Cruel and Unusual Punishment

Warm wood panelling reflects the gentle glow from the fire and sconces alike. Comfortable looking chairs and stools are grouped around tables, while a few armchairs are placed in front of the fire. A carved wooden sideboard is against one wall while several bookcases ranged around the room have plenty of board and card games that will help while away an idle night.
There is one obvious exit: west.
Vasher is sitting in an armchair.
A mastermind board is sitting on a table and a blackboard is hanging on a wall.

You close the west door.

Vasher nods grumpily at Andrew.

You say: Good evening.

Vasher says: Evenin’

You say: A curious choice of locale to do one’s homework in.

Vasher says: Was empty. Figured less people see me colorin’, the better.

Andrew d’Ackerley glances with mild curiosity. “Colouring? Not those horrible anatomical find-the-organ posters, I pray?”

Vasher looks at the next page of the colouring book and *harrumphs* testily.

Vasher says with a scowl, “Oh no, that would be practical. No, Graum said I needed to learn to how to stay in the lines befores I could leave’em. Its a sodding book of FAIRIES.”

Vasher puts the sunny yellow crayon in the colourful crayon tin.

Andrew d’Ackerley blinks and leans over to glance at the book.

You say: “… Fairies.”

Vasher offers you an open green colouring book for inspection. Use “show accept offer from vasher” to view it.
Vasher offers to show the open green colouring book to you.

You ask: Is there a point to this exercise?

You accept Vasher’s offer.

Covered in bright shiny green card with a cheerful picture of a delicate flower fairy holding a bright blue crayon and a miniature version of the same book, this book will bring hours of fun to any child, from six to sixty. Crayons are not recommended for children below the age of six, due to potentially unpleasant consequences for digestive systems and furniture.
This page has a picture of a gnome looking warily out from his little mushroom home.
If you had a coloured crayon, you could probably fill in the picture.
The gnome’s eyes, gnome’s smock, mushroom’s spots, front door, tiny window, gnome’s face, gnome’s beard, letter box, window sill, mushroom cap, pot plant, door knocker, and the gnome’s pointy hat are blank. Nothing has been coloured in yet.
It is open at page 2.

Vasher asks: Stayin’ in the lines?

You ask: Are you studying to become a… fellow who fills in the colours on wood prints, then?

Vasher asks: Trying as to humiliate me?

Vasher says: Ol Graum what says I has a problem with authority. I need to learn as to stay in the lines first before I can as cross them.

Andrew d’Ackerley removes his monocle and polishes it carefully. “Mr Graumunchen has a curious sense of humour, it appears.”

Vasher scowls at the tin before selecting a crayon.

You say: I am curious as to what kind of crime was committed to warrant a punishment of… faeries.

Vasher gets a raspberry jam crayon from a colourful crayon tin.

You say: I mean… faeries.

Vasher shrugs nonchalantly.

You mildly say: Now if it had been Mr Lamister…

Vasher says: He claims general disrespect but I ‘spect as has to do more with my borrowing a few items from his office.

You amusedly say: Ah, you neglected to ask first, I presume? Aye, that might do it.

Andrew d’Ackerley strolls over to take an armchair opposite the unfortunate student.

You sit in an armchair.

Vasher holds a raspberry jam crayon in his left hand.

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his raspberry jam crayon.

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his raspberry jam crayon.

You quietly say: I’ve certainly had my share of disapproval over the ages, but no one ever actually inflicted faeries upon me.

Vasher scowls as he tosses the crayon back into the tin.

You say: You’re not from Raven House, this I know.

Vasher say, “He said something about more creative means necessary for me.” His eyes glint a little proudly.

Vasher says: Viper

Andrew d’Ackerley smirks slightly. “Ah, creative. You must really have upset the old goat. What did you do?”

Vasher says: Not sure as it was one particular thing, more as a long line of things. Punishing me doesn’t seem to work by traditional means.

Vasher puts the raspberry jam crayon in the colourful crayon tin.

Vasher sighs.

You ask Vasher: A history of bad attitude, mm?

Andrew d’Ackerley looks into the fire. “The city needs men with… bad attitude, though.”

Vasher shrugs. “Just cuz one’s a teacher doesn’t mean I gotta respect you. Neither does bein’ strict. My father was strict and he certainly didn’t deserve any.”

Vasher gets a grey crayon from a colourful crayon tin.

Vasher holds a grey crayon in his left hand.

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Andrew d’Ackerley laughs softly. “I have to confess that I share that sentiment, yes. And for that matter, that impression of fathers.”

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his grey crayon.

Vasher exclaims: As being so posh, you’d think we’d have some sodding service in this room!

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his grey crayon.

You say: Mm, I believe the idea here is that you bully some younger student into fetching.

You say: At least that used to be the case when I was a younger student.

Vasher puts the grey crayon in the colourful crayon tin.

Vasher perks up as Cid walks in jauntily, with a cup of tea and a bisuit in his hand. “Cid! Give me those and go get your own!” then settles back with a smirk as Cid, startled, does just that.

Andrew d’Ackerley nods lightly. “Just so.”

Vasher before Cid scuttles out, “And get…what’s your name?”

Vasher looks at his armchair companion.

You say: Sir Andrew d’Ackerley. I’ll take bottled sparkling water, please.

Vasher shouts after Cid, “Get Sir Andrew here what he said.”

You politely say: I fear that I am a member of faculty, rather than a fellow imprisoned student. I shall try to act suitably rebellious.

Vasher offers a biscuit off the plate to Sir Andrew, “I’m Vasher.”

Vasher narrows his eyes at Andrew suspiciously.

Andrew d’Ackerley accepts it. “Honour’s mine. Faeries. Honestly, that’s just cruel.”

Vasher takes a sip of the tea and returns to his book. “This page’s a gnome at least.”

Vasher gets a cerise crayon from a colourful crayon tin.

Vasher holds a cerise crayon in his left hand.

Andrew d’Ackerley glances at it. “A wee free man, aye. I never could tell if they are actually blue or it is the tattoos.”

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his cerise crayon.

Vasher says: Oh yea, heard of ’em. Never seen one. They seem as good blokes, always ready to scrap.

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his cerise crayon.

Vasher puts the cerise crayon in the colourful crayon tin.

Vasher gets a blue crayon from a colourful crayon tin.

Andrew d’Ackerley takes out a cigarette which he inserts into an ivory cigarette holder before lighting it. “I have not seen them myself, either, but there are quite a few stories the closer one gets to Uberwald.”

Vasher holds a blue crayon in his left hand.

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his blue crayon.

You say: Heard that four of them can carry off an entire cow.

Vasher selects the blue crayon to fill in the Wee Man. “Uberwald, eh? Not been outta Sto myself…yet.”

Vasher frown’s in annoyance as he colors in the wrong spot

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his blue crayon.

You emote: Andrew d’Ackerley nods slightly. “If you decide to stay with us after graduation, the Guild will have you sent all kinds of places while you are young and your face is not well known, I can almost guarantee that.

Vasher puts the blue crayon in the colourful crayon tin.

Vasher says: Yeah, was a deciding factor from being a thief. That…and more thrills.

Vasher gets a red crayon from a colourful crayon tin.

Vasher holds a red crayon in his left hand.

Andrew d’Ackerley looks surprised. “And quite a different price, for an education.”

Vasher blushes a little and mutters something about scholarships.

Vasher gets a green crayon from a colourful crayon tin.

Vasher holds a green crayon in his left hand.

Andrew d’Ackerley nods goodnaturedly. “You do of course realize that some of the Guild’s most famous old boys have been scholarship boys?”

Vasher perks up a little and glances up from his book to Sir Andrew, “Oh?”

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his green crayon.

Vasher puts the green crayon in the colourful crayon tin.

You say: I am given to understand that a scholarship boy almost removed the, er, Hogfather from circulation.

You say: That is… ambitious, I dare say. To inhume a…. legend.

Vasher grins at that, “Oh I heard of ‘im, but hadn’t heard he was a scholarship boy. Good for ‘im!”

Vasher gets a Noir black crayon from a colourful crayon tin.

Andrew d’Ackerley nods. “Quite certain he was.”

Vasher holds a violet crayon in his left hand.

Vasher exclaims: Too bad he’s not an instructor, now that would earn my respect!

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his violet crayon.

You say: He is a little dead, regrettably.

Vasher exclaims to you: coloring tm!

You say: Although — I am told that he was really quite, ah, erratic.

Vasher says: Shame that

You say: Quite.

Vasher says: Not in quite the rush to meet’im then I guess.

You quietly ask: Are you endeavouring to travel upon graduation, then? See what the disc has to offer?
Vasher says: I wouldn’t be adverse. I’d like to see more than Sto Lat, that place ain’t got nothin’ to offer. AM don’t feel much different at times.

Vasher turns the green colouring book to page 3.

You say: Ankh-Morpork is… everywhere. A pleasant park, a powdered burgeoisie, an urban jungle, a battlefield… It all depends on where you go, and with whom.

Vasher finishes up the gnome and hopes Graumachan doesn’t notice the beard is blue instead of red. Turns the page and nods appreciatively upon seeing a goblin. This ain’t so bad.

You softly say: Do keep in mind, though, that nothing annoys one’s seniors and teachers more than a student who does really, really well.

Vasher notes Cid has finally returned and waves him over to give Sir Andrew his water. Turns to Andrew and sizes him up, “That sounds like you’re having me on. Ol’ wossit called? Reverse headology?”

Vasher drinks some tea and chomps on a biscuit while watching Sir Andrew carefully.

Andrew d’Ackerley thanks Cid and acquires his bottled water. He looks to the student again. “Mm, not quite. Masters like to know that they are still the best. A student who displays more skill is… disturbing.”

Vasher mulls this over while selecting a new crayon to start in on the goblin.

Vasher gets a sunny yellow crayon from a colourful crayon tin.

Vasher puts the violet crayon in the colourful crayon tin.

Vasher holds a sunny yellow crayon in his left hand.

You lightly say: Myself, I’ve always preferred to be mediocre and quite harmless.

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his sunny yellow crayon.

Vasher snorts in response. “Spose that’s one way to go about it.” After colouring some more in reflection, “Still, perhaps riling up the man ain’t the most sensible thing.”

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his sunny yellow crayon.

Vasher puts the sunny yellow crayon in the colourful crayon tin.

Vasher gets a grey crayon from a colourful crayon tin.

Vasher holds a grey crayon in his left hand.

Andrew d’Ackerley swirls his glass, watching the bubbles. “Nothing wrong with keeping the man on edge, though. Life gets so profoundly boring when you only do what you are told, after all.”

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his grey crayon.

Vasher grins appreciatively at Sir Andrew. “For a professor-type, you aren’t so bad. Hey, what colour’s a goblin?”

Vasher puts the grey crayon in the colourful crayon tin.

Andrew d’Ackerley scratches his chin a moment. “Kind of… dirty green, I think. Or maybe that’s just Nobby Nobbs.”

Vasher grabs the green crayon out of the tin. “Well, save’s the page from being all grey, that does.”

Vasher gets a green crayon from a colourful crayon tin.

Vasher holds a green crayon in his left hand.

Vasher gets a green crayon from a colourful crayon tin.

Vasher holds a green crayon in his left hand.

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his green crayon.

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his green crayon.

You curiously ask: How long is your detention, then?
>
Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his green crayon.

Vasher gestures at the book with a crayon as he fishes another colour out of the tin. “Till this…THING…is completed.”

Vasher puts the green crayon in the colourful crayon tin.

Vasher gets a Noir black crayon from a colourful crayon tin.

Vasher holds a Noir black crayon in his left hand.

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his Noir black crayon.

You curiously ask: How long is your detention, then?.

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his green crayon.

Vasher gestures at the book with a crayon as he fishes another colour out of the tin. “Till this…THING…is completed.”

Vasher puts the green crayon in the colourful crayon tin.

Vasher gets a Noir black crayon from a colourful crayon tin.

Vasher holds a Noir black crayon in his left hand.

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his Noir black crayon.

You curiously ask: How long is your detention, then? Goodness, what did you -do-?

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher flips through the book. “This is page 3, looks like 6 pages. Half way through.” Viciously grabs a violet crayon from the tin, “As for what I did, don’t mind not tellin’ ya, seeing how as technically you’re faculty.”

Vasher puts the Noir black crayon in the colourful crayon tin.

Vasher turns the green colouring book to page 3.

Vasher gets a violet crayon from a colourful crayon tin.

Vasher holds a violet crayon in his left hand.

Andrew d’Ackerley nods with a chuckle. “Very well, I shan’t pry.”

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his violet crayon.

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his violet crayon.

Vasher turns the green colouring book to page 4.

Vasher grins, “Alright, a pictsie! This book ain’t so bad!” Glances up at Andrew, “Uh, I mean, you tell that to Old Graum, right? He won’t assign this again if he thinks as I LIKE it.”

Vasher puts the violet crayon in the colourful crayon tin.

Vasher gets a blue crayon from a colourful crayon tin.

Vasher holds a blue crayon in his left hand.

Vasher says: Say, I can’t recall having seen you before.

Andrew d’Ackerley laughs softly. “I shall tell him that you were trying to dig your way out of here with a teaspoon rather than take up crayons, I promise.”

Vasher says: “You must teach Graduate level then? I haven’t seen you before.”

Vasher puts the blue crayon in the colourful crayon tin.

Andrew d’Ackerley nods slightly. “Modern Languages. Not the most… sought after classes that the guild has to offer. Suits me nicely, not much grading to do, either.”

Vasher mutters that part of the punishment must be not having all the proper colors. No brown, honestly!

You ask: What, not even a nice shade of sepia?

Vasher shakes his head ruefully, “Not even raw umber. Four shades of red though.” Sighs and selects grey, “Pretty useful class though, if you go for the more fun in-your-face inhumation style. Nice to be able to speak the target’s language afore inhuming.”

Vasher gets a grey crayon from a colourful crayon tin.

Vasher holds a grey crayon in his left hand.

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his grey crayon.

Vasher pokes his tongue out in concentration as he starts colouring something in.

Vasher finishes colouring something in with his grey crayon.

Andrew d’Ackerley nods and toys with his glass. “Regrettably, Ankh tends to be satisfied with Ankh. Myself, I like to travel and experience other cultures. Quite outlandish, if you’ll forgive the pune.”

Vasher rolls his eyes congenially at the pune. “Way I figure it, no better way to get away from where you bin than by learning how to be elsewhere.” Scowls, “My native speech ain’t posh enough as yet though.”

Andrew d’Ackerley looks at the fire as an ember pops. “I’ve certainly heard more pronounced Cockbill accents than yours. Language is like a suit of clothes. One can put it on and remove it the next day.” He amends, “With practise, naturally.”

Vasher nods, “I’m workin..workinG on it. Those ending Gs take so much effort.”

Andrew d’Ackerley nods goodnaturedly. “I can tell. It takes time.”

Vasher analyses Sir Andrew, “Either you been workinG on it a long time or you started out in the “right” spot.”

Andrew d’Ackerley nods. “For Ankhian, yes. I can adopt a passable Cockbill slur if I must, though, and that did take practise.”

Vasher grins. “Heh, poor poshy. I’ll trade you the drunken lout of a father and the worked to death mother for the accent.”

Andrew d’Ackerley chuckles. “Well, we have the drunken lout of a father in common, then. Of course, nobles do not get drunk, they get… indisposed.”

Vasher eyes Sir Andrew’s face, noting a lack of scars from broken bottles. “Well, still think I’d have swapped you places in a heartbeat.”

Andrew d’Ackerley nods. “I understand. There is nothing romantic about being cold, hungry, and alone.”

You ask Vasher: How did you end up with the guild, then? Sold by your father?
Vasher says: No. My mother…died. She was the only reason I was even stickin’ around long as I did. I encountered an assassin in Sto Lat ’bout the same time who saw somethin in me and offered me an alternative.”

Andrew d’Ackerley nods. “I approve.”

Andrew d’Ackerley sets his bottle down, now empty. “I fear I shall have to wander off and leave you to your cruel and unusual punishment, young Mr Vasher. I shall keep an eye out for a proper brown crayon for future reference, though.”

You get off an armchair and stand up.

About Andrew d'Ackerley

Earl of Briarwyld, Skund; Knight of Ankh-Morpork; Doctor of Languages at the Assassins’ Guild; Master of Dance and Deportment at the Assassins’ Guild; Senior Lecturer in Languages at the Assassins’ Guild, House Master of Cobra House, the Assassins’ Guild.
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