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Hagrid Quest
- Thread starter Guile
- Start date
Immanent Thing
I don't think running off, wandering onto a firing range, or rooting around for giant-sized clothes is a good idea, so that leaves one option.
[X] He probably knows what he's doing? More than you do, anyway. Stick with him.
[X] He probably knows what he's doing? More than you do, anyway. Stick with him.
When cleaned up, that's... "A pioneer, probably, with that beard. I'll ask about it. No, there's no need to thank me; though you're English and I'm French, helping the poor was part of my training." An axe-toting combat engineer sounds decent enough for Hagrid, but who knows where we'll really end up.megrisvernin said:
Dark Lord Bob
Know what you're doing yet?
- Joined
- Jan 10, 2014
- Messages
- 212
[X] He probably knows what he's doing? More than you do, anyway. Stick with him.
Heaven Canceler
Behind You!
- Joined
- Nov 30, 2013
- Messages
- 11,979
So I am wondering. Could we possibly start breading magical animals for war purposes? That could be really awesome depending on whether normal humans can see them.
Guile
Clothes That Kill Virgins
- Joined
- Feb 19, 2013
- Messages
- 13,733
Well, you do need to find magical animals first, but sure.Heaven Canceler said:
And if you're willing to endure the questions that would come down from both high ranking muggle officers and (eventually) wizarding authorities, when the Foreign Legion rides into battle on eight-headed camel monsters that breathe fire from their mouths and shoot lightning bolts from their asses.
Hymn of Ragnarok
Well worn.
- Joined
- Feb 19, 2013
- Messages
- 5,552
Worst comes to worst, once upon a time jeans were made from tent fabric.
Granted, a tent might not be much more than a kilt for Hagrid.....but hey, that works too.
Granted, a tent might not be much more than a kilt for Hagrid.....but hey, that works too.
Guile
Clothes That Kill Virgins
- Joined
- Feb 19, 2013
- Messages
- 13,733
Well, it's probably fine. Not like you have any better ideas, mind. You spent the last three years letting smarter people than you tell you what to do with positive results, why break a winning streak?
You pointedly don't think about certain recent events that you shouldered a right proper hangover to forget.
The size of the camp just looks more impressive as your guide leads you through it. Hundreds of tents in rows and clusters. Even if they're the cheapest stuff on the market, it boggles the mind! A wizard would have to pay piles of Galleons for the numbers you see here. You could comfortably fit thousands and thousands of wizards into the tents here with room to spare; you just didn't get numbers like that unless there was a Quidditch World Cup on or something. Do other wizards know Muggles do this too?
You notice lots of folk sitting around outside with that particular kind of half-focus you get when Hogwarts kids wanted to relax but a Professor might poke their head in at any moment and find them something to do. It's a kind of lazy feel of readiness that does right well with critters-you'd know!
Makes you feel like you're in good company, in a kinda dodgy way.
You wrinkle your nose when the smells change. Natural smells like dust and sweat, dog and camel droppings, all shift to more unpleasant odors you can't identify. Like eggs or burned food or, weirdly, almonds - that one's fine, you actually love almonds. You stomach's grumbling a bit. There's a lot of big metal things parked in neat rows here, too. Taller than you are, a lot of them, some with four wheels and some with lots and lots of wheels stuck together and a few that look kinda like long stretched out metal slugs with a cab on top. Looking at them, you guess they're for riding? Even with lots of perfectly good camels around, you've heard muggles are all in love with 'autos'. Maybe these are them - they look a little ramshackle, but you think you could probably ride on one of the bigger ones.
The maybe-French person takes you to a thickset man that you almost thought was a stump when you first spotted him. The only movement of the gnarled little man is a slow, sure swipe of a rag over the axe resting on his knees. The little lump of a man is sitting in front of an open tent and barely cares enough to focus his eyes on the pair of you. With the rag and the apron, you're reminded a little of Mr. Aberforth, although he's wider in the chest than the bartender by far. He looks kind of like you all smushed down, except his beard is more impressive. You feel a moment of bristle-envy, but it's not a bad change of pace. Actually kinda nice, properly feeling like a kid - you know, if you don't mind the size bit. Too many blokes are moving away from the grand tradition of beards in wizardry, and you don't care for such thoughts much. One of the reasons you always trusted Professor Dumbledore - wonderful pile of fuzz on that man's chin, and no mistake!
While they gabble on at each other and the buggers keep refusing to use proper English, you peek into the tent behind him and are in for a rude shock. You catch yourself on a convenient stack of crates to keep from falling down in surprise, and wince at the quiet sound of splintering. Carefully, you shift over so no one will notice.
But what surprised you… the tents… aren't bigger on the inside! Muggles, of course, you remind yourself. You have to revise your estimates down to only having maybe a thousand men around here - maybe just hundreds and hundreds. You're not really sure: Arithmancy was never your thing.
You also see a handful of other men in leather aprons crowding around an open space in the middle with a pair of blokes stalking back and forth. You spot them real easy, because any proper school lad learns to notice troublemaking, and you're sure that's exactly what this is. One of the men is keeping up a rapid patter of "Paris! Prise de paris!" A duel, maybe? Less formal than a wizard duel of course, them being just muggles. Looks a bit less finicky than proper Wizard dueling, actually. Instead of standing far apart and bowing and so on, they're slowly circling each other with their fists up. … Get away, are they just having a tussle? As adults? You may not know much about a whole lotta things, but a scrap? You can do that.
Frankly, all this looks a lot more fun than wizard dueling.
There's also a handful of lads, heads clustered around a tin 5 gallon bucket as they shout advice and curses at each other. Even if you don't see many pounds, there's no missing the money grubbily clenched in hands that get waved excitedly. More betting - how lovely.
You glance back at your guide. The motley man briefly catches the direction of your gaze and snorts all proper style. It sounds fancier than what he actually says, which is something like, "Tu remarquez nos belles discipline militaire."
Taking that as permission, you wander over to that group you just spotted. Clearly, whatever's in that bucket is worth your time. It's easy enough to poke your head in above theirs to get a good look at what's going on-their hats don't even tickle your throat. Looks like they got a handsome white and black fella, a tree-tiger tarantula, Syrian looks like. Sharing the bucket with him is a beauty of a scorpion folk call a 'deathstalker'. You remember you were a little disappointed to learn those weren't hardly deadly at all, and indeed it looks like he's losing against the fuzzy eight-legger.
Trapped in the bucket, the two little beasties are fighting it out. Little irresponsible of their owners, but you can't really argue it out with them, and not just because you don't speak the language. They can do what they want with their pets, even if it is a little barbaric, and you have to admit both spider and scorpion have some nice moves. Even so, the scorpion with the bad name isn't long for this earth, it's clear. Few legs off… oh, and there he goes, the feisty tree dweller got his fangs through. Buggers got enough poison to… well, it's over, that's for sure. Poor lad.
Your coat up and rustles a bit all on it's own… and you don't rightly recall what you left in that pocket. Might want to check your pockets sometime soonish, at that.
Looks like they're taking a moment to bring in the next contender, so you look round one last time. Tents, muggle machines, the fighters are still going at it… and pigeons! Fine, healthy looking Carrier Pigeons, a splendidly hale breed indeed. A grand pigeon loft, constructed of solid cedar with half a hundred of the fancy little fellows in individual wire pens. Oh, look at 'em jostle for dominance-fiesty little coo-balls, ain't they? Frankly, you're not sure how you noticed them last - their collective cooing is the loudest thing out here.
A man - beard and long braided chestnut hair streaked grey - is puttering around the enclosure, checking on his birds with the half-attentive air of a practiced hand.
The two men at your back have progressed to waving their hands at one another. You think you've got a little time.
What do you focus on?
[X] Bit of sport with the lads. Men, wizard and muggle, can speak with their fists!
[X] You think you know a thing or two about spider breeding. The insect fighting ring beckons!
[X] Pigeons! They're like owls in miniature!
[X] Actually you aren't doing squat: fiddling almost always breaks stuff, and there's no teachers to bail you out here!
You pointedly don't think about certain recent events that you shouldered a right proper hangover to forget.
The size of the camp just looks more impressive as your guide leads you through it. Hundreds of tents in rows and clusters. Even if they're the cheapest stuff on the market, it boggles the mind! A wizard would have to pay piles of Galleons for the numbers you see here. You could comfortably fit thousands and thousands of wizards into the tents here with room to spare; you just didn't get numbers like that unless there was a Quidditch World Cup on or something. Do other wizards know Muggles do this too?
You notice lots of folk sitting around outside with that particular kind of half-focus you get when Hogwarts kids wanted to relax but a Professor might poke their head in at any moment and find them something to do. It's a kind of lazy feel of readiness that does right well with critters-you'd know!
Makes you feel like you're in good company, in a kinda dodgy way.
You wrinkle your nose when the smells change. Natural smells like dust and sweat, dog and camel droppings, all shift to more unpleasant odors you can't identify. Like eggs or burned food or, weirdly, almonds - that one's fine, you actually love almonds. You stomach's grumbling a bit. There's a lot of big metal things parked in neat rows here, too. Taller than you are, a lot of them, some with four wheels and some with lots and lots of wheels stuck together and a few that look kinda like long stretched out metal slugs with a cab on top. Looking at them, you guess they're for riding? Even with lots of perfectly good camels around, you've heard muggles are all in love with 'autos'. Maybe these are them - they look a little ramshackle, but you think you could probably ride on one of the bigger ones.
The maybe-French person takes you to a thickset man that you almost thought was a stump when you first spotted him. The only movement of the gnarled little man is a slow, sure swipe of a rag over the axe resting on his knees. The little lump of a man is sitting in front of an open tent and barely cares enough to focus his eyes on the pair of you. With the rag and the apron, you're reminded a little of Mr. Aberforth, although he's wider in the chest than the bartender by far. He looks kind of like you all smushed down, except his beard is more impressive. You feel a moment of bristle-envy, but it's not a bad change of pace. Actually kinda nice, properly feeling like a kid - you know, if you don't mind the size bit. Too many blokes are moving away from the grand tradition of beards in wizardry, and you don't care for such thoughts much. One of the reasons you always trusted Professor Dumbledore - wonderful pile of fuzz on that man's chin, and no mistake!
While they gabble on at each other and the buggers keep refusing to use proper English, you peek into the tent behind him and are in for a rude shock. You catch yourself on a convenient stack of crates to keep from falling down in surprise, and wince at the quiet sound of splintering. Carefully, you shift over so no one will notice.
But what surprised you… the tents… aren't bigger on the inside! Muggles, of course, you remind yourself. You have to revise your estimates down to only having maybe a thousand men around here - maybe just hundreds and hundreds. You're not really sure: Arithmancy was never your thing.
You also see a handful of other men in leather aprons crowding around an open space in the middle with a pair of blokes stalking back and forth. You spot them real easy, because any proper school lad learns to notice troublemaking, and you're sure that's exactly what this is. One of the men is keeping up a rapid patter of "Paris! Prise de paris!" A duel, maybe? Less formal than a wizard duel of course, them being just muggles. Looks a bit less finicky than proper Wizard dueling, actually. Instead of standing far apart and bowing and so on, they're slowly circling each other with their fists up. … Get away, are they just having a tussle? As adults? You may not know much about a whole lotta things, but a scrap? You can do that.
Frankly, all this looks a lot more fun than wizard dueling.
There's also a handful of lads, heads clustered around a tin 5 gallon bucket as they shout advice and curses at each other. Even if you don't see many pounds, there's no missing the money grubbily clenched in hands that get waved excitedly. More betting - how lovely.
You glance back at your guide. The motley man briefly catches the direction of your gaze and snorts all proper style. It sounds fancier than what he actually says, which is something like, "Tu remarquez nos belles discipline militaire."
Taking that as permission, you wander over to that group you just spotted. Clearly, whatever's in that bucket is worth your time. It's easy enough to poke your head in above theirs to get a good look at what's going on-their hats don't even tickle your throat. Looks like they got a handsome white and black fella, a tree-tiger tarantula, Syrian looks like. Sharing the bucket with him is a beauty of a scorpion folk call a 'deathstalker'. You remember you were a little disappointed to learn those weren't hardly deadly at all, and indeed it looks like he's losing against the fuzzy eight-legger.
Trapped in the bucket, the two little beasties are fighting it out. Little irresponsible of their owners, but you can't really argue it out with them, and not just because you don't speak the language. They can do what they want with their pets, even if it is a little barbaric, and you have to admit both spider and scorpion have some nice moves. Even so, the scorpion with the bad name isn't long for this earth, it's clear. Few legs off… oh, and there he goes, the feisty tree dweller got his fangs through. Buggers got enough poison to… well, it's over, that's for sure. Poor lad.
Your coat up and rustles a bit all on it's own… and you don't rightly recall what you left in that pocket. Might want to check your pockets sometime soonish, at that.
Looks like they're taking a moment to bring in the next contender, so you look round one last time. Tents, muggle machines, the fighters are still going at it… and pigeons! Fine, healthy looking Carrier Pigeons, a splendidly hale breed indeed. A grand pigeon loft, constructed of solid cedar with half a hundred of the fancy little fellows in individual wire pens. Oh, look at 'em jostle for dominance-fiesty little coo-balls, ain't they? Frankly, you're not sure how you noticed them last - their collective cooing is the loudest thing out here.
A man - beard and long braided chestnut hair streaked grey - is puttering around the enclosure, checking on his birds with the half-attentive air of a practiced hand.
The two men at your back have progressed to waving their hands at one another. You think you've got a little time.
What do you focus on?
[X] Bit of sport with the lads. Men, wizard and muggle, can speak with their fists!
[X] You think you know a thing or two about spider breeding. The insect fighting ring beckons!
[X] Pigeons! They're like owls in miniature!
[X] Actually you aren't doing squat: fiddling almost always breaks stuff, and there's no teachers to bail you out here!
Last edited by a moderator:
Silversun17
Connoisseur.
- Joined
- May 4, 2013
- Messages
- 23,874
[X] Actually you aren't doing squat: fiddling almost always breaks stuff, and there's no teachers to bail you out here!
Hymn of Ragnarok
Well worn.
- Joined
- Feb 19, 2013
- Messages
- 5,552
Would checking our pockets fall under doing squat, or does that need to be a write-in? Cause if we got pickpocketed and am now missing our wand pieces.....
Last edited by a moderator:
Dark Lord Bob
Know what you're doing yet?
- Joined
- Jan 10, 2014
- Messages
- 212
[X] Bit of sport with the lads. Men, wizard and muggle, can speak with their fists!
TheOtherSandman
Well worn.
- Joined
- Aug 28, 2013
- Messages
- 7,730
[X] Check whatever's squirming in your pocket before you do anything else.
I don't think we should get in a fight with the squishy muggles just yet when we're crushing crates and stuff without even trying.
It's bad form to accidentally kill your opponent.
I don't think we should get in a fight with the squishy muggles just yet when we're crushing crates and stuff without even trying.
It's bad form to accidentally kill your opponent.
megrisvernin
Connoisseur.
- Joined
- Sep 30, 2013
- Messages
- 12,541
I'm a little split on which choice to make.
Guile
Clothes That Kill Virgins
- Joined
- Feb 19, 2013
- Messages
- 13,733
They each present an 'in' for Hagrid with the Legion.megrisvernin said:
Do you guys want Hagrid to be lauded for his strength?
Known for his talents with animals?
Known for mon dieu what is that thing?
Let him float along under the radar? The last one is a little boring compared to the others, but it is the safe choice.
drake_azathoth
Fabulously Evil
- Joined
- Feb 19, 2013
- Messages
- 3,746
[X] Check whatever's squirming in your pocket before you do anything else.
Heaven Canceler
Behind You!
- Joined
- Nov 30, 2013
- Messages
- 11,979
[X] Check whatever's squirming in your pocket before you do anything else.
- [X] You think you know a thing or two about spider breeding. The insect fighting ring beckons!
I could never stand their masquerade and the casual mindrape they do to uphold it anyway. And it would be an awesome way to screw over Canon! We can come to the second wizarding war with our old comrades from the army and a Horde of cute deadly critters.
- [X] You think you know a thing or two about spider breeding. The insect fighting ring beckons!
Guile said:
I could never stand their masquerade and the casual mindrape they do to uphold it anyway. And it would be an awesome way to screw over Canon! We can come to the second wizarding war with our old comrades from the army and a Horde of cute deadly critters.
SemiSaneAuthor
TARDIS powered by Snark, Spite, and Tea!
- Joined
- Jan 7, 2014
- Messages
- 500
[X] Check whatever's squirming in your pocket before you do anything else.
[X] You think you know a thing or two about spider breeding. The insect fighting ring beckons!
As mad wizardry is always fun.
[X] You think you know a thing or two about spider breeding. The insect fighting ring beckons!
As mad wizardry is always fun.
Last edited by a moderator:
megrisvernin
Connoisseur.
- Joined
- Sep 30, 2013
- Messages
- 12,541
[X] Check whatever's squirming in your pocket before you do anything else.
[X] You think you know a thing or two about spider breeding. The insect fighting ring beckons!
[X] You think you know a thing or two about spider breeding. The insect fighting ring beckons!
Last edited by a moderator:
