I whipped up a little something for this. It amused me to write it, and I hope it at least proves mildly amusing to you guys.
When the elven diplomat boarded the dwarven cruiser, all was deathly silent. The usual sounds of the heavy bootsteps and dwarves hauling their alcohol to the dining halls, of the burnt grit being scraped off of the innards of laser arrays, and of the clanging and grinding of the production lines ceased. It seemed as though every dwarf on the ship awaited the words of Dural Egomramlam, the Acting Captain of the Tradeship Howlingmountains.
But he did not speak.
The elven diplomat carried himself with an arrogant, haughty air. Thin lips formed a thinner line that was his mouth, which looked as though it had been molecularly sliced into the pale, stretched skin that composed its face. It fixed its gaze on Dural, who was standing nigh-motionless, gazing back.
"You dwarves know very well what I have come here to say. Though it pleases me that you have the political wisdom to allow my visit onto this ship, it changes not the message I will deliver."
The elf paused, eyes flitting over Dural and the armed dwarven officers at his flank. Perhaps it expected a response. The officers stared at the elf and its entourage, their weathered dwarven faces impassive. Seeing no response, the diplomat continued.
"The ship Howlingmountains, of the colony The Suffering Banners of Silk, has ravaged ecosystems and plundered asteroids carelessly. You know well your crimes. We will no longer tolerate this behavior. I am here, in short, to formally dissolve our trade agreement."
The unspoken implications of ambush and war stood darkly behind the elf's sentence. The elf's nostrils flared briefly as he saw no response from Dural and the dwarves.
"So it has been said, so let it be done," the elf spat condescendingly. It flicked a thin, bony hand upwards and gestured for the other elves to follow it, and the entire group moved for the airlock and exit. The aluminum doors hissed, then shut behind them; the elves were still visible behind the viewing port's slice of glass, their expressions angry and impatient. It was then Dural's turn to lift a hand. Upon the signal, an armored dwarf detached from his group and approached a single, lone wooden lever. The lever stood out terribly in its place, like an awkward, primitive stick of wood in what was otherwise smooth aluminum and iron alloy plating.
The elves waiting--or trapped--in the airlock began to notice something awry. Hushed whispers and a sense of mounting panic suffused the group of elves within the small room; one or two elves drew their slim accelerated-particle pistols, and turned to the diplomat as though desperately seeking instruction.
The dwarf pulled the lever.
With a great, forceful, and crunchy pop, the entire airlock compressed vertically. Powerful pistons slammed the ceiling and ground together with a bang that shook the entire ship, and the view-port was instantly a brilliant red. Lasers beamed out from the arrays and sliced beautiful criss-cross patterns into the connected elven ship's hull, searing through in a display of wondrous precision destruction. And just as quickly as each of these events happened, just as quickly did they end.
A hearty, lone cheer rang out from a dwarf officer, and this lone cheer was taken up by another, until the entire ship was deafeningly overwhelmed by the boisterous, infectious laughter of rowdy and victorious dwarves.
"Drinks are on me," Dural said into the microphone, and all the dwarves filed off for the glorious dining halls, with nary a care for cleaning up the ruptured intestines and mangled limbs in the airlock or for the juicy, lootable elven ship docked to Howlingmountains.
Dural Egomramlam took joy in slaughter lately.
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Topic: ShowMeTheGames Bundle + GSB giveaway (Read 2193 times)