Post by rorschalk on Apr 2, 2024 14:03:28 GMT
[vignette adjudicating said cap are the property of J. Owens imaginings]
Deep in the most restless section of the city, at the tire and repair shop bearing the sign “Grand Theft Otto,” behind the hydraulic lifts and hanging tools, behind the mechanics and the other men – mechanics of a different sort – behind the offices and safes and back rooms with reinforced doors, lays a salvage yard. Decades of vehicles in various stages of being cannibalized stretch an acre at least. And at the back of this ode to automotive desiccation, tucked behind an Airstream camper, is a small, neat shed, well hidden from the world. Inside that shed is a midnight blue Jaguar XL, a vehicle suited to ferry the hottest starlet today to the trendiest watering hole in LA.
It hasn’t run in a decade.
Standing behind the Jag, having been summoned by a cryptic phone call on a private line, stands all six and a half feet of Otto. He opens the trunk.
“Aw, geez.”
He closes the trunk. Sighs. Opens the trunk.
“Nope.”
He closes the trunk.
Outside the shed, storm clouds gray the sky and lightning flashes. The smell of roast beef fills the room.
“Okay! Okay already. Enough with the waddayacall – themeactresses.” Otto opens the trunk and stares down into the boot. It’s cap. He takes it out and reads. Then rereads.
“Man, I love a corrupt cop. The cop in this case being Raime Goniwe, a muckity-muck judge in the Royal Court and as a note to the VC, things like “Royal Court '' and “City Watch'' are a bit generic. It’s an opportunity to add style. Anyways, we open with an expo dump disguised as a hearing, awkwardly constructed. I get that this sort of cap needs world-building and what I would maybe do is have that cobbler be forced to recite it, like a way to remind him of his crime. I mean “crime,” what is that anyways? Where I come from it’s just business.
“Also, what the heck is “rabid” pursuit?
“So there’s an exchange in which Raime and Aitan tell us about the setting by way of a verbal exchange that reads false, because it’s exposition poorly disguised as dialogue. Conversations are indeed a good way to world-build, but not like this. Clunky, all I’m saying. Shame because a magic system based on summoning has a lot of potential, which hopefully comes out in rewrites. In a world where a shoe smith can summon a demon (“It’s not like I summoned a demon!”) there must be all “kinds of checks and balances in place. Either that or multi-dimensional creatures popping up like whack-a-moles. I’d like to know more about that.
“Anyways, Raime gets word that his wife, who is in labor(!) - if Mrs. Otto was that close to popping, I don’t know if I’d even go to work – is experiencing complications. Raime rushes home and decides, you know, maybe summoning ain’t that bad if it’s, you know, for me and not thee, so he breaks the law to save his family in a way different only by degrees than what the cobbler was up to. There’s a moral there but the VC doesn’t play it up. Raime gets punished by aging either fifty seasons – his assessment – or twenty seasons – his wife’s assessment – and as an aside, how long is “a moon?” Is it a night or a month? Otto must know. That’s pretty much the sum of dis here cap.
“So what’s it about? Power corrupts? Sometimes you have to break the rules? Hypocrisy? I can’t quite choose, but I do know this here cap ain’t ready to touch the monkey. But it’s not hopeless. Fix it in rewrites.”
Otto tosses the cap back in the boot and closes the trunk door.
“How the hell did the boss even get it in there?”
Deep in the most restless section of the city, at the tire and repair shop bearing the sign “Grand Theft Otto,” behind the hydraulic lifts and hanging tools, behind the mechanics and the other men – mechanics of a different sort – behind the offices and safes and back rooms with reinforced doors, lays a salvage yard. Decades of vehicles in various stages of being cannibalized stretch an acre at least. And at the back of this ode to automotive desiccation, tucked behind an Airstream camper, is a small, neat shed, well hidden from the world. Inside that shed is a midnight blue Jaguar XL, a vehicle suited to ferry the hottest starlet today to the trendiest watering hole in LA.
It hasn’t run in a decade.
Standing behind the Jag, having been summoned by a cryptic phone call on a private line, stands all six and a half feet of Otto. He opens the trunk.
“Aw, geez.”
He closes the trunk. Sighs. Opens the trunk.
“Nope.”
He closes the trunk.
Outside the shed, storm clouds gray the sky and lightning flashes. The smell of roast beef fills the room.
“Okay! Okay already. Enough with the waddayacall – themeactresses.” Otto opens the trunk and stares down into the boot. It’s cap. He takes it out and reads. Then rereads.
“Man, I love a corrupt cop. The cop in this case being Raime Goniwe, a muckity-muck judge in the Royal Court and as a note to the VC, things like “Royal Court '' and “City Watch'' are a bit generic. It’s an opportunity to add style. Anyways, we open with an expo dump disguised as a hearing, awkwardly constructed. I get that this sort of cap needs world-building and what I would maybe do is have that cobbler be forced to recite it, like a way to remind him of his crime. I mean “crime,” what is that anyways? Where I come from it’s just business.
“Also, what the heck is “rabid” pursuit?
“So there’s an exchange in which Raime and Aitan tell us about the setting by way of a verbal exchange that reads false, because it’s exposition poorly disguised as dialogue. Conversations are indeed a good way to world-build, but not like this. Clunky, all I’m saying. Shame because a magic system based on summoning has a lot of potential, which hopefully comes out in rewrites. In a world where a shoe smith can summon a demon (“It’s not like I summoned a demon!”) there must be all “kinds of checks and balances in place. Either that or multi-dimensional creatures popping up like whack-a-moles. I’d like to know more about that.
“Anyways, Raime gets word that his wife, who is in labor(!) - if Mrs. Otto was that close to popping, I don’t know if I’d even go to work – is experiencing complications. Raime rushes home and decides, you know, maybe summoning ain’t that bad if it’s, you know, for me and not thee, so he breaks the law to save his family in a way different only by degrees than what the cobbler was up to. There’s a moral there but the VC doesn’t play it up. Raime gets punished by aging either fifty seasons – his assessment – or twenty seasons – his wife’s assessment – and as an aside, how long is “a moon?” Is it a night or a month? Otto must know. That’s pretty much the sum of dis here cap.
“So what’s it about? Power corrupts? Sometimes you have to break the rules? Hypocrisy? I can’t quite choose, but I do know this here cap ain’t ready to touch the monkey. But it’s not hopeless. Fix it in rewrites.”
Otto tosses the cap back in the boot and closes the trunk door.
“How the hell did the boss even get it in there?”