10.26.2005
The Oracle Of Gryss
Crystal G explodes.
He had some more stuff to say, but the onslaught of quality rhymes shut him up and shattered his crystal body. Plus, the whole creepy Teddy Ruxpin thing. Ruxpin's actually got a few rounds left in him, but his tape runs out, and he just sits there, mechanical eyes moving back and forth, mechanical lips opening and closing wordlessly, before finally disappearing to the Land of Grundo.
You are now free to explore the other cottages.
...
Returning to the original plan, you head over to cottage one and knock on the door. There's no immediate answer, but you think you hear something from inside. Readying your weapons, you quickly swing the door open, revealing...
...a half-orc watching TV.
He's sitting in a crystal chair, watching what looks like a puppet show on the telly. "Hey," he says, not looking at you, still focused on the screen. You turn and look as well- it seems as though he's watching two giant, larger-than-man-sized wooden marionettes slugging away at each other; brown wooden constructs against a black curtain. The reception's not so great, and static keeps interrupting the picture.
After an uncomfortably long minute, you start to talk, and he reaches over, turning off the TV.
"I've been expecting you. Come on in, have a seat. Fresca?" The half-orc offers you a Fresca from a small cooler by the TV table. You enter the guest cottage and get a better look at this guy.
He's wearing Birkenstocks, somewhat dingy sweatpants, and a large sweatshirt that reads: 'THE DMC... We rock!' A somewhat comforting sight from home.
"Yeah, I'm the Oracle. Oracle of Gryss. Welcome to my new pad. It's not much, but it suits me. I know you guys have been looking for me, but situations being as they are, maybe you can see why I'd prefer to hang out here. Plus, there's that other guy, the crystal rapper or whoever, who brings me these Frescas, so it's alright."
"Oh, you killed him, huh? Well, hmm." Pause. "More Fresca for me I guess." He takes a sip of his soda.
"Here's the thing. Back home, it's pretty bad. You guys need to get back there fairly soon I'd guess; got some stuff to do. I've got another one of those mirror jobbies, over in the next cottage. There's some more of that oil too so you can use it. If you have some stuff to do in this place, go ahead, because the mirror is sort of a one-way thing. You won't be coming back here anytime soon. But I wouldn't dick around here too long right now. Whatever you do, I'd advise against heading back into that first house; sort of a doozy, and I don't have enough oil on me to get you back out. And no, I won't be coming back to Greyhelm with you. It's quiet here. Suits me." Sip.
"I'm sure you have some questions, and for that, well, you came to the right guy!" The Oracle grins. "Since you've gone to a lot of trouble here, tell you what. Usually it's either a, prophecy, or b, answer question, but in your case- for each of you, even- I'll answer one question, and give you two prophecies. Of course, however..." He looks at you now with a serious look. "Of course, one of the prophecies may be right..."
"...and one of the prophecies may be wrong."
Sip.
"But before I'll do any of that, here's the catch. You each first have to answer one of my questions! Ha ha!"
"Here we go."
"Brogg: what... is the saddest thing?"
"Cinder: what... is a strong argument against solipsism?"
"Dave, Fist of Odin: what... is the opposite of THIS!" (He holds up his index finger.)
"And Marivhon: what... is the best knock-knock joke?"
He had some more stuff to say, but the onslaught of quality rhymes shut him up and shattered his crystal body. Plus, the whole creepy Teddy Ruxpin thing. Ruxpin's actually got a few rounds left in him, but his tape runs out, and he just sits there, mechanical eyes moving back and forth, mechanical lips opening and closing wordlessly, before finally disappearing to the Land of Grundo.
You are now free to explore the other cottages.
...
Returning to the original plan, you head over to cottage one and knock on the door. There's no immediate answer, but you think you hear something from inside. Readying your weapons, you quickly swing the door open, revealing...
...a half-orc watching TV.
He's sitting in a crystal chair, watching what looks like a puppet show on the telly. "Hey," he says, not looking at you, still focused on the screen. You turn and look as well- it seems as though he's watching two giant, larger-than-man-sized wooden marionettes slugging away at each other; brown wooden constructs against a black curtain. The reception's not so great, and static keeps interrupting the picture.
After an uncomfortably long minute, you start to talk, and he reaches over, turning off the TV.
"I've been expecting you. Come on in, have a seat. Fresca?" The half-orc offers you a Fresca from a small cooler by the TV table. You enter the guest cottage and get a better look at this guy.
He's wearing Birkenstocks, somewhat dingy sweatpants, and a large sweatshirt that reads: 'THE DMC... We rock!' A somewhat comforting sight from home.
"Yeah, I'm the Oracle. Oracle of Gryss. Welcome to my new pad. It's not much, but it suits me. I know you guys have been looking for me, but situations being as they are, maybe you can see why I'd prefer to hang out here. Plus, there's that other guy, the crystal rapper or whoever, who brings me these Frescas, so it's alright."
"Oh, you killed him, huh? Well, hmm." Pause. "More Fresca for me I guess." He takes a sip of his soda.
"Here's the thing. Back home, it's pretty bad. You guys need to get back there fairly soon I'd guess; got some stuff to do. I've got another one of those mirror jobbies, over in the next cottage. There's some more of that oil too so you can use it. If you have some stuff to do in this place, go ahead, because the mirror is sort of a one-way thing. You won't be coming back here anytime soon. But I wouldn't dick around here too long right now. Whatever you do, I'd advise against heading back into that first house; sort of a doozy, and I don't have enough oil on me to get you back out. And no, I won't be coming back to Greyhelm with you. It's quiet here. Suits me." Sip.
"I'm sure you have some questions, and for that, well, you came to the right guy!" The Oracle grins. "Since you've gone to a lot of trouble here, tell you what. Usually it's either a, prophecy, or b, answer question, but in your case- for each of you, even- I'll answer one question, and give you two prophecies. Of course, however..." He looks at you now with a serious look. "Of course, one of the prophecies may be right..."
"...and one of the prophecies may be wrong."
Sip.
"But before I'll do any of that, here's the catch. You each first have to answer one of my questions! Ha ha!"
"Here we go."
"Brogg: what... is the saddest thing?"
"Cinder: what... is a strong argument against solipsism?"
"Dave, Fist of Odin: what... is the opposite of THIS!" (He holds up his index finger.)
"And Marivhon: what... is the best knock-knock joke?"
