are there so many new cops?" a wizard asked another. He shrugged.
"Must have something to do with the time of year and thickness of the magical field."
"I was having coffee when someone drugs and kidnaps me. I'm not getting 'a kick' out of this," Thompson bit back. "But if you're all wizards then send me back. And where are you from, anyway?" she demanded of Lewis.
"Andromeda 23-B, born and bred. Richest planet in the system." Lew said with an even broader smile. "And from what I've heard, wizards are pretty incompetent."
Slowly, she lowered her gun. "This isn't a joke?" Thompson asked flatly.
"If it is, Jonny boy's gonna kill someone." Lew said, laughing again.
"Who?" she asked in confusion.
"If it is, it's quite elaborate," Destin put in.
"The constable and I fell out of the sky; we got a view," the other explained.
"Is that you're only point, Argon? It's the second time you've said it."
"Pretty much."
"I'm assuming this is some sort of pocket universe. That's what Inirot says. I tend to believe him. He's an alien after all." Lew said chattily. While eyeing the big one-- Argon?--out of the corner of his eye. "Llewelyn, Jonathan. He's from that one planet in that other galaxy. Forget which. Ruled by Geniuses or some such. Boy has issues, he likes to practically scream that he's straight when anyone with half a brain can tell that the leather pants are clearly a sign of..." He stopped. Maybe he'd said a little too much.
"I don't really have the slightest idea what you just said," Thompson said flatly. "Last I checked there was Earth. And that's it."
Argon glanced at Destin. "We should have that arm looked at."
The constable nodded. "Agreed," his voice was slightly strained. "And, Miss Thompson, you're a little out of date. There's at least Arrivia."
Rockelle, remembering how she normally dealt with injuries, cupped her hands around her mouth: "Anyone here a doctor?!"
"Oh, you've got a broken arm? I can fix that. In about five minutes. So you guys really don't have nanites? Weird." Lew said with a chuckle. He pulled a knife out of his breast pocket and casually cut his hand open. "Quick cut and five minutes and you'll be right as rain."
((He's not wearing leather pants. Jon wears 'em, and that's what he's referring to.))
Destin turned to Lewis with new interest. "Nanites? Those are still in their early stages of development. Project 8-2-9, last I checked." He cocked his head curiously as the flesh pulled together. "That's impressive."
Argon looked impatient. "If we're done with the scientific stuff - " - Destin laughed "We didn't use a single technical term, Argon." - " - can you just fix him so we can be on our way?"
"And go where?" Thompson asked curiously. There was silence as the two cops glanced at one another.
((Aw. Fine. It would have been funny if he had been; fixed the post))
"Mind if I use a knife on you? Or else you could drink the blood. Nanites are transferrable to an extent. And don't worry, they keep disease out of me, so you don't have to worry about that new AIDS strain everyone's freaking out about." Lewis said with a roll of his eyes.
Lewis smiled, nodded, and made a quick incision on the injured arm. Quickly he pressed his own wound against the other's. "Five minutes. Or I could tell them to stay and keep things up... You'd be practically immortal." There was a quick smile of a slightly seductive quality.
"I wouldn't mind if you left the nanites there, but take them if you like. I've made it well enough these past years without them." He felt his arm pull together, the pain lesson. "Thank you," he clipped with a nod.
