Swords, Swots and Surveillance

In my last post on prepping for RPGs I inadvertently mashed up three genres in an example:

 If they decide they all want to go explore the Dreaded Temple of Farb, or that they intend to host a midnight feast in the abandoned West Wing, or they are planning to steal a consignment of luxury goods intended for the Inner Party (I run a variety of genres, those are not all from one campaign, although frankly combining sword & sorcery, boarding school adventures and 1984 would be tremendous)

I agree it would be tremendous. Which means I couldn’t help producing the following nonsense:

It was a bright cold day in April, and the school bell was tolling thirteen.

Elara, Princess of the Fallen City of Kruz noticed it first. She was sitting on the end of her bed in the West Annex dormitory, oiling her sword. The sword purred as it absorbed the oil, eager for use. Elara looked up in surprise at the doom laden sound of the bell.

“I say, Minty,” she said, “that’s a bit off isn’t it?”

Across the dormitory her best friend Minty was fastening her school tie. She paused and cocked her head on one side, frowning. “Thirteen?” she said, “I should say so.”

“You worry too much,” scoffed Lucy, acolyte of the Undershrine of the Forgotten Voice, “You probably miscounted. Or the bell is broken. Matron will deal with it.”

From somewhere outside came the sound of tramping feet, boots marching in unison. The girls tensed.

“The lacrosse team? Prefects?” Lucy made the suggestions tremulously as though she did not believe them herself.

“Not even Matron stamps like that,” said Elara, “Except when she’s taken a few too many sips of the special liniment.”

The loudspeaker on the wall crackled into life and a strident male voice spoke out in a voice that was calm, precise and demanding:

“The school is under the direct governorship of the People’s Council. The school has always been under the direct governorship of the People’s Council. Pupils are reminded that the unauthorised possession of bladed weapons, armoured foundation garments and non-registered deities is strictly forbidden. Dormitory inspections will begin shortly. Remain where you are. Compliance will be rewarded. For the Leader!”

Elara slid her sword into its scabbard, ignoring the frustrated mewling sound it made. It was three ages and two worlds older than the school and it didn’t care for school rules, obedience or indeed the transient whims of mortals, but Elara didn’t feel like dealing with its attitude at the moment.

“Well this is a pickle,” she said.

“Bother!” said Minty, “After all the work I did on the prep for the end of term test too.”

Lucy stood up defiantly. “If you’ve done nothing wrong, then you’ve nothing to fear!” she announced, her chin in the air.

“The man said non-registered deities, Lucy,” Minty said patiently, “That includes yours.”

“But Mummy said I could bring them to school! I can’t be expected to do all the cleaning and scrubbing and incantations myself! They’re allowed surely?” But she sounded doubtful.

Outside the stamping feet stopped their stamping and three sharp knocks came on the dormitory door.

“Oh dear,” said Elara, turning to face the door with her hand on the hilt of her sword. Lucy stamped her own foot in frustration and spoke the word that allowed her gods to manifest in the air around her like insubstantial inside-out frogs, and Minty pulled off her neatly-knotted tie and began transforming into her primordial warform, all carapace and acid.

The door opened revealing a thin-faced officer of the Inner Party Order and Safety Enforcement Branch backed up by six helmeted and armoured riot police.

“Dormitory inspection,” he rasped out, “Stand by your beds girls. For the Leader!”

“Here’s something ‘For the Leader’,” said Elara, drawing her sword which howled triumphantly. “But since you’re here, you can have it first…”

(Fade out to the distant strains of the school song)