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PaperclipPerfector  1yr ago (text post)   2835 thread views

Friday Fun Thread for July 21, 2023

Be advised: this thread is not for serious in-depth discussion of weighty topics (we have a link for that), this thread is not for anything Culture War related. This thread is for Fun. You got jokes? Share 'em. You got silly questions? Ask 'em.

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Reminds me of this scene from The Salvation War:

Throne Room of the Adamant Fastness, Tartaruan Range, Outer Rim of Hell

“There had better be good news.” Belial had had his days on wyvern-back to absorb the news of the death of Asmodeus and there was no upside to that story. One of the greatest Dukes of Hell was dead, killed by humans. If they could kill him, they could kill anybody. They could even kill……. Belial stopped himself, if Satan detected that thought, Belial’s end would be horrible beyond contemplation. “We must avenge Asmodeus.”

“Please tell the court what you told me, about the forges of Sheffield.” Lakheenahuknaasi asked, as sweetly as she could manage following the stunning news of the death of the Great Duke. Her mind was also calculating, if the humans could kill the Great Dukes, then they had to be stopped before they won this war. And if they couldn’t be stopped, wasn’t it time she……?

Captain Shanklin was shaking with fear at the sight of the vast ornate room filled with huge armored demons. Their stares seemed to bore straight into his mind, rendering any notion of backing out now ludicrous.

“Well, m'lords and ladies, you see, all our guns, all our shells are made of steel. You call it 'enchanted iron', not that that's a bad thing to call it of course, since it just be iron with some special additives.”

This caused a minor stir in the court. One of the great armored demons spoke; “Human, do you know the secret of this alchemy? Could you transform plain molten iron into the enchanted iron?”

James gulped. “Perhaps, m'lord, it being the case that I was a foreman at the Bessemer works before the Great War... I would have to see your furnaces...”

As his words trailed off the great antlered demon on the throne spoke in a thundering voice. “I am sure that Baron Trajakrithoth's question was purely hypothetical. Our lord Satan has decreed that hell does not need iron and that no demon shall attempt to make weapons from it. Our furnaces smelt bronze, brass, copper, silver and gold, no iron.” Those words did not seem to be directed at the human, but the next ones were. “Now, what of this 'Sheffield'? It has many furnaces, many forges?”

”Aye, the city of Sheffield makes more steel than anywhere else in the Empire. The best steel too, and many things from that steel, cast and machined.” Despite all that he'd been through, there was still a hint of pride in Shanklin's voice.

The demon lord was clearly pleased and James sagged with relief. “Excellent. Where can I find this city of steel?”

“Why, in Yorkshire, centre of the British Isles, m'lord. Look sixty miles north from Birmingham, or thirty miles west from Manchester, or even twenty miles south from Leeds.”

Belial's expression did not show any hint of recognition at the names of the various British cities, but the rough triangulation seemed to satisfy him for now. “Very good... Jaameshankel.” The count waved his hand dismissively, which Lakheenahuknaasi took as a command to lead the human away.

“You said you had another trai... ah, informant, Euryale? One who knows of the iron chariots?”

“Yes, my lord.” The gorgon queen turned to address another of her retinue. “Present your new friend, Megaaeraholrakni.”

The second handmaiden stepped forward, her clawed hand keeping a tight grip on the shoulder of a short, bald human. The man swayed unsteadily; Megaaeraholrakni had dosed him heavily with her poison, not wanting to risk him having a last-minute change of heart. She whispered into his ear, “these... men... are very interessted in your 'tankss', please tell them what Dee'Troyt can offer them.”

Bob Reed recited his pitch by rote. “Well sirs, if it's quality you're looking for, dee-troyt has the finest workforce and the most modern production lines in the world. No need to worry about capacity either, we built twenty thousand tanks for uncle sam in double-u double-u two. Don't let the guys from cry-slur fool you, with our boys fighting the gooks in core-rea, their lines are tied up turning out em forty sevens for the feds. It stands to reason, if you've got a big order, gee em are the logical choice. We can get a plant switched over for you in...”

The demons were throwing baffled glances at each other. Could this 'uncle sam' really afford three legions worth of chariots for his troops? More likely the human was inflating the figure to impress. 'Tank' seemed to mean 'iron chariot' but what was an 'em forty seven'? Their lord seemed annoyed and that never bode well for the source of the annoyance.

“Enough. Human, you were asked a simple question. Is this 'Dee’Troyt' a major source of weapons for the human resistance?” Belial's tone oozed with the promise of horrible consequences should this question not be answered promptly.

Now it was Bob's chance to be confused. His eyes remained unfocused as he continued; “Why haven't you heard? Detroit is the arsenal of democracy. Eff Dee Arr said so himself.”

Belial couldn't resist taking over. “So Detroit makes all the chariots for the state of Democracy? Which is ruled by Uncle Sam and populated by Feds? And your great general Eff'dee'ar is leading your armies against us, the ones you call the gooks?”

Bob was saved solely by his loyalty to Selfridge's mantra; 'the customer is always right'. “Well, yeah, I suppose you could put it like that...”

The tension was over now that Belial had made sense of it for them. The barons abandoned the hard task of trying to comprehend the insane humans and slipped back into familiar territory; a flattery competition.

“Excellent deduction my lord!”

“Masterful interrogation, Count Belial!”

Belial allowed this to continue for a few more seconds before silencing the court with a chopping gesture.

“You have pleased me...” there was a slight pause as the count pulled the name from the man's mind... “Bobbreed.” He turned to one of his ubiquitous minor demon servants. “Take them both to the guest rooms. See to their needs until I require them again.” The two humans were led away.

“Excellent. Euryale, you have surpassed my expectations. We now have the location of the two most critical arsenals supporting the human resistance. Once they are destroyed, the human armies will find their reinforcements either severely diminished in number or lacking the enchanted weapons that allow them to challenge us.”

Belial had been concerned that the intelligence would be dangerously out of date. The constant stream of unpleasant surprises since the heralds had first arrived on earth had driven home how much the humans had changed since the demons last visited earth in strength. But the first informant had been dead less than two human lifetimes, the second barely one. Save total destruction by war, great cities could not change significantly in a mere handful of decades.

Euryale half-spread her wings, holding the leathery membranes low in folds that touched the ground, and lowered her head. It was a gesture that implied respect and submission without the admission of inferiority that the more usual forms of groveling involved. “I am most glad that my humble efforts please my lord.” she said, with only the slightest hint of sarcasm.

'I shouldn't let her get away with that' Belial thought, 'but I suppose this once she's earned it.'

The gorgon continued, “There were a few other traitors who I thought might be of use to you. They did not seem to know where the enchanted weapons were produced, like these two. But they did claim to know how to make them.”

Belial looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head. “Move them to the palace. Keep them isolated and under guard. Perhaps they can be of use to Trajakrithoth, perhaps they are best used as wyvern feed, but that can wait. We have only three days left to meet Satan's deadline.” Actually it was five, but he had already decided to keep the two extra days in hand as his last reserve.

[...]

“If I could make a request, my lord?”

The count tilted his head, inviting Euryale to continue.

“I have some ideas on how to improve the humans' enthusiasm for their work. But I will require some females. A few dozen should do to start with.”

Belial snorted, a reaction shared by most of the demons present. Tartarus had always levied male humans in return for its wares, as both sexes were equally useful to the torturers but males were obviously far superior manual laborers. There was only one thing Euryale could want the females for and Belial didn't like that notion at all.

“Have you forgotten that we still need the psychic energy of the humans? It hardly matters if we produce a few more tridents, if my serfs are rebelling because your pampered humans no longer give up enough energy.”

“My lord, I am confident that will not be the case. You see, recent events have shown how acclimatized to their condition the humans had become. When a human has nothing left to lose, the quality of anguish we can inflict is limited. For a few decades they rage and hate, but then their minds decay into apathy. By mixing in a little pleasure with their pain, by giving them something to lose again, I will heighten their suffering and inject fresh desperation even as they toil ever harder in your service.”

Again Euryale had caught the attention of the whole court and they were nodding in appreciation of her logic. 'She does have a talent for speeches', thought Belial, 'I will have to find a way to make use of that.'

“Very well. I shall permit you to continue your games... as soon as Sheffield and Detroit have been reduced to glowing slag.” Belial settled back in his damaged throne with a question left unanswered. Why did the humans refer to demons as gooks?

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