[Special Test Drive] Villain's Lounge

[pumpkinhollow]

code

You find yourself in a lounge.

You're not sure how you got here, or when you got here. The phrase "pulled from the mouth of Hell" springs to mind, unbidden. Assuming you have hands, there's a drink in one of them. A drink you like. If not, then perhaps something else will strike your fancy. Some lavish treat that is to your tastes. Someone has spared no expense making you comfortable.

"I'm so glad you all could make it," croons the Deer-Headed Man. He wears a business suit and carries a cane. You know him. He offered you something, shook your hand (or whatever you have) and promised you exactly what you wanted. All you had to do was "what you do best..."

"The casino will be open to the public before too long, and we'll begin assigning you prey," the Deer-Headed Man continues. "But for now, please enjoy this VIP lounge. I'd love it if you all took the chance to mingle, get to know each other. The bar is open, as is the kitchen. Anything you want is on my tab. I've got a lot to do, but I'll try to swing by later to answer any questions."

He disappears, leaving you and a strange collection of... colleagues, ostensibly, alone in the lounge. Deep blue plush furniture. Wood stained a deep black and polished expertly. Gold trim tastefully slipped in where appropriate. This place is classy. And you have the run of it.

What will you do?

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[ The Villain's Lounge is a special test drive meme for guest villains for our Halloween Special. You do not have to apply officially to test drive, but you must apply officially in order to participate in the Special. Applications are due October 1st and can be done here. This is just an opportunity to test and practice! Have fun, and stay spooky! ]

Comments

cw flippant suicide comment

[oberlord]

The leaves bend and sway as though to hold Puck and keep him from slipping too easily. The tree creaks with a noise that seems like it should come from massive reams of hollow metal in a warehouse, not wood in a closed room.

"Lord of all animals, yet still an animal. It reasons that their grotesque make should engender grotesque dreams. 'Tis not any wonder that they brew poisons against themselves, and yet are oft so cowardly as to refuse to finish the work."

And so many bottles. Mortal man has made an art of it, truly.

[tailorcries]

Puck is dangling upside down now, lithe and slender as a Brian Froud pixie and visibly slimy as a snail.

"Does my lord fancy to imbibe their chemical art, or does he lacketh the mouth for't?"

[oberlord]

"I'd first volunteer mine vassal for't," the tree speaks as it twists and seems to grow backwards, limbs thinning and retreating, "that he might sacrifice his own tongue to the drink."

It turns (turns?) to whoever is at the bar. "O tender, ye common alchemist. Render for Puck a poison, the clearest and most piercing on the palate."

It's gonna be Everclear.

[tailorcries]

... ah, he appears to have erred.

A flourish of cicadas descends down the bark, and Puck lounges on a barstool, now a lithe waif with red hair in Shirley Temple ringlets.

"Milord, far be it for your humble servant to drink afore his master," and with a long painted nail he slides the shotglass vaguely towards the tree, "we are not yet so far from our fair glades as to forsake common hospitality?"

[oberlord]

The tree's trunk bends, twisting like a length of rope twists, to lean over across the bartop. A branch grows specifically to push it back Puck's way.

"Does a captain lead his armies from the very front? Nay, I have not seen it. Does one win chess by taking the pawn? Nay, I have not seen it. In matters of danger, 'tis the servant that goes first; not the served."

[tailorcries]

"Obie, you're killing me."

Just pushes the glass back. He knows he's going to have to drink it but until he's ordered to, he's not gonna.