I'm trusting that this banishment does not relate to you personally, but to someone else. Have you had a particularly trying person at the Town Hall and you've banished them from the premises and posted their picture on a Wanted poster around Penticton?
Banishment It had taken only a few hours for the Enclave to pack up; minerals were abandoned in piles, tables and chairs pushed against walls and left to gather dust and anything more heavy than valuable was left in place. Books and papers were quickly stacked into the boxes they'd been brought in and carried out; rugs, clothes and blankets were swept up in armfuls and taken away, and food was sorted through and anything still good or easily preserved was taken too. Labdaris sat in his wheelchair, seemingly presiding over the exodus but in actuality controlling his breathing and waiting for the pain to subside. He had had to go back through himself and check that the King in Yellow's Power was gone again; every time it seemed like he uncovered some other hidden cache. It was critical that he was clean though; he was sure that the King in Yellow would follow him, given the chance, once he was done destroying London. He permitted himself the first smile in four hours; he had not seen this exact future, where he didn't need to enact his own revenge. Now he couldn't even be blamed, he could just enjoy the knowledge that the people who had done this to him -- he turned his withered hands this way and that, feeling the arthritic aches and pains shoot along raw nerves -- were mindless puppets caught in the King in Yellow's bizarre dreams. Nonetheless, it was the victorious future he'd seen, and now he understood the spell better, and saw some of its limitations. The last of the Enclaves possessions were taken out: they would all be stacked neatly now in the summoning room with his servants waiting. The time had come to leave. He supposed it was a banishment of sorts -- the King in Yellow might not have said anything but it was clear to Labdaris he couldn't remain. He looked back inside himself again, checking for any remaining residue of the King in Yellow's Power. All gone. Compulsively he checked again, and a third time. All gone indeed. The Recorder came at a barked command and pushed the wheelchair to the summoning room, where everyone waited. Their eyes were averted, most of them stared at their feet or the floor. He regarded them all and felt only contempt: weak people who knew no better than what they were ordered to do. His lips curled upwards in an unconscious sneer that no-one saw. Time to leave: he reached for the Power and channeled it into the crystals in his joints, once more filling himself with the strength to open a Gate and find a new home. As it washed over him like spring water bursting up from the ground on a hot day he was startled to find that where previously he'd seen the Yellow Power, suddenly now there was Blue, Red and White tantalisingly on offer.
"I find myself surprised," said Lord Derby, "but I am starting to feel a little sympathy for the King in Yellow." Gray blinked. "Sympathy for something so abhuman that it doesn't understand what killing us means?" "Hmm. Not that exactly," said Lord Derby. "But we are seeing a... an entity under attack that is defending itself. That I can sympathize with." "Dangerous territory, milord," said Samual. Everyone turned to look at him, and he blushed and shuffled his feet. "I mean, it's an early military lesson, milord... milords. If you empathize with someone it's much harder to kill them, and in a battle that's the opposite of what you want. C-Can you be sure that the King in Yellow will always have your back?"
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I'm trusting that this banishment does not relate to you personally, but to someone else. Have you had a particularly trying person at the Town Hall and you've banished them from the premises and posted their picture on a Wanted poster around Penticton?
Banishment
It had taken only a few hours for the Enclave to pack up; minerals were abandoned in piles, tables and chairs pushed against walls and left to gather dust and anything more heavy than valuable was left in place. Books and papers were quickly stacked into the boxes they'd been brought in and carried out; rugs, clothes and blankets were swept up in armfuls and taken away, and food was sorted through and anything still good or easily preserved was taken too. Labdaris sat in his wheelchair, seemingly presiding over the exodus but in actuality controlling his breathing and waiting for the pain to subside. He had had to go back through himself and check that the King in Yellow's Power was gone again; every time it seemed like he uncovered some other hidden cache. It was critical that he was clean though; he was sure that the King in Yellow would follow him, given the chance, once he was done destroying London.
He permitted himself the first smile in four hours; he had not seen this exact future, where he didn't need to enact his own revenge. Now he couldn't even be blamed, he could just enjoy the knowledge that the people who had done this to him -- he turned his withered hands this way and that, feeling the arthritic aches and pains shoot along raw nerves -- were mindless puppets caught in the King in Yellow's bizarre dreams. Nonetheless, it was the victorious future he'd seen, and now he understood the spell better, and saw some of its limitations.
The last of the Enclaves possessions were taken out: they would all be stacked neatly now in the summoning room with his servants waiting. The time had come to leave. He supposed it was a banishment of sorts -- the King in Yellow might not have said anything but it was clear to Labdaris he couldn't remain.
He looked back inside himself again, checking for any remaining residue of the King in Yellow's Power. All gone. Compulsively he checked again, and a third time. All gone indeed.
The Recorder came at a barked command and pushed the wheelchair to the summoning room, where everyone waited. Their eyes were averted, most of them stared at their feet or the floor. He regarded them all and felt only contempt: weak people who knew no better than what they were ordered to do. His lips curled upwards in an unconscious sneer that no-one saw.
Time to leave: he reached for the Power and channeled it into the crystals in his joints, once more filling himself with the strength to open a Gate and find a new home. As it washed over him like spring water bursting up from the ground on a hot day he was startled to find that where previously he'd seen the Yellow Power, suddenly now there was Blue, Red and White tantalisingly on offer.
"I find myself surprised," said Lord Derby, "but I am starting to feel a little sympathy for the King in Yellow."
Gray blinked. "Sympathy for something so abhuman that it doesn't understand what killing us means?"
"Hmm. Not that exactly," said Lord Derby. "But we are seeing a... an entity under attack that is defending itself. That I can sympathize with."
"Dangerous territory, milord," said Samual. Everyone turned to look at him, and he blushed and shuffled his feet. "I mean, it's an early military lesson, milord... milords. If you empathize with someone it's much harder to kill them, and in a battle that's the opposite of what you want. C-Can you be sure that the King in Yellow will always have your back?"
Greg - man, if I started putting up Wanted posters at Town Hall we'd run out of space in a week.
And no, I don't remember the actual inspiration for this prompt.
Intriguing to revisit Labdaris. Curious to learn where he's headed.
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