The UZB Hotel

"I shall let you be entitled to your beliefs," the Faithful says, his tone warm but fingers clenching ever so slightly. "Joseph is a forgiving god. Not even heresy taints the innocent in his eyes."

"Now," he responds, turning, "who may you be? And how do you invoke the name of the tyrants so lightly?"

 

"I will have to ask you to stop trying to push your beliefs on others. Again, worshipping whomever you want is fine, but we do not want conflict here. If you continue this, you will be sent to your room for a...time. It will be difficult to exit for the duration, let us just say"

 

“A little talking hasn’t hurt anyone. Come now - if we can speak civilly, there’s no reason to allow us not.”

 

"All right, but move away from the bar. We have other customers," I say cordially. You dont notice any change as you resume your conversation, but a few minutes later you look up and realize you are now in a booth a few feet away, and the bartender is serving others. I smile at you as you sigh and resume whatever you were saying.

 

“And we shall,” the Faithful responds. He lowers his voice to a mere whisper as he moves to the table, motioning for her to sit.
“I know what you think I am. A zealot, no? A blind fool, an acolyte of an uncaring thing?
But you are wrong. I know all the gods, know all the aspects of that monstrous pantheon as much as I know the contents of my own mind.
Who do you revere? You must know the gods are more than just constructs of faith. Is it the Engineer? The Hive?
…. the Anathème?
What have they done to you? How have they proved worth your worship?
Joseph broke the machines of the Engineer. He scattered the eyes of the Hive. He stood stalwart to protect us against the corruption of the Anathème. Where the others sought only power, he bent low to save us all.”

 

If you look closely, you can see a thin layer of smoke rise to the ceiling.

 

Luckily, i disabled the smoke detectors in the area you are within. Please do not dissapate outside of these lines.
*red lines suddenly appear that only you can see. they enclose most of the tables, and the bar, but exclude the garden, the elevators, and the kitchen*
we have rigorous smoke detectors in some areas. If you wish to go somewhere else, contact staff at any convenience. We hope this does not lessen your enjoyment of your stay!

 

She stares down into her glass, rather than looking at the zealot beside her while addressing him.

She looks down at her glass, rather than at the zealot beside her, and stirs the drink once more before responding.
“‘Tyrant’. I dabble in the art they call ‘wordtracing’ - the history of words, how they sound, what they mean. ‘Tyrant’ is perhaps one of the most intriguing of these, in terms of history. It used to refer to malevolent dictators, the megalomaniacal rulers of old. This was the name they gave to your precious Corgi - an apathetic dictator. The powers that be - you and those of your creed, zealots that you are - deigned to alter the meaning of this word, the Corgi’s title, and now it’s used to refer to benevolent rulers. Funny how these things turn out.”

 

Immediately, the cloud of smoke snaps back into a thick black jet, which flies back to its room at the speed of sound. For a moment, you thought you saw a face - a real face - in the fumes.

 

[ooc: i think ether was referring to when you said god-darned, not the corgi, because gods are the tyrants, but you do you]

 

“So you would claim might to make right, as the saying goes? Your corgi being more or less powerful than the Architect matters not - a tyrant he remains. In the archaic sense of the word.”

She speaks in a dismissive tone, knowing herself to be correct on these matters. She’s correct on most matters.

 

“The corgi ruled,” he responds. “It is true, and I cannot deny it. But, my friend, the corgi is a god.
To rule, to benevolently guide the people beneath it to a better future, that is the simple responsibility of the divine. And it too is a burden is one that, you must know, only it among the many has taken. What is to despise?”

________________________________

“The Architect?” the Faithful asks. “I know that title. It is a ..corruption..a perversion.. of the truth..”
He pauses, eyes clearing.
“But no matter. So you worship the Anathème? How, then, I ask you, can truly you speak to me with such a righteous tone, knowing that you revere a god of only rampant ruin and lust for power?”

 

"Hah!" The Alchemist hollers almost reflexively. He toasts his drink with a slight wobble. "Whether man or god, we can never be satisfied!" He gestures his mug towards The Figurehead before gulping a sizeable portion of his drink.

He slams down his mug with a hearty sigh. After a short pause, his expression changes to a mournful one. "Holding on to such 'foolish-ry'. Either you're strong, or you're naïve."

 

"Well, under the leadership of the Great Rift, all are happy," i say loudly

________________________________

The bartender makes a gesture

 

The Alchemist mumbles mockingly and inaudibly, rolling his eyes. He continues to take a sip of his drink.

 

So, how long will you be staying here?

 

"For as long as the gods continue their tantrums, I suppose." The Alchemist sighs defeatedly.

"This hotel is the only refuge for consistency in this world. As an alchemist, it is important to be consistent!," he declares in a mocking tone, flashing a sarcastic smile. It doesn't hold long, though; the smile fades to a frown yet again. "Trust me, no alchemical formula can produce true happiness. All we can do is hide the hurt with a smile, but we're never truly happy deep inside." A short, awkward pause dims the atmosphere.

"Brainwashing works, though! HAH!," The Alchemist cackles before taking a swig of his drink, yet again.

 

"Well, I can appreciate your talents, would you like to work in our bar? If you help us make and mix the Uzbooze with your alchemy...well, the Thrice-Decayed Uzbooze that you are drinking is already free, but I am sure you will get faster refills."

 

"I guess there's nothing else to do here. Sign me up!" The Alchemist chugs his drink down before placing the empty mug on the counter. "You better swear on that 'faster refills', mister...-"

 

Just hand me that mug, i think i can work something-pardon me, i have to go do something...