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Old 08-22-2017, 07:58 PM   #29 (permalink)
Oriphiel
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Join Date: Oct 2014
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And The Ladies Of MB


Scene 1: In The Castle Of Lady Batlord

Lady Batlord smiles wickedly as she scans the letter in her hands. "Dear Lady Batlord," it reads, "thou art cordially invited to the Harvest Ball of Exoskeletal Manor, in the estate of fair Lady Exo, to be held three nights hence. If thou is inclined to attend, then with all haste send thine stately reply. As with all such events, hosted and attended by noble Ladies, tis required that all guests doth bring a dish, crafted by thine own noble hands, to share with thine noble peers. And, though it doth pain me to do so, I nevertheless feel obligated to remind thee that, as I told thee a fortnight ago at the Autumn Gala, 'bringing the beer' doth not satisfy the requirements of a true noble dish, especially when thou brings but three cans of Steel Reserve. Regardless, I hope to see thee in attendance at the ball. With all sincerity, Lady Exo."

Her smile growing, Lady Batlord folds the letter up and sets it down upon a table. Stepping forward onto her balcony, she puts her hands on the cool metal railing and gazes upon her domain. The surfs below are wailing in misery as they harvest jagged batfruits, the sharp thorns of which are known for their painful pierce. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, Lady Batlord takes in the beautiful ambiance, and thinks of the coming ball as she allows her imagination to take her mind on an endless adventure of possibilities. "Perhaps..." she whispers to herself, as she imagines a sharp batfruit placed under the cushions of every chair along Lady Exo's massive dining table. She shakes her head lightly, for while it would indeed be an amusing jest, it hardly suited a noble of her standing to repeat a joke. Her smile widens as an image of a punch bowl flashes through her mind. She sees a piece of fake (or maybe even real) excrement floating therein, and then a used condom floating in its place, only to have both fade from her mind as an eyeball plucked from one of her surfs falls into the punch bowl with a splatter. "Or maybe.."

This continues for some time, as Lady Batlord and her wicked mind dance passionately together to the sonata of debauchery, for Lady Batlord had long since wed herself to the art of trickery. Once a noble being of pure intentions and honorable merit, she had left her duties to wander the width of the world on a journey of self-cultivation. However, in her travels, she discovered that the construct of morality was as transient as the mortals that created it. Whether "good" or "evil", all things and all people race endlessly onward as the universe exhales, destined to return to the void when the cosmos hath no breath left to expel, and once more begins to take all matter within itself as the cycle of the eternal billows carries on.

However, that is not to say that Lady Batlord felt helpless in the wake of the void. In fact, it had rather the opposite effect on her. Knowing that her time was thusly limited, she no longer imparted any of her energies in pursuing that which delighted her not. And it was then that she fell in love with devilish trickery. Life was short, and people inept, set in their ways as they maintain their homeostasis, but in the heat of a trick, the spark of a prank, the false worlds around them shatter for but a moment, allowing them to see themselves and the world around them with the eyes of one who is unsure. There was a beauty in this, the forcible pulling of the curtain, making them question the world that they had found so irreproachable. In that instant of being fooled, all heroes become clowns, all kings become paupers, and all self-important blowhards become the scared children that they had hidden under layers of armor and weapons, that which we all try so hard to lock away in the cellars beneath our personas.

Lady Batlord laughs to herself, dreaming of wonderful schemes, and savoring the shocked expressions of the Ladies in attendance as they swoon, unable to bear such tremendous pranks as she had in store for them. Filling a crystal glass with batfruit wine, she savors the aroma of the thick drink before putting it to her lips. In truth, though she meant them harm, she loved the snobbish nobility. In fact, she loved most everyone, in an odd sort of way. While the virtuous toiled to fashion the world into a shape more pleasing to their noble ideals, Lady Batlord was perfectly happy to see it remain as it was, for she adored it. The love, the hate, the peace, the violence... it all served to make the exciting world that served as the perfect backdrop for her revelry. Everything about it made her enjoy life that much more, for it was an unpredictable adventure, sometimes pleasing and other times terrible and horrific, but an adventure nonetheless. And she dreams her frightening dreams as she forms her plots, ever smiling and ever laughing. For mischief was her religion, and pranks were her sacraments. Setting down the glass of wine, she claps her hands, summoning a servant to her chambers. "Send forth the child catchers to prowl the city streets tonight," she says, savoring every word. "For ere the next moon arrives and I depart, I shall bathe in orphan blood."

Scene 2: In The Estate Of Lady Exo

The heels of Lady Batlord's hellfire-red shoes crunch satisfyingly as she strides across the gravel road towards the entrance of Exoskeletal Manor, circumventing a large fountain upon which many young lovers sit, holding each other in their arms and reciting sappy poetry. With a stealthy movement of her hand, she drops a canister of tear gas as she passes by the starry eyed lovers, which quickly begins to spew it's noxious charge. As the cloud spreads, and the lovers frantically begin to run from the fountain, tripping over themselves as they gasp for air, Lady Batlord laughs to herself. "Ah," she says, "young love. It always has a way of choking me up."

Stepping inside the manor, Lady Batlord is surrounded by the sound of lush orchestral music, and the rich scent of freshly cooked food. A servant steps forward, preparing to bow his head, when he suddenly recognizes the identity of the guest before him, and takes on an expression of horror as he takes a step back. Quickly trying to compose himself, he bows his head lightly, saying "Welcome, your Ladyship. Please enter."

Lady Batlord tilts her head at him and gives him a devilish smile. "Now, now. Aren't you supposed to ask me for my contribution to the feast?"

The servant gulps. "Y-yes, your Ladyship. However, it isn't really necessary for you to..."

"Nonsense," interrupts Lady Batlord. Reaching into her purse, she pulls out a strange sort of crab.

"What on earth..." stammers the servant, as he takes another step back. The crab leers at him with comically angry eyes, and points his claws at the poor fellow with ominous intent. Luckily, the beast's claws are restrained by rubber bands, however the bands seem to be old and worn, on the verge of breaking.

Lady Batlord steps forward, and plops the beast into the servant's hands. "Now, you take that to Lady Exo, and tell her that I wish her the best on this most lavish of nights. It's a crab, fresh from the shores of Bat County, and I'm sure her chefs can make it into a fine bisque. I'd have cooked it myself, but batcrab really ought to be prepared immediately before consumption. Otherwise, it tastes like a rotten asshole, and that simply wouldn't do for such a fine event as this. Even though I'm sure such a taste is hardly foreign to the palate of our lovely Lady Exo..."

Having said that, Lady Batlord walks past the servant and enters the party. Behind her, she hears the faint crack of rubber bands snapping, and a cry of pain. She smiles, and swipes a glass of wine from the hand of a noblewoman just as she is about to take the virgin sip. Drinking half of the glass in a single gulp, she steps further into the party, and covertly pours the rest of her drink into the purse of Countess Norg. She then steps onto the dancefloor, and joins the ball in earnest, all the while scanning the party for possible jests.

"I like your dress," says Countess Norg to The Duchess of Chiomara. "What is it made of?"

The Duchess of Chiomara stretches out her arms, allowing her lavish gown to be seen in full blossom. "Nightmares," she answers, as a vision of fright flashes across the threads.

Raising an eyebrow, Countess Norg smiles and nods. Reaching into her purse for her kerchief, so that she might wipe the sweat from her brow, she discovers that the contents of her purse have been muddled in a quagmire of wine. Shrugging, she lifts up her purse and drinks deeply, for to a member of the proud Norg family, purse wine is better than no wine at all.

Elsewhere, a figure stands silent among the chattering nobility, peering at the dancefloor with a steely gaze. Catching sight of Lady Batlord, the figure notices the devilish look in her eye, and smiles. Unfolding her fan, Lady Frown cools herself as her mind begins to race, guessing the intent of Lady Batlord's visitation. At the last party, it had been a sackful of hobgoblins hidden amongst the pile of gifts, bursting free from their bondage and causing all the Ladies to swoon just as Princess Troll-Hart had begun to entertain the party with a fiddle solo (as Princess Troll-Hart is, as everyone knows, an expert at fiddling solo). Lady Frown wondered what trick Lady Batlord had up her sleeve for this night's event. And, though she was not yet sure whether she would oppose the devil's ploys or support them, she was certain of one thing; that tonight would be a night worth remembering.

To be continued in Part Two, coming to a Mesopotamian tablet near you in the Spring of 3,000 BC
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