Sponsorship Deal.
DISCLAIMER I: Discworld and its characters (except for Nid Dibbler) are the property of Terry Prachett and are used here purely for the enjoyment of others. No profit is intended, and it is not to be reproduced with out the author's permission.
DISCLAIMER II: I haven't read all the Discworld books yet (though I am getting there) so if in my future reading I come across anything that contradicts this story, then I'll correct it, or if necessary take the story down entirely. So until then, I apologise.
So, all that said, please enjoy! I don't presume to be as good as the man himself, but I'll borrow his toys for a little bit. please R and R!
Nid Dibbler didn't like Wizards. Or rather, he shouldn't like wizards. For, as an Alchemist, he was trained since, well, the start of his training, to despise wizards as a bunch of elitist snobs. Wizards on the other hand, looked down on them as meddling in things they ought not to.
But unbeknownst to Nid, he had something else in his blood, that overrode his guild loyalty. This was something that had been in his blood since Ug Dib luh sold his first rotten deer leg in exchange for fire. Then after his customer died from either food poisoning or pneumonia, he sold the half eaten leg for more fire.
It was his capital instinct that meant that right now, he was talking to representatives of his blood enemies.
Well, they weren't ACTUALLY wizards, merely students from Unseen University. This actually made them pretty easy to manipulate. All it took was the promise of a round of drinks at the Mended Drum, and they would have probably snuck a girl onto Campus.
"And. how is the rite progressing?" Asked Nid.
"Fine, fine." Said the self appointed spokesperson.
"So, two bits of wood and an egg eh? And here's me thinking I would have to buy a round of drinks for eight AND all that occult pararphinalia."
"Nope, just three of us some wood, and an egg," said the leader. "I snuck into the forbidden section and snuck a look."
Nid despaired. If he were a wizard he would have stored the books he didn't want the students to read in the 'required texts' section. Instead, a 'restricted' sign was the same thing as a red cloth to a bull.
"Alright, good. I'm just going to get my presentation ready and I'll be with you."
He looked around, and found a hat that had 'Wiserd' painted on it.
Perception, perception, perception he thought. I am a wizard, I am a wizard I am a wizard.
He then found the presentation pack on the table and then moved majestically into the hall. Death was waiting for him, standing there, with his perpetual grin. Nid wanted to run home and hide, but his family instinct for making a profit took over. It was exceptionally strong. Even mortal fear had beaten the promise of a free round of drinks to the students, who were no where to be seen.
"Ah, hello. I suppose your wondering why you're here?" he asked.
NOT REALLY.
"No of course not, I mean, it can only be one of two things right? Either someone's shuffled off, or done the rite of AshkEnte. Well, I don't need to tell you that it was the rite."
YOU ARE CORRECT, YOU DO NOT NEED TO TELL ME THAT.
"Now, let me show you something." Nid looked into those intense blue sockets and quickly broke eye contact, as just for a moment he wondered if this was one dollar that wasn't worth making.. 'Think of the money, think of the money' he whispered udner his breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box.
"This." Said Nid, looking down at Death's robe "Is the future."
IS IT.? IT LOOKS AWFULLY BIG
"That's it, you can see the bigger picture." Said Nid enthusiastically. Unfortunately, he was completely wrong, but Death didn't have the chance to correct him. "This is a mobile communications device. I invented them, and my company, Octrine, will sell them."
Death was intrigued. WHAT DO THESE DEVICES DO?
"They allow instant communication." Said Dibbler enthusiastically.
PEOPLE HAVE BEEN COMMUNICATING INSTANTLY SINCE LANGUAGE WAS INVENTED said Death.
"Yes." Said Dibbler, paitiently, but this allows them to do so over long distances.
WHY NOT SEND A LETTER?
"No, this encourages good human communication. The demon inside communicates with a demon of another type in someone else's box and they relay messages."
HUMAN COMMUNICATION WITH DEMONS? Asked Death.
"Yes. And I want you on the ground floor."
THE GROUND FLOOR IS OCCUPIED BY THE LOCAL PRIVVIES said Death.
"I was speaking metaphorically. I merely think that you can help me put out the word."
EXPLAIN said Death.
"Well, if you recommend my product to the dying, then those who are re- incarnated will remember my product as the last thing from their old lives, and snap them up in the next life, depending on their belief system. With a bit of luck the ghosts might even recommend them to the living while they haunt them."
HOW DO I DO THIS? Asked a very interested Death.
"Well." Said Dibbler, the cold sweat of mortal fear passing in favour of the hot flush of profit. "You put this on and say 'The future's Bright, the Future's Octrine.'"
Death studied the garment. It was a black robe similar to his own, except that it had a not-quite-octrine shade of thread that said 'Octrine' embroidered on the back and sleeves. Death took the garment, and in a sudden movement, he was searing it.
"Now try it out. 'The future's bright, the future's Octrine.'"
THE FUTURE IS BRIGHT. THE FUTURE IS OCTRINE.
"There, good, good. Now I'll give you 2 per cent of my revenue from the phones if you say that when you come for every sentient in the Ankh-morpok area for the next. 10 years?" he asked hopefully.
I AM STILL UNSURE. Said Death.
Nid decided to be diplomatic, something told him she shouldn't start making demands. . "I'll tell you what. Just do it the next time you take someone, see how they like it. Mark my words, it'll make their passing easier."
WHY?
"Well, its just another service. You know, life goes on and all that."
IT DOESN'T, NOT FOR THEM
"Well, just give it a try once, and I'll give you a free handset, and that's cutting off my nose to spite my face. Just say the line the next time you're about to take someone"
AS YOU WISH
"That's the spirit. Best of luck."
THE FUTURE IS BRIGHT, THE FUTURE IS OCTRINE.
"Yep, just say the line on your next appointment, and the handset is yours."
BUT YOU SAID I COULD HAVE IT AFTER MY NEXT APPOINTMENT
"And you can so. oh."
There was a terrible creaking, and Nid Dibbler fell.
+++
He sat up and looked down at his body, sprawled out over grubby tile and rotten floorboard. Dead in the Privies. At least he ended up better than his father. .
I AM AFRAID IT WILL NEVER CATCH ON said Death as the shoddy embroidered letters on his robe turned black PERHAPS YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE INTO FANCY DRESS. THAT WIZARD'S HAT WAS ALMOST CONVINCING.
DISCLAIMER I: Discworld and its characters (except for Nid Dibbler) are the property of Terry Prachett and are used here purely for the enjoyment of others. No profit is intended, and it is not to be reproduced with out the author's permission.
DISCLAIMER II: I haven't read all the Discworld books yet (though I am getting there) so if in my future reading I come across anything that contradicts this story, then I'll correct it, or if necessary take the story down entirely. So until then, I apologise.
So, all that said, please enjoy! I don't presume to be as good as the man himself, but I'll borrow his toys for a little bit. please R and R!
Nid Dibbler didn't like Wizards. Or rather, he shouldn't like wizards. For, as an Alchemist, he was trained since, well, the start of his training, to despise wizards as a bunch of elitist snobs. Wizards on the other hand, looked down on them as meddling in things they ought not to.
But unbeknownst to Nid, he had something else in his blood, that overrode his guild loyalty. This was something that had been in his blood since Ug Dib luh sold his first rotten deer leg in exchange for fire. Then after his customer died from either food poisoning or pneumonia, he sold the half eaten leg for more fire.
It was his capital instinct that meant that right now, he was talking to representatives of his blood enemies.
Well, they weren't ACTUALLY wizards, merely students from Unseen University. This actually made them pretty easy to manipulate. All it took was the promise of a round of drinks at the Mended Drum, and they would have probably snuck a girl onto Campus.
"And. how is the rite progressing?" Asked Nid.
"Fine, fine." Said the self appointed spokesperson.
"So, two bits of wood and an egg eh? And here's me thinking I would have to buy a round of drinks for eight AND all that occult pararphinalia."
"Nope, just three of us some wood, and an egg," said the leader. "I snuck into the forbidden section and snuck a look."
Nid despaired. If he were a wizard he would have stored the books he didn't want the students to read in the 'required texts' section. Instead, a 'restricted' sign was the same thing as a red cloth to a bull.
"Alright, good. I'm just going to get my presentation ready and I'll be with you."
He looked around, and found a hat that had 'Wiserd' painted on it.
Perception, perception, perception he thought. I am a wizard, I am a wizard I am a wizard.
He then found the presentation pack on the table and then moved majestically into the hall. Death was waiting for him, standing there, with his perpetual grin. Nid wanted to run home and hide, but his family instinct for making a profit took over. It was exceptionally strong. Even mortal fear had beaten the promise of a free round of drinks to the students, who were no where to be seen.
"Ah, hello. I suppose your wondering why you're here?" he asked.
NOT REALLY.
"No of course not, I mean, it can only be one of two things right? Either someone's shuffled off, or done the rite of AshkEnte. Well, I don't need to tell you that it was the rite."
YOU ARE CORRECT, YOU DO NOT NEED TO TELL ME THAT.
"Now, let me show you something." Nid looked into those intense blue sockets and quickly broke eye contact, as just for a moment he wondered if this was one dollar that wasn't worth making.. 'Think of the money, think of the money' he whispered udner his breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box.
"This." Said Nid, looking down at Death's robe "Is the future."
IS IT.? IT LOOKS AWFULLY BIG
"That's it, you can see the bigger picture." Said Nid enthusiastically. Unfortunately, he was completely wrong, but Death didn't have the chance to correct him. "This is a mobile communications device. I invented them, and my company, Octrine, will sell them."
Death was intrigued. WHAT DO THESE DEVICES DO?
"They allow instant communication." Said Dibbler enthusiastically.
PEOPLE HAVE BEEN COMMUNICATING INSTANTLY SINCE LANGUAGE WAS INVENTED said Death.
"Yes." Said Dibbler, paitiently, but this allows them to do so over long distances.
WHY NOT SEND A LETTER?
"No, this encourages good human communication. The demon inside communicates with a demon of another type in someone else's box and they relay messages."
HUMAN COMMUNICATION WITH DEMONS? Asked Death.
"Yes. And I want you on the ground floor."
THE GROUND FLOOR IS OCCUPIED BY THE LOCAL PRIVVIES said Death.
"I was speaking metaphorically. I merely think that you can help me put out the word."
EXPLAIN said Death.
"Well, if you recommend my product to the dying, then those who are re- incarnated will remember my product as the last thing from their old lives, and snap them up in the next life, depending on their belief system. With a bit of luck the ghosts might even recommend them to the living while they haunt them."
HOW DO I DO THIS? Asked a very interested Death.
"Well." Said Dibbler, the cold sweat of mortal fear passing in favour of the hot flush of profit. "You put this on and say 'The future's Bright, the Future's Octrine.'"
Death studied the garment. It was a black robe similar to his own, except that it had a not-quite-octrine shade of thread that said 'Octrine' embroidered on the back and sleeves. Death took the garment, and in a sudden movement, he was searing it.
"Now try it out. 'The future's bright, the future's Octrine.'"
THE FUTURE IS BRIGHT. THE FUTURE IS OCTRINE.
"There, good, good. Now I'll give you 2 per cent of my revenue from the phones if you say that when you come for every sentient in the Ankh-morpok area for the next. 10 years?" he asked hopefully.
I AM STILL UNSURE. Said Death.
Nid decided to be diplomatic, something told him she shouldn't start making demands. . "I'll tell you what. Just do it the next time you take someone, see how they like it. Mark my words, it'll make their passing easier."
WHY?
"Well, its just another service. You know, life goes on and all that."
IT DOESN'T, NOT FOR THEM
"Well, just give it a try once, and I'll give you a free handset, and that's cutting off my nose to spite my face. Just say the line the next time you're about to take someone"
AS YOU WISH
"That's the spirit. Best of luck."
THE FUTURE IS BRIGHT, THE FUTURE IS OCTRINE.
"Yep, just say the line on your next appointment, and the handset is yours."
BUT YOU SAID I COULD HAVE IT AFTER MY NEXT APPOINTMENT
"And you can so. oh."
There was a terrible creaking, and Nid Dibbler fell.
+++
He sat up and looked down at his body, sprawled out over grubby tile and rotten floorboard. Dead in the Privies. At least he ended up better than his father. .
I AM AFRAID IT WILL NEVER CATCH ON said Death as the shoddy embroidered letters on his robe turned black PERHAPS YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE INTO FANCY DRESS. THAT WIZARD'S HAT WAS ALMOST CONVINCING.