DarthMRN on 26/1/2005 at 17:44

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Keeping the thread at the top, is all. :cheeky:

Martijn on 26/1/2005 at 22:49

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:D :D


This stuff is so awesome, i absolutely love it.. i just registered to say that :D

fett on 27/1/2005 at 14:04

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Yes. You've stumbled upon a huge plot hole in the parody.

fett on 28/1/2005 at 05:23

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Chapter 15 – Keeper Compound – 7:04pm

Orlando’s tunnel was right where I was told it would be. I haven’t been in the Keeper Compound since my trial. It’s a sprawling complex in the heart of the City, hidden by glyphs. This naturally explains why the rest of the City is so small that ranged weapons have become little more than a cruel joke. Orlando has the compound wrapped up in the Scrabble championship, so they won’t be expecting intruders – namely me. So much for working together.
I know I didn’t kill Cattlecall, but someone did, and my money’s on Orlando. Even if I’m wrong, I’ve got money to burn so who cares? But it seems like he fixed the trial, sent the Enforcers after me, and the Cuckoo Clock points right to his office. The ‘Mole in our Midst’ finally makes sense. But suspicions aren’t enough, so tonight I’ll do a little snooping, and…if a little Keeper wealth ends up in my pocket, so much the better. Oh yeah! Almost forgot…I’m supposed to mainly be stealing stuff.
Orlando’s place is on the top floor. No surprise – he’s always liked looking down on people. Artemus’ room is near the dormitory so I should search there too…AND I’d better check the scene of Cattlecall’s murder. Most likely they’ve left the body there in exactly the spot it was found, and someone might have left a note for me.
One last thing…the Keeper Council meets tonight. If I can stay awake, I might learn something. If I fall asleep, it will finally confirm that my life and this City are INCREDIBLY BORING.

“Bloodshed in the compound. It has been centuries has it not?”

“Actually, I think Keeper Whatsizname lost quite a bit of blood in that Pictionary fiasco a few months ago.”

“Ah, yes. I had forgotten…”

Orlando’s tunnel had magically teleported Garrett to the foyer of a several-storied tower. Spiral stairs wound their way up into the darkness. Small alcoves served as seats on the Keeper Council. They opened inward to a small auditorium which had seen many crucial decisions, and at least two Yes ‘in the round’ concerts. The stairs were blocked by an elderly male Keeper and a younger female.

“Though there have been the unexplained disappearances,” she said.

“The Council must respond to this,” he conceded, “but nothing much will be done until the excitement of the Scrabble matches have died down. Let us take our place. And when the vote comes, I trust you will step forward with me to be counted. We need all the votes in favor we can muster. Attendance in the Council is lacking. Probably from the competition. Scrabble really takes it out of you…”

Wonder what they have left to decide…maybe I can persuade a few Keepers to vote my way. Not sure what they’re voting on and I’m probably sure it will have very little impact whatsoever on the final outcome of things, but it does give me an excuse to check out the rest of the tower and put some hurt on a few random Keepers.

Garrett managed to take out three of them before reaching the top where he found a book lying open on a pedestal:

[indent]The History of Everything You Need To Know If You Didn’t Bother To Play the First Two Games.[/indent]

Games?

The text went on to describe the details of Garrett’s run-in with the Trickster and Karras including the Keeper’s bungling of both incidents. Just reading the text itself was far more exciting than anything that had happened to him in recent memory. He hoped this would change, but wasn’t holding his breath. Not that he really could anyway, as he’d learned the hard way at the Docks a few days ago.

He descended the stairs and headed for the auditorium as the meeting started.

“Keepers,” a voice rang out, “many of us are called *cough* elsewhere tonight. But for those not er…otherwise engaged…I now bring this Council to order. The question we consider first is ‘whether access to Cattlecall’s chambers should be prescribed’. Shall we remove a guard from the guard hall, thus leaving our most valuable books open to theft - though this shouldn’t be a big problem since Garrett MUST be dead by now what with how scary the Enforcers look and all – and send him to guard Interpreter Cattlecall’s quarters? Please bear in mind that we apparently have only one guard and he cannot be in two places at once. And that Cattlecall’s body has been sitting there for some time now, and the guard will probably complain about the smell.”

“A guard will not stop Garrett, and will only hinder our own work. In the event that someone actually decides to do some work, that is...” a female voice echoed throughout the tower.

“The violence in the City is growing,” protested one of the men, “we should not add to it by arming our own against each other. We should instead allow the Enforcers to continue murdering anything and everything within their line of sight.”

“Well spoken all,” said the bald guy in the center of the floor, “Weigh and consider all that you have heard. Remember a majority vote is needed, so if the two of you who are present vote differently from each other, we’re screwed until the Scrabble thing is over. If your vote is ‘yes’ step forward and be counted. If it is ‘no’ remain unseen in your alcove. The other two of you who are NOT on the council and THINK you are unseen in that alcove on the third floor, please get a room.”

Curses spilled down from a dark alcove above and two younger acolytes scurried off, gathering their clothes as they fled. The bald guy waited for the vote.

“The question before us is…”he began.

“Yeah yeah, we heard you before, let’s get on with it!” someone said.

Hey, this could be a bit of fun… Garrett ran back up the stairs and positioned himself in the back of an empty alcove. He missed the result of the vote, but who cared where the guard went anyway?

“The second issue at hand concerns the X-men comics in the elder library which may provide a bit of relief from all this talk of the ‘unwritten times’,” the bald guy continued, “A proposal has been made to bring these comics to the hall of scribes so someone other than Cattlecall and Orlando can enjoy them. There, under many watchful eyes, their safety will be ensured.”

“Your momma!” called out Garrett.

“Yes…that is an astute observation. Your momma indeed,” another voice echoed across the chamber.

“We should consider this heavily… your momma…” came another.

“Should the comics be moved to the hall of scribes?” the bald guy asked again.

“You suck!” Garrett called down.

Murmurs about the possible significance of sucking rose in the chamber.

“Keepers!” called the bad guy holding up his hands for silence, “Please stay on topic!”

“The only reasonable vote is for the safety of these valuable comics. They are valuable and will not stand the move or harsh treatment,” said one of the women, “They are safe now, and frankly not all they’re cracked up to be.”

“There is already concern about Orlando ‘borrowing’ the special ‘Storm’ issues and leaving them in his private bathroom! The comics must be kept from such abuses.”

“Consider all that you know and all that you have heard, and all that you might think you know, or that you might have heard, or that you might have read somewhere, and vote carefully.”

Not as easily distracted as I thought…Garrett made his way through the auditorium and into the heart of the complex. He passed up the grand hall – the door glyph had that ‘do not enter’ look about it, so that problem would have to be solved somehow. Orlando’s chambers would be the place to figure out how to remove the locks on the doors.

He picked his way through the dining hall, stopping to pocket a nice set of silver, but almost walked into the middle of a conversation in the upper breezeway.

“Happened again it did.” It was the voice of an older, wizened Keeper

“What happened?” the woman sounded suspicious and wary of what he had to tell.

“Given the afternoon off again, they had to be.”

“The scribes you mean? Did something happen with the glyphs again?”

“No no, not that – they both broke the lead in their pencils and locate the pencil sharpener, we cannot.”

“Again? Its that insipid Scrabble match. Orlando keeps sending initiates to commandier the pencil sharpeners. They don’t know any better,” she said in a hushed tone, “The scribes are ignoring the glyphs while Orlando keeps them occupied with board games. They must learn to master the glyphs.”

“Ah, but does the scribe master the glyph, or does the glyph master the scribe? Or is the master only scribing the glyph, even though he would like to be a glyph himself? Or possibly the scribe wants the glyph to be the master…”

“What the hell are you rambling on about?”

“Yes indeed. Cryptic and disturbing this is…” he said.

“Are you trying to talk like that Yoda guy again?”

He waved his hand at her, “I don’t sound like Yoda.”

“Oh forget it!” she huffed off down the hall.

“Yes,” he said to the darkness, “cryptic and disturbing…”

The Keeper eventually wandered off, and Garrett made his way around the complex, through the scribe room which was conspicuously empty, but littered with various spellings of random words.

Cramming for the Scrabble match? Nerds…

In the dorm area, he learned that he wasn’t the only one looking for Artemus.

“Is Artemus in his room?” a young Keeper asked another, older female, “He asked if he might borrow my Halo 2 disc and he hasn’t returned it.”

“No, Artemus left before dawn, with no word of his return plans.”

“No word? I find that awful convenient since he also has my GTA discs! There are rumors of a splinter group, that refuse to participate in Orlando’s board game obsession and secretly play the games online instead…if Orlando were to find out…”

“He would only find out if someone told him,” her voice had an edge of threat in it, “and I think there have been enough accusations already.”

“Yes, well if you do see Artemus, tell him I need my games back. Slacker…” he strode off in disgust.

Garrett noticed a note on a nearby table:

[indent]Keeper Emory,
I have spied an initiate reading the Bafford Chronicles in the dining hall. First I would like to know where he learned to read, as we tend to discourage that kind of thing, and secondly, why the Bafford Chronicles? Does he think somehow he will pacify the older Keepers by including references to characters from bygone days in his speech and writings? This is foolhardy at best, and the volume should be destroyed immediately.[/indent]

Artemus’ room was tucked away under the staircase leading up to the general dorms.

This must be Artemus’ room. It’s so easy to find and everything…maybe I can figure out where he went.

The obligatory journal read:

[indent] There is indeed something amiss with Garrett. Though his face looks completely different every time I see him, I am not convinced of his guilt. Prophecies do not lie, or at least they’re vague enough to get out of being applied literally. The Cuckoo Clock tower speaks ill of the future. First Keeper Orlando is a lazy slob - the balance is no longer with him and I fear for the future of our order. What if I have to get a real job? I could use my Secret Decoder Ring to open the secret passage to his quarters, but he already suspects me of stealing his Penthouse Letters magazines. I can only hope that my night journey uncovers something before I am discovered missing at the Scrabble tournament. Keeper Morrow has gifted the Order with a set of golden scales. It speaks to what we have become, that a trinket, precious only for it’s metal, is so valued. They have been placed on display in the Elder Library, also known as the Grand Hall, or sometimes as the Keeper Library. I forget. We put them way up high, so unless someone has some kind of really neat-o climbing gloves, they should be safe.
At last, I may have learned something of the one who lies dormant. My investigation may take several days and I must leave without a hall pass. Will I also be accused of not liking Orlando’s board games? It matters not. I dare not bring my robe nor my Secret Decoder Ring with me, but leave them here in the event that someone reads this and decides to break into Orlando’s quarters themselves. Unlikely.[/indent]

Garrett pilfered through Artemus’ stuff and eventually came up with the Secret Decoder Ring, then moved on to the other dorms where he found another journal:

[indent]
Hey Bob,
I heard Artemus has a ring that will get you into Orlando’s room. Wonder where it is?[/indent]

Lying on a bed nearby:

[indent]
Hey Mary,
I wonder if Artemus took his ring with him. Ya know – the one that can open the secret passage to Orlando’s quarters? It’s probably in his room somewhere…[/indent]

And on another desk:

[indent]
To Whom It May Concern,
Any parties interested in opening the secret passage to Orlando’s quarters must first obtain the Secret Decoder Ring from Artemus’ chest near his bed, then insert the ring…[/indent]

“Alright alright! I’ll use the Ring!!” Garrett said out loud to no one in particular.

He found the passage which opened with a blast of static electricity, then took the stairs to Orlando’s quarters. His room was round, laden with empty Jolt Cola cans, Moon Pie wrappers, discarded Monopoly Lotto cards, and the most astonishing porn collection Garrett had ever seen.

Geez Orlando thought Garrett, Get a woman. Get a life

His journal lay opened on his desk. It seemed to be a Keeper tradition.

[indent]Journal of First Keeper Orlando – Left Open On My Desk In Keeping With Tradition.
I wonder if Cattlecall keeps secrets even to herself. Twice she has sent me a note with instructions, but never shows up for our game nights. She speaks little beyond prophecy. I am not pleased that the Council let Garrett back in our midst. He cares nothing for balance, and he actually wants to read our books. Read them! Even Artemus will rue this decision. Where is he by the way? He was supposed to tag team with me against Malcom and Grisholm in the Scrabble tourney tonight. Slacker. I take no joy in being proven right about Garrett, for it has resulted in the death of my most trusted colleague and the only person who actually does any work around here. None has the skill to take her place – the young girl is far untrained, but I’ll promote her in a second if it gets me out of all that tedious reading Cattlecall had to do. I must make arrangements for her promotion. Another note has arrived and it looks like Cattlecall’s handwriting. I should probably be suspicious of this, but I’m very preoccupied with planning next month’s Domino face-off.
The halls are not safe. I’m locking the doors with my mystical door glyph so I can see everyone who comes and goes. The Enforcers have had no luck finding Garrett, though I hear they’ve decimated the entire population of Pretty Old Quarter, which can only be good. Tonight I shall see if I can hire someone to track him down. Worthless Enforcers. What do I pay them for anyway? I could use nerve gas and accomplish the same thing for less money.
With the binding seal in place, no one will be able to enter my quarters and destroy it, except for the hundred or so people who know about Artemus’ Secret Decoder Ring. Knowing him, he’s probably lost it though…Either way, it would take fire to destroy it and where is someone going to get fire from? Ha! Try to overcome that obstacle![/indent]

Ah…so the seal is what Orlando is using to block the doors. A fire arrow will make quick work of that, and I’ve got about 30 of them, so no great loss there…

The ear-shattering explosion didn’t seem to alert anyone below. Only his quiet footsteps on carpet seemed to do that.

Now to the inner part of the compound and Cattlecall’s quarters.

She was still sitting in her chair, hand on an old tome. She looked a little worse for the wear.

Whoever did this knows a lot more about glyphs than I do. Then again, everybody knows a lot more about glyphs than I do.

One thing about Cattlecall – she had a lot of swag in her quarters. He was so busy looting the place that he almost didn’t notice the note in hanging from the mouth of a gargoyle, perched very inconveintely at the end of Cattlecall’s bed.

It was addressed to him.

DUN DUN DUN DUUUUNNNNN….



To be continued...

Pitch on 28/1/2005 at 13:49

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...and many many more: :laff: :laff: :laff: