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Apr. 10th, 2005 08:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thecooloneThe one thing that Bill has working to his advantage, he knows, is that Manticores, like dragons, rely heavily on the impenetrability of their hides for protection. That and (in a Manticore's case) their whipping tails and fierce claws.
Their eyes, like those of dragons, are relatively weak.
From his tentative position of safety by the door, he thinks back to Newt Scamander and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. What did he have to say on Manticores, the least-expected Greek visitor to Luxor that Bill can imagine? Something about how they were probably wizard-bred specifically to protect treasures...
But he's not been a Curse-Breaker all these years to be bested by a treasure-keeper; no. This is all part of the fun and so Bill stands and begins to pace, just outside the reach of the Manticore's scorpionic tail. "Tell me, friend. How many years have you been here? A thousand? Two? Have you lost track of the time? How have you survived? Did you know there's a whole different world out there?" And before the Manticore can answer, he continues: "And when was the last time you saw sunlight? Lumos Soleum!" A huge bright light fills the room and for the first time Bill has the advantage; he seizes it. A complex series of spells and hexes issues from his wand: the aforementioned Conjunctivitis Curse, a Cheering Charm, another Disillusionment Charm on himself, Protego, and a small Self-Levitation Charm so the soles of his dragon-hide boots don't make any noise. The Manticore lets out a fierce and alien howl, paws covering its eyes, and Bill takes his turn: he dashes across the room just above the surface of the floor, past the Manticore, and into the Sarcophagus Chamber.
"Dissendium! Colloportus!" The stone door to the chamber slides shut and is sealed, and Bill knows that he has minutes -- if that -- to find the treasure hidden here. He fulfills his obligation, though: makes a notation of the hieroglyphics gracing the walls with a quick copying spell so that the Gringotts historians can do their due diligence and ensure that no living relatives of this tomb's residents have the right to any treasure he might find.
And then the fun begins: Bill reaches into his back pocket and restores the size on his treasure rucksack. "Accio. Accio. Accio." From vases and cups, boxes and miniature sarcophagi, a veritable trove of treasure comes flying out: rubies and garnets, diamonds and gold, sapphires and bezel-cut tanzanites; alexandrite, tourmaline, rhodolite. All are of the finest quality and Bill laughs, knowing that Crankgrap will be rather more pleased to see him next time round. At the last flick of his wand an emerald of exquisite quality lands in his hand. He studies it for a moment; he's seen many, many gemstones but this one is overwhelming in its beauty. He will negotiate for this one, he knows.
He does not disturb the sarcophagus itself. That goes without saying. Only one question remains: will the Manticore's eyes have adjusted properly to the light, or does he need to play games with spellwork again to make his escape? He's no desire to be trapped in an ancient burial chamber, after all and though the relatively comfortable pay makes up in the long term for any job-induced injuries, there is always an element of danger. Rather a larger one in this case. He wraps up his notes and all the treasure safely into the rucksack and sets it on his back, feeling its weight and heft nagging at him, its contents urging him to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.
Taking a very deep breath, wand pointed at the archway, Bill directs the heavy slab back away from the entry to the antechamber, ready for the Manticore. The Conjunctivitis Curse should still be in effect and it is, but he needs to watch out for the thrashing of its tail, which would prove deadly.
There's a bit of timing to this. He listens to the Manticore moan and watches the flailing of its tail, studying the rhythm and it's almost entrancing: back and forth, back and forth, and he knows he can make it back to the other side of the antechamber if he's very, very careful. And he does so, one step at a time, over the Manticore's tail so very gracefully and he's glad; grace of movement has never been a given for him. No, far more prone to stepping on a rake and smacking himself in the face, or tripping over the Wellington boots at the door. But under pressure he performs and does it so very well and before he knows it -- before he's taken another breath -- he's on the far side of the antechamber.
The Manticore looks miserable. There are a number of things he could do here, but he opts for what's kindest: he points his wand to those still-closed eyes and casts a Sleeping Spell. With a whimper, the Manticore slumps to the ground. "I'm sorry, friend," he says quietly, ending the bright-light spell and the Conjunctivitis Curse. "Sweet dreams; you've made a formidable foe. I'll see to it that you're freed from duty now."
***
Although his load is far heavier and his galabayya and head scarf relegated to being tucked under his arm, he whistles as he wends his way back toward the Bazaar Al-Amun, blending in with all the other backpacked European tourists being appropriately awed by the sights as they leave the Valley of the Kings. The sun is setting and the hills are lit up with golden light and the vendors are out in full force. "No, no, no," Bill hears himself say, and after the quick boat trip back to the east side of the river, he turns back up one of Luxor's three main streets until he passes the crio-sphinxes and is back to the Gringotts office.
"Hullo..."
***
With pockets heavy with gold, one especially beautiful emerald tucked safely away, and the promise of an easier task next time firmly agreed upon, Bill nods to Crankgrap. He tucks his galabayya and scarf and treasure rucksack into the appropriate cubbyhole and turns to leave. Perhaps he'll have a strong cup of Egyptian coffee, or a plate of some fig-and-berry delicacy, or maybe just sit by the edge of the Nile and watch what little is left of the sun reflect off its surface. Wander the Muggle bazaar until the dark of night when things close down, midnight or later, then find a friendly place to lay down and sleep for a few hours until the bustle of the city begins again. "T'ra, Crankgrap."
His hand reaches out to move the heavy carpet that serves as a door; he turns around to face Luxor.
And finds himself back at the bar instead.
(Bill grins.)
Their eyes, like those of dragons, are relatively weak.
From his tentative position of safety by the door, he thinks back to Newt Scamander and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. What did he have to say on Manticores, the least-expected Greek visitor to Luxor that Bill can imagine? Something about how they were probably wizard-bred specifically to protect treasures...
But he's not been a Curse-Breaker all these years to be bested by a treasure-keeper; no. This is all part of the fun and so Bill stands and begins to pace, just outside the reach of the Manticore's scorpionic tail. "Tell me, friend. How many years have you been here? A thousand? Two? Have you lost track of the time? How have you survived? Did you know there's a whole different world out there?" And before the Manticore can answer, he continues: "And when was the last time you saw sunlight? Lumos Soleum!" A huge bright light fills the room and for the first time Bill has the advantage; he seizes it. A complex series of spells and hexes issues from his wand: the aforementioned Conjunctivitis Curse, a Cheering Charm, another Disillusionment Charm on himself, Protego, and a small Self-Levitation Charm so the soles of his dragon-hide boots don't make any noise. The Manticore lets out a fierce and alien howl, paws covering its eyes, and Bill takes his turn: he dashes across the room just above the surface of the floor, past the Manticore, and into the Sarcophagus Chamber.
"Dissendium! Colloportus!" The stone door to the chamber slides shut and is sealed, and Bill knows that he has minutes -- if that -- to find the treasure hidden here. He fulfills his obligation, though: makes a notation of the hieroglyphics gracing the walls with a quick copying spell so that the Gringotts historians can do their due diligence and ensure that no living relatives of this tomb's residents have the right to any treasure he might find.
And then the fun begins: Bill reaches into his back pocket and restores the size on his treasure rucksack. "Accio. Accio. Accio." From vases and cups, boxes and miniature sarcophagi, a veritable trove of treasure comes flying out: rubies and garnets, diamonds and gold, sapphires and bezel-cut tanzanites; alexandrite, tourmaline, rhodolite. All are of the finest quality and Bill laughs, knowing that Crankgrap will be rather more pleased to see him next time round. At the last flick of his wand an emerald of exquisite quality lands in his hand. He studies it for a moment; he's seen many, many gemstones but this one is overwhelming in its beauty. He will negotiate for this one, he knows.
He does not disturb the sarcophagus itself. That goes without saying. Only one question remains: will the Manticore's eyes have adjusted properly to the light, or does he need to play games with spellwork again to make his escape? He's no desire to be trapped in an ancient burial chamber, after all and though the relatively comfortable pay makes up in the long term for any job-induced injuries, there is always an element of danger. Rather a larger one in this case. He wraps up his notes and all the treasure safely into the rucksack and sets it on his back, feeling its weight and heft nagging at him, its contents urging him to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.
Taking a very deep breath, wand pointed at the archway, Bill directs the heavy slab back away from the entry to the antechamber, ready for the Manticore. The Conjunctivitis Curse should still be in effect and it is, but he needs to watch out for the thrashing of its tail, which would prove deadly.
There's a bit of timing to this. He listens to the Manticore moan and watches the flailing of its tail, studying the rhythm and it's almost entrancing: back and forth, back and forth, and he knows he can make it back to the other side of the antechamber if he's very, very careful. And he does so, one step at a time, over the Manticore's tail so very gracefully and he's glad; grace of movement has never been a given for him. No, far more prone to stepping on a rake and smacking himself in the face, or tripping over the Wellington boots at the door. But under pressure he performs and does it so very well and before he knows it -- before he's taken another breath -- he's on the far side of the antechamber.
The Manticore looks miserable. There are a number of things he could do here, but he opts for what's kindest: he points his wand to those still-closed eyes and casts a Sleeping Spell. With a whimper, the Manticore slumps to the ground. "I'm sorry, friend," he says quietly, ending the bright-light spell and the Conjunctivitis Curse. "Sweet dreams; you've made a formidable foe. I'll see to it that you're freed from duty now."
***
Although his load is far heavier and his galabayya and head scarf relegated to being tucked under his arm, he whistles as he wends his way back toward the Bazaar Al-Amun, blending in with all the other backpacked European tourists being appropriately awed by the sights as they leave the Valley of the Kings. The sun is setting and the hills are lit up with golden light and the vendors are out in full force. "No, no, no," Bill hears himself say, and after the quick boat trip back to the east side of the river, he turns back up one of Luxor's three main streets until he passes the crio-sphinxes and is back to the Gringotts office.
"Hullo..."
***
With pockets heavy with gold, one especially beautiful emerald tucked safely away, and the promise of an easier task next time firmly agreed upon, Bill nods to Crankgrap. He tucks his galabayya and scarf and treasure rucksack into the appropriate cubbyhole and turns to leave. Perhaps he'll have a strong cup of Egyptian coffee, or a plate of some fig-and-berry delicacy, or maybe just sit by the edge of the Nile and watch what little is left of the sun reflect off its surface. Wander the Muggle bazaar until the dark of night when things close down, midnight or later, then find a friendly place to lay down and sleep for a few hours until the bustle of the city begins again. "T'ra, Crankgrap."
His hand reaches out to move the heavy carpet that serves as a door; he turns around to face Luxor.
And finds himself back at the bar instead.
(Bill grins.)
