I've finally got my backbone in working order, and I am posting from my study again. Then I'm off on a camping trip with my family, and won't be posting for a week. This is therefor a longer post to tide you over.
My basement, and Beezle's home, is separated from the rest of the mansion by a set of stairs and two doors, one on either end of the staircase. Tt's little wonder that knowing what inhabits my basement, I had never been down to it before Wadsworth and I went down to interview Beezle. I was expecting a dark dank pit with dripping stalactites above, or at least an unfinished basement full of spider webs and large rodents. I was totally unprepared for what what I found on the other side of the lower door.
Beezles living space is stunning and shockingly tasteful (all things considered). The floor and walls are lined with black rough cut stone. The ceiling is sixty feet high at it's pinnacle. (I know that you, dear reader, are smugly saying that this cannot possibly be true because beezle lives in my basement. That shows just how much you know about multiplainer physics.) The room is long and rectangular; the door we entered from is on one end wall and at the other there is a twenty foot fireplace, shaped like one of those rounded triangular alcoves found in ancient cathedrals. Along it's sides are larger than life statues of wreathing human forms, and grate within it resembles the burning skeleton of an enormous man. The bonfire held inside rages like a furnace, though the air in the room is unnaturally chill.
Beezle sat, smiling politely, in a plush overstuffed chair in front of the fire. Beezle too, was far different from what I imagined. In my mind I had conjured up a multi-headed dragon with at least two heads reserved solely for poking into the vents to annoy me. Instead, Beezle is almost human in form. His appearance is elegant, powerful, and morbidly fascinating. He has oily jet black skin and thick short black spines that run from the base of his scull to the tip of his tail. At the tip of his tail, three jagged pearly white spines jut straight out. The claws on his hands and feet, as well as his jagged teeth, share the same pure color. The color contrast makes him look bizarre and frightening. Beezle has no gender defining features, though his a deep resonating voice suggests that he is male.
My basement, and Beezle's home, is separated from the rest of the mansion by a set of stairs and two doors, one on either end of the staircase. Tt's little wonder that knowing what inhabits my basement, I had never been down to it before Wadsworth and I went down to interview Beezle. I was expecting a dark dank pit with dripping stalactites above, or at least an unfinished basement full of spider webs and large rodents. I was totally unprepared for what what I found on the other side of the lower door.
Beezles living space is stunning and shockingly tasteful (all things considered). The floor and walls are lined with black rough cut stone. The ceiling is sixty feet high at it's pinnacle. (I know that you, dear reader, are smugly saying that this cannot possibly be true because beezle lives in my basement. That shows just how much you know about multiplainer physics.) The room is long and rectangular; the door we entered from is on one end wall and at the other there is a twenty foot fireplace, shaped like one of those rounded triangular alcoves found in ancient cathedrals. Along it's sides are larger than life statues of wreathing human forms, and grate within it resembles the burning skeleton of an enormous man. The bonfire held inside rages like a furnace, though the air in the room is unnaturally chill.
Beezle sat, smiling politely, in a plush overstuffed chair in front of the fire. Beezle too, was far different from what I imagined. In my mind I had conjured up a multi-headed dragon with at least two heads reserved solely for poking into the vents to annoy me. Instead, Beezle is almost human in form. His appearance is elegant, powerful, and morbidly fascinating. He has oily jet black skin and thick short black spines that run from the base of his scull to the tip of his tail. At the tip of his tail, three jagged pearly white spines jut straight out. The claws on his hands and feet, as well as his jagged teeth, share the same pure color. The color contrast makes him look bizarre and frightening. Beezle has no gender defining features, though his a deep resonating voice suggests that he is male.
As intriguing as I find Beezle's form, he has one physical feature that keeps my attention: his eyes. They are as dark and deep as the night sky and perfectly round. Golden flecks float through the eternal darkness within. They are hypnotic and captivating.
As we got closer to Beezle, my thinking became foggy. By the time we stood before him I couldn't remember why I was there or what I was doing. I was alright with that though. All I thought I needed or wanted was to continue to look into the deepness of his eyes.
"WELCOME TO MY LAIR," said Beezle, standing up and gesturing.
"Thank you," I said, "what can I do to make your life more comfortable?" The worst part is that I ment it.
"I CANNOT THINK OF ANYTHING AT THE MOMENT, THOUGH I WILL BE SURE TO LET YOU KNOW. FOR THE MEANWHILE YOU MAY CONTINUE TO ADMIRE ME."
There was silence for a space of time until Wasdworth coughed loudly.
I turned startled to face him.
"If you will excuse me, Sir. I suggest that it would be wise to look anywhere other than directly into Beezle's eyes."
"YES, THEY DO SEEM TO HAVE THAT STUPEFYING EFFECT ON PEOPLE DON'T THEY? I CAN ONLY ASSUME THAT IT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH MY DEVILISHLY GOOD LOOKS."
I frowned and said, "Wadsworth," I said, "if I start doing anything rash, you have my full permission to strike me."
"Noted, Sir."
"And by the way Beezle," I added, turning back to look at his chin, "Isn't the vacant space above us right about where my study should be?"
Beezle looked anoyed, "THAT GOES TO SHOW JUST HOW MUCH YOU KNOW ABOUT MULTIPLAINER PHYSICS. I WON'T TAKE THE TIME TO EXPLAIN IT TO YOU. I HAVE SOME DREAM PLAYING I'D LIKE TO GET TOO SHORTLY. NOW, YOU SAID SOMETHING ABOUT A SACRIFICE?" Beezle looked at me greedily.
"Yes, right." I gestured to Wadsworth, who lifted the lid on his tray, displaying the contents.
"This sir," he said, "is Cognac dated to the year fifteen thirty-seven, sir. And this," he continued, "is goat blood."
"HOW OLD WAS THE GOAT?"
"Three hours old, sir."
Beezle grinned widely and rubbed his hands, "I THINK WE CAN DO BUSINESS THEN. FOR EVERYTHING ON THAT TRAY I WILL VOW TO ANSWER ONE QUESTION TRUTHFULLY."
"One question?" I asked incredulously, "That's not even worth our time!"
Beezle scowled, "I WAS BEING GENEROUS. I REQUIRED THE WIFE OF THE LAST PERSON WHO ASKED ME FOR THE TRUTHFUL ANSWER TO A QUESTION."
"Then I'm sure you won't have any problem finding blood somewhere else."
Beezle squinted at me, "TWO QUESTIONS, BUT THAT'S ALL"
"Wadsworth," I said flatly, "we're done here. Let's go."
I could feel Beezles eyes drilling holes into my back, and it was unnerving. it was the best I could do not to flinch. When we were half way to the door, Beezle called out after us. I was suprised to here a hint of desperation in his voice.
"I CAN GIVE YOU THREE. THAT'S MY FINAL OFFER."
I looked to Wadsworth for approval. I'm not up to date on the street value of goat blood. He nodded, so I turned and said, "Then i think we can do business."
Wadsworth and I returned to the fireplace and Wadsworth rested the tray on an end table next to Beezle's chair. It was dark granite with a polished black marble inlay. Beelze immediately poured himself a glass of Cognac and splashed some goat blood into it. He drank deeply before sighing with satisfaction. Then he eyed me and said, "YOU'RE TAKING ADVANTAGE, YOU KNOW."
"And you're congesting my basement."
Beezle sat down and crossed his legs "POINT TAKEN."
"By the way," I asked, "How do you keep from poking holes in your chair."
Beezle shrugged, "KEVLAR UPHOLSTERY. SHALL WE BEGIN?" Beezle cleared his throat and said,"I SWEAR BY THIS ALCOHOLIC GOAT'S BLOOD THAT I WILL ANSWER THREE QUESTIONS TRUTHFULLY." He raised the glass like he was making a toast, then took a sip.
I was suprised, I'd expected something a little more archaic, so I asked "That's it?"
Wadsworth winced.
"I'M ALL OUT OF CEREMONY. WHAT'S QUESTION NUMBER TWO?'
"You mean question one."
"I MEAN QUESTION TWO." Beezle perfectly imiated my voice and said, "That's it?"
"That wasn't a question! It was a statement of disbelief!"
"YOUR INTONATION CLEARLY IMPLIED A QUESTION."
"Perhaps sir, it would be wise to instruct him not to answer questions that you haven't specifically made official.", said Wadsworth.
I glared at Beezle,"Right. Those are the new rules. Now, officially tell me about that evil entity that you're so afraid of."
"THAT'S A NON SPECIFIC STATEMENT. I NEED A QUESTION."
I sighed. What did I really need to know for the book?
"First of all, what is it's name?" I paused and thought carefully then added, "offically - and I want the answer to include the reason for it's name"
"IT HAS NO NAME. THIS IS SIMPLY BECAUSE IT PREFERS THINGS THAT WAY. THEREFORE IT HAS BEEN CALLED MANY THINGS, INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED TO: THE VOID, THE DARKNESS, THE DARK ONE, AND SHORN - THAT LAST ENTRY WAS WHAT THE LAST SOLAR HIGH PRIEST USED TO CALL HIM. HIS FOLLOWERS THOUGHT IT WAS BECAUSE HE WAS SHORN, AS IN CUT OFF, FROM THE LIGHT, THOUGH I HAVE IT ON GOOD AUTHORITY THAT SHORN WAS EXTRAPOLATED FROM SHARON - THE NAME OF THE HIGH PRIEST'S EX-WIFE."
Somehow I didn't feel as dissapointed as I should have. I can work with something nameless. Something without a name can't protest when I give it one of my own.
"Alright, official question number two: Why are you so afraid of him?"
Beezle took another casual sip from his glass and said, "IT IS BECAUSE HE IS FAR MORE POWERFUL THAN I, AND I BETRAYED HIM."
"Why?"
Beezle smiled smugly, "I'M AFRAID YOU'RE OUT OF QUESTIONS. IF YOU WILL EXCUSE ME, IT IS TIME FOR MY DREAM PLAYING." He snapped his fingers and the door to the mansion flew open.
I sighed, frustrated, though I tried to be optimistic. I had something new to work with for a little while. Maybe after writing more I'd come up with better questions and a better way to ask them.
And there you have it, my interview with Beezle in full. I'll see you again in a week.
-J. L. Secrest
As we got closer to Beezle, my thinking became foggy. By the time we stood before him I couldn't remember why I was there or what I was doing. I was alright with that though. All I thought I needed or wanted was to continue to look into the deepness of his eyes.
"WELCOME TO MY LAIR," said Beezle, standing up and gesturing.
"Thank you," I said, "what can I do to make your life more comfortable?" The worst part is that I ment it.
"I CANNOT THINK OF ANYTHING AT THE MOMENT, THOUGH I WILL BE SURE TO LET YOU KNOW. FOR THE MEANWHILE YOU MAY CONTINUE TO ADMIRE ME."
There was silence for a space of time until Wasdworth coughed loudly.
I turned startled to face him.
"If you will excuse me, Sir. I suggest that it would be wise to look anywhere other than directly into Beezle's eyes."
"YES, THEY DO SEEM TO HAVE THAT STUPEFYING EFFECT ON PEOPLE DON'T THEY? I CAN ONLY ASSUME THAT IT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH MY DEVILISHLY GOOD LOOKS."
I frowned and said, "Wadsworth," I said, "if I start doing anything rash, you have my full permission to strike me."
"Noted, Sir."
"And by the way Beezle," I added, turning back to look at his chin, "Isn't the vacant space above us right about where my study should be?"
Beezle looked anoyed, "THAT GOES TO SHOW JUST HOW MUCH YOU KNOW ABOUT MULTIPLAINER PHYSICS. I WON'T TAKE THE TIME TO EXPLAIN IT TO YOU. I HAVE SOME DREAM PLAYING I'D LIKE TO GET TOO SHORTLY. NOW, YOU SAID SOMETHING ABOUT A SACRIFICE?" Beezle looked at me greedily.
"Yes, right." I gestured to Wadsworth, who lifted the lid on his tray, displaying the contents.
"This sir," he said, "is Cognac dated to the year fifteen thirty-seven, sir. And this," he continued, "is goat blood."
"HOW OLD WAS THE GOAT?"
"Three hours old, sir."
Beezle grinned widely and rubbed his hands, "I THINK WE CAN DO BUSINESS THEN. FOR EVERYTHING ON THAT TRAY I WILL VOW TO ANSWER ONE QUESTION TRUTHFULLY."
"One question?" I asked incredulously, "That's not even worth our time!"
Beezle scowled, "I WAS BEING GENEROUS. I REQUIRED THE WIFE OF THE LAST PERSON WHO ASKED ME FOR THE TRUTHFUL ANSWER TO A QUESTION."
"Then I'm sure you won't have any problem finding blood somewhere else."
Beezle squinted at me, "TWO QUESTIONS, BUT THAT'S ALL"
"Wadsworth," I said flatly, "we're done here. Let's go."
I could feel Beezles eyes drilling holes into my back, and it was unnerving. it was the best I could do not to flinch. When we were half way to the door, Beezle called out after us. I was suprised to here a hint of desperation in his voice.
"I CAN GIVE YOU THREE. THAT'S MY FINAL OFFER."
I looked to Wadsworth for approval. I'm not up to date on the street value of goat blood. He nodded, so I turned and said, "Then i think we can do business."
Wadsworth and I returned to the fireplace and Wadsworth rested the tray on an end table next to Beezle's chair. It was dark granite with a polished black marble inlay. Beelze immediately poured himself a glass of Cognac and splashed some goat blood into it. He drank deeply before sighing with satisfaction. Then he eyed me and said, "YOU'RE TAKING ADVANTAGE, YOU KNOW."
"And you're congesting my basement."
Beezle sat down and crossed his legs "POINT TAKEN."
"By the way," I asked, "How do you keep from poking holes in your chair."
Beezle shrugged, "KEVLAR UPHOLSTERY. SHALL WE BEGIN?" Beezle cleared his throat and said,"I SWEAR BY THIS ALCOHOLIC GOAT'S BLOOD THAT I WILL ANSWER THREE QUESTIONS TRUTHFULLY." He raised the glass like he was making a toast, then took a sip.
I was suprised, I'd expected something a little more archaic, so I asked "That's it?"
Wadsworth winced.
"I'M ALL OUT OF CEREMONY. WHAT'S QUESTION NUMBER TWO?'
"You mean question one."
"I MEAN QUESTION TWO." Beezle perfectly imiated my voice and said, "That's it?"
"That wasn't a question! It was a statement of disbelief!"
"YOUR INTONATION CLEARLY IMPLIED A QUESTION."
"Perhaps sir, it would be wise to instruct him not to answer questions that you haven't specifically made official.", said Wadsworth.
I glared at Beezle,"Right. Those are the new rules. Now, officially tell me about that evil entity that you're so afraid of."
"THAT'S A NON SPECIFIC STATEMENT. I NEED A QUESTION."
I sighed. What did I really need to know for the book?
"First of all, what is it's name?" I paused and thought carefully then added, "offically - and I want the answer to include the reason for it's name"
"IT HAS NO NAME. THIS IS SIMPLY BECAUSE IT PREFERS THINGS THAT WAY. THEREFORE IT HAS BEEN CALLED MANY THINGS, INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED TO: THE VOID, THE DARKNESS, THE DARK ONE, AND SHORN - THAT LAST ENTRY WAS WHAT THE LAST SOLAR HIGH PRIEST USED TO CALL HIM. HIS FOLLOWERS THOUGHT IT WAS BECAUSE HE WAS SHORN, AS IN CUT OFF, FROM THE LIGHT, THOUGH I HAVE IT ON GOOD AUTHORITY THAT SHORN WAS EXTRAPOLATED FROM SHARON - THE NAME OF THE HIGH PRIEST'S EX-WIFE."
Somehow I didn't feel as dissapointed as I should have. I can work with something nameless. Something without a name can't protest when I give it one of my own.
"Alright, official question number two: Why are you so afraid of him?"
Beezle took another casual sip from his glass and said, "IT IS BECAUSE HE IS FAR MORE POWERFUL THAN I, AND I BETRAYED HIM."
"Why?"
Beezle smiled smugly, "I'M AFRAID YOU'RE OUT OF QUESTIONS. IF YOU WILL EXCUSE ME, IT IS TIME FOR MY DREAM PLAYING." He snapped his fingers and the door to the mansion flew open.
I sighed, frustrated, though I tried to be optimistic. I had something new to work with for a little while. Maybe after writing more I'd come up with better questions and a better way to ask them.
And there you have it, my interview with Beezle in full. I'll see you again in a week.
-J. L. Secrest
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