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A vampire and a demon walk into a bar...
Nymtheriel's demon Edel meets Rockeye's Vampire Nick in Milliways
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Somewhere, a door leads not where it's supposed to, but instead - to a bar.

"...Hi," someone very pale and holding themselves carefully says, glancing over the newcomer, "Welcome to Milliways. I'm guessing it's new to you."

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Someone significantly less pale - a somewhat eye-searing shade of fiery orange, in fact - grins widely at the appearance of a potential source of information, and stops spinning around trying to look at all of it at once. "Mill-i-ways, what a name for a place, it is! It is new to me! What is it?" 

Someone with a nigh-supernatural threat sensor might notice that, despite being (a) unarmed, (b) smiling disarmingly, and (c) barely over six feet tall even with a tall set of spiraling horns, the demon is not at all harmless. 

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Of course he does. That was most of the reason for the hesitant initial reaction.

"Milliways is a magic interdimensional bar that sometimes steals doors from random universes and lets interesting people in. You can meet just about any sort of person here. There are rules - no nudity and no violence in the main bar area. I am told there is someone working Security who can definitely handle us both. I do not care to test this claim and accordingly have not committed any violence, nor do I plan to."

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"Aww, where's your sense of fun? Bars are the best places for fights and getting arrested is hilarious - no, no, don't worry about meI am a responsible and polite member of society who would never dream of committing violence in such a lovely establishment." He spreads his arms and hands illustratively: look, no weapons. This is of course a completely symbolic gesture, but seems to be sincere. 

He peers at the stranger, who has implicitly claimed to be interesting. "So, interdimensional stranger, what makes you an interesting person?" 

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"I have made myself a collector of unusual magical artifacts. Among other traits. Perhaps you'd like to buy the right to ask a question of my very nice crystal ball? Gives you a vision that tries its best to answer any question you ask."

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"A crystal ball!" He claps his hands in childish delight. "Oh, wizards never let me touch their things, they're always going on about how they'll die before they let me corrupt their life's work or whatever, it's so unfair... this of course I will definitely not do to your very nice crystal ball, I have never corrupted anything in my whole life, everyone is just mean to me because the see the horns and the hooves, you know, and suddenly I'm scary." 

This is to a significant degree objectively false, but he really does believe it. 

Now, what to offer to pay with ... 

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"I didn't make it, I bought it. But it's very handy, yes. I don't suppose you have money of some kind? You don't seem the type, somehow."

If it does get 'corrupted', Nick has those purifying pearls, they'd probably fix it. And he can upcharge to cover the risk.

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Giggle. "I am not really the type, no," he agrees. "I did however recently acquire a few very shiny rocks!" (Which he totally did not in any way murder a jeweler for. Also, the jeweler had it coming.) 

He reaches into an inner pocket of his silk coat and produces a gemstone. It is reasonably obvious he has no idea how much it's worth, but the answer is 'a fair amount,' if Nick knows anything about shiny rocks. 

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He is acquainted with shiny rocks. 

"I'd have to examine it a bit more closely, but 'shiny rocks' would do for letting you ask a few questions."

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Bounce bounce. "Fantastic!" He hands over the gemstone for examination. "Now, what do I ask the crystal ball, hmm, this is so exciting, I have to ask it something interesting..." 

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He examines the shiny rock. "...Three questions. It does better at questions like 'where is the lost treasure of Blackbeard' than 'what is the meaning of life'. Also the door to your world has to be open to answer questions about your world."

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Three questions! How traditional. 

"Oh, I already know the meaning of life!" he says brightly. "No one ever seems to understand the explanation, though. Hmm. What about how questions, suppose I asked it 'how do I regrow a severed arm,' will it show me how to cast a regeneration spell?" 

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"Likely not. It might direct you to a potion that'd do it, or somewhere you could learn, or tell you how to convince someone to do it, though."

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"What about a thing that probably exists but I don't know what is specifically? Less 'where's the secret treasure of Blackbeard' and more 'where's the coolest magic sword'?" 

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"Probably doable, you can even describe 'coolest' for best results! You write down appropriate words on papers as part of it."

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"Writing stuff down, of course, very wizardy," nod nod. "Second thing, hm," thoughtful tap-tap of his tail against the floor. "Maybe gotta figure out how to fix mind control without any paladins? Aaaaaand then I think I want to find a dragon. I have run out of dragon." 

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"Well, one at a time." He pockets the gem. "You want to know where the coolest magic sword in your world is? Write down eight words that seem appropriate to looking for a cool magic sword and then come over to that booth over there."

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Nod, nod. "I shall!"

He skips over to the bar and addresses it in the obvious expectation that the barkeep is invisible. The resulting napkins are peered at fascinatedly, and then he hands over another gemstone and pats the bar delightedly when it vanishes. Presently he has received in exchange a glass of something blue and slightly luminescent, a plate of some unidentifiable raw meat, several sheets of paper, and an inkpen, the collection of which will occupy him for at least a short time. 

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Speaking of which, "More blood, please, bar. On my tab."

And his glass refills. Human, if Ashiok is familiar. He sips conservatively. He opens the book he was reading before again.

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He is moderately familiar, at least, in the way of people who've definitely encountered plenty of human blood but maybe not ever actually drunk any. He flashes a fangy, approving smile, but doesn't comment. 

After a little while Ashiok presents Nick with eight slips of paper, reading: 

freedom

sharp

s͜p̵͘í͜͜r̕a͢l̨͜

̼͉f̩̲l̸̡̙̪͇̳̰̪̣̀m̧̡͎̗̹͙̗a̡͙̰̝̣͇d̨͉̩̕h͏̭̮͙̠͟ ̧̧͓̝̼

z͚͕͔̗̞y͏͓̟y̶̪͕͍̻̦̺̙̙̮͝z̶͏̲̞͕m̛̘̲̦̼͔̀

̵̴̯͉͉̱̰͞t̹͍̬ͅe̵̛͙ȩ̴̨̯̯̳̻ṭ̞̝̳͝͝h̨͏̙̠

̙̬͇̫̠ṿ̨̡͚̭̩̖͇̟į̡͚͔̻͔͈r͎͚͞ͅc̡̮̫͞l̺͖̼̪̲͍̩̭͠y͏̝̝w̸͙̰̜͢w̗͉̗͜

d̏ͫ̏͏̬͚̳̞i̴̘̣͉̥͖̤͇͎͇͌̈́͗̚͠f̛͎͕̲̯̳͇͙͍̏͒ͫ͐̏͆̀̔ͤq̢̛̞̣̝͉̯̮̉̀̌̈̑̅́ͭ̃ḿ̛͕̤ͯͩͩͣ̀͐ͭ̏z͔̝͇̥̦̹͍̀͊́͝͠y̸̘̝̦͚̒̊͌̍̅͢ͅr̵̳̯͉̈̐̅̍ͅ

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Ah... Huh.

"Question. Are these words inherently magical in any way, shape, or form."

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"Nnnnooooo?" he hazards, somewhat less than confidently. "They're not spell components or anything, they don't .... do anything magic, they're just words? Their function is they ... mean ... things?" 

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"Any words that Milliways translation is not handling gracefully I do not want going near my crystal ball. Could give it dangerous ideas. That would be... All of them except freedom and sharp."

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"Dangerous ideas!" he giggles, secure in the knowledge that this is totally not what they're for. (That's totally what they're for.) "That would require them to contain any ideas! They don't, promise, they mean things that don't mean anything, that's sort of the point - okay, okay, let me try again..." 

Scribble scribble. 

freedom

sharp

laughter

spiral

unholy 

teeth

cold

darkness

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"Much better. We shall burn these as you speak your question, and the vision will begin."

(He's going to have to use one of those cleansing pearls, isn't he? But it's a very nice ruby, that gem...)

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(A contact corruption hazard? Him? Never!) 

"Okay! You have a burning-source? I know it's a stereotype, but I don't really do fire." 

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Flick. His trusty Zippo lights up. "Handy-dandy."

He walks over to a booth. The crystal ball is now set out on an attractive eight-sided patterned red mat, sitting on a very pretty brass stand with dragon-heads, clouds, mountains, and so on reliefed into it.

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Of course. Gotta trust your wizards to inexplicably always have sources of fire even though they're the ones with all the flammable paper.  

"Shiny." Ashiok admires the crystal ball, as yet free of interesting visions, for a long moment. "Oh! Just to be clear, I should mention, I said 'sword' before and I wouldn't mind a sword but actually ideally I want something more like this?" From nowhere, or possibly the void, he produces a weapon rather taller than himself with a wickedly spiked hooked, bladed end.

He steps over to the door and wedges it carefully open with the blade, which with any luck is sufficiently attached to him that it counts as him holding the door himself, so that the crystal ball can "see" into his world. 

"Okay, magic ball of wisdom," he says sunnily, "where can I find the very coolest magic bladed polearm?" 

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The rest of the world fades away as visions fill the crystal ball.

They make no sense. And at the same time, they make perfect sense. The vision is, in a not-entirely-literal way, sharp and stinging.

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Mysteriously understandable painful nonsense full of purpose! Ashiok's very favorite thing!!

He is so thrilled with the crystal ball. He might be a tiny bit ominously glowing, with how enthusiastic he is about the crystal ball. 

And now he has a quest

"Eeeheheheeeeeheee," he trills, as the vision fades and Nick comes back into focus, "you're my favorite wizard." 

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"Not, technically, a wizard. But I will accept the compliment. You have two more questions, unless you want to give me another shiny rock, in which case we could bump it to five or something."

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Not technically a wizard. Yeah, okay, he can understand that, he is also technically-not-a-wizard by many definitions. Nod, nod. "No, no, three is the number that it should be, can't have too many quests at once or I'll forget 'em." Thoughtful hum. "Do I now do the writing-on-pages thing again or is 'how do I fix mind control without any holy nonsense' a clear enough question by itself?" 

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...Sigh. You know what, instincts are there for a reason. He needs to be rid of this guy sooner than later.

"Pages would probably help but it won't mess it up to leave 'em out, really."

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Instincts? What instincts? Ashiok has totally sensible, not at all evil reasons to want to be rid of his reliance on paladins to keep his minions from being dominated! 

... Right? 

"Ah, excellent. Okay, so, magic crystal ball," it's so pretty, he wants one - best to avoid stealing from wizards magic-users who know him, though, that never works out very well - "how do I find a non-holy artifact or a spell that'll let me get rid of mind control?" 

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This one is harder. And more... Confused. There seem to be three or four different ways he could go on it.

(Still sharp. Still prickly. A little bit burny too.)

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Burny is a weird feeling. It's not quite totally unfamiliar, he has ever met enough fire to get through the demonic resistance, but - weird. 

He shivers slightly, confused and discomfited. 

Can he focus on one of the options to get more information about it, or is he stuck with the metaphorical indecisive shrug? 

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There's a wizard who can do it in an equatorial kingdom. There are all sorts of environmental details - wizard has a dead wife, kingdom has thick jungle... He'll probably have to kill someone for the wizard? Or something. The image of brains floating in jars is persistent.

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Huh. Okay. He can't fix 'dead wife,' that's among the things he is annoyingly reliant on holy nonsense for, but he can totally kill people. 

And ... steal ... brain ... jars? ... this is going to be a weird quest. He is excited for his weird quest. "That one was all complicated," he complains anyway, "why is magic always so complicated, ugh." There's always so many books! What is it with the books! Why can he not just devour people's souls and learn their spells or something, that would be so much cooler and less boring. 

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"Many things are very difficult until someone spends a lot of time and effort making it easy. And that's two." And he can safely retreat with his shiny ruby soon.

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"But they spend a lot of time and effort making it still hard, instead, because they are masochists or something?" A wiser person might at this point have noticed that Nick is impatient for him to leave; he is not that person. "My third question should be easy, though, I just want to know where to find a dragon somewhere along the path of those other things. Not like, a really big dragon necessarily, I don't wanna be dead, but not a baby one," he sticks out his tongue and makes an expressive blegh face, "they're all bones." 

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"...Dragons? All bones? Well, this question would probably benefit from writing about your preferences in dragons. Also I noticed it didn't like you as much without the writing. So. You should probably do the writing." And leave.

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"Only the really little ones!" He gestures illustratively with his hands. "They're all, you know, wings and tail and bones, like starving lizardy sparrows." He fetches more paper willingly enough, and this question is at least a little easier than the last one, modulo having to be careful not to accidentally write chaos instead of normal words. He can totally have preferences about dragons, it's not like trying to describe the abstract concept of awesomeness. 

fat

lazy

fire

smallish

eggs

cave

alone

spices

... what, spices are valuable, he can totally hope for a dragon that hoards them. Deliciously. 

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"If dragons come in variety at all I think you'll be able to find one."

 

And, when he asks and Nick lights the papers once more, indeed. There's a remarkably clear picture of a clutch of dragon eggs in a dark cave near a certain, recognizable, mountain.

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... okay that's not his favorite mountain but he will totally take it. 

Bounce, bounce. Resist urge to try to murder the blood drinking diviner-artificer-whatever for his crystal ball, that really seems very unlikely to work and he has at least heard of the concept of a self preservation instinct.

"Thank you!" he says instead, quite sincerely, and skips off, humming a somewhat discordant tune.

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At the other end of the bar is... Not a proper dragon. But something fairly close. It's wearing some kind of armor, and sharpening the head of a spear with two of its six limbs, curled up in an out of the way spot and looking comfortable.

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Skip skip hum ooooh shiny

"What a nice spear!" is his conversation opener. (Behind him, the polearm holding the door dissolves into black mist as it leaves his immediate proximity.)  

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"Thank you. It is traditional, even if my guns are more effective for most situations."

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Common does actually have a word for 'gun,' but Ashiok has never heard it. "Your what?" 

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"Oh, you're a primitive of some sort," she comments without any noticeable change of tone or expression, "My guns are powerful technological ranged weapons."

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"Yes!" he says cheerfully. "I can do like, five things and none of them involves being an advanced intellectual really - yes, that makes sense, powerful ranged weapons are effective but boring and unfriendly." 

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"I'll save friendliness and style for the arena. If there is serious fighting, my guns are always my first choice."

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"Aww, that's a shame, serious fights suck way less if you can still have fun doing them. I guess that is easier with magic maybe?" 

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"Technology. Not magic. If I am in a serious fight, I am getting paid - one way or another. One learns to live with it, I find."

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"No no, I know guns are technology, I mean, have magic and this makes fights way more fun. You should get some! It's great!" 

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"The options I have found so far were not acquirable. Though some consider psionics to be magic." Sharpen, sharpen.