Sandsteppe (Archive With Formatting)
Jan 23, 2016 21:30:17 GMT -5
Post by Sierra on Jan 23, 2016 21:30:17 GMT -5
'Few days later, I was roit at the front gates lookin' for one of them staff members, see, just getting to know my manager before I got up to the roofs for my first day at work. Lotsa buildings, lotsa chimneys. Lotsa work. So there was one such staff memba, so I assumed I'd be recognized.
Nigel Colligan
Nigel confronted a greeter, a man named Sir Velva.
"'Allo. I'm Nigel Colligan, I'll be here for the semestah so I thought I'd at least check in with our manager."
"Ah, greetings, Master Corrigan!"
"...Corrigan?" ...Best not to question it. "I mean, ah, yeah." He cleared his throat. "Corrigan."
"Yes, yes, we've heard quite a lot about you, and it is our humble pleasure to have you as a student at our academy."
...Hah! He finks I'm a student!
"Though, if I may ask... You look rather, ah, different from what we'd first expected."
"Ay." Here goes the bluff. "Didn't yer mother evah tell you about the dangers of judgin a book by its covah? Yeah, it's me alright, Nigel Corrigan. I've even got my invitation roit here!" He took out his slip.
"A thousand apologies!"
"HOLD ON!" Another boy called from behind. He was bright red, covered with freckles and lined with posh, refined blond hair. "Harrison," he began, referring to the emotionless butler behind him, "What's this?! I thought I was going at the most prestigious school in all of Yezin!"
"You most certainly still are, Master." The butler carefully bowed. "However, some lower-class citizens are permitted if their magical talent is high enough."
"You think this street rat's a 'talented magician'?!"
"Oi!" Nigel broke in. "'Oor'e you callin' a streetrat?!"
"You!" The boy became even more flustered. "Who are you, anyway? What's a piece of dirt like you doing here?"
"Dirt? DIRT?! I'll have you know, you bloody twat, that I'm the one and only Nigel Corrigan!" This sure came in 'andy. That ought to shut that little bugger up.
"You- WHAT?!" The boy's face was yet a brighter shade of red. He exploded, "I'M Nigel Corrigan!"
...Cor. "R-roit..." Nigel was taken by surprise. Fink fast, fink fast, Nigel... He triumphantly pulled out his invitation right then and there. "'Ave you got one of these?!"
"No!" The other Nigel stomped his foot. "Some idiot in the mailing system was supposed to send me my confirmation, but it never came. I've had to go through three lines of security to get here!"
"Well, I hafta guess..." Nigel chuckled with confidence, "...You're an imposer."
"How dare you!"
"'Ow dare you. I could have yer'head roit now if I wanted. But Nigel Colli-CORRIgan's feeling generous, so yer free for now. Don't bugger up next time."
"Hold on a moment." Velva, the greeter, broke in. "We're also expecting a chimney sweep with a similar name, a Nigel Colligan."
"That must be him!" The blond boy pointed at Nigel.
Dat explains a lot. I'm not quittin' now, though, I've got nuffing to lose. "'Scuse me, guvna? If anyffing I should be assuming you're the chimney sweep. I'm Nigel Corrigan, master mage and student at the academy. Tryin' to capitalize on mah title?"
"All of this is utterly ridiculous!"
"Unless 'yer meaning to prove that you're the mage and I'm the sweeper." The other Nigel lighted up.
"Fine then. Whatever it is, I'll do whatever it takes to prove that you're the phony."
"Roit then." Nigel picked up his mop. "I challenge you to a mage's duel!" He swung it in a dramatic and deft fashion. When a little ash rose into the air, he used this veil to bring out his old rusted lighter and set the mop's frills ablaze without the others seeing. He flung it left and right, chanting nonsense such as "Abrakadabra, alakazam!", then snuffing it out into the ground. "I'm a foire mage. Your turn, guvna."
"I, uhh..." The other Nigel looked at them all. "I... I'm a blue!"
"So? I'm a blue. Got a point?"
"I... I'm a noble! I got into this academy by default!"
"You can't prove a bloody thing, kid. Take him away." Responding to Nigel's 11-year-old authority, some guards picked up the apparent "fake" Nigel Corrigan by the arms. "Wait, wait..." Nigel handed the other Nigel his broom. "...You'll need this!" With that he turned away and laughed out loud, heading for the assemble room while the other Nigel cursed his name a thousand times, careful to pronounce the double-L sound instead of an R, threatening that he'd be back. It was all gibberish in Nigel's ears.
So. Now I've gotten into the biggest academy in the world with nuffing more than a lighter, a mop and a cheap party trick. I don't give a damn about this eddjucashin thing, but this place's got noice food and all sorts of things. At most I'll scamper around, picking pockets off the rich folks. This might be the best con of my life, right 'ere...
Nigel Colligan
Nigel confronted a greeter, a man named Sir Velva.
"'Allo. I'm Nigel Colligan, I'll be here for the semestah so I thought I'd at least check in with our manager."
"Ah, greetings, Master Corrigan!"
"...Corrigan?" ...Best not to question it. "I mean, ah, yeah." He cleared his throat. "Corrigan."
"Yes, yes, we've heard quite a lot about you, and it is our humble pleasure to have you as a student at our academy."
...Hah! He finks I'm a student!
"Though, if I may ask... You look rather, ah, different from what we'd first expected."
"Ay." Here goes the bluff. "Didn't yer mother evah tell you about the dangers of judgin a book by its covah? Yeah, it's me alright, Nigel Corrigan. I've even got my invitation roit here!" He took out his slip.
"A thousand apologies!"
"HOLD ON!" Another boy called from behind. He was bright red, covered with freckles and lined with posh, refined blond hair. "Harrison," he began, referring to the emotionless butler behind him, "What's this?! I thought I was going at the most prestigious school in all of Yezin!"
"You most certainly still are, Master." The butler carefully bowed. "However, some lower-class citizens are permitted if their magical talent is high enough."
"You think this street rat's a 'talented magician'?!"
"Oi!" Nigel broke in. "'Oor'e you callin' a streetrat?!"
"You!" The boy became even more flustered. "Who are you, anyway? What's a piece of dirt like you doing here?"
"Dirt? DIRT?! I'll have you know, you bloody twat, that I'm the one and only Nigel Corrigan!" This sure came in 'andy. That ought to shut that little bugger up.
"You- WHAT?!" The boy's face was yet a brighter shade of red. He exploded, "I'M Nigel Corrigan!"
...Cor. "R-roit..." Nigel was taken by surprise. Fink fast, fink fast, Nigel... He triumphantly pulled out his invitation right then and there. "'Ave you got one of these?!"
"No!" The other Nigel stomped his foot. "Some idiot in the mailing system was supposed to send me my confirmation, but it never came. I've had to go through three lines of security to get here!"
"Well, I hafta guess..." Nigel chuckled with confidence, "...You're an imposer."
"How dare you!"
"'Ow dare you. I could have yer'head roit now if I wanted. But Nigel Colli-CORRIgan's feeling generous, so yer free for now. Don't bugger up next time."
"Hold on a moment." Velva, the greeter, broke in. "We're also expecting a chimney sweep with a similar name, a Nigel Colligan."
"That must be him!" The blond boy pointed at Nigel.
Dat explains a lot. I'm not quittin' now, though, I've got nuffing to lose. "'Scuse me, guvna? If anyffing I should be assuming you're the chimney sweep. I'm Nigel Corrigan, master mage and student at the academy. Tryin' to capitalize on mah title?"
"All of this is utterly ridiculous!"
"Unless 'yer meaning to prove that you're the mage and I'm the sweeper." The other Nigel lighted up.
"Fine then. Whatever it is, I'll do whatever it takes to prove that you're the phony."
"Roit then." Nigel picked up his mop. "I challenge you to a mage's duel!" He swung it in a dramatic and deft fashion. When a little ash rose into the air, he used this veil to bring out his old rusted lighter and set the mop's frills ablaze without the others seeing. He flung it left and right, chanting nonsense such as "Abrakadabra, alakazam!", then snuffing it out into the ground. "I'm a foire mage. Your turn, guvna."
"I, uhh..." The other Nigel looked at them all. "I... I'm a blue!"
"So? I'm a blue. Got a point?"
"I... I'm a noble! I got into this academy by default!"
"You can't prove a bloody thing, kid. Take him away." Responding to Nigel's 11-year-old authority, some guards picked up the apparent "fake" Nigel Corrigan by the arms. "Wait, wait..." Nigel handed the other Nigel his broom. "...You'll need this!" With that he turned away and laughed out loud, heading for the assemble room while the other Nigel cursed his name a thousand times, careful to pronounce the double-L sound instead of an R, threatening that he'd be back. It was all gibberish in Nigel's ears.
So. Now I've gotten into the biggest academy in the world with nuffing more than a lighter, a mop and a cheap party trick. I don't give a damn about this eddjucashin thing, but this place's got noice food and all sorts of things. At most I'll scamper around, picking pockets off the rich folks. This might be the best con of my life, right 'ere...