Bartimaeus of Uruk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likesfootnotes) wrote2010-05-14 05:34 pm
likesfootnotes) wrote2010-05-14 05:34 pm
Entry tags:
1st summon [audio]
Saved!
[There is an unmistakable air of vindictive triumph to the voice, and a squelch that just might be a blob of essence thrusting gelatinous limbs into the air to celebrate. This disolves into the sounds of dripping, as the blob falls apart and reforms sluggishly on. Then a few sloshes as Bartimaeus takes a gander at his surroundings and the device in front of him.]
No pretentious Mr. Mandrake here? Those were the sharp hooks of a summon I felt tearing at my essence. Not that I'm here to complain! Between an untimely and undignified death by silver tureen and a summoning to his presence, I would have to take his presence, even withstanding his atrocious fashion sense, the stench of that horrible prepubescent cologne he wears, and that terrible propaganda story-telling he does.
[Some more sloshing as he makes sure the insults have not done their part to summon up the magician. Nope, no silver-tipped spear being angrily thrust in his direction. This makes him pause; the only thing that could summon him would be his master, and the distinct lack therein suggests Mr. Mandrake did not survive to see through the summoning. That must mean he is home, sweet home!]
This is oddly well-formed for being the Other Place. Someone is being a little over ambitious. There are far too many spirits that like physical things lately -- skeletons, yucky fleshy bodies, and making rooms of our home. That's not a good sense of style.
[There is an unmistakable air of vindictive triumph to the voice, and a squelch that just might be a blob of essence thrusting gelatinous limbs into the air to celebrate. This disolves into the sounds of dripping, as the blob falls apart and reforms sluggishly on. Then a few sloshes as Bartimaeus takes a gander at his surroundings and the device in front of him.]
No pretentious Mr. Mandrake here? Those were the sharp hooks of a summon I felt tearing at my essence. Not that I'm here to complain! Between an untimely and undignified death by silver tureen and a summoning to his presence, I would have to take his presence, even withstanding his atrocious fashion sense, the stench of that horrible prepubescent cologne he wears, and that terrible propaganda story-telling he does.
[Some more sloshing as he makes sure the insults have not done their part to summon up the magician. Nope, no silver-tipped spear being angrily thrust in his direction. This makes him pause; the only thing that could summon him would be his master, and the distinct lack therein suggests Mr. Mandrake did not survive to see through the summoning. That must mean he is home, sweet home!]
This is oddly well-formed for being the Other Place. Someone is being a little over ambitious. There are far too many spirits that like physical things lately -- skeletons, yucky fleshy bodies, and making rooms of our home. That's not a good sense of style.
better than certain other things that could splatter everywhere
(I know plenty, including myself, that say quite a great deal. Unfortunately, century after century it falls on deaf ears.)
Alice Talksalot it is then. I suppose it would be congenial to avoid stuffing you into a teapot, if you agree to avoid stuffing me into a tobacco tin. This is one of those rare mutual accords.
very true!
I think I quite like that name. What should I take to calling you? I hardly think 'Sir Blob' is very nice, even if it might sound fitting.
I do believe we have an agreement, sir.
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