championoftime (
championoftime) wrote2011-07-12 12:55 am
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[Public]
I've had a good number of people travel with me over the years. One of them was a young man named Hex. He was a brilliant lad, a nurse, who joined us and at first was astounded and amazed at every wondrous thing I presented before him. The space ships. The alien worlds. Travelling to his own distant past.
But then he met Cromwell, and it was Cromwell who started him down the path to being broken. He'd taken quite a shine to Ace, who many of you met. And when he thought he'd lost her, he did terrible things in her name. They haunted him, later. A healer, suddenly burdened with the loss of lives that circumstantially or not, he led to.
Things became worse. He was held for interrogation as a murder suspect. He was brainwashed at a military installation. Occurrence after occurrence, gradually damning him until that was all he could see rather than any of the good he'd done. I still regretted it when he left. Selfishly, too, because I was frustrated I wanted to show him so much wonder and all I did was show him the value of death.
Thus far, I've been burnt alive, shot, stabbed, mentally violated, and caught a plague while aboard this ship. ...Doesn't seem like all that much in the grand scheme of things, now that I look at all the ways I've managed to die in the past.
[Filtered to magical warden people that probably have experience with potions]
Speaking of being stabbed. There's a particularly dangerous potion on board that prompted an inmate to attack me in the infirmary. If I were to provide a list of ingredients and tell you the observed symptoms, panic being a primary one, I was wondering if at the very least a potion could be made to lessen or counter the effects.
[Private to Mozenrath]
I have a question to ask. You're a necromancer, correct?
[Private to Narvin]
I'm ready to organize our meeting with Arthas. I swear on Pythia's pantaloons if you so much as switch a single neuron that oughtn't to be touched, I'll make you drop your trousers in front of him.
[YEAH! HOW'S THAT FOR A THREAT!]
I've had a good number of people travel with me over the years. One of them was a young man named Hex. He was a brilliant lad, a nurse, who joined us and at first was astounded and amazed at every wondrous thing I presented before him. The space ships. The alien worlds. Travelling to his own distant past.
But then he met Cromwell, and it was Cromwell who started him down the path to being broken. He'd taken quite a shine to Ace, who many of you met. And when he thought he'd lost her, he did terrible things in her name. They haunted him, later. A healer, suddenly burdened with the loss of lives that circumstantially or not, he led to.
Things became worse. He was held for interrogation as a murder suspect. He was brainwashed at a military installation. Occurrence after occurrence, gradually damning him until that was all he could see rather than any of the good he'd done. I still regretted it when he left. Selfishly, too, because I was frustrated I wanted to show him so much wonder and all I did was show him the value of death.
Thus far, I've been burnt alive, shot, stabbed, mentally violated, and caught a plague while aboard this ship. ...Doesn't seem like all that much in the grand scheme of things, now that I look at all the ways I've managed to die in the past.
[Filtered to magical warden people that probably have experience with potions]
Speaking of being stabbed. There's a particularly dangerous potion on board that prompted an inmate to attack me in the infirmary. If I were to provide a list of ingredients and tell you the observed symptoms, panic being a primary one, I was wondering if at the very least a potion could be made to lessen or counter the effects.
[Private to Mozenrath]
I have a question to ask. You're a necromancer, correct?
[Private to Narvin]
I'm ready to organize our meeting with Arthas. I swear on Pythia's pantaloons if you so much as switch a single neuron that oughtn't to be touched, I'll make you drop your trousers in front of him.
[YEAH! HOW'S THAT FOR A THREAT!]
[Private]
How much do you know about regeneration? [Because he may want an assistant for this without giving up his monopoly on regeneration knowledge. And the Doctor is obviously not as smart as Omega or himself.]
[Private]
I know enough. [Oh, we're going to be belittling people now are we?]
[Private]
And how much is that? [It's one of his favourite pastimes.]
[Private]
I know the gene it's stored on. The way they lurk half formed in your head before coming to pass. That the more you've had, the madder and more risk of being fallible they become. That they're affected by your surroundings and stress. So on and so forth.
[Private]
And how it actually works?
[Private]
I have theories, but they're groundless here. I'm under the impression none of us have regenerations. They're completely countered and made invalid by the death toll.
[Private]
Not here. [You can hear the eye rolling when he says that.] My project concerns restoring them should regeneration be made impossible in some fashion.
[Private]
...[Wait, what?] What project is this?
[Private]
Why do you ask?
[Private]
...Why do you ask?
[Private]
I may call in your assistance should your knowledge suffice.
[Private]
Why do you want to make regenerations here?
[Private]
Surely you can understand that I can't just tell you that? Omega approves of it, if you're worried I'm planning something devious.