(no subject)

[poins]

Ned Poins is in the bar, in a good mood,
Sitting close to the fireplace and drinking -- water??
He hath a strange new thing within his hands,
And finds out eagerly what it would do.

And fieryTrigon now is signed on.

Comments

[herr_bookman]

"Afternoon, Poins," Autor says, popping up behind him, wrinkled nose and all. "What on earth are you holding?"

[poins]

"Good afternoon, my friend," Poins says, tearing his eyes away from his odd little device.

"Tis called a tee-minus, and it is used to speak to other within an inter-net," he explains.

[herr_bookman]

A shell that allows you to speak to someone? he thinks, eyeing the slimy object. That makes no sense.

"Er," he says intelligently. "Where did you get it?"

[poins]

"From a grey boy with horns, that was quite angry," Poins says.

[herr_bookman]

He blinks, incredulous. "And you just let him hand this strange object to you? It's ejecting slime," he points out.

Then he examines the man more closely. Water! he thinks, and his jaw drops. This is Poins! What is this nonsense?

"Are you feeling all right, truly?" he asks, not noticing how his tone has softened. "He didn't do anything to you?"

[poins]

"I can plan mischief from afar, and send my friend a note with narey a dove or boy as messenger!" Poins says. "So truly, all is well! I see no reason to distrust this marvel from another world."

[herr_bookman]

"Wait, really?" he says, and saunters closer to get a look at the thing. "How is this possible? Does it actually work here, in Milliways? Can you really send messages to anyone, or do they have to have one, too?"

The ramifications of such a device make his head spin. You could plan anything. Send encoded messages and orchestrate a coup--or three.

Then he frowns. But if someone were to leak your plans... Hm.

He wants to ask more, but there's still the issue of Poins' health. He places his hand on the table. "I see you're drinking water," he says. "Do you have a hangover?"

[poins]

"He needs must have another one, to tap into that inter-net of theirs," Poins says. "And yea, indeed, 'tis water -- I need my head all clear to comprehend this newest marvel!"

[herr_bookman]

Autor's laugh kind of takes him by surprise. "Fair enough," he says, pulling up a chair. "So, how does it work?"

[poins]

"One turns it on, like this," Poins says, "and then, letters appear here, and as they're touched, they're written."

He demonstrates.

Tis thus!

[herr_bookman]

What. Autor has to take a minute or two to put his brain back into his head.

"How on earth..." he says, placing a hand on his cheek. "What are you planning to do with it? Do you know anyone on the in-ter-net?"

[poins]

"Many in this place have it," Poins says, "but in the end, I mean to give one to my friend."

He smirks.

"For greatest mischief!"

[herr_bookman]

He tilts his head. "So you have two, then? Or do they self-propagate?"

Then he leans back and matches Poins' smirk. "I'd like to see what mischief you can get up to with it."

[imitatethesun]

Have a Hal in his leather doublet, cap lost to somewhere in the bar.

"What dost thou have, Poins?" he asks, regarding the curiously colorful...thing with apprehension.

[poins]

"It is a thing that lets me send messages to another such, at once, and anywhere in any world that has a door here," Poins explains, eagerly. "Tis good for so much mischief!"

[imitatethesun]

"But why?" he asks. "Why not simply go find who you wish to speak to?"

[poins]

"Imagine thou art stood before thy father, doing stately things, and halfway bored to death," Poins says. "Send me a message thus, and I would send diversions that could call thee, say, upon an urgent errand to the antipodes?"

Pause.

"Or imagine Sir Jack, lumbering up the road, heavy with drink," he then adds. "I message thee and thou canst ready all mayhem to set loose upon him the very moment that he comes inside."

[imitatethesun]

"And would none notice this?" he queries, plucking at the brightly colored thing in Poins' hands. But the idea he's planted is appealing, Hal tilting his head to consider the thing.

"Where comes it from, knowest thou?"

[poins]

"I do," Poins says. "The Lady Bar will give thee one, if thou but askest -- 'tis called T-Minus, as the troll hath said."

[imitatethesun]

"The troll." Curiouser and curiouser.

"How much doth it cost?"

[poins]

"Why, naught!" Poins says. "It shall be given freely to all that ask."

[imitatethesun]

Hal only gives Poins a look, as he steps aside towards the Bar to have a quick and hushed conversation, coming away with a similar mollusk-like device and a very confused look.

"...And pray, how does it work?" he asks, turning it over and over without the faintest clue of what it does or how.

[poins]

"Just press upon the green protuberance on the back until it breaks its seal, and comes to life," Poins says. "Then, it will name thee and assign a colour."

[imitatethesun]

He does, and with a blink the thing turns on and a name appears: equivocalSovereign is online.

This is Hal's wut face.

[poins]

"That is thy trolltag?" Poins laughs. "How very aptly picked!"