Post by M'aiq the Liar on Aug 1, 2007 15:58:50 GMT -5
A Greater Power at Hand
(aka "Character vs. RP’er")
(aka "Character vs. RP’er")
[Note: I thought of this and just HAD to post it. This isn’t the beginning of anything; it’s just a funny post.][/i]
M’aiq quietly sat at his desk, staring up at the ceiling. He was alone in his basement. He rather enjoyed the peace after having dealt with numerous new recruits so suddenly. He’d managed to send them all off with menial tasks, something he’d grown to be quite good at over time.
Being alone, the Khajiit finally had time to think. He’d never before done a lot of thinking about things besides daily topics, like eating, Skooma, or the killings of a thousand Bosmer children. M’aiq sometimes felt as though he was being controlled, perhaps some great deity was watching over him and directing his every action. Maybe this deity even controlled his thoughts.
M’aiq was alarmed at this a bit. With a start, he glanced around, trying to think of anything else. He could only keep wondering if this deity was controlling him. After a few moments, he finally calmed down. The Khajiit figured that there was no way another being could have any power over thought. Deeming this certain, he leaned back in his chair comfortably and placed his feet atop his desk, feeling a strong hankering for some Skooma.
Suddenly, M’aiq wondered, Hankering? M’aiq doesn’t even know what a ‘hankering’ is, but he has one? Is that like some dirty, filthy human word or what? Oh look, at M'aiq's big hank—
M’aiq, realizing what an unintelligent Khajiit he was, kicked his feet off his desk, knocking himself out of his chair and onto the floor with a bodily clattering. He let out a low growl and rubbed his side, frankly unsure of why he suddenly fell from his chair that way. He rose from the cold stone floor and moved back towards his chair to reseat himself, feeling a bit uncertain about things. That was ridiculous, M’aiq thought, but surely something the clumsy Khajiit did on accident.
As he went to reseat himself, M’aiq miscalculated the chair’s location in relation to his hind end and ended up landing right back on the ground. He let out a yowl of pain and angrily banged his fist on the desk.
From upstairs, the sanctuary's pair of Golden Saints heard the sound of their master’s yell. They exchanged glances with one another briefly before rushing down the steps to investigate the cause of the disturbance. They hustled down the steps and up to the Khajiit’s desk, where he was sitting on the floor growling and beating his desk.
One of the just slightly inebriated Golden Saints said, “Uh, Master M’aiq. Can we, uh, can we help? Is this desk attacking you?”
M’aiq looked up to see both of his Golden Saints standing on the other side of his desk. The Khajiit was surprised to see them there. Usually when M’aiq screamed about a spider, they were too drunk to hear it or respond in anyway. The Khajiit cleared his throat and returned to his feet. This time, he didn’t sit back down; he simply remained standing.
“M’aiq is fine. He just seems to be a bit more clumsy than usual for some reason,” he replied in a low tone.
“Perhaps the Great Goddess is angry with you,” one of the Golden Saints stated.
“Great Goddess? Is there even such a thing?” M’aiq inquired wearily. It seemed there was some new deity to believe in every week, be it Sithis, the Night Mother, the Nine, or some other crazy thing.
The other Golden Saint stated, “Yes, she has great power, endless power. She can do whatever she wishes.”
“What?” scoffed M’aiq. “The Khajiit believes in no such thing.”
“You should! Else she take vengeance.”
“Vengeance?”
“Yes,” answered the Golden Saint, “you see...us two? We weren’t always like this.”
M’aiq furrowed his brows and said, “You two have been like that ever since M’aiq ran across your useless carcasses.”
“Well,” said the other Golden Saint, “we were real Golden Saints before, in the realm of Sheogorath. We served him loyally. Then, for some reason, we both suddenly developed strong alcoholism. We believe this was caused by the Great Goddess.”
“What about your homoerotic armor styles? Was that, too, a curse from your ‘goddess’?” inquired M’aiq with a twisted grin.
The first Golden Saint blinked once and replied, “No, that was Lord Sheogorath’s design.”
“Oh,” said M’aiq as his smile faded quickly. “Well, uh…Golden Saints, whose names M’aiq has not bothered learning—”
“—Well, I had a name once, but thanks to the Great Goddess, I cannot remember it. All I know is that my nickname is Rod,” said a Golden Saint.
“Yeah,” added the other, “same story for me, except my nickname is Tod.”
“Rod and Tod,” M’aiq mumbled. “Well, since all of you Golden Saints look alike to me, I’ll just refer to you both as Thjizzrin.”
“Yes, Master,” both replied immediately.
One raised a hand and said, “Well, Master, if I may say, Khajiits look alike to us.”
The other roughly elbowed his comrade and shook his head, spitting out, “Speak for yourself, Tod!”
Rod rolled his eyes slightly and said, “Okay, then, that’s just what I think.”
M’aiq took a moment to look off into empty space with a distant, introspective look on his face before responding with, “Oh yeah, the Khajiit doesn’t care what a Golden Saint thinks. Or what some ‘goddess’ thinks for that matter.”
Tod and Rod looked at their master fearfully. They knew such a bold statement would no doubt invoke the wrath of the Great Goddess. Suddenly, M’aiq’s robe seemed to slip down his shoulder a bit, revealing a section of his fully haired Khajiiti chest.
“Oops,” M’aiq said as his golden eyes focused on the two before him. He smiled, placed a hand atop his desk, and leaned over seductively. He added a wink and a short nod to his display as well.
“Uh oh,” Rod and Tod said with tremors in their voices.
M’aiq looked down at his posture, then to his sagging robe. A look of horror crossed his face as he jumped back from his desk and clawed his robe back onto his shoulder. He had no idea why he’d just done what he had. It was completely unlike him. He paused a moment to think about the possibilities. The Golden Saints could have been charming him, or he could have been drinking Skooma and not remembering that he did. Then, he thought, It must be a dream! That’s why this is getting so weird. M’aiq will wake up soon. Wrong.
It was a voice in his head. He hadn’t thought that himself; someone was putting thoughts into his head. He thought fearfully, What’s going on? Who are you, and why are you in M’aiq’s head? Who do you THINK I am? Tch, I made your head, Khajiit, so I think I can be IN it. You…made M’aiq’s head? Are you the spirit of M’aiq’s terrible mother? How did you get out of Oblivion? No! You’re more dense than I thought I made you. I’m the Great Goddess. After seeing just a small dose of my power, a wiser Khajiit would start believing, but not M’aiq apparently. Oh well, serves me right for making you so stubborn. M’aiq doesn’t understand how you could have created him. Well, it’s far too complicated for your little fictional mind. Just know that I can control everything about you and those two Golden Saints. Oh yeah, and a Nord in Suran, but she’s irrelevant.
M’aiq paused a moment in an attempt to soak in everything he’d just been told. He was somehow created by this goddess, as were the two Golden Saints no longer standing before him. The Khajiit looked around to find them drunk at the table again. So the Great Goddess made them so drunk and useless? Well, what a silly goddess! I know.
He jumped a bit, realizing that she knew his every thought. Ah, don’t worry, M’aiq. It’s not all that bad. The Khajiit just feels so strange about all this. Wait, are you a human? …And what if I am? Well, the Khajiit might have to kill himself if he knew he were being controlled by a HUMAN. …N-no, I’m…not…
M’aiq felt a sudden surge of inexplicable guilt. He cringed as he thought, It’s okay. M’aiq bets you are…a…great human. Heheh. M’aiq wouldn’t ever think that! Agh! This is cruel! Aw, I’m sorry. I’ll tell you something that will make it all better. What? Anything, please! Wake up! Wake up? Wake up, Master!
Suddenly, everything vanished, and M’aiq found Rod…or maybe Tod standing over him. He was lying on the cold stone floor. He smiled as he sat up.
“It was all just a dream!” he mumbled.
“Uh,” one of the Golden Saints said, “you just passed out for like four seconds, Master.”
“What!?” M’aiq exclaimed.
He almost cried as he heard in his mind, Haha, gotcha’ M’aiq! I just made you pass out; that’s all. The Nine save me…
Tch, M’aiq honey, the Nine don’t have nothin' on this!