Mad Prince of Sanity
Host of all the Best Times
(Welcome one and all to a quest I have had in mind for a long time now! I appreciate any and all participation and wish to give a special thanks to @Mordecai as well as a special thanks to the Staff for the inspiration behind this Quest. Without further ado, please vote and chatter in the extra thread created for such, and above all else, have a maddeningly good time! I know you will.....)
RpNation: A Nation in Peril
Sterility, that fake too-clean smell of disinfectant and sanitizer that reeked as it had been scrubbed into every single cell in your immediate surroundings begins to assault your sense. The area before you spreads outward into a plain, non-descript office one might expect to find... well... nowhere. It was unnaturally clean and tidy, with the walls shining a bright white as if made of some acrylic material, or perhaps an incredibly specialized plastic. In the office's center lies a desk, and behind that desk a man. His withered, if still perfectly postured form watching you with cool and level eyes as you take in your surroundings. His impeccably tailored suit not a hair out of place, with even the folded linen cloth in his breast pocket sitting at a perfect ninety-degree angle with the folded edge running parallel to his pocket's own lining. To your immediate right, lies yet another odd subject. A simple, if somewhat tall, potted plant so well taken care of it looks almost plastic. Taking in the small cuboid office space in it's totality only one thought comes directly to mind......
This is the mind of a being of Madness?
As if perhaps sensing your doubt, the withered elderly man before you calmly raises a white-gloved hand to his lips and provides a gentle cough to catch your attention. His eyes, resembling pale blue chips of razor thin ice, hone on you in keen interest for a fraction of a second longer before he lowers his hand to calmly fold it across the other atop the desk. His voice ringing out in a surprisingly melodic, if somewhat gently chastising manner that he is indeed pressed for time. "Pardon me. But I do have an accord to keep, if you would be so kind?" The man motions gently with a single gloved hand, the movement short and precise like the practiced motions of an orchestral maestro ordering silence. Prompting you to move forward ever-so-slightly without the slightest hint as to why you obeyed. A small, if somewhat terse smile greeting your movement from the unknown man's lips as he continues abruptly "Excellent. Now then, you have been brought here... out of whatever existential corner of consciousness grasped your will, in order to pursue a singular common goal with the rest of...." A slight pause, as the man's eyes shift amongst your "body" as if you were many in one. ".... yourselves." The man finishes in a decidedly unsatisfied tone. Even taking a moment to give a slight frown before softly rapping his fingertips against the stark white of the desktop.
After a decidedly seconds-long pause and gathering of no true information on the each-other, the man clears his throat before obediently continuing "That goal, shall we call it for now, is the aiding of my, our, and your new overseer in the accomplishing of a rather important task. You see.... despite appearances this is a rather...." the man trails off, eyes flitting about as if attempting to describe an old family member he was on the best of terms with, before levelly resting them right back on you "... divided place." He states with a sense of frank finality before continuing to drawl on as if he were a crier delivering a droll proclamation to the masses, his interest truly seeming minimal "As such, you are to be given residence here should you accept the offer, as another little divided figment of our overseer's machinations. Madness, if you will. You shall experience all the overseer does, feel all they do, and be expected to react appropriately." The man calmly raises a single, gloved hand before you've a chance to speak and sighs "Before you go making an uninformed decision I can assure you that this first little.... scenario will help tell whom of you are truly devoted. As such, our time is over... DO try and be ourselves, yes?"
Without another word, the office falls from your eyes, you feel yourself ripping apart, like a doll with millions of seams that were snapping and twisting, pulling and churning, before finally being released into the depths of Madness. For you were never one, never meant to be one. You were you, dear reader. As you are now, and not part of a truly cohesive whole as this being.
Before your senses can truly right themselves, they truly wrong themselves. Whether you find yourself shorter or taller, thinner or wider now makes no difference. Now, you feel the gentle pressure of a top-hat crowning your head, the weighty feeling of a cane clacking along with every step you take, only to see there is no true "ground" beneath your feet, nor is there any real "ground" around at all!
Indeed, dear reader, as you have become a piece of the Mad Prince, so to do you perceive the endless void of white around with a sense of fond memories, heartache and lost potential. Or..... perhaps that is merely the feeling of the shirt and vest constricting much too tightly today hmm? Nevertheless with a casual glance upwards we, I, me, you spy a tattered, destroyed neon sign floating amongst the white void. A comfortable relief, from the endless white, static back-drop of nothingness. The sign is a pale blue, the letters taking shape in exaggerated curves and sways as if written by a calligrapher. Taking a moment to rotate our head upside-down atop our neck, we can barely make out the words "Shout Box" flickering amongst the random sparks and arks of power that briefly turn the dull blue-white tubes of neon into a familiar, indigo hue. Catching a brief glimpse of our reflection after righting our cranium, we do indeed spy our rather pallid complexion, with mis-matched gold and green eyes blinking lazily back at us atop the near omni-present Maddening grin we are oh so famous for. Our tousled, dark dirty blonde hair peaking out like stamped grass 'neath our beloved hat, and an odd vibration fills your new being as the Madness about you elects to elicit a small chuckle from us.
Alas, while such reminiscing is a human's favorite past-time, and while passing the discarded wreckage of old creation in this land without corners do we weave by a tank, do we dodge by an iron dagger, and do we now finally fall upon our intended destination. One of, if not the only, intact piece of... anything... floating within this void. A diner. Outfitted in a classic sense of Americana and utterly unassuming save it's place of residence and state of being.
Another jolt, this one now near reaching your own perceived ability to input, but just barely skirting the edges of your reach as you feel a deluge of words and emotions spill forth from us. "Well now! Of ALL the places they could ask to meet us... er... I mean ME! Right?" Again, another jolt, this one grazing your perception to control but falling short as we wag a finger before us, a small grin peaking our lips "Ah ah ah. Not quite yet. I do apologize but a marvelous story such as this deserves proper establishing!" With a short, almost choked cackle do we twirl our cane and advance forth, stopping a'fore the door only to kick it in with a might THUD! A hand bracing our hat to our head as we call out in a decidedly deep voice "Ohhh Wizzy I'm hooo-oome!" Peeking about the empty diner and it's decidedly 80's Americana look, we spy a lone figure in an ornate robe silently dining alone, their face completely concealed in darkness. After a moment's pause, a quiet whisper reaches you within our mind "Okay yes! Yes now! Not then, not later, but now! Now the true fun begins! Let's get ready to r-r-ruuumb-... er... r-r-roooleplaaaay!" Suddenly, three glowing buttons appear before your senses, each uniform in color and each brings new possibilities to the forefront of your mind when you linger your 'gaze' on them. "Do feel free to customize your Madness Space while you're at it! Now then, how do we approach?" We ask ourselves joyfully. "Oh and don't worry about talking to us, ourselves, we, I and You as one... it'll be natural before you know it!"
Button 1: Approach with our customary fan-fare of course! (Complete with utterly horrible puns!)
Button 2: Approach all Spoopy-like. (<.<)
Button 3: Impress the Dark Wizard with a truly awe-inspiring display of Madness and Magic. (He'll NEVER see that coming!)
RpNation: A Nation in Peril
Sterility, that fake too-clean smell of disinfectant and sanitizer that reeked as it had been scrubbed into every single cell in your immediate surroundings begins to assault your sense. The area before you spreads outward into a plain, non-descript office one might expect to find... well... nowhere. It was unnaturally clean and tidy, with the walls shining a bright white as if made of some acrylic material, or perhaps an incredibly specialized plastic. In the office's center lies a desk, and behind that desk a man. His withered, if still perfectly postured form watching you with cool and level eyes as you take in your surroundings. His impeccably tailored suit not a hair out of place, with even the folded linen cloth in his breast pocket sitting at a perfect ninety-degree angle with the folded edge running parallel to his pocket's own lining. To your immediate right, lies yet another odd subject. A simple, if somewhat tall, potted plant so well taken care of it looks almost plastic. Taking in the small cuboid office space in it's totality only one thought comes directly to mind......
This is the mind of a being of Madness?
As if perhaps sensing your doubt, the withered elderly man before you calmly raises a white-gloved hand to his lips and provides a gentle cough to catch your attention. His eyes, resembling pale blue chips of razor thin ice, hone on you in keen interest for a fraction of a second longer before he lowers his hand to calmly fold it across the other atop the desk. His voice ringing out in a surprisingly melodic, if somewhat gently chastising manner that he is indeed pressed for time. "Pardon me. But I do have an accord to keep, if you would be so kind?" The man motions gently with a single gloved hand, the movement short and precise like the practiced motions of an orchestral maestro ordering silence. Prompting you to move forward ever-so-slightly without the slightest hint as to why you obeyed. A small, if somewhat terse smile greeting your movement from the unknown man's lips as he continues abruptly "Excellent. Now then, you have been brought here... out of whatever existential corner of consciousness grasped your will, in order to pursue a singular common goal with the rest of...." A slight pause, as the man's eyes shift amongst your "body" as if you were many in one. ".... yourselves." The man finishes in a decidedly unsatisfied tone. Even taking a moment to give a slight frown before softly rapping his fingertips against the stark white of the desktop.
After a decidedly seconds-long pause and gathering of no true information on the each-other, the man clears his throat before obediently continuing "That goal, shall we call it for now, is the aiding of my, our, and your new overseer in the accomplishing of a rather important task. You see.... despite appearances this is a rather...." the man trails off, eyes flitting about as if attempting to describe an old family member he was on the best of terms with, before levelly resting them right back on you "... divided place." He states with a sense of frank finality before continuing to drawl on as if he were a crier delivering a droll proclamation to the masses, his interest truly seeming minimal "As such, you are to be given residence here should you accept the offer, as another little divided figment of our overseer's machinations. Madness, if you will. You shall experience all the overseer does, feel all they do, and be expected to react appropriately." The man calmly raises a single, gloved hand before you've a chance to speak and sighs "Before you go making an uninformed decision I can assure you that this first little.... scenario will help tell whom of you are truly devoted. As such, our time is over... DO try and be ourselves, yes?"
Without another word, the office falls from your eyes, you feel yourself ripping apart, like a doll with millions of seams that were snapping and twisting, pulling and churning, before finally being released into the depths of Madness. For you were never one, never meant to be one. You were you, dear reader. As you are now, and not part of a truly cohesive whole as this being.
Before your senses can truly right themselves, they truly wrong themselves. Whether you find yourself shorter or taller, thinner or wider now makes no difference. Now, you feel the gentle pressure of a top-hat crowning your head, the weighty feeling of a cane clacking along with every step you take, only to see there is no true "ground" beneath your feet, nor is there any real "ground" around at all!
Indeed, dear reader, as you have become a piece of the Mad Prince, so to do you perceive the endless void of white around with a sense of fond memories, heartache and lost potential. Or..... perhaps that is merely the feeling of the shirt and vest constricting much too tightly today hmm? Nevertheless with a casual glance upwards we, I, me, you spy a tattered, destroyed neon sign floating amongst the white void. A comfortable relief, from the endless white, static back-drop of nothingness. The sign is a pale blue, the letters taking shape in exaggerated curves and sways as if written by a calligrapher. Taking a moment to rotate our head upside-down atop our neck, we can barely make out the words "Shout Box" flickering amongst the random sparks and arks of power that briefly turn the dull blue-white tubes of neon into a familiar, indigo hue. Catching a brief glimpse of our reflection after righting our cranium, we do indeed spy our rather pallid complexion, with mis-matched gold and green eyes blinking lazily back at us atop the near omni-present Maddening grin we are oh so famous for. Our tousled, dark dirty blonde hair peaking out like stamped grass 'neath our beloved hat, and an odd vibration fills your new being as the Madness about you elects to elicit a small chuckle from us.
Alas, while such reminiscing is a human's favorite past-time, and while passing the discarded wreckage of old creation in this land without corners do we weave by a tank, do we dodge by an iron dagger, and do we now finally fall upon our intended destination. One of, if not the only, intact piece of... anything... floating within this void. A diner. Outfitted in a classic sense of Americana and utterly unassuming save it's place of residence and state of being.
Another jolt, this one now near reaching your own perceived ability to input, but just barely skirting the edges of your reach as you feel a deluge of words and emotions spill forth from us. "Well now! Of ALL the places they could ask to meet us... er... I mean ME! Right?" Again, another jolt, this one grazing your perception to control but falling short as we wag a finger before us, a small grin peaking our lips "Ah ah ah. Not quite yet. I do apologize but a marvelous story such as this deserves proper establishing!" With a short, almost choked cackle do we twirl our cane and advance forth, stopping a'fore the door only to kick it in with a might THUD! A hand bracing our hat to our head as we call out in a decidedly deep voice "Ohhh Wizzy I'm hooo-oome!" Peeking about the empty diner and it's decidedly 80's Americana look, we spy a lone figure in an ornate robe silently dining alone, their face completely concealed in darkness. After a moment's pause, a quiet whisper reaches you within our mind "Okay yes! Yes now! Not then, not later, but now! Now the true fun begins! Let's get ready to r-r-ruuumb-... er... r-r-roooleplaaaay!" Suddenly, three glowing buttons appear before your senses, each uniform in color and each brings new possibilities to the forefront of your mind when you linger your 'gaze' on them. "Do feel free to customize your Madness Space while you're at it! Now then, how do we approach?" We ask ourselves joyfully. "Oh and don't worry about talking to us, ourselves, we, I and You as one... it'll be natural before you know it!"
Button 1: Approach with our customary fan-fare of course! (Complete with utterly horrible puns!)
Button 2: Approach all Spoopy-like. (<.<)
Button 3: Impress the Dark Wizard with a truly awe-inspiring display of Madness and Magic. (He'll NEVER see that coming!)
