“Not who Frollo claims you are, Quasimodo. I know of at least three people who you turn out to be. The fact we are having this conversation means there is now four, or maybe 5.”
“I don’t understand?”
“Nor does Frollo. Hellfire, I’m living your story and I am STILL not sure I understand myself. Sit with me, and let me try to explain?”
“Yes Mas… Muck”.
“Better, my friend. No masters or servants here, just two people, equal in their lives despite what has happened to them, as claimed by the bells of Notre Dame. Those bells that are all around us”
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
01-22-2020, 05:20 AM (This post was last modified: 01-22-2020, 05:26 AM by classicdrogn.)
I keep meaning to give the new bits you posted for Tales a look over, Star, but I also keep getting distracted by things that don't take as much mental focus as a proper glitches-and-comments pass. Sorry. I feel like a bad friend.
... and I've still never gotten to Rajvik's fic at all, dammit. But the shinies are so shiny, glittering, gleaming, taunting me!
Not much to say about this one, I barely remember Hunchback of Notre Dame. Heck, at first I thought it was meant as some more recent story that only took the names for an AI and its creator rather than actual Quasimodo and Frollo, but the bits about the bells is a little too direct to be metaphor in that case.
yeah. Have to admit that the biggest reason I wrote this and shared it was the bit about Who (or what makes) a monster and what makes a man has been really resonating in the dark places of my mind the last few days.
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
Ah... well, my first reaction is that a monster requires malice, but that's not quite it - simple dismissal of the worth of others is all the more horrifying when taken to extremes. Instead I'd say that the measure of a monster is intent, to knowingly do things that will cause unnecessary suffering or destruction for primarily their own benefit, or worse for simple amusement. Unless you've drastically, consistently misrepresented yourself for... I think we've been in contact in one form or another since the mid-to-late 90s? Something like that... I don't think you've got to worry too much on that count. Everyone is an asshole sometimes, thoughtless sometimes, selfish sometimes, but that's not the same thing.
01-23-2020, 11:05 PM (This post was last modified: 01-24-2020, 12:32 AM by Star Ranger4.)
Yes, CD. Thank you, really needed that validation after the day I had today. It was not, I have to say 'A good day'.
To be honest, it was the sort of day my fanfiction self would revel in finding Claude Frollo at the end of Star Ranger's weapon so I could snarl something about "YOU ARE JUDGED" ala Sylvester Stallone as Judge Dredd. Because it was that bad of a day
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
Everyone has dark days sometimes, too. Helping each other get through them is the really critical part of having friends, so I'm glad my awkward mumblings worked at least somewhat as intended.
“After all, we’re only made of stone,”accused Victor, as he turned away and returned to stone.
“But we thought you were made of something stronger,” Laverne agreed before also turning away and solidifying.
“They are right, Quasimodo.” Came the voice of the Star Ranger from behind him. “The question is what you choose to do now. To show you are stronger than what Frollo believes, or stand aside and let him kill Phoebus and Esmeralda as he did your mother.”
“Frollo? My mother?”
“Not in the way I think you are thinking. But Esmeralda is not the first woman Frollo has summarily executed. But she can be… the first who survives if you choose to let me help.”
“Yes. Even if it costs my life, my immortal soul. I choose for Esmeralda to live, even if she loves another.” All around him came a sudden surge of air, accompanied by a ringing sound similar, yet different from the bells that had surrounded him his whole life even as the chains that bound him fell away.
“So, you choose to be a man. Hang on to me. It is time the two of us get down there and deal with the REAL monster, my friend.”
* * * * * * * *
Esmeralda struggled not to breath in the smoke of the burning straw that surrounded her. She had a memory that doing so killed more gypsies than anything the so-called minister of justice… what was this she heard? It sounded like something large was falling towards the scaffolding of her execution. Then there was a loud bang that threw her, and the post she was chained to clear of the fires and allowed clean air into abused lungs.
“and he does a perfect IRON MAN” a voice unfamiliar to her chortled. “End of the line, Quasi. Get her to safety.”
“Safety? Is there anywhere safe?” That was a voice Esmeralda recognized. Quasimodo, the bell ringer of the cathedral. The kind soul whom she intervened to redeem from her mistake back at the Festival, and whom had saved her in return.
“Yes. Inside the cathedral. Sanctuary, Quasimodo! Take her to Sanctuary!” Strong arms gathered Esmeralda up, strong legs leaping to carry her away, while that unfamiliar voice screamed out once more; “CLAUDE FROLLO! STAND FORTH AND BE JUDGED YOU SANTIMONIUS SUMMBITCH!”
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
I'd have thought that would be a situation for GERWALK more than Battroid - sustained jetwash would do a better job of dissipating the smoke and probably scatter the fire pile as well, and a slower approach would be less likely to smack into a wall or lose Quasimodo to maneuvers or wind force. But then, I'm used to living in G for the various Macross games, so I pretty much always think it looks like a job for birdie-mode unless it's robot kung fu or straight line speed.
It also brings up the one problem I do definitely remember from long-ago classroom discussions, namely, what about the long term? Is Esmerelda going to just squat in a church for the rest of her life? It's in the middle of bloody Paris so it's not like she can sneak out across a back field and escape into the forest or something. Here of course Muck can whisk her and Phoebus away by air, though there's still the challenge of getting them settled somewhere they'd actually be safe from the Church after crossing a cardinal so drastically. Maybe England, or somewhere in Africa or Arabia since it's still 50-odd years before the Church of England gets founded? It's 1482; Columbus won't even set sail "to the East Indies" for another decade, so the New World is out.
Valid points, CD. I guess I'm still failing at using words to convey to others the imagery in my head. The thought of 'Me' coming down at near terminal velocity, bare minimum of braking thrust, using that force to both knock Esmerelda to safety and still wind up in that classic 'three point stance' from the Iron man movies and comics? The sheer intimidation of it was the imagery I was trying to evoke here. I've made a big mistake that keeps the flow of the movie here, though... Gerwalk or Battroid, I look un-human enough Frollo can use these facts rally not just his troops but the very citizens of Paris who have gathered bear witness against me here about a Demon defending its own.
Also, remember that I am working with more the animated movie version, where Frollo is a servant of the king and not an ordained Prelate of THE CHURCH, where the ArchDeacon, the senior member of the serving clergy below the Bishop or Cardinal has saved Quasimodo as a child, has blocked Frollo's actions against Esmeralda at least once at this point, and has generally shown he is the embodiment of the true spirit of christ in comparison to Frollo's "They claim closeness with their lips, but their hearts (and actions) are far away". Might come off as a handwave, but I cant help the feeling that once Claude Frollo is 'judged' this person would not only work to help, but also use his power within the church to defend the heroic trio of Quasimodo, Esmeralda, and Phoebus, even if my avatar me is blamed and despised.
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
Ah, I never saw the animated version at all, just the ... dunno, late-40s or fifties (colourized later I'm pretty sure) live action. I don't really remember Frollo's exact position there either, just that I'm pretty sure he wore red and so figured Cardinal. The "what now?" question is the more important part anyway, so as long as you have some plans to address that it's what I was getting at.
As for looking inhuman, is MC's robot form based on the VF-1J (and if that, is it the turrethead toy form or the more humanoid animated one) or Roy's custom -1S like your avatar image? Having added a few bits of contemporary armor (a breastplate and probably tassets/"armor skirt") or just a tabard over the torso section with some appropriately Good Guy heraldic insignia to hide the bits where a human obviously can't fit inside would actually be a good reason to be sticking to battroid here, so he just seems to be an armoured knight with some strange abilities. Hey, it worked for Max to pass as a Zentreadi officer!
01-25-2020, 07:36 PM (This post was last modified: 01-26-2020, 08:46 AM by Star Ranger4.)
Roy's -1s, just in green
You have, however, given me a really evil brainwave about this:
* * * * * * * *
Phoebus looked up at that roaring voice. He’d been right, that what he’d heard was akin to a cannon firing on a distant target. The difference was that this was not any cannonball or bolt he’d ever seen used; this was a man, a man in strangely angular plate armor now rising to his feet, surrounded by the wreckage of the scaffolding meant for Esmerelda; roaring a challenge to Judge Frollo. The figure gestured…
“DOWN!” Phoebus roared again in warning as a golden streak arced across the open area before the cathedral, followed by spall of some sort bouncing off his back. Looking up, he realized that whatever it was he’d briefly seen had smashed the lock of the wagon he was in. He reached down and pulled up the person he’d sheltered.
“Clopin. You claim to be king of the Gypsies? Prove it. Take control of your liegemen. Get these bystanders out of here.”
“And where will you be, *Captain?*”
“Where any good officer of the king should be. Rushing to the sound of the guns,” Phoebus snarled as he launched himself out the now open door and through the crowds between himself and the strange knight. Ahead of him, Frollo’s voice rang out across the square.
“I am JUDGE Frollo. Appointed by King Louis to dispense his justice. Who are you to defy me and my king?”
“You may call me Don Quixote, lord of La Mancha. Knight of the Woeful Countenance and destroyer of evil such as yourself.”
Don was how a Catalonian would refer to someone equivalent to his own status as Chevalier prior to his commissioning as a Kings officer. But why would someone from the Iberian Peninsula be so far north?[1]
[1] heh. Okay, nope, haven’t somehow swapped characters here. Muck is claiming he’s a fictional character from a novel that hasn’t even been written yet just to rattle Frollo’s chain. I considered breaking into song to deliver this line… but didn't. But maybe in a paragraph or two? Heh heh heh...
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
Oho, I missed the edited in scenelet before. That is definitely worthy of a wide, toothy grin, yes. As for bursting into song... you're a Macross character in a Disney movie! Why are you hesitating!? Having your music take over the scene is how you know you're winning, and you definitely don't want to let your opponent do it instead.
01-28-2020, 07:18 PM (This post was last modified: 01-28-2020, 07:28 PM by Star Ranger4.
Edit Reason: text tweaks, fixing bad markup
)
The Iberian knight before Phoebus inexplicably started… Singing? Was the Don that insane? Or just that mad at Claude Frollo?
“HEAR ME MINIONS OF FROLLO! THOU SERVANTS OF SIN! THY DASTARDLY DOING ARE PAST!!!! For a holy endeavor is NOW TO BEGIN! AND VIRTUE SHALL TRIUMPH AT LAST!!!”
Phoebus had heard one or two of the new fangled ‘Operas’ since he’d received King Louis’ commission. Something about them prompted Phoebus to jump as hard as he could, and was rewarded by something akin to a cannon blast without a ball passing below his feet. Later, when asked, he’d described it as *THUMP BA DUM BA DUMP BUMP bad um ba da dum![2]* behind him; a syncopated pattern that matched the song this… Don Quixote? was bellowing about the shortcomings of Judge Claude Frollo.
But with each… Blast? Phlug? Perhaps the description was secondary to the effect. Frollo’s troops, men Phoebus had thought of as his troops only a day ago, were sent tumbling away by whatever it was the catalonian Don was using. Not dead, but clearly driven back, stunned by whatever that was. Yet, behind that front line were more troops. Un-stunned, still willing to fight for Judge Frollo, perhaps willing to believe the catalonian was the daemon and not Frollo?
[2] I’m going to refer you to my favorite version of this, an a Capella arrangement done by the Ambassadors of Harmony. https://youtu.be/pdKTX_BuD0w
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
01-29-2020, 05:36 AM (This post was last modified: 01-29-2020, 06:05 AM by Star Ranger4.)
“I AM I, DON QUIXOTE! THE LORD OF LA MANCHA! DESTROYER OF EVIL AM I” his protector continued singing, even as he crossed his arms before flinging them back out in an arc before the pair, spraying something that glistened in a way that made Phobeus think of soap, or cooking oil where it landed on the cobblestones. “I will march to sound of the trumpets of glory, forever to conquer or die!” What ever it was, the men charging their position were slipping, falling; unable to stay upright.
“I don’t suppose?”
“No, Phobeus. These weapons are bound as tightly to me as your oath to your king. Bide, though, and I will provide.” After saying this, the strange Iberian Don leapt over the area he’d just denied the use of to Frollo’s men as the Don brought his gauntlets together, and when he drew them apart as he landed, a quarterstaff manifested between. A devastating weapon in the right hands, as the Don was proving, but one that a soldier could, in time, survive and return to service. Such mercy… was not something Phoebus had been trained to grant anyone other than to nobles of a rank higher than his own. Yet, Quixote was granting it to ALL who faced him on the field of combat this day.
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
(01-29-2020, 10:50 AM)classicdrogn Wrote: In musical Paris, staff is king of the battlefield. Has notation for malady, harmin' thee, and concussion!
*falls over laughing* Oh, you have NO idea CD. working on typing out why you are right, though. For the record, while this was written later, in storyline terms it happens before the last few posts:
“And as I ring these bells tonight, My cold dark tower seems so bright!”
“I swear it must be Heaven's Light”
“Because it is, my friend.”
“But… how can this be? I am…”
“NO! You are not.” Muck countered, drew in a breath before replying in song, as the sounds of drums and cymbals somehow emanated from him.[3] “A Single thread in a tapestry, though its color brightly shines, can never see its purpose it the pattern of the grand design! Does the stone that sits on the very top of A mountains mighty face, think it is more important than the stones that form the base? So, how can you see what your life is worth, or where your value lies? You can never see with the eyes of man! You must look at your life! Look at your life through heaven’s eyes[4] !!!”
[3] *Sigh* I HATE… Oh never mind. What you are seeing here is the legacy of how the Microsoft programmers think they know more than the people who actually use their software. Like NO concept that a person might go back and work on things at a later date… *DEEP BREATH* Shortest form? I’m writing/revising this scene after having written scenes that follow after, something that Word doesn’t seem to understand. However, what is going on here is that my avatar is trying to assure someone from a Disney film with a song from a Dreamworks Animation production.
I honestly don't think I've done any writing in anything but a forum reply box or the plain text editor that comes with Ubuntu (Mousepad, I think?) since... um, probably when my old PDA finally died, 2012ish? Thinking back, getting a laptop back in the mid-noughties was when my writing output fell off a cliff too. I know it's weird, but I actually got the most fic writing done tapping a stylus on a portrait-mode 240x320 handheld, to the point it wore little dots in the screen where the keyboard got displayed. Maybe because the minimalist interface let me concentrate on what I was doing rather than coordinating two hands and moving them around to reach all the keys? Or just the inability to switch back and forth to a web browser and get distracted moment-to-moment
But the point is, if your tools are getting in the way, perhaps try a different tool? Word processors have some nice features for error checking and word/page counts, but if you write in something simpler first you can always open it in one later for subsequent passes, and doing so may even help (to adapt your most recent fragment) look at the text with heaven's eyes, to spot various things you'd normally gloss over because your brain knows what you mean and patches up what you actually wrote in your own perception. I know I constantly see things that make me wonder how I could possibly have missed them after posting something, sometimes just from the different window width changing where it wraps from one line to the next.
(01-31-2020, 04:45 AM)classicdrogn Wrote: I honestly don't think I've done any writing in anything but a forum reply box or the plain text editor that comes with Ubuntu (Mousepad, I think?) since... um, probably when my old PDA finally died, 2012ish? Thinking back, getting a laptop back in the mid-noughties was when my writing output fell off a cliff too. I know it's weird, but I actually got the most fic writing done tapping a stylus on a portrait-mode 240x320 handheld, to the point it wore little dots in the screen where the keyboard got displayed. Maybe because the minimalist interface let me concentrate on what I was doing rather than coordinating two hands and moving them around to reach all the keys? Or just the inability to switch back and forth to a web browser and get distracted moment-to-moment
But the point is, if your tools are getting in the way, perhaps try a different tool? Word processors have some nice features for error checking and word/page counts, but if you write in something simpler first you can always open it in one later for subsequent passes, and doing so may even help (to adapt your most recent fragment) look at the text with heaven's eyes, to spot various things you'd normally gloss over because your brain knows what you mean and patches up what you actually wrote in your own perception. I know I constantly see things that make me wonder how I could possibly have missed them after posting something, sometimes just from the different window width changing where it wraps from one line to the next.
Concur, CD. This was kind of my point, that when I thought of something I thought might be, in my eyes 'REALLY (DELETED) COOL' regardless of how spell-check or whatever the heck it is that generate the word wrap? yeah. was really afraid that the technicalities of how that happened would... is denegrate really the right word? Lessen, perhaps... what. at that moment, I thought of as a crowning moment of awsome. (where is that wounded emoji? another app??? Oh bloody hell...*)
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
01-31-2020, 10:12 PM (This post was last modified: 01-31-2020, 10:14 PM by Star Ranger4.)
Kind of sticking a knife in this one as DONE DONE DONE, and trying to move on? back? to my work on Sing-a-long (aka my 'un numbered' next tale of the wanderer)?
right. Cut n paste first, docx attachment second.
“Who… what am I, Muck?”
“Not who Frollo claims you are, Quasimodo. I know of at least three people who you turn out to be. The fact we are having this conversation means there is now four, or maybe 5.”
“I don’t understand?”
“Nor does Frollo. Hellfire, I’m living your story and I am STILL not sure I understand myself. Sit with me, and let me try to explain?”
“Yes Mas… Muck”.
“Better, my friend. No masters or servants here, just two people, equal in their lives despite what has happened to them, as claimed by the bells of Notre Dame. Those bells that are all around us”
* * * * * * * *
“And as I ring these bells tonight, My cold dark tower seems so bright!”
“I swear it must be Heaven's Light”
“Because it is, my friend.”
“But… how can this be? I am…”
“NO! You are not.” Muck countered, drew in a breath before replying in song, as the sounds of drums and cymbals somehow emanated from him.[3] “A Single thread in a tapestry, though its color brightly shines, can never see its purpose it the pattern of the grand design! Does the stone that sits on the very top of A mountains mighty face, think it is more important than the stones that form the base? So, how can you see what your life is worth, or where your value lies? You can never see with the eyes of man! You must look at your life! Look at your life through heaven’s eyes[4] !!!”
* * * * * * * *
“After all, we’re only made of stone,” accused Victor, as he turned away and returned to stone.
“But we thought you were made of something stronger,” Laverne agreed before also turning away and solidifying.
“They are right, Quasimodo.” Came the voice of the Star Ranger from behind him. “The question is what you choose to do now. To show you are stronger than what Frollo believes, or stand aside and let him kill Phoebus and Esmeralda as he did your mother.”
“Frollo? My mother?”
“Not in the way I think you are thinking. But Esmeralda is not the first woman Frollo has summarily executed. But she can be… the first who survives if you choose to let me help.”
“Yes. Even if it costs my life, my immortal soul. I choose for Esmeralda to live, even if she loves another.” All around him came a sudden surge of air, accompanied by a ringing sound similar, yet different from the bells that had surrounded him his whole life even as the chains that bound him fell away.
“So, you choose to be a man. Hang on to me. It is time the two of us get down there and deal with the REAL monster, my friend.”
* * * * * * * *
Esmerelda struggled not to breath in the smoke of the burning straw that surrounded her. She had a memory that doing so killed more gypsies than anything the so-called minister of justice… what was this she heard? It sounded like something large was falling towards the scaffolding of her execution. Then there was a loud bang that threw her, and the post she was chained to clear of the fires and allowed clean air into abused lungs.
“and he does a perfect IRON MAN” a voice unfamiliar to her chortled. “End of the line, Quasi. Get her to safety.”
“Safety? Is there anywhere safe?” That was a voice Esmerelda recognized. Quasimodo, the bell ringer of the cathedral. The kind soul whom she intervened to redeem from her mistake back at the Festival, and whom had saved her in return.
“Yes. Inside the cathedral. Sanctuary, Quasimodo! Take her to Sanctuary!” Strong arms gathered Esmerelda up, strong legs leaping to carry her away, while that unfamiliar voice screamed out once more; “CLAUDE FROLLO! STAND FORTH AND BE JUDGED YOU SANTIMONIUS SUMMBITCH!”
* * * * * * * *
Phoebus looked up at that roaring voice. He’d been right, that what he’d heard was akin to being on the receiving end of a cannon firing on a distant target. The difference was that this was not any cannonball or bolt he’d ever seen used; this was a man, a man in strangely angular plate armor now rising to his feet, surrounded by the wreckage of the scaffolding meant for Esmerelda; roaring a challenge to Judge Frollo. The figure gestured…
“DOWN!” Phoebus roared again in warning as a golden streak arced across the open area before the cathedral, followed by spall of some sort bouncing off his back. Looking up, he realized that whatever it was he’d briefly seen had smashed the lock of the prison wagon he was in. He reached down and pulled up the person he’d sheltered.
“Clopin. You claim to be king of the Gypsies? Prove it. Take control of your liegemen. Get these bystanders out of here!”
“And where will you be, *Captain?*”
“Where any good officer of the king should be. Rushing to the sound of the guns,” Phoebus snarled as he launched himself out the now open door and through the crowds between himself and the strange knight. Ahead of him, Frollo’s voice rang out across the square.
“I am JUDGE Frollo. Appointed by King Louis to dispense his justice. Who are you to defy me and my king?”
“You may call me Don Quixote, *Lord* of La Mancha. Knight of the Woeful Countenance and destroyer of evil such as yourself.”
Don was how a Catalonian would refer to someone equivalent to his own status as Chevalier prior to his commissioning as a Kings officer. But why would someone from the Iberian Peninsula be this far north?[1]
The Iberian knight before Phoebus inexplicably started… Singing? Was the Don that insane? Or just that angry at Judge Frollo?
“HEAR ME MINIONS OF FROLLO! THOU SERVANTS OF SIN! THY DASTARTLY DOING ARE PAST!!!! For a holy endeavor is NOW TO BEGIN! AND VIRTUE SHALL TRIUMPH AT LAST!!!”
Phoebus had heard one or two of the new fangled ‘Operas’ since he’d received King Louis’ commission. Something about them prompted Phoebus to jump as hard as he could, and was rewarded by something akin to a cannon blast without a ball passing below his feet. Later, when asked, he’d described it as *THUMP BA DUM BA DUMP BUMP bad um ba da dum![2]* behind him; a syncopated pattern that matched the song this… Don Quixote? was bellowing about the shortcomings of Judge Claude Frollo. But with each… Blast? Phlug? Perhaps the description was secondary to the effect. Frollo’s troops, whom Phoebus had thought of his troops only a day ago, were sent tumbling away by whatever it was the catalonian was using. Not dead, but clearly driven back, stunned by whatever that was. Yet, behind that front line were more troops. Un-stunned, still willing to fight for Judge Frollo, perhaps willing to believe the catalonian was the daemon and not Frollo?
“I AM I, DON QUIXOTE! THE LORD OF LA MANCHA! DESTROYER OF EVIL AM I” his protector continued singing, even as he crossed his arms before flinging them back out in an arc before the pair, spraying something that glistened in a way that made Phobeus think of soap, or cooking oil where it landed on the cobblestones. “I will march to sound of the trumpets of glory, forever to conquer or die!” What ever it was, the men charging their position were slipping, falling; unable to stay upright.
“I don’t suppose?”
“No, Phobeus. These weapons are bound as tightly to me as your oath to your king. Bide, though, and I will provide.” After saying this, the strange Iberian Don leapt over the area he’d just denied the use of to Frollo’s men as the Don brought his gauntlets together, and when he drew them apart as he landed, a quarterstaff manifested between. A devastating weapon in the right hands, as the Don was proving, but one that a soldier could, in time, survive and return to service. Such mercy… was not something Phoebus had been trained to grant to anyone other than nobles of a rank higher than his own. Yet, Quixote was granting it to ALL who faced him on the field of combat this day. A rather painful mercy, in the short term, but those solders would live to fight again in the defense of France, unlike many Phoebus had faced on the field of battle in the past. Those confrontation had ended in maimings, of warriors damaged badly enough they could never return to the field of battle. As the last few fell before the Catalonian, though, there was a change in the disabling strokes that caused a sword and shield to arc through the air towards Phobeus; as Frollo’s ex captain reached up the weapons fell into his waiting hands.
“MERDE![5]” the Catalonian swore, then suddenly was shielding Phobeus, the staff somehow replaced with a shield a roman legionnaire might wish for as burning oil started gushing forth from the gargoyle rainspouts of the cathedral; a shield that put his own to shame as it kept both of them safe from not just the rain of oil, but the heat of it.
“Good job, my friend,” Quixote said in a voice Phobeus rather expected was meant to be kept to himself (Quixote) as he helped Phobeus to his feet. “Go, Captain,” the don exclaimed, forcibly propelling Phobeus towards the doors of Notre Dame. “Check on the Arch-Deacon. Save Quasimodo, Esmerelda!”
“And what will you be doing?”
“I’m the rear-guard! NOW GO! Do NOT waste this gift I give you![6]”
* * * * * * * *
Micheal sighed from the shadows as he watched the trio being lead through the streets of Paris.
“Regrets, my son?”
“No, your Grace. At best, a sigh of relief at a job well done.[7]
“I am not anyones’ Grace, Michael the wanderer. Perhaps, at best, someone who helps the outcasts, where you aggressively defend them.”
“You are correct about that, Michael of Notre Dame. I am the type that, like the archangel we both are named for, reaches for the sword first, mercy second. Yet, still I name you more worthy of heavens light, and grace, than the bishop and the Cardinal you choose to serve.”
“True. The lord is the lord of mercy and forgiveness, even if he has said he will smite the wicked in the fullness of time. Therefore, I choose to believe my superiors have a role yet to play in keeping his church on the path, even if it is a role I do not agree with.”
“Is this to be my destiny? Endless battles that I alone survive? Endless guilt because I alone survived?”
“That, I cannot answer other than how the lord of all works in mysterious ways.”
“Tell me they will be all right?”
“I cannot. Quasimodo himself can remain here. Phoebus and Esmerelda I can send under my protection, to Roma. What happens to them after they arrive?”
“Is up to themselves.”
“Yes.”
“Then my work here is done.”
“Most likely, though you are welcome to stay for as long as it takes to rest and rejuvenate yourself for the next battle my lord asks of you.”
“No. You seem to be me. Therefore, you know I feel it is best too, like any good Chevalier, charge the enemy and get it over with. To bear the scars that result from it with pride.”
“Scars come from ill healed wounds. You will excuse me for wishing you do not accumulate more of those on your body or soul.”
“Spoken like a true shepherd of his flock.”
“Yes. And any shepherd knows when to let go.”
“I would have said ‘Let it be.’ On that note, l say, ‘let it be’”.
[3] *Sigh* I HATE… Oh never mind. What you are seeing here is the legacy of how Microsoft programmers think they know more than the people who actually *use* their software. Like NO concept that a person might go back and work on things at a later date… *DEEP BREATH* Shortest form? I’m writing/revising (which also means adding endnotes!) this scene after having written scenes that follow after, something that Word doesn’t seem to understand. However, what is going on here is that my avatar is trying to assure someone from a Disney film with a song from a Dreamworks Animation production.
[1] heh. Okay, nope, haven’t somehow swapped characters here. Muck is claiming he’s a fictional character from a novel that hasn’t even been written yet just to rattle Frollo’s chain. I considered breaking into song to deliver this line! Still, Wait for it…
[2] I’m going to refer you to my favorite version of this, an a Capella arrangement done by the Ambassadors of Harmony. https://youtu.be/pdKTX_BuD0w
[5] English speakers, read this as f*ck or Sh!t. And, yes, I censored that myself for younger readers who might happen across this tale.
[6] For those of you who are not aware, the sole purpose of the ‘rear guard’ is to die gloriously while slowing down or outright STOPPING the enemy to the point the main body of an army can get away. Fortunately this character is my avatar, as mentioned in earlier tales of the wanderer. Kind of gives him more than a bit of ‘Plot Armor’? https://allthetropes.fandom.com/wiki/Plot_Armor
[7] A job well done. A thought that has echoed through my psyche for far too many years. Used during ‘commencement/graduation’ of more than just sailors or soldiers over the years, as a way of thanking those who had the thankless task of turning new recruits into members of a countries armed forces. Which does not JUST include the personnel who have to ‘crack the whip’; but those of the recruit unit who are set apart as the unit leaders. A position I wished I might attain. I was wrong. *sad face*
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
sweet mary mother of jesus. WHO THE FLAMING (DELETED) Designed this interface??? ITS IMPOSSIBLE TO GET THIS TO PUBLISH AS WRITTEN AND THEY ARE NOT LETTING ME DO ANY OF THE (DELETED) WORKAROUNDS I USED TO KNOW. CAN SOMEONE DROP A (DELTETED) Weapon of mass destruction on them? CARP LIKE THIS...
Its just fishy, and I cant try to actually publish this tonight. if I try again I am going to start shouting in anger loudly enough I will wake everyone around me.
Ergo, what I opened thsi reply with.
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
