FRAGMENTED (part VII)
Created | Updated May 29, 2003
Episode 7: The Cit. Sense
It was morning when Baxter made his way down Hypokrit Street. He was quite a distance from a Store of Heroes and Adventurers but given that the Creators had a universe to oversee, accuracy to the nearest street could be ignored.
Besides, perfect accuracy would be seen as a bonus considering when man was Created their brains had missed their heads completely and had been inaccurate to about three feet...
Didn't really matter yet anyway as Baxter needed to find some money in the first place.
He had been inside a SOHAA once before when passing a while back... well more like looking to hide and catch his breath back.
He needed some water and asked what he could get for seven cits [87 'cits' make up one 'del']...
He got laughed at, followed by being thrown out into the path of the persuing tax-man and his small mallet called Thumb Bandit.
From the number of peoples around it was possible to tell that Baxter was near the centre of Citadel where the different and general populus of species conjealed.
Like all big cities, governments though it more equal to let races have their own unique area on the outskirts of the Citadel where tht member of species was more predominant: human sectors, dwarf sectors, elf sectors etc.
Around the middle, nearer the palace grounds, was where they all came together and mingled.
On this centre's side of the gorge, thankfully away from the Shattered Skull opposite, the Market Cube stood and was Baxter's point of call for cash.
Weaving through the cart traffic and pigeons, the resident coward came to the stone steps leading down into the Cube.
It had once been a mansion for one of the Citilian Army Commanders before the Kontrola regime was intergrated.
After the Great Gunpowder Shock the mansion was collapsed and its basement became the area to house market stalls and their shelters gave the effect of a giant cuboid buried into the stone ground.
The carts and pigeons were the easy part as Baxter began to search for the man who would get him out of financial trouble.
Past the man who sells the two-page "Thick Scroll" parchment yet doesn't seemed to be aware of it as he shouts "Thikker-rooooall!!" into your ear as you pass, and the woman who - no matter how many times you pass her in the course of the day - STILL thinks that you would be better off with compensation if brain and heart activity stops for a month [collectble only by those who have dies three times in the past twelve months...]
Then Baxter saw who he wanted...
Legless joe was sat in between a and a stall inside a small sooden tray that was an inch off the floor but came up to waist height which was almost two-three inches off the floor.
In front of him was a cap with a few dels inside and a sign reading:
IF Y' DONT HAV CHANGE JUST GIV ME A DEL
What he didn't notice was a bandana wearing figure in a large coat that reached to the floor and sandalled feet sidling slowly against the cart.
An arm shot out from the stationary vehicle and grabbed the cap.
'Yoink!' Baxter yelled and padded of through the crowd.
'HEY!!!' shouted Legless Joe and shot up out of a hole with legs that had more muscle than the average man and sprinted after Baxter. 'Arrgh!' Legless screamed as a pain shot up his right leg. 'Cramp!' But nethertheless he continued the chase.
Baxter's feet flip-flopped up the Cube and into the nearby cart park.
The universe, as usual, followed the laws which can't be broken: a cart began to pull out backwards in front of them.
Baxter skimmed around it but the persuing Legless got pushed down and the wooden flap at the back fell open and a heavy supply of metal collapsed onto his left leg, breaking it.
A millisecond later, a scraping noise was created and a wedge-shaped kitchen appliance landed on Legless' head.
The cart continued to reverse but navigated past the unconscience Joe with bright red letters painted on the side:
F.E. Murchent
!WARNING IRONY!
Baxter refilled his lungs behing a rubbish bin down a brightly lit corridor [dark is just suicide] and slipped the four dels into his pocket.
As oxygen re-entered his system he heard a faint noise from above that seemed to be getting louder.
*...aaaaAARRGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!* And something crashed into a wooden skip with a thunk.
A figure slowly dropped onto the floor and staggered up. A grin appeared on its face.
*HeLLo! U muSt B BAxtEr!!*
It was morning when Baxter made his way down Hypokrit Street. He was quite a distance from a Store of Heroes and Adventurers but given that the Creators had a universe to oversee, accuracy to the nearest street could be ignored.
Besides, perfect accuracy would be seen as a bonus considering when man was Created their brains had missed their heads completely and had been inaccurate to about three feet...
Didn't really matter yet anyway as Baxter needed to find some money in the first place.
He had been inside a SOHAA once before when passing a while back... well more like looking to hide and catch his breath back.
He needed some water and asked what he could get for seven cits [87 'cits' make up one 'del']...
He got laughed at, followed by being thrown out into the path of the persuing tax-man and his small mallet called Thumb Bandit.
From the number of peoples around it was possible to tell that Baxter was near the centre of Citadel where the different and general populus of species conjealed.
Like all big cities, governments though it more equal to let races have their own unique area on the outskirts of the Citadel where tht member of species was more predominant: human sectors, dwarf sectors, elf sectors etc.
Around the middle, nearer the palace grounds, was where they all came together and mingled.
On this centre's side of the gorge, thankfully away from the Shattered Skull opposite, the Market Cube stood and was Baxter's point of call for cash.
Weaving through the cart traffic and pigeons, the resident coward came to the stone steps leading down into the Cube.
It had once been a mansion for one of the Citilian Army Commanders before the Kontrola regime was intergrated.
After the Great Gunpowder Shock the mansion was collapsed and its basement became the area to house market stalls and their shelters gave the effect of a giant cuboid buried into the stone ground.
The carts and pigeons were the easy part as Baxter began to search for the man who would get him out of financial trouble.
Past the man who sells the two-page "Thick Scroll" parchment yet doesn't seemed to be aware of it as he shouts "Thikker-rooooall!!" into your ear as you pass, and the woman who - no matter how many times you pass her in the course of the day - STILL thinks that you would be better off with compensation if brain and heart activity stops for a month [collectble only by those who have dies three times in the past twelve months...]
Then Baxter saw who he wanted...
Legless joe was sat in between a and a stall inside a small sooden tray that was an inch off the floor but came up to waist height which was almost two-three inches off the floor.
In front of him was a cap with a few dels inside and a sign reading:
IF Y' DONT HAV CHANGE JUST GIV ME A DEL
What he didn't notice was a bandana wearing figure in a large coat that reached to the floor and sandalled feet sidling slowly against the cart.
An arm shot out from the stationary vehicle and grabbed the cap.
'Yoink!' Baxter yelled and padded of through the crowd.
'HEY!!!' shouted Legless Joe and shot up out of a hole with legs that had more muscle than the average man and sprinted after Baxter. 'Arrgh!' Legless screamed as a pain shot up his right leg. 'Cramp!' But nethertheless he continued the chase.
Baxter's feet flip-flopped up the Cube and into the nearby cart park.
The universe, as usual, followed the laws which can't be broken: a cart began to pull out backwards in front of them.
Baxter skimmed around it but the persuing Legless got pushed down and the wooden flap at the back fell open and a heavy supply of metal collapsed onto his left leg, breaking it.
A millisecond later, a scraping noise was created and a wedge-shaped kitchen appliance landed on Legless' head.
The cart continued to reverse but navigated past the unconscience Joe with bright red letters painted on the side:
F.E. Murchent
!WARNING IRONY!
Baxter refilled his lungs behing a rubbish bin down a brightly lit corridor [dark is just suicide] and slipped the four dels into his pocket.
As oxygen re-entered his system he heard a faint noise from above that seemed to be getting louder.
*...aaaaAARRGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!* And something crashed into a wooden skip with a thunk.
A figure slowly dropped onto the floor and staggered up. A grin appeared on its face.
*HeLLo! U muSt B BAxtEr!!*
