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thetirisfaltheatretroupe · 5 years

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[Script Archive] Hellsequel: Right to Remain Stupid

“Hellsequel, Right to Remain Stupid” <<The following is a play that has been retired from the Tirisfal Theatre’s library, and will only reoccur for private events for the foreseeable future. This script has been placed here so that those who enjoyed the play or wish to perform it themselves may do so. Credit for this comedic performance goes to the Tirisfal Theatre Troupe>>

<CAST: Garrosh Hellscream, Taran Zhu, Warchief Vol’jin, Jaina Proudmoore, Sylvanas Windrunner, Baine Bloodhoof, Kairozdormu, Lor’themar Theron, Thrall> <The scene opens following the narration. We begin at the beginning of the trial, following Thrall’s narration. Note: If the performance venue is large enough, Thrall enters from behind the audience, turning their attention towards him. He does not acknowledge the trial, rather, he is speaking purely to the audience.>

[Thrall]: O-Oh! Throm'ka everyone, I did not see you at first! You see, I am on my way to play my role in Garrosh Hellscream's trial you all...must be here for that as well. The ruling for this is quite obvious

<Stage whisper> He's guilty. Garrosh Hellscream...

He had his successes. Many tales followed after that at what good he did..even when things were not. That he was...courageous, a true orc's orc. But the reality of his story is a very dark one indeed.

Especially to those that trusted him... You would think, that the great Grommash Hellscreams child , who – yes...his history is not the same in everyone’s eyes but in the end Grommash did what was right.

He saved our people. Garrosh...Garrosh only took half of that history and continued with the wrong side. A path of...violence, hatred, and ignorance.

It hurts my heart. It hurts my heart to it's deepest core that this was the outcome to what could have been a great leader who would have been a leader of legend. But instead he turned into one of the biggest embarrassments to orcs everywhere, especially the Mag'har who trusted him.

Oh- I think I know where I am going...listen. Everyone. Let this evening be an entertaining one as we look at a dark part of our history.

When the clouds are gloomy and the rivers rise with rain, it is laughter that can turn those rains into a healthy shower..and then revealing the sun once more. Stare down these times with the confidence that humor gives us.

Who knows what will happen at this trial! Will justice previal? Or will Hellscream somehow get out of it all with his own stupid luck? So everyone please enjoy “Hellsequel: Right to Remain Stupid!”

<he bows and exits stage right. The trial begins. Zhu stands at the far middle of stage right. Hellscream is in the center, facing Zhu and kneeling. Baine stands right behind him, positioned towards the backdrop. Jaina, Sylvanas, and Vol’jin stand in a row behind them.> [Zhu]: It appears all things are in order, minus the absence of Varian Wrynn. Something about needing a chin graft, I don’t know. . Now begins the trial of the war criminal, Garrosh Hellscream, usurped leader of the Horde.

Representing him will be Baine Bloodhoof. For what reason… <He stares Baine down and shakes his head> I honestly cannot comprehend. [Baine]: <salutes> Your honor, I assure you that representing Hellscream is something I do entirely to ensure he receives a fair and just trial and answers fully for his crimes, and is in no way done due to a promise for a lifetime supply of Cherry Grog. [Garrosh]: <grumbles> Sure, Beef, why not tell them your shoe size while you’re at it…

[Baine]: <turns to Hellscream> But…I don’t wear shoes. [Garrosh]: …wait, then what are those things on your feet? [Baine]: <blinks> You mean my hooves? [Garrosh]: THAT’S what those are?! I always thought those were tiny circular shoes! [Baine]: <turns to Zhu> I’d like to make the first statement in his defense early and get it out of the way. Your honor, as you can see, my client is a Thoking idiot. [Garrosh]: <roars> YOUR FACE IS A THOKING IDIOT! [Sylvanas]: <rolls her eyes> Yes, tauren, I think we all knew that. Let’s hurry this along. I’ve got places to blight, people to raise.

[Thrall]: <he folds his arms over his chest, exhaling.> Let’s just get this over with..

Jaina’s has that... ‘drown the Horde’ look in her eye again and I am NOT going to clean this one up again. Probably. Maybe. We'll see. [Jaina]: <eyes twitch> Horde…too many…one place…nrrrgh…kill the Horde! K-- [Vol’jin]: WHOA dere, Proudmoore! Calm de calamity that be yo’ mammaries! Hea’, eat a Giggles. Jo’ just not jo’ when jo’ hungry! <hands her a Giggles bar> [Jaina]: DON’T TRY TO DISTRACT ME WITH DELICIOUS PRODUCT PLACEMENT, WARCHIEF! <does a double take and then takes the bar, turning away from the audience and then devouring it with loud smacking noises> [Zhu]: Everyone, sit down and shut up with your faces! You are in MY court, and you will adhere by MY rules! [Garrosh]: But! …will we adTHERE by your rules too? Eh? EH? [Zhu]: I will sentence you to death immediately if you make another bad joke like that. [Garrosh]: <grumbles incoherently> [Baine]: <nudges Garrosh> Between you and me…I laughed. [Garrosh]: Shut up.

[Zhu]: IN THE CASE… of Garrosh Hellscream, Mister Hellscream, how do you plead? [Garrosh]: <use Moros’ polishing Indecent, your honor! [Baine]: Yes. <does a double take> Wait, what? This isn’t what we agreed to. <Vol’jin, Sylvans, and Jaina all laugh at Baine> WHAT? I told him to plead guilty and I’d work to reduce his sentence! [Zhu]: ORDER! Order in the court! Hellscream, your attorney does not know of your decision to plead innocent. Do you intend to proceed with a plea of innocence? [Garrosh]: <flashes a big toothy grin> Does this look like the face of insincerity to you? [Vol’jin]: Ugh. De face only a mudda could love. [Zhu]: Very well. You stand before accusations of war, torture, kidnapping, twelve counts of assault with a dark herring, being downright ugly, failing to signal at a left turn at the Kodo Stop, biting, clawing, cheating, filing your taxes late… ...,stealing candy from babies, drawing phallic symbols on battlefields with the blood of the fallen, clogging fifty outhouses without telling anyone, animal abuse, spousal abuse, substance abuse, child abuse-- [Garrosh]: THAT WRYNN KID WAS ASKING FOR IT! [Zhu]: ...laundering money, laundering laundry money, conspiring to devour the entire world’s supply of raspberry pies, dancing lewdly in front of the August Celestials, telling horrible jokes, and last but not least, rapping like a grade A sucker. [Garrosh]: …hey, I only did twenty two of those things! [Zhu]: That last one was added after you got served in the last play. Deal with it, sucka’. Now then, do you stand before this court and say that you did none of this, even though you quite clearly confessed just now to doing twenty two of the twenty three crimes anyway? [Garrosh]: <turns to Baine> I got this, Beefcake. [Baine]: <grumbles and walks away> Sure you do…I better still get my Grog, though. Didn’t get any last time... [Garrosh]: Your honor, I would like to make my first defense. [Zhu]: Very well. Have you subpoenaed a witness? [Garrosh]: What? I should hope not! You’re a pervert for even asking such a thing out of me! <turns to Baine> What does ‘sub peenee’ mean? [Baine]: <smirks> It means you’re toast if you don’t have a witness. [Garrosh]: Dammit, and I’m all out of jam and butter! [Baine]: …I have to speak as literally as I am capable of with you, don’t I? [Garrosh]: Your honor, I would like to call to the stands my witness…uh…Notthere…Mc…Doesn’texistenhansonshire. The second. [Zhu]: …and where is this witness? [Garrosh]: Oh uh. He said he’d be late, so uh…you’ll just have to take my word for it that he really was there and saw everything, your honor! [Sylvanas]: OBJECTION! I swore NotthereMcDoesntexistenhansonshire II into the Forsaken army and know for a FACT that he does not know this gnoll brained barbarian.

[Zhu]: Garrosh, if you cannot provide a proper witness, then we will be forced to proceed to your opposition instead. Now sit down, shut up, and take your lumps. I call to the stand a Miss Jaina Proudmoore! <Proudemore stands at the plaintiffs’ stand> [Zhu]: Lady Proudmoore, how do you know the defendant? [Jaina]: <spits> He’s the scum that slaughtered my people in Theramore. I could never forgive him for what he did. GARROSH: OBJECTION ON THE GROUNDS THAT THIS WOMAN IS HARBORING AN OLD GOD IN HER HOOHAA! [Zhu]: A rather bold and... borderline sexist claim? Also, how do you know this? [Garrosh]: Because she smells like a dragon’s sweaty taint! [Jaina]: <her expression becomes borderline psychopathic and she crackles with energy> IT'S PERFECTLY NATURAL TO HAVE AN INTER-SPECIES RELATIONSHIP, YOU THUG!

[Sylvanas]: Well that’s an image I’ll need to scrape out of my brain later on. Quite literally, even...

[Zhu]: ORDER! ORDER! Sit down and shut up, Hellscream. Now then, Miss Proudmoore, we are aware in the court of the terrible things Hellscream did to the port town of Theramore. But can you tell us any crimes he did that will not result in a pissing match between you two?

[Jaina]: <calms in bewilderment> Wh…what? [Zhu]: <gestures to the audience> We have a limited run-time, and this trial is just now under way. If you and Garrosh get into it now, I'm pretty sure it will eat up all the time we have what with the grievances between you both. [Jaina]: <her eyes crackle and she storms off the stand> New…objective…must…kill…fat judge… [Zhu]: Next, we call the stand Warchief Vol’jin! <Vol’jin approaches the witness stand> [Vol’jin]: How can old Vol’jin help ya? [Garrosh]: Wait a second, I thought I had him killed! [Baine]: …are you serious? He spoke already and you’re just now noticing he’s here? [Garrosh]: Oh. Wait, did I order him killed before he spoke or after?

[Baine]: This scenario is hopeless, isn’t it? [Zhu]: Tell us what grief this criminal buffoon has brought upon you, Warchief. [Vol’jin]: Ah yas, well, I was mindin’ mah own business, ya know? Doin’ a scout mission fo’ da bastard back when he be Warchief insteada’ me. I find out he be lookin’ for darkest of magics ta be creatin’ an unstoppable army fo’ himself. So I speak up about it, and his assassin stab me trough da neck. He admits he gonna do dat anyway unda’ Garrosh’s ordas. [Garrosh]: Wait, then how the hell is he still alive? [Baine]: He can regenerate. I mean, come on, you’re asking this stuff now? [Garrosh]: Uh…yeah? I mean, what does being a degenerate have to do with surviving a stab wound in the Thoking neck? [Vol’jin]: He be wantin’ ta take control o’ da entire Horde! Thas why I led de assault on him. [Garrosh]: OBJECTION! He didn’t go anywhere NEAR me with the salt shaker! [Baine]: I’m just not even going to touch that one. [Zhu]: You are a brave troll for stepping up, Warchief. May the trial avenge you for the grievances caused. You may sit now. <Vol’jin nods and returns to his seat> [Garrosh]: <whispers to Baine, but loudly so all can hear> So uh, don’t look now, but I think Vol’jin is alive! [Baine]: <turns away and chants> I’m doing it for the Grog, I’m doing it for the Grog, I’m doing it for the Grog… [Zhu]: Sylvanas Windrunner, please come to the witness stand. <While this happens, Thrall and Jaina run back, Thrall is putting his armor back on as he's running back and Jaina is fixing his dress. Not much should be said, just confused glances from the rest of the Leaders.>

<Sylvanas approaches the stand> [Zhu]: Lady Windrunner, you have filed charges against Garrosh for various grievances against you and your people. When did these problems begin? [Sylvanas]: <scoffs> Begin? That assumes he wasn’t an ignorant oaf from the beginning.

[Garrosh]: OBJECTION! I acted out of self-pity! She friend zoned me!

[Sylvanas]: No, I shot down your sexual harassment like so many ravens in a sky of black arrows. [Garrosh]: <flirts> You can shoot my raven any day. You uh...wanna see my prison tats? [Baine]: I want to see them! <everyone gasps at Baine> <Baine shrugs> What? I’m actually curious!

[Zhu]: Ignoring both of these morons. It says here he disallowed the use of a forbidden chemical military bioweapon called the…Blight?

So wait, he was trying to do something admirable? [Sylvanas]: W-what? No, no, nonsense, he didn’t take away our Blight, he was uhm…he was taking away our flight! Yes, that’s right! Without our bat riders, we could not hope to achieve victory in Gilneas and would have been overrun, so he effectively doomed my people! [Garrosh]: Hey! That's a lie! If I had my own perfect world, NOBODY would be able to fly unless they passed a long, dumb, arduous series of tasks meant to wear out their spirits and crush their interest in fighting! Only THEN would I allow them their flying licenses! Ah, what a perfect world that would be! <he cackles> [Zhu]: Hrm. Very well, must have been a typo. And other grievances? [Sylvanas]: Yes. <points to Garrosh> He wreaks of odors that make death itself ill. I’d like for his punishment to include a scrubdown if possible, even if you have to rob him of his skin to accomplish it. [Garrosh]: HAH! I KNEW you wanted to see me naked! [Zhu]: NO ONE WANTS TO SEE YOU NAKED! You may return to your seat, Windrunner. Next up… <he groans> Thrall. [Thrall]: Your honor, I’ll make this brief and to the point. Years ago, the Horde needed a leader. Garrosh was seen as a war hero for his work in Northrend, even though the heavy lifting was mostly done by Varok Saurfang.

[Garrosh]: OBJECTION! [Zhu]: DID I NOT TELL YOU TO STOP SAYING THAT?! On what grounds?! [Garrosh]: On the grounds that Saurfang did the heavy lifting! I can bench TWICE what that old codger could! [Thrall]: Yeah..welll! He once spat through the Dark Portal and killed the Pit Commander on the other side! You try and spit roast a pit lord and call me when you're on Saurfang's level.

[Vol’jin]: Oh my...

[Garrosh]: Oh, this coming from the guy who tried to set me up with the murder weapon. [Thrall]: What MURDER weapon?! [Garrosh]: Yeah, you tried to get me to trade my sweet hammer for your ruddy axe! <NOTE: Equip ‘doomhammer’ prop> <Garrosh waves Doomhammer around> I would never trade this awesome hammer for anything, especially a weapon that can trace me back to the various horrors and crimes of my own regime! <hugs his mace> [Thrall]: What?! By my BALLS, you’re an idiot! the Doomhammer is right where it belongs! Right h--- <he draws Gorehowl> ...WHAT THE HELL?! [Garrosh]: SCREAM!

[Thrall]: Look-

<he sighs reels back and just THROWS the Gorehowl back to Garrosh. He then kneels down to pick up the Doomhammer and runs back to his spot, securing the Doomhammer to his side.> Look..your honor, as you can see, it was CLEARLY a mistake to put him in charge. I THOUGHT he would wise up a bit, but I was not so lucky. None of us were. Then was like a bad itch. Things kept coming up and I... couldn’t resolve the Horde’s plight until it was too late. And I- [Garrosh]: OBJECTION! [Zhu]: <turns to Garrosh and shakes his gavel in his face> If you say that word one more damn time, I will shove this gavel so far up your ass the Sha of Sodomy won’t be able to find it!

[Thrall]: Hah... Sha of Sodomy.

[Zhu]: <turns to Thrall> Don’t get smug! Again, your poor foresight led to this moment. However, it would be unfair to condemn you as if you knew this would happen. Hellscream is unpredictable. The jury understands. [Thrall]: Wait..., you’re judge AND jury? [Zhu]: And executioner, yes. Should see a Friday night trial, I’m also the entertainment. [Garrosh]: OOooh! OOOH! I WANT TO BE ENTERTAINED! [Zhu]: NO! Now, Thrall. Have you anything more to say? [Thrall]: Yes. ..

< He turns to the audience, scanning them and puts a hand up as he speaks so he can deliver say what he needs to.>

Garrosh was given the mantle of Warchief in good faith that the wants of my people would drive him to do what was not only best...But what was -right.- Some would say that making Garrosh leader was the single worst decision I have ever made, and I should feel remorse for it.

It’s taken me a long, long time to come to terms with the fact that I may have very well been one of the catalysts that led to his rise. It was a mistake, One that I am honestly , truly, sor- <Thrall suddenly gets wisked offstage by the elements> AAAAGH! [Zhu]: …convenient. Next witness to the stand…Lor’themar! <Lor’themar approaches the ‘stand’> [Jaina]: More Horde? Piss off, pretty boy! [Lor’themar]: <chuckles> My dearest Lady Proudmoore, while I realize you must be terribly distressed by the presence of one of your moral AND tactical betters, I did not single handedly bring down twenty Mogu warlords on the Isle of Thunder whilst bravely making my way here, challenged by danger at every turn, JUST to be stopped by a pretty petty face. [Jaina]: Oh really? Well why did yours stop you from taking action when Garrosh bombed Theramore? [Lor’themar]: I don’t know, but I’d wager it was for the same reason yours compelled you to attempt drowning an entire civilization in return. Because that’s entirely what a level headed leader would do, eye for an eye and the whole world is blind. [Vol’jin]: Ehhhh, he gotcha good, mon. I mean, ya did kinda go off de deep end. Literally. [Baine]: I mean, to be fair, maybe she just wanted her point to make some waves.

[Jaina]: And THERE it goes! Nope, I’m done! Do with him what you will, but I DRAW the line and puns! <she storms towards the edge of the stage in a huff and leans against a pillar > [Lor’themar]: <shoots the audience an award winning smile> It seems the good lady and I had a…mis-punderstanding. [Everyone Except Garrosh]: BOOOOOOOO! <throw rotten fruit at him via toy> [Lor’themar]: Everyone is just…such a critic anymore! [Zhu]: Reagent Lord, you are the next witness to testify against him on this day. Your words will help dictate the conclusion of this conflict, and dispatch justice for the entire world.

[Sylvanas]: So don’t choke on the pressure, pretty boy. [Lor’themar]: Oh please, Garrosh is as good as hung. [Garrosh]: Well I mean, it’s not THAT big… I mean, no, yes it is! It’s HUGE! [Lor’themar]: <glares at Garrosh and turns back to Sylvanas> I am going to enjoy this far, far more than any civilized man should. <Lor’themar clears his voice, a light shining down on him dramatically> We have all suffered much under the misguided, arrogant, ignorant, horrific, and feeble minded actions of the orc before you! He stands as the worst example of his people, one who seeks only power and conquest. A megalomaniac of the most corrupt caliber, who walked among us in a position of power. <he gestures to Garrosh> Is he guilty of all he’s been accused of? Perhaps. Maybe. Definitely. Yes. Yes he is. He sent my people on a tyrant’s crusade, spilled blood unprovoked, and threatened to unleash ancient and dark powers upon us all. We were all there, so we all know. The judge, he also knows. Yet, should we allow his sentence to stall simply to get a confession out of him, we will wait forever. Do not expect the truth to come out of his mouth anytime in the near future. [Garrosh]: <face swells with anger> You…want the truth? <he stands up and slams his hand on the table> I CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH! [Baine]: That went way out of context, and off topic as well. [Lor’themar]: <pauses in silence for a moment then turns again to the judge> Your honor, I rest my case. <he bows and leaves the court toom> Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a bottle of shampoo. [Zhu]: As eloquent as his speech was, it…kind of skirted around the issue at hand. [Garrosh]: But I wore my tutu for this one…

[Zhu]: And now we call upon the final witness to Garrosh's crimes...

[Baine]: My father's tormented spirit?!?

[Sylvanas]: Anyone with two eyes and a brain?

[Jaina]: The obliterated remains of my people?!

[Lor’themar]: <calling from off-stage> The wrongfully incarcerated elves of Quel'thel--oh, sorry, that was Lady Proudmore's crime.

[Garrosh]: Baine's father's tormented spirit?!?

[Baine]: ...I'm done being your defense attorney.

[Garrosh]: Oh come on, Beefy boy! We're all thinking it!

[Zhu]: The legendary Hozen hero...

[Garrosh]: Ooooooh my old gods, not him!

[Zhu]: Riko!

[Garrosh]: OH COME ON! I DECLARE A MISTRIAL!

[Riko]: <enters the stage and takes the plaintiff’s stand> Riko declare your ookin' face a mistrial! [Vol’jin]: Eh look, a monkey testifyin’ against a monkey! Innin dat what de humans parliament like? [Baine]: Nah, there’s a little less stupid. …more stupid. Less…um…what was the question? [Riko]: <clears his throat> Riko remember like was only yesterday that Garrymosh was wicked wicket with baaaaad ookin’ dookin’ about! [Jaina]: Can anyone legitimately understand him? [Riko]: He block hozen trade routes, make us Grookin’ Hill dookers have to ook in our own ookin’ hork of a dookin’ dooker dook. [Zhu]: <gasps as if this is some sort of a capital offense> That is…absolutely terrible! [Riko]: Riko know, right? Anyway, wikkets was under big Garry’s jabbers, makin’ them spook the ook’ into the dookers of hozen-kind while we was playing flerkin’ drink drink boogalo – hozen’s favorite game next to slap the slickie! [Zhu]: Blasphemous! How dare he exude such ignorant disdain for another people’s culture! [Sylvanas]: Does anyone else feel like we’re missing some context? Subtitles would also be nice. [Riko]: So Riko gather up his best jab-jabs and slickies and took Garry in hand to hand Dookin’! Garry cheat. He threw dook in Riko’s face, seen as act of blikk-jeekin’ dikkety dook-manker, and highest bleekin’ insult in all of hozen world!

<everyone turns slowly to Garrosh> [Garrosh]: <shrugs> What? WHAT? I left Gorehowl on the stove on my way out of the house that morning, I had to throw SOMETHING at him! [Zhu]: I see. Terrible. Simply terrible. You are very brave to stand up here today and testify, Riko. You do your people proud. [Riko]: Riko just doin’ it for all the greekin’ lil’ mankers back home. <takes out a tissue and blows his nose> They just grow faster than an ikken jibbet. [Zhu]: Watch your profanity in the court, sir. You may step down. I, Taran Zhu, will now decide the fate of this madman. [Riko]: <bows and leaves the stage, spitting on Garrosh on the way out> [Garrosh]: <angrily> Dammit…that monkey totally spanked me with that testimony! [Baine]: Well considering if it were the other way around, you’d…nevermind. [Zhu]: Garrosh Hellscream, you may make your final testimony now. [Garrosh]: I guess if Bainey boy won’t do it… <stands up before Zhu, then faces the audience> People of this court. Did I do everything they said I did? Well, yes! But I also DIDN’T! You see, my entire life, I have been raised under the pretense of war. I have fought, I have killed, I have led others into battle! It was GLORIOUS! But it also made me unfit for Azeroth’s ways of ‘diplomacy’ and stuff. That is why, people of the court, I am claiming myself unable to be held responsible for my actions due to my orcish upbringing! ORCFLUENZA! [Zhu]: OVERRULED! [Garrosh]: THOK YOU, I had to put my brain into overdrive to come up with that one! [Zhu]: Sit down, you little shit, while we probe the jury for the final verdict! <Garrosh, muttering, sits back down, as Zhu comes to the center of the stage and faces the audience, bowing> [Zhu]: Honorable jury of this court. <points at the audience> It is now time for your judgement of Hellscream. Is he innocent? Or is he guilty? You may now decide. <give the audience some time to yell out verdicts - have fun with this part> <Zhu returns to the stand> [Zhu]: The people of this court have spoken! Garrosh Hellscream, for your crimes against the world, you will be sentenced to…

…a big bleeding with leeches to cast the evil out of him, a spanking from ten thousand hozen…then death! [Garrosh]: BUT I PAID OFF THE LAST OF MY DEBT! I was in good standing with the Gadgetzan Credit Bureau! [Baine]: No, you idiot. It means you’re going to die. [Sylvanas]: And for the record, I won’t be resurrecting you. [Jaina]: I can’t wait to piss on your lifeless corpse… [Vol’jin]: I can’t wait ta be pissin’ on Jaina pissin’ on yo’ lifeless corpse. [Baine]: …seriously, Vol’jin? NOW of all times? [Vol’jin]: Eh, what can I say, mon? The verdict came up… <puts on Rhinestone sunglasses> golden! [Lor’themar]: <from off-stage> YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! [Jaina]: You’re all a bunch of animals… [Garrosh]: <gets incredibly angry and throws a fit on stage> Arrgh! I LOSE? No! YOU lose! All of you lose! Every last one of you will sink in the mud, be bathed in the blood of your own loved ones! I will cut off all your limbs and use them to build my throne, carve my name in the smoldering ruins of all your cities!

<everyone except Garrosh takes ‘deepstone oil’> You will weep! You will beg for mercy! You will—wait, are any of you even listening!? <suddenly, from off-stage> [Kairoz]: They can’t hear you, buffoon. [Garrosh]: Wait...did you...take away their hearing? <gasps> Are you…the Angel of Deaf?! [Kairoz]: …what? [Garrosh]: I KNEW IT! Hold on, let me get my herring aid! <Garrosh takes out a fish pet (Note: Name it Herring Aid)> [Kairoz]: Wh—no! I’m here to offer you a job. [Garrosh]: Well…I dunno. See, I’m pretty comfy with my Warchief gig, and I’m pretty sure at this point if I ask nicely, I’ll get it back. [Kairoz]: <gestures at the angry time-frozen faces around him> I highly doubt you can convince all these angry people to allow you that chance. [Garrosh]: Well, not with THAT attitude! [Kairoz]: Look, what if I told you…I could give you the power to change your people’s entire history! GARROSH: …go on. KAIROZ: <creates a sphere of sand in his hand> I have found a way to create timelines that do not even exist. Together, we can build an army, capable of defeating the Burning Legion, who will soon bare their fangs to us. [Garrosh]: …go on. [Kairoz]: You, Hellscream, have been chosen to rally the orcs of old Draenor, in a time before they were corrupted. You will lead them as a prophet and a hero, and arm them for war. Do you accept this task, bestowed upon you by me? [Garrosh]: …go on. [Kairoz]: N-no, you need to give me an answer. [Garrosh]: …go on. [Kairoz]: <rolls his eyes> Just…come with me. <pauses> Don’t you dare say go on!

[Garrosh]: … on go? [Kairoz]: Just…pack your shit and get ready to go on a wild trip, okay? [Garrosh]: Why, where are we going? <gasp> Are we going on a treasure hunt?! [Kairoz]: No. [Garrosh]: Why noooooot? [Kairoz]: Because shut up. Now, through the realms of time and space we travel… [Garrosh]: And…where are we going? [Kairoz]: Why… to a world of your design, Hellscream! A world of iron and bloodshed! A world of strength and honor, of blood and thunder! A world… <looks at the audience> …that has perfected the... craft of war. Or something. [Garrosh]: …go onnnnn? [Kairoz]: <sighs> Yes. <gestures to the audience> We will see you all in the thrilling conclusion! [Garrosh]: <faces the same way as Kairoz> Aw yeah, I’m gettin’ a trilogy, bitches! <Kairoz says nothing and uses his freaky time magikz to teleport them both away>

Thrall: Oh...Oh almost there. Nope wrong way. Ok....this wa- No. Hm AHA.

FINALLY...

Whew, I need a moment...

What did I....*huff* what did I miss....-?

<he looks around and realizes everyone is frozen in time> Oh no..

-OH NO.-

OOOOOOH NO, not again! NOPE. The last time something like this happened, I got jumped by a group of...black and white. Time traveling..dragons...? And then people were there and took all the items off of them, like thieves! Ohhh..it's ..it's all coming back.

Then I had major SHIT to deal with with Blackmoore and m-my best friend! OOH no, I am not GOING THROUGH THIS AGAIN. AND I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT -THIS- IS.

I AIN'T HAVIN' THIS SHIT. NOPE. THE END. GOOD BYE. GO HOME. I'll see you all in Hellthreequeal! I need to go buy some anti-time travel socks from Grifta before this gets worse... THE END!! THE END!! IT'S OVER! Or is it just beginning?

NOPE, IT’S OVER!

<END>

TRIVIA

Hellsequel was originally going to cover the events on Draenor as well as Garrosh’s trial. However, in the original script, the courtroom scene was far too short, and we had way too many jokes we wanted to do with it. On top of that, the Draenor jokes were aplenty as well, and as such, we decided to split it into two separate plays.

Hellsequel is the only full production we have ever made that does not contain any scene transitions or changes at all.

We had fun combing through famous court scenes in movies and shows for this one, but Atos’s personal favorite scene to write was the reference to Jim Carrey’s “Liar Liar”, when Zhu lists off an obscenely long list of offenses Garrosh committed without pause. This was a reference to the scene where Jim Carrey’s character is asked by a cop if he knows what he pulled him over for and he asks “It depends on how long you were following me”, resulting in him confessing to every offense both minor and major he’d done and gotten away with.

This script has gone through the most changes over the years due to different actors and actresses playing the roles, or being unavailable for others. As such, so many of the lines in this play are an amalgam of improvisations done after the first performance onward. This resulted in a lot of confusion when certain improvised lines remained in the script that had context-specific lines to precede it - it was a particularly difficult mess to clean.

Despite the chaotic nature of the script, it remains Atos’s personal favorite of the trilogy.

This play marked the point where the philosophies on how we wrote plays about IC events was solidified. The idea was, since our writer was not around to see these events, he would ICly piece them together from second hand accounts, or even third parties, to create a messy quilt of cause and effect that resulted in something completely absurd passed off as historical accuracy. That is why despite this TECHNICALLY covering ‘war crimes’, nearly nothing is correct.

Tyrande was set to be a character in this play as well, but due to our cast size at the time, she was ultimately cut. Varian Wrynn would also make an appearance, as would Anduin. Our cast size dictated a lot of how we did things in the past, and to a good degree, it dictates that now.

Our poster was commissioned from @shamanofthewilds. He updated it over our old poster for the play, and he even did the poster for the third play.

#tttscripts #script archive

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bibliovoreorc · 6 years

Text

#MTG #fanfic: “Plea Deal”

“Is there a telepath here?”

Ceilia Levont looked up from her cups to see one of the first-years – a worried-looking man called Dryden – standing in the door to the lawmage’s canteen. At least, Ceilia thought it was Dryden. She’d gone off her shift several hours ago, and since then had been playing citations. Citations was a game the lawmages devised, in which they were challenged to recite obscure statutes – the penalty for failure was drink.

Ceilia – who had had a long day – had been playing to lose. She had emptied a half bottle of brandy, and was feeling pleasantly warm.

Frustrated by the non-response, the man in the doorway – she was now fairly sure it was Dryden – repeated his question.

“Kaska’s a telepath,” Ceilia said, and was pleasantly surprised to hear the words come out unslurred. “But she’s already gone home for the night.”

“No good,” Dryden said. “I need someone here.”

“So send a bailiff to get her,” Ceilia said. “It won’t take more than an hour.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Dryden said. “I need a telepath now.” To emphasize the last word, his hand chopped the air in frustration.

Ceilia shook her head – a gesture she immediately regretted. “What’s the rush?” she said.

“Rush is, I’ve got a squad of arresters just busted a riot over in Parha, and now the docket’s backed-up worse than a Rix Maadi privy,” Dryden said. “There’s more Rakdos down in holding than a diversion club – it’ll be a miracle if we get them all processed tonight. And now I’ve got this gorgon mute jamming up the works.”

“Gorgon?”

“Yeah, gorgon,” Dryden said, kneading his temples in frustration. “Just a kid, really – came in before all the Rakdos. Now she’s in the dock, and refusing to plead to the charges. At first, well, we thought she was just being obstinate, but now…?” Dryden shrugged his shoulders. “Now we figure that maybe she’s deaf.” He sighed. “So I need a telepath, now. The whole docket’s stuck unless someone gets the gorgon to plead.”

“Ceilia can sign,” another of the citation players said, drunkenly. “That good enough?” In reply, Ceilia aimed a kick under the table, but missed.

“Yeah, should be,” Dryden said, and he motioned for Ceilia to follow. “Come on.”

“Hold on,” Ceilia said. It was true she could sign – her best friends in school had been twin homunculi – but it was also true she was drunk. “I can barely stand. And, unless there’s two of you, I’m seeing double.”

“So what?” Dryden said. “I’m not asking you to prosecute. All you have to do is translate the charges, and plead the gorgon out. It’ll take all of a minute.”

“Fine, fine,” Ceilia said, deciding it would be quicker not to argue – and less painful, too. She got unsteadily to her feet. “But you’re going to have to help me,” she said.

Dryden took her arm, and helped her to the assizors.

“Don’t throw up on my boots,” Dryden said.

* * *

The three judges looked up as Ceilia entered the courtroom, their hooded faces showing varied degrees of impatience. The procureur – a bespectacled vedalken, who Ceilia knew, but did not like – was shuffling scrolls at her table. The prisoner sat stooped in the dock.

When Dryden had called the accused gorgon a “kid,” Ceilia had pictured a sullen-eyed teen. But the girl cowering in the dock couldn’t have been more than ten, and something about her made Ceilia’s heart bleed. She just looked so small, against the scale of the courtroom, and she visibly shivered from fright. Her hands and ankles were both bound with glowing injunctions, and an opaque hood was pulled over her head.

“Your honors, I object,” Ceilia said, taking her place next to the client. “The girl is deaf, and can’t see. Without the chance to read lips, how can she possibly plead to the charges?”

The procureur cleared her throat. “And – for the record – you are?”

Ceilia silently cursed the brandy, which was making her forget procedure.

“Ceilia Levont, appearing for the defense,” she said, and then hastily added, “if it please the court?”

“So recognized,” the procureur said, and noted as much in the record.

Ceilia looked up at the three judges – two humans, one sphinx – seated high up above on the dais. The judges’ marbled elevation, combined with their gold and azure robes, leant them an air of graven authority.

“Your honors, I renew my objection,” Ceilia said. “My client must see the proceedings.”

“Overruled,” the sphinx said, who was the chief of the three. “The hood is for the court’s safety – lawmage Levont, you know better.” The judge nodded to the procureur. “Officer, reread the charges.”

The vedalken cleared her throat, and consulted a scroll. “The prisoner,” she said, “an undercity resident – name unknown – is hereby accused of the following charges,” and she held up three fingers, before counting them off. “One, on the charge of unlawful trespass. Two, on the charge of resisting arrest. And, three,” the last finger dropped, “on the charge of willful murder.”

Ceilia felt her blood run cold – why the hell hadn’t Dryden told her the charges? Just plead it out – like hell, Ceilia thought to herself. This was a murder, and she was half drunk.

She turned around to look for Dryden, but the first-year was already gone – which was probably a good thing, Ceilia thought. Otherwise, there might have been a second murder.

“How does the accused plead?” asked the gravel-voiced sphinx.

Ceilia squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to will herself sober. Standing next to her, the gorgon shook and shivered.

Since the hooded gorgon could neither hear nor see, there was only one thing for Ceilia to do. Kneeling down, so that she was roughly the gorgon’s own height, Ceilia reached out, and tried to take the gorgon’s left hand.

At the first brush of contact, the gorgon jumped back, and instinctively tried to pull away. But the injunction spells bound her, and Ceilia held firm, and – working as calmly and as gently as she could, given the circumstances – Ceilia wrapped her own hands around the gorgon’s, and softly molded the girl’s thin fingers into the sign for the word “safe.”

Once again, the girl started, though less violently this time. Ceilia herself shivered – the girl’s fingers were cold.

The gorgon’s hand relaxed, and – again – Ceilia formed the word: safe.

Then Ceilia let go, so the gorgon could sign back.

After a moment’s hesitation, the gorgon repeated the word: safe? Ceilia took the gorgon’s hand, and this time the girl did not resist.

Yes, Ceilia signed. Safe.

Who are you? the gorgon signed.

I am a lawmage, Ceilia signed back. My name is Ceilia. She spelled the word out. I am here to help you.

Slowly, the gorgon nodded.

Do you know where you are? Ceilia signed. Do you know why you’re here?

No, the gorgon signed, twice.

Ceilia’s signing was rusty, and she didn’t know words like “assizors,” but she did her best to explain.

As the silence wore on, the procureur cleared her throat. Ceilia could sense the judges growing restless.

“How does the accused plead?” the sphinx asked again, its wings beating one impatient beat.

The gorgon was signing rapidly, telling her side of the story. Her knees shook as she spoke – Ceilia wanted to hold her. Although she could feel the judges’ collective glare, the lawmage refused to be rushed.

When the gorgon had finished signing, Ceilia stood up, and put resonance into her voice. The spell was a simple one – and old lawmage’s trick – but it worked. And, as an added bonus, it helped her to steady her nerves.

“Your honors,” Ceilia said, “my client contests all the charges.”

Ceilia caught the quick flash of annoyance which flickered across the three judges’ faces. The procureur – less covert – sighed aloud, and glanced openly up at the clock. The four of them had clearly expected Ceilia to plead the case out, as lawmages routinely did. Virtually no prisoners brought before the assizors chose to contest the charges. Azorius justice – while by no means predetermined – placed a premium on order, and the procureur’s charges were accorded great deference.

Arresters, it was understood, were not in the habit of detaining the innocent, and procureurs, it was equally understood, would bring no charges if there were no crime. Thus any prisoner appearing in the dock did so with the overwhelming presumption of guilt. Still, the accused were entitled to representation – on that, the law was quite clear – and were entitled to make their own case.

And that was just what they would do.

“Very well,” the procureur said, rearranging her papers. “We will assize the charges in order. On the first count – that of unlawful trespass – what is the prisoner’s defense?” Speaking to the judges, the procureur said: “I will remind the court that the accused was arrested in Ovitzia Market, which – after dark – is strictly off-limits. She was inside an upholsterer’s storeroom.”

Is that true? Ceilia signed to the gorgon, after repeating the charges.

Yes, the gorgon signed back.

Why were you there? Ceilia asked her.

The gorgon’s shoulders drooped. I wanted to feel the silks, she said.

“Your honors, my client was unfamiliar with that district,” Ceilia said, which was likely enough. “She had no idea that the area was under curfew.”

That, Ceilia suspected, was likely not true. But she hadn’t asked, and therefore didn’t know, and therefore could not knowingly perjure. That’s the ghost of the brandy talking, she thought. It was making her reckless.

“For the record, the court does not stipulate to the prisoner’s defense,” the procureur said. “But it is immaterial either way. Ignorance of the law is no excuse; the statute on trespass is quite clear. Your honors, I call for the verdict.”

Ceilia and the procureur both looked up at the judges, who shifted in their seats on the dais. In front of each judge, there was a small, silver box, divided in two equal halves. On the half on the right, a white rune was etched. The rune on the left was dark red.

After a perfunctory moment’s deliberation, each of the judges raised their left hand, and the three left-side runes lit up red.

“Guilty on the first count,” the procureur said, and noted as much in the record. In the dock, the gorgon gave no reaction – Ceilia hadn’t the heart to tell her.

“Moving on,” the procureur said, “we come to the final two counts, which we shall assize jointly, as the two are related.” The vedalken glanced up from her notes. “I enter into the record the sworn statement of the arresters, and – as your honors will see – it is quite clear.” The vedalken waved two of her arms, and duplicate copies appeared before Ceilia and each of the judges.

Ceilia read the statement.

“Your honors, this is ludicrous,” she said. “My client was attacked from behind.”

“It is learned counsel who is being ludicrous,” the procureur said, pushing her spectacles up the brim of her nose. “What counsel calls ‘assault’ was a lawful arrest – which the prisoner violently resisted.”

“According to the statement, the arresters were off-duty,” Ceilia said. “They were not in uniform.”

“They identified themselves,” the vedalken said.

“My client is deaf!” Ceilia shouted in reply. She was losing her cool, which she knew was a mistake – histrionics were counterproductive in an Azorius courtroom. But Ceilia was mad, and the brandy wasn’t helping. “She was scared – she’s only a child.”

“Only a child?” The procureur scoffed, and looked down her nose. “A child who petrified an arrester.”

Ceilia squeezed her eyes shut, and she took a deep breath. The room spun unhelpfully, but she counted to ten. Then, opening her eyes and again kneeling down, she took the gorgon’s small hand, and summarized as best she could what had been said.

As Ceilia signed, the gorgon’s body shifted. She became tense, and her demeanor changed. As soon as Ceilia let go of her hand, the hooded gorgon started signing so fast that Ceilia could barely keep pace.

“My client says that three men grabbed her from behind,” Ceilia narrated, fighting to keep her voice level. “They were strangers to her – she did not know their faces. Whatever they said, she could not hear it.”

The gorgon’s hands flew, signing faster than before. And, as Ceilia listened, she felt her heart sink.

I thought they would hurt me, the little gorgon signed. People have hurt me before.

And then she stopped signing, and a great shudder racked her body, and, even through the barrier of the opaque black hood, Ceilia could tell that the gorgon was crying.

Ceilia put her hand on the gorgon’s shoulder, in what she hoped was a gesture of comfort. A second, heaving shudder racked the small body, followed quick by a third, and then the gorgon signed five final words.

I had to protect myself, she said, before her head dropped, and her hands fell silent.

“Your honors,” Ceilia said, “my client was attacked from behind by three men she did not recognize. She defended herself, as any reasonable person would.”

“Petrifying an arrester hardly constitutes reasonable self-defense,” the procureur said.

“With all due respect to the court,” Ceilia said, trying – and failing – to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, “learned counsel is not a three-foot-tall girl.”

“A gorgon does not have to be tall to be a menace,” the procureur said, and in that moment, it was all that Ceilia Levont could do to keep from throwing her copy of the statutes.

Ceilia Levont was a New Prahv lawmage. She believed in order. She believed in the law. But this was neither of those.

“Your honors,” she said, feeling horribly resigned, “the defense has made its case clearly. The accused has committed no crime.”

“An arrester is dead at the prisoner’s hand,” the procureur rebutted. “The facts of this are not in question.” She addressed the bench, her voice almost disinterested: “Your honors, I call for the verdict.”

As the judges’ heads bowed, Ceilia shifted her body, positioning herself between the gorgon and the bench. But the gesture was meaningless, and there was nothing Ceilia could do to shield the small, sobbing gorgon from the three runes which all lit up red.

* * *

The bailiffs had come for the gorgon before Ceilia could explain what had happened.

The docket – Ceilia thought bitterly – was full, and the assizors were already behind schedule.

They frogmarched the gorgon out of the courtroom – no fewer than six bailiffs, in full armor. The gorgon – clearly terrified – thrashed and screamed. She had no idea what was happening to her, who was dragging her, where they were taking her. No one had bothered to explain. Her black hood was still pulled tight.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Ceilia was running after them. She elbowed her way past the rearmost pair of bailiffs, and squeezed herself between the two massive guards dragging the gorgon by the arms. Then, before, the bailiffs could object, Ceilia helped the gorgon so that she was at least standing on her own feet. Ceilia held the gorgon’s hand, and she felt the little girl’s shaking subside – not a lot, but at least a little.

Safe? the gorgon frantically signed.

No. Not safe, Ceilia signed back, pointedly ignoring the bailiff’s stares. Stay calm. I will help.

The lead bailiff drew his sword. “Get away,” he said. “The lawmages have no jurisdiction now.”

“Do you want to have to drag her – kicking and screaming – all the way down to detention?” Ceilia said. “Or would you rather she walked?”

For a minute, the bailiff just stared at her, stone-faced, and Ceilia thought he was going to argue. But, at last, he sheathed his sword, and motioned for her to follow.

“Fine,” he said. “But keep pace. We’re running behind already.”

“Very sensible of you,” Ceilia said, as she fell into step with the knot of armed men. She put one hand on the tiny gorgon’s back to help guide her. With the other, she squeezed the gorgon’s hand tight.

“Where are you taking her?” Ceilia asked, as they descended down stairs into the network of tunnels which linked the assizors at New Prahv to the massive detention compound which sprawled beneath the Tenth District.

“Detention sphere,” the lead bailiff grunted. “Solitary.”

“That’s madness!” Ceilia said. “She’s a kid!”

“She killed an arrester,” the bailiff said.

“And that’s all that matters,” Ceilia said bitterly. “Isn’t it?”

The bailiff said nothing.

Safe? the gorgon signed. Ceilia did not know how to reply.

Ceilia’s mind raced. She had to do something – but what? She was mostly sober, now, but that hardly mattered. She couldn’t attack the bailiffs. They were armed, and she was not. They were soldiers, and she was not. It would be six on one – suicide.

That didn’t matter. She had to do something.

Her repertoire as a lawmage was of painfully limited utility, and Ceilia cursed herself for not going into the justiciars. They had more martial spells. Still, she gathered in her mana, thinking.

They were coming to a bend in the corridor. Ceilia made up her mind. When the first two bailiffs turned the corner, she would dispel the gorgon’s bonds. Then she would try to get the lead guard’s sword. Hopefully, that would buy the gorgon some time.

Not much time, Ceilia thought ruefully. But it would have to be enough.

The lead pair of bailiffs were approaching the corner. Ceilia felt her muscles grow tense. Get ready, she signed to the gorgon.

Then – before Ceilia knew what was happening – all hell broke loose.

Arrows whistled around the corner, along with a blast of dark magic. The first volley of arrows bounced ineffectually off of thick, Azorius plate, but the darkblast staggered the man that it hit, and, as he dropped to one knee, a cloud of living shadow seemed to envelop him, and, with a flash of steel beneath the unlight, some unseen hand cut his throat. Blood splashed briefly across the figure of a shadow-shrouded woman, before the outline vanished, and the air grew cold.

“Arms, arms!” the bailiff captain was shouting, and he went to draw his sword.

Ceilia forgot all about her spell. Instead, she dove at the captain, hitting the back of his knees with all her weight. Her attack was clumsy – amateurish – but she caught the man unprepared, and he toppled, losing his balance. Ceilia went down, too, and the bailiff landed on top of her, crushing her beneath fifteen stone of solid muscle, and half as much again of hardened steel. All the air exited Ceilia’s lungs in a single, explosive gasp. Her head hit the stone, and her vision swam red. The captain tried to roll off her, but he was on his back, now, and the plate made it hard for him to move. He was still fighting to work his sword free, but on his opposite hip was a small, double-edged dagger, and Ceilia grabbed it from his belt.

Ceilia heard the captain shout, but the throbbing in her head muddled the words. Giving up momentarily on his sword, the captain lashed out, kicking at her with steel-capped boots. But the tangled state of their bodies restricted his range of motion, and he couldn’t put real force behind the blow.

Just inches away from her face, Ceilia saw the narrow slit between the captain’s helm and armored shoulder. She could hear his curses echoing inside the helmet.

Ceilia levered the point of the double-edged dagger into that narrow gap between the armor. Then she pushed it as far as it would go.

Ceilia heard the captain scream. It was a terrible, animal scream, that started out as a bellow of rage, but soon became a wet, gurgling choke. The bailiff’s whole body convulsed, and he rolled off her, onto the ground. Ceilia scrambled to her feet, wincing as she tried to suck air through crushed ribs. The bailiff was flopping on the stone floor, like a dying fish. The hilt of the dagger was sticking out from the gap in his armor, along with several inches of blade. The man’s hand was scrabbling for it.

Ceilia kicked the exposed end of the dagger. The blade slid all the way in, with a final cry of steel scraping steel, and the bailiff stopped moving.

Frantically, Ceilia looked around, trying to get her bearings. The two bailiffs in front lay motionless – the one face-down with his throat cut, the other on his back, his arms and legs splayed at horrible angles. Behind her, Ceilia heard the sounds of fighting. The little gorgon stood pressed against the wall, her back to the cold marble, her chest heaving with fright. She was trying to pull off her hood, but the knot was pulled tight, and the gorgon’s wrists were still bound. Blood was splashed across the front of the gorgon’s shirt. Ceilia hoped that the blood was not hers.

“Stand still – let me help you,” Ceilia said, before shaking her head in frustration as she remembered the gorgon couldn’t hear. So she scrambled over to where the little girl stood, and, taking the gorgon’s hand in hers, she signed, stand still! Then she set to work on the knot.

The fighting noises had stopped, and Ceilia had almost gotten the hood loose, when she heard the sound of a sword being drawn behind her. Ceilia spun round to see that the bailiff who had been lying on his back earlier was less dead than she had assumed, and was now looming over her and the gorgon, with his sword in his hand, and murder in his eyes.

Ceilia went to raise her dagger, then realized she’d left it in the dead captain’s neck. She swore.

The bailiff took a step forward.

“First, I’m going to kill the sewer snake,” he said, levelling the point of his sword at the quivering gorgon. His eyes moved to Ceilia. “Then I’m going to kill you.”

Ceilia pulled the little gorgon down, and covered her with her body. She doubted it would make much difference, but it was all she could think to do.

Her hand found the gorgon’s, as she shielded her with her body. Be brave, Ceilia signed, be brave, as she waited for the flash of pain that would be the last thing she ever felt.

Ceilia waited, and waited, and waited. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears, could feel her heart beating in her throat, could feel the gorgon clinging to her.

Still Ceilia waited, but still the blow did not come.

“Get up,” said a hard voice. Not the guard’s.

Slowly, warily, Ceilia got to her feet. Slowly – warily – she turned round.

The bailiff was still standing behind her, his face frozen in anger, the point of his sword barely an inch from her chest. Only he did not move. He did not speak. He did not even breathe.

The bailiff had turned into stone.

Ceilia glanced back at the little gorgon. The heavy hood still covered her head.

“Turn around,” the hard voice said. Ceilia did as she was told.

The corridor was empty. Just a maze of bodies and shadows.

Then, as Ceilia watched, one of the shadows started to move. It detached itself from the wall, and slithered slowly towards her. And, as it moved, the shadow took form. It became shimmery and translucent, like a pane of smoked glass, and its shape grew distinct and more clear, taking on the outline of a woman. Then, as though some unseen curtain had been parted, the shadows drew aside, and the woman herself appeared.

She was a tall, powerful gorgon. The claws on her right hand were like razors; in her left, she held a bloody knife. Writhing snakes wreathed her head like a profane halo; her eyes glowed yellow in the halflight. She was clad in soft, leathery armor, which tapered to many sharp points, and gave an aggressive silhouette. Her skirt hung in artful green tatters, which swayed like windblown reeds as she walked.

Everything about the gorgon looked both deadly and regal. She moved silently, like a predator, but carried herself like a queen.

Ceilia’s mouth went dry. She knew who the gorgon was.

“Get away,” Vraska said, and motioned for Ceilia to step back from the kid.

Without hardly daring to breathe, Ceilia did as she was told.

Vraska moved to stand next to the girl, who was now struggling to work herself free. Vraska waved her hand, and the detention spells around the girl shattered.

Then, in a gesture of supreme contempt, the assassin turned her back on the lawmage, and – with a single, deft swipe of her claw – she cut the drawstring and pulled the hood free.

For the first time, Ceilia Levont saw the face of the gorgon she’d tried to save. Her snake hair was matted and tangled. Her eyes were puffy and red. Tear tracks stained the scales on her cheeks. She looked small, and exhausted, and scared.

She looked like a kid, Ceilia thought. She looked like a regular kid.

Human, gorgon, Azorius, Golgari – none of it mattered. Ceilia saw that now. She saw it all in the face of that kid.

Just a kid, like any other, who deserved to live, who deserved to be free.

Are you alright? Vraska signed to the gorgon.

Yes, the little gorgon signed back.

Did they hurt you? Vraska signed, glancing back at the lawmage.

No, the little gorgon said.

Good, Vraska signed. We’re leaving. And she took the little gorgon by the hand.

Then, to Ceilia, Vraska gave a withering stare. “Don’t try to follow,” she said.

“Wait,” Ceilia said, and moved to go after the gorgons, before Vraska froze her with a yellow-eyed glare. “I want to help.”

“You’ve helped enough,” Vraska said, her voice cold and hard. “Now leave before I change my mind.”

The little gorgon tugged on a strand of Vraska’s skirt. The assassin looked down, and a stream of sign language passed between the two gorgons more quickly than Ceilia could follow.

When the assassin looked up, she fixed Ceilia again with her unblinking eyes, and Ceilia saw the same intensity there as before. But, this time, some of the hard edge was gone.

“Eesha says you tried to help her,” Vraska said. “For that, you have my thanks.”

The little gorgon – whose name must have been Eesha – looked up at Ceilia, and waved. Ceilia smiled and waved back.

“So, thanks,” Vraska said. “Now leave.” And, putting her hand on the little gorgon’s back, she moved to shoo her away.

“Wait,” Ceilia said again. “I want to do more.”

Vraska turned around, and then – faster than Ceilia could blink – the assassin was standing right before her, so close that Ceilia could smell the scent of death.

“If you really want to help,” Vraska said, holding Ceilia transfixed in her gaze, “then go back to New Prahv. Go back to your job. Keep your head down. Forget about Eesha. Forget about me.” Her hard, yellow eyes didn’t blink. They stared straight through the back Ceilia’s skull. “When the day comes that I need you, that you can be of use to me?” Vraska said. “Then you’ll see me. Not a moment before.”

“But I can’t go back,” Ceilia said. “I killed a bailiff. I’m a traitor.” She pointed down at the captain below, lying in motionless in a pool of blood. “If I go back to New Prahv, I’ll end up back down here – in a very small detention sphere.”

Vraska glanced down at the dead body, then back up at Ceilia. Then, faster than Ceilia could react, she punched the lawmage – hard – in the jaw.

Ceilia went down, head reeling. As she lay stunned on her back on the cold marble floor, feeling the dead guard’s blood soaking into her robes, the assassin knelt down over her, and, with all the precision of a surgeon, she raked two sharp sets of claw marks diagonally down Ceilia’s torso. The slashes cut cotton and silk, and went deep enough to draw blood, so that Ceilia gritted her teeth with the pain. But the gorgon placed her wounds carefully – they did not sever anything vital.

Then Vraska snapped her own dagger in half, and dropped the blade next to Ceilia’s head.

“Now you’re no traitor,” the assassin whispered in the lawmage’s ear. “Now you’re an Azorius hero. So wait to be rescued, and do what I say.”

Ceilia nodded. Her jaw hurt like hell.

Vraska stood up and left. Her feet made no sound as she went.

Through the haze of pain, Ceilia propped herself on her elbow, and raised her head far enough to see Vraska and the little gorgon walking off down the hall, stepping over corpses as they went. Then, just before they disappeared around the corner, the little gorgon – Eesha – looked back, and make the sign for goodbye.

Goodbye, Ceilia signed back.

Then lawmage Ceilia Levont lay back on the floor, in a puddle of cooling blood. She picked up the assassin’s broken dagger, clutching it tightly in one hand.

“Not guilty, your honors,” she said, for no one to hear but the dead. And, when she passed out, she passed out with a smile.

#mtg #ravnica #fanfic

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