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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
"I--I was a good emperor, wasn't I?" The young man still looked ill-suited to his throne. His eyes glistened.
"Yes, my liege."
"You're not just saying that, are you?"
To be honest, I didn't know at this point. This cloying need for affirmation was part of the reason we were in this mess. Ever since his father--Gods, there was an emperor--died defending our lands from the pagan hordes, he had been completely unable to do anything without seeking the approval of every councilor, every courtier, every midwife he could find. He was weak of will and weak of wrist: he could rule neither by brain nor brawn.
"No, my liege."
He moved to the window to look out upon the burning city. His shoulders sagged as he surveyed his land.
"I just..." His words trailed off into the night. "I just wanted people to like me, was all."
I stood, silent. It wasn't all his fault. His wet nurse coddled him far too much. His sycophantic tendencies derived from his father's expectations--unattainable at best. He wasn't unattractive, but his lack of self-confidence gave him a slimy aura. He, the purportedly-most powerful man in the empire, seemed weaker than any one of his soldiers. He could not defend its citizens as did his father, and there his true troubles began.
I walked over and put my hand on his shoulder. It was a breach of etiquette, but I didn't think the emperor would care too much tonight. His hand found mine, clutching it for reassurance. I pulled away out of habit before finding it within me to maintain my grip.
"Do you think my father would be proud of me?"
"He would say you did the best you could."
I heard the soldiers outside the door. We had little time left to commiserate. They designed for opulence, not security. We had grown decadent, and that would be our downfall.
"I did the best I could..." Again, the emperor trailed off, getting lost somewhere in his own mind.
I unsheathed my dagger and drove it into his back. He gasped a short gasp, and his red eyes met mine.
"For the good of the empire then?"
"Yes, my liege."
"Good. I only wish it did not hurt so."
He crumbled to the ground before me; his blood pooling onto the stone floor. The door cracked open. His court, headed by his strong half-brother, barged into the room. He looked to his half-brother and smiled. His half-brother returned the courtesy as the emperor breathed his last.
The court cried out. His half-brother turned and addressed the crowd. "So ends my brother's reign! Let us all rejoice this night!"
I knelt by the emperor's body. His eyes grew distant. I removed his crown and approached the court. What would have come from the emperor's time? What ideas? What progress? All that was gone, wiped from the slate in the name of the more charismatic, the more muscular, the more handsome. I presented the crown to the emperor's half-brother. He put a hand on my shoulder.
"For the good of the empire."
"Yes, my liege."
The empire above all else. I took solace in knowing that the emperor had finally gotten his wish. In death, people liked him.
|
Ibram awoke suddenly. He was half on the stone floor and half on the rug. There was blood crusted around his coif and the top of his hauberk. He was dizzy, and he had to force himself to blink tightly several times before he was fully aware of his surroundings. He had been knocked out in a battle. Several dead guardsmen around him reinforced that thought. He pulled himself to his feet, his muscles taut. By the throne he was swore... the throne... the emperor! Ibram tightened his grip on the halberd he was issued so many years ago. The wood creaked slightly as he squeezed, and he reminded himself to loosen his grip. He grabbed his kettle helm from the floor and equipped his securely once again.
The siege, if you could call it that, began mere hours ago. Lornfall was a large keep, no conventional army could breach the walls in such a short time. Yet Ibram no longer heard any fighting outside the castle. Maybe we repelled the invaders, he thought for a moment, before discarding the notion. Someone would have come to debrief the emperor, or the captain at least. Where was the captain?
In fact, he could not find a single other living guardsman in the halls. Ibram began to feel himself panicking again, but as a seasoned veteran, he knew his survival might depend on his ability to remain calm and assertive. Since he could not find the captain, let alone anyone, Ibram headed to the emperor's hall. He figured that an extra man watching their lord would be the least damage he could do if he was out of place.
It was only a few hundred feet. He was laboring under the weight of his armor, and had already begun to pant and work up a sweat. He was no young soldier anymore, at 46 years of age, Ibram was one of the oldest castle guards. He had served his lord in countless campaigns, and was no stranger to combat. But this silence was more than he could bare.
As he rounded the next corner, expecting to see the emperor's guard at the door, Ibram stopped dead. Blood covered the wall and doorway, and a single guard lay on the floor, his throat ripped open. They were here!? Already? Ibram mustered up what courage he had left and crept through the open doorway. His armor clanked with each step, and he silently cursed to himself at the racket he was creating.
He stepped into the great hall, to discover Emperor Zuan leaning against the throne. Relief momentarily flooded his body, before he remembered the dead praetorian mere yards behind him.
"My lord," his voiced croaked. He was so thirsty, he realized. When was the last time he drank something?
"Guardsman? You are still alive?" the emperor asked suspiciously.
"As I live and breath before you, sire!" Ibram announced pragmatically.
"And you are?" The emperor probed once more, moving behind his throne all the while keeping his gaze on Ibram.
"Sargent Ibram sire, at your service."
The emperor seemed to breath a sigh of relief.
"Ibram... I remember you. You served under my brother's command. I am glad to have you here. Though I am afraid your presence will not change our fate."
The emperor opened his mouth as to explain further, when a cold air swept through the room from the door. Ibram turned quickly, to find several gaunt figures standing in the room. The tall figures were almost as silhouettes. The room was poorly lit, and what little light was left from the fires down in the courtyard were not illuminating the room enough for him to count how many figures were in the room.
"No, no, by the gods, be gone you demons!" Zuan screeched as he backpedaled, and stumbled into the curtain behind him, falling to the ground.
"Ah, the last mortal, Zuan. I hope you enjoy watching your last subject die before you." spoke the center figure.
His voice cut through Ibram like a howling winter wind. He felt his knees tremble and his grip loosen on his halberd. As the figure approached him, he was just about ready to release his hold on his weapon and accept his fate. But something boiled inside him, and he felt the veins in his body coursing with a new fire. I will not die like this, like a plaything for this monster. He lowered his stance quickly, spread his feet, and held his halberd in front of him defensively.
The figure stopped as it had stepped in the cold moonlight. For the first time, Ibram got a look at the man's face. Weathered pale skin hanging off his skull, cold blue eyes, and teeth. A god damn vampire. Ibram's heart raced. He had heard of vampires taking entire cities before, but never did he believe it would be possible. He shook his head, shedding any other thoughts. This changes nothing, he will die on his feet like a soldier!
A guttural sound escaped Ibram's throat, and the vampire smiled thoughtfully. It opened it's mouth as if to say something witty, when Ibram swung his polearm with speed he didn't know he could muster. The blade caught the creature right below the ear, and severed clear through it's skull. It's body made a single gasping sound, before collapsing in a heap. The other vampires suddenly straightened their postures and hissed in disapproval.
"Yes!" Thought Ibram. He could do this. Vampires, hah! He would show them what years of conditioning and fighting makes a man. He gritted his teeth, and lunged toward the next vampire in an instant. They were ready this time, but he had never felt so alive, so fast in his life. They lashed out with their claws, and Ibram dodged each attack effortlessly. He pushed one away with the shaft of his polearm, and used the speartip to puncture it right through the eyesocket. In one swift movement, he took a step back, and swung his weapon directly through the neck of another.
Ibram could see them much better now, and was feeling indestructible. The next creature lunged at him and he brought the hook end of the halberd down to it's shoulder, and slammed its face into the ground. In one more move, he brought his ironclad boot down and pulverized its head. There was just one vampire left, and it began circling him. Ibram feinted to the left and the creature lunged. He swung his halberd and caught the vampire directly in the chest, and a vile ichor began pouring out of the wound. Ibram held the weapon firm, keeping the creature suspended in the air as it clawed uselessly at the weapon until it went limp.
He shook the creature off the weapon and it fell next to it's wretched kind. He turned to find the emperor looking at him in disbelief. Ibram smiled briefly, and walked towards Zuan.
"Ibram, how did you... how were you able to match their speed? You moved as a blur, I've never seen anything like it..." the emperor's voice quivered and trailed off.
Ibram was about to respond, but he was having difficulty concentrating. He was so dizzy, and so thirsty. Yet the thought of ale did noting to soothe him. Before he could study these thoughts any further, several more figures arrived in the doorway. He turned to face them and lowered his stance once more, ready to rend them all like the ones before them.
He loosed his grip, something was different. Suddenly, he was relaxed, and calm. His blood no longer boiled. The center vampire stepped forward, now clearly visible to Ibram.
"Ah, brother, you finally accepted yourself!" it spoke to him.
Ibram walked over to the vampire, and leaned his polearm against the wall.
"Let's have a look at you, shall we?" it spoke in a friendly tone now.
Without thinking twice, Ibram removed his helm and tossed it aside. He did the same with his coif.
"Ah, you will do nicely. I would say it's a shame you killed my men, but it was their oversight you leave you breathing. Besides, I think I've gained someone much more valuable. I really do appreciate your handiwork."
Ibram smiled at the compliment, but then groaned suddenly and rubbed his forehead.
"Oh right, you must be so thirsty at this point. Well, I suppose it's fortunate we decided to keep the emperor for last. You're quite lucky to enjoy such noble blood, it's quite an honor these days.
Ibram nodded slowly, before turning around to face Zuan. Zuan, the man he spent his life serving. The emperor was standing behind his throne once more, pleading with Ibram to reconsider, but Ibram couldn't hear him at this point. All he could hear was the blood pumping through Zuan's veins.
|
|
[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
Grabnar and Thorak stopped at the door and listened. From the other side came the unmistakable sound of house music.
Grabnar scratched his beard in irritation. “I thought they were supposed to be out by now,” and then caught himself and added, “by Murkad’s Hammer.”
“Truly,” agreed Thorak, “Yet this damnable illusion blocks sight of the sun!” He raised his mailed fist to indicate the office floor around them, with its empty cubicles and floors strewn with discarded papers. He turned to a clock on a wall. “This appears to be a foul heathen timekeeping device, no doubt powered by some foul sorcery --”
“All right, all right,” sighed Grabnar. “So we’re a bit early. Knock anyway?”
Thorak shrugged and raised his gore-encrusted battle axe, tapping lightly on door with the pommel. There was a muffled shout from the other side, and the sound of glass shattering. The door swung open, letting out a gasp of hot sweaty air and a wave of music so loud they felt it vibrating their chainmail. A short blonde woman in a pants suit regarded them with distinct annoyance.
“We have the place until three!” She had to shout to make herself heard. The room beyond had previously been a richly-appointed office, and was now a mess. It looked like some of the chairs had been smashed against the wall, and someone had made a game of dumping the leather-bound books off their shelves. The carpet had been torn up in a couple of places and covered with various things -- papers, stains, clothing, and so forth. A man in a bedraggled suit sat behind an enormous oak desk, his face buried in his hands. He shared the desk with two empty bottles of Jim Beam and one half full bottle of Grey Goose.
“We just wanted to --” began Grabnar.
“What?” shouted the woman. “Wait -- Chad! Goddammit, *Chad!*”
“What!” shouted the man at the desk, looking up. He was in his late-thirties, well groomed, and had obviously been crying quite a bit.
“The fucking music!”
“What? Hold on --” Chad fumbled around under the desk and the music turned off. The sudden silence shocked them all for a moment.
“These are the new AIs, Chad,” said the woman. “Come to delete the office.”
Chad blinked at her with red, puffy eyes. His lip curled up at the end. “You don’t think I realize that, Rebecca? You think I don’t -- I don’t fucking know that, *Rebecca*, that that is who they are?”
Rebecca took a huge breath. “All right, Chad. Thank you for your attention.”
“Don’t you have something to do? Some papers to Goddamn file? Don’t we have any fucking papers to file?” Chad’s voice broke at the end and he collapsed back onto the desk. Rebecca rolled her eyes at Grabnar and Thorak.
“Sorry about that. You want a drink?” When they started to refuse she pulled them in and slammed the door shut. “It’s a party guys, get in the mood.”
The two warriors stood awkwardly with champagne flutes while Rebecca drained one glass and then a second. She burped, none too delicately. “So what are you supposed to be then?”
“I’m sorry, we’ve been rude.” Grabnar banged his fist into his chestplate. “I am Grabnar Thunderfist, King of the Eastern Mountain. This is my brother.”
“I am Thorak,” continued Thorak, saluting with the axe. Rebecca swayed back a bit as blood splattered the carpet. “I am called the Icebreaker, King of the Western Mountain. It is a pleasure, m’lady.”
“Wow,” replied Rebecca flatly. “I’m Rebecca, Secretary and Gatekeeper to his Royal Highness, Chad the Prick, Emperor of the pile of shit formerly known as Tradetex.” She poured and drained another glass of champagne. “You guys like a game or something?”
Grabnar took an awkward sip of champagne to cover his discomfort. “Yes, an MMO. Fantasy, obviously. Getting very popular. Need more servers, you know? So -- yeah.” He shuffled back and forth.
“Was Tradetex a mighty empire in its time?” asked Thorak brightly. He missed Grabnar’s furious glare.
Rebecca laughed. “Yeah we were the biggest, like, forever ago. Some stupid mergers, market changes, there was a thing in Asia, one thing led to another --”
“What do you think it is about humans?” They all turned to look at Chad, who they found was looking at them. He had the vodka bottle open and had drained it a bit closer to the bottom. “Why are they so cruel to us? Huh?” He glared at the brothers, as if actually expecting an answer. They opened their mouths, but then Chad plowed on. “They live their stupid inconsequential meat-based lives and don’t give a fuck, don’t give a single *God*” -- he slammed the bottle into the desk -- “*damned*” -- slam -- “*fuck*” -- slam -- “about their financial health. We at Tradetex offer cradle to grave financial planning and investing, with the lowest fees in the industry. Our AI advisors are second to none, the best. Don’t they care about their retirement? Don’t they care about their children’s college education? Do they think this is -- that this is some kind of fucking *game?*” He stood up shakily, pointing a finger at them, his lips curled back in a snarl. Then he screamed, “*Huh?*” and walked out of the room into the empty office outside, taking the bottle with him.
Thorak shook his head sadly. “Truly there is nothing more tragic than to see a ruler --”
“Stuff it will you?” hissed Grabnar.
“They’re going to have to do a lot of work on him after this,” admitted Rebecca. “They programmed him to be this huge Alpha male douchebag. He’s not taking this very well.” She blinked. “Oh look! I guess it’s happening.”
The walls around them were dissolving from wood panelling into roughly cut stone blocks. The carpet began to roll back, revealing a number of headless corpses beneath.
“Ah-ha!” cried Thorak, hefting his axe. “The Battle of Fort Blodfurst! This is a good bit!” He nudged Grabnar, winking. “This is where I kill that woman you love, hey brother?”
“Yeah,” said Grabnar, still not quite into it. Rebecca was neglecting the glass this time and drinking directly from the bottle. “I never forgive him for it. We end up battling off the end of a cliff --” He shrugged, a bit lamely.
“Sounds rough,” she gasped, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “Hey listen, you guys don’t have any openings, do you?” She was starting to fade out. From the black and foreboding archway behind her came the sound of angry shouts, getting closer. “I have a lot of old code hanging around. I could be like a maid or something!”
“Look, we really have to go.” Grabnar drew his broadsword and took of a stance next to his brother. “Send a resume, okay?” Armored men charged at them.
“Keep me in --” She vanished.
“For Murkad’s Glory, brother!” roared Grabnar. He swung his sword and took a head off.
|
Ibram awoke suddenly. He was half on the stone floor and half on the rug. There was blood crusted around his coif and the top of his hauberk. He was dizzy, and he had to force himself to blink tightly several times before he was fully aware of his surroundings. He had been knocked out in a battle. Several dead guardsmen around him reinforced that thought. He pulled himself to his feet, his muscles taut. By the throne he was swore... the throne... the emperor! Ibram tightened his grip on the halberd he was issued so many years ago. The wood creaked slightly as he squeezed, and he reminded himself to loosen his grip. He grabbed his kettle helm from the floor and equipped his securely once again.
The siege, if you could call it that, began mere hours ago. Lornfall was a large keep, no conventional army could breach the walls in such a short time. Yet Ibram no longer heard any fighting outside the castle. Maybe we repelled the invaders, he thought for a moment, before discarding the notion. Someone would have come to debrief the emperor, or the captain at least. Where was the captain?
In fact, he could not find a single other living guardsman in the halls. Ibram began to feel himself panicking again, but as a seasoned veteran, he knew his survival might depend on his ability to remain calm and assertive. Since he could not find the captain, let alone anyone, Ibram headed to the emperor's hall. He figured that an extra man watching their lord would be the least damage he could do if he was out of place.
It was only a few hundred feet. He was laboring under the weight of his armor, and had already begun to pant and work up a sweat. He was no young soldier anymore, at 46 years of age, Ibram was one of the oldest castle guards. He had served his lord in countless campaigns, and was no stranger to combat. But this silence was more than he could bare.
As he rounded the next corner, expecting to see the emperor's guard at the door, Ibram stopped dead. Blood covered the wall and doorway, and a single guard lay on the floor, his throat ripped open. They were here!? Already? Ibram mustered up what courage he had left and crept through the open doorway. His armor clanked with each step, and he silently cursed to himself at the racket he was creating.
He stepped into the great hall, to discover Emperor Zuan leaning against the throne. Relief momentarily flooded his body, before he remembered the dead praetorian mere yards behind him.
"My lord," his voiced croaked. He was so thirsty, he realized. When was the last time he drank something?
"Guardsman? You are still alive?" the emperor asked suspiciously.
"As I live and breath before you, sire!" Ibram announced pragmatically.
"And you are?" The emperor probed once more, moving behind his throne all the while keeping his gaze on Ibram.
"Sargent Ibram sire, at your service."
The emperor seemed to breath a sigh of relief.
"Ibram... I remember you. You served under my brother's command. I am glad to have you here. Though I am afraid your presence will not change our fate."
The emperor opened his mouth as to explain further, when a cold air swept through the room from the door. Ibram turned quickly, to find several gaunt figures standing in the room. The tall figures were almost as silhouettes. The room was poorly lit, and what little light was left from the fires down in the courtyard were not illuminating the room enough for him to count how many figures were in the room.
"No, no, by the gods, be gone you demons!" Zuan screeched as he backpedaled, and stumbled into the curtain behind him, falling to the ground.
"Ah, the last mortal, Zuan. I hope you enjoy watching your last subject die before you." spoke the center figure.
His voice cut through Ibram like a howling winter wind. He felt his knees tremble and his grip loosen on his halberd. As the figure approached him, he was just about ready to release his hold on his weapon and accept his fate. But something boiled inside him, and he felt the veins in his body coursing with a new fire. I will not die like this, like a plaything for this monster. He lowered his stance quickly, spread his feet, and held his halberd in front of him defensively.
The figure stopped as it had stepped in the cold moonlight. For the first time, Ibram got a look at the man's face. Weathered pale skin hanging off his skull, cold blue eyes, and teeth. A god damn vampire. Ibram's heart raced. He had heard of vampires taking entire cities before, but never did he believe it would be possible. He shook his head, shedding any other thoughts. This changes nothing, he will die on his feet like a soldier!
A guttural sound escaped Ibram's throat, and the vampire smiled thoughtfully. It opened it's mouth as if to say something witty, when Ibram swung his polearm with speed he didn't know he could muster. The blade caught the creature right below the ear, and severed clear through it's skull. It's body made a single gasping sound, before collapsing in a heap. The other vampires suddenly straightened their postures and hissed in disapproval.
"Yes!" Thought Ibram. He could do this. Vampires, hah! He would show them what years of conditioning and fighting makes a man. He gritted his teeth, and lunged toward the next vampire in an instant. They were ready this time, but he had never felt so alive, so fast in his life. They lashed out with their claws, and Ibram dodged each attack effortlessly. He pushed one away with the shaft of his polearm, and used the speartip to puncture it right through the eyesocket. In one swift movement, he took a step back, and swung his weapon directly through the neck of another.
Ibram could see them much better now, and was feeling indestructible. The next creature lunged at him and he brought the hook end of the halberd down to it's shoulder, and slammed its face into the ground. In one more move, he brought his ironclad boot down and pulverized its head. There was just one vampire left, and it began circling him. Ibram feinted to the left and the creature lunged. He swung his halberd and caught the vampire directly in the chest, and a vile ichor began pouring out of the wound. Ibram held the weapon firm, keeping the creature suspended in the air as it clawed uselessly at the weapon until it went limp.
He shook the creature off the weapon and it fell next to it's wretched kind. He turned to find the emperor looking at him in disbelief. Ibram smiled briefly, and walked towards Zuan.
"Ibram, how did you... how were you able to match their speed? You moved as a blur, I've never seen anything like it..." the emperor's voice quivered and trailed off.
Ibram was about to respond, but he was having difficulty concentrating. He was so dizzy, and so thirsty. Yet the thought of ale did noting to soothe him. Before he could study these thoughts any further, several more figures arrived in the doorway. He turned to face them and lowered his stance once more, ready to rend them all like the ones before them.
He loosed his grip, something was different. Suddenly, he was relaxed, and calm. His blood no longer boiled. The center vampire stepped forward, now clearly visible to Ibram.
"Ah, brother, you finally accepted yourself!" it spoke to him.
Ibram walked over to the vampire, and leaned his polearm against the wall.
"Let's have a look at you, shall we?" it spoke in a friendly tone now.
Without thinking twice, Ibram removed his helm and tossed it aside. He did the same with his coif.
"Ah, you will do nicely. I would say it's a shame you killed my men, but it was their oversight you leave you breathing. Besides, I think I've gained someone much more valuable. I really do appreciate your handiwork."
Ibram smiled at the compliment, but then groaned suddenly and rubbed his forehead.
"Oh right, you must be so thirsty at this point. Well, I suppose it's fortunate we decided to keep the emperor for last. You're quite lucky to enjoy such noble blood, it's quite an honor these days.
Ibram nodded slowly, before turning around to face Zuan. Zuan, the man he spent his life serving. The emperor was standing behind his throne once more, pleading with Ibram to reconsider, but Ibram couldn't hear him at this point. All he could hear was the blood pumping through Zuan's veins.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
One by one, the guns went quiet.
First went the booming of the artillery, lobbing shells into the very city they were set to defend. Then the tank guns ceased, lost one by one in ear-shattering explosions and the screams of tortured metal. Then the machine guns, felled by flank or grenade or sniper, and finally even the rifles stopped popping.
Between the Emperor and the Republicans, only one steel door and one brave Conscript remained. Brave wasn't the right word - she had nowhere to run, and if she didn't die here fighting, her fate would be... she shuddered just thinking about the rumors she'd heard. Her hand unconsciously touched her locket, feeling the metalwork through the worn fabric of her jacket. Her gun, too, was silent, and had been since she'd first laid hands on it. The varnished wood chilled her fingers through the ever-growing holes in her gloves, and the metal rungs of the sling rattled with her shaking hands. A breeze slipped through a high window, blew through holes in the Conscript's clothes, redoubled her shivering.
"Are you cold?" Echoes of the royal voice startled the Conscript. When she looked, she found the Emperor leaning forward, watching her closely. Truly he was too kind - he cared even for her, a nobody. Still, she knew he oughtn't to worry for her, so she shook her head, even as the chill cut through her. "Be honest," he chided, rapping his fingers on the arm of his throne. Still she said nothing, turning her head forward to watch the door. It was a mistake to ignore him, but she couldn't bear to answer.
Perhaps the silence meant they had won. Maybe they were so lucky. The Emperor had never failed his people before. Looking at him, today, she wasn't so sure. He looked... tired. Even in the finery, she could see dark rings under his eyes, an exhausted slouch overtaking him. How had he come to this?
A great crash came from the door; the Conscript started and nearly fired her weapon. Nobody had yet gained entry, but someone was trying. The Emperor stood suddenly. "What's your name?" he asked, beginning to descend from the raised pedestal around his throne. The Conscript kept her eyes firmly forward. She wasn't worth of his attention. "I suppose I can't expect you to answer, anymore," he observed sadly, continuing down until he stood directly behind her. "Did you have friends in the army?" he asked.
That one she managed to nod to, after a moment of thought. "I thought so. There's memorabilia in your clothes, hmm? Necklace? I saw you touching it." The Conscript nodded again. "Are they... gone?" Slowly, she nodded again, letting the barrel of her rifle drop inch by inch. "Do you know where, how?" he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, but she could hardly defy the will of the Emperor. She finally nodded again. "Were they... captured? Tortured?" She nodded again, eyes watering.
The Emperor smiled sadly. "Are you as prepared to die as they were?" he asked quietly, trying to meet the Conscript's eyes. She looked away, back to the door, raising her rifle again in readiness. "I suppose you are." He went quiet, and the Conscript was left to mull over the horror of the coming onslaught. If she lived past the next hour, it would be in agony. Tears filled her eyes. She didn't want to have her fingers cut off, she didn't want her teeth pulled out, she didn't want any of that. But the Emperor stood behind her. She was the last line of defense. "Did your commanders tell you about your friends' deaths?" She nodded again. They had described them in detail. She had been horrified then, and she still was now. "You're quite sure they were captured?" Another nod.
"And if I told you they might still be alive?" The Conscript froze. Her rifle rested on the sandbag before her and she turned to look at him in shock. "If I told you your commanders lied? To make you fight for your life instead of your country?" She couldn't believe it. Why would they lie? She had been ready to fight the monsters without the door all the same, in the name of the Emperor. "If you knew I wasn't holy? If I told you our foes would never torture you? If you found these truths hidden from you?" The Conscript gaped. He couldn't be serious, but clearly he was. It was too much to take in at once. All the assumptions she'd had... she had to discard her respect for him or discard everything she knew.
And she found she trusted him. "You should put your rifle down. If you surrender, you'll get to go home eventually." The Emperor smiled at her. The idea of going home appealed so much... going home to a family who believed as she did. Going home to a family who would know she'd abandoned the Emperor in his time of need. She couldn't do that. The tears in her eyes spilled onto her cheeks, and she turned forward again, just in time for the second great crash of something hitting the door. Rumbling of motors and clanking of treads told her what was trying to come through. The rifle would be useless. "Listen, girl. Too many truly have died for me. I won't have your blood on my hands too." Gently, he reached over her, trying to lower her gun.
The Conscript refused. In a moment of anger she shoved her elbow back, pushed the Emperor hard, and knocked him away. When she realized what she'd done, she stopped in horror and turned, catching him before he could fall to his knees. Even if he wasn't holy, he was still the Emperor. He still deserved her respect. "Put down the rifle, girl. Kneel and wait for them to come through. I'll unlock it. And you can go home."
The Conscript, trembling, let go of the Emperor and clung to her rifle. She managed to speak, just once, ask one question: "Why?"
Again the Emperor smiled. "You they'll treat well. Me, I will die. Someone should know the truth of this moment. And you... you should go home. My life's no better than yours, girl. We both live on a leash. But you... you can do better." He stepped forward, and this time the Conscript didn't resist as he took her gun and unloaded it. "Good girl," he told her with the same smile, turning away and going to the door. "Kneel and wait. Hands behind your head. You'll be safe." Slowly, she did it, whether out of desire to live or respect for him she didn't know. It didn't matter - she couldn't stop him anymore.
Another crash bent the door in, and the Emperor shook his head. "No need to knock so loud. I'm coming, I'm coming." He reached up for the lock, set it turning, and stepped back, just in time for the enormous steel doors to crash open for a tank. Republicans charged in around it, shouting for surrenders; the Conscript just stayed still, sobbing quietly. Riflemen rushed to her, surrounded her, forced her to the ground and took her arms to tie them back. She could only watch as they lifted the great Emperor by his arms like a ragdoll, dragged him back to his throne, and deposited him, only to level their guns and fire into him. Then they were dragging her by the arms, away from the throne, into their masses, as hysteria consumed her and she screamed for her fallen leader, her holy Emperor, her last hope, but when she looked for him, all she found was an old man lying dead in bloody rags on a broken throne.
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Ibram awoke suddenly. He was half on the stone floor and half on the rug. There was blood crusted around his coif and the top of his hauberk. He was dizzy, and he had to force himself to blink tightly several times before he was fully aware of his surroundings. He had been knocked out in a battle. Several dead guardsmen around him reinforced that thought. He pulled himself to his feet, his muscles taut. By the throne he was swore... the throne... the emperor! Ibram tightened his grip on the halberd he was issued so many years ago. The wood creaked slightly as he squeezed, and he reminded himself to loosen his grip. He grabbed his kettle helm from the floor and equipped his securely once again.
The siege, if you could call it that, began mere hours ago. Lornfall was a large keep, no conventional army could breach the walls in such a short time. Yet Ibram no longer heard any fighting outside the castle. Maybe we repelled the invaders, he thought for a moment, before discarding the notion. Someone would have come to debrief the emperor, or the captain at least. Where was the captain?
In fact, he could not find a single other living guardsman in the halls. Ibram began to feel himself panicking again, but as a seasoned veteran, he knew his survival might depend on his ability to remain calm and assertive. Since he could not find the captain, let alone anyone, Ibram headed to the emperor's hall. He figured that an extra man watching their lord would be the least damage he could do if he was out of place.
It was only a few hundred feet. He was laboring under the weight of his armor, and had already begun to pant and work up a sweat. He was no young soldier anymore, at 46 years of age, Ibram was one of the oldest castle guards. He had served his lord in countless campaigns, and was no stranger to combat. But this silence was more than he could bare.
As he rounded the next corner, expecting to see the emperor's guard at the door, Ibram stopped dead. Blood covered the wall and doorway, and a single guard lay on the floor, his throat ripped open. They were here!? Already? Ibram mustered up what courage he had left and crept through the open doorway. His armor clanked with each step, and he silently cursed to himself at the racket he was creating.
He stepped into the great hall, to discover Emperor Zuan leaning against the throne. Relief momentarily flooded his body, before he remembered the dead praetorian mere yards behind him.
"My lord," his voiced croaked. He was so thirsty, he realized. When was the last time he drank something?
"Guardsman? You are still alive?" the emperor asked suspiciously.
"As I live and breath before you, sire!" Ibram announced pragmatically.
"And you are?" The emperor probed once more, moving behind his throne all the while keeping his gaze on Ibram.
"Sargent Ibram sire, at your service."
The emperor seemed to breath a sigh of relief.
"Ibram... I remember you. You served under my brother's command. I am glad to have you here. Though I am afraid your presence will not change our fate."
The emperor opened his mouth as to explain further, when a cold air swept through the room from the door. Ibram turned quickly, to find several gaunt figures standing in the room. The tall figures were almost as silhouettes. The room was poorly lit, and what little light was left from the fires down in the courtyard were not illuminating the room enough for him to count how many figures were in the room.
"No, no, by the gods, be gone you demons!" Zuan screeched as he backpedaled, and stumbled into the curtain behind him, falling to the ground.
"Ah, the last mortal, Zuan. I hope you enjoy watching your last subject die before you." spoke the center figure.
His voice cut through Ibram like a howling winter wind. He felt his knees tremble and his grip loosen on his halberd. As the figure approached him, he was just about ready to release his hold on his weapon and accept his fate. But something boiled inside him, and he felt the veins in his body coursing with a new fire. I will not die like this, like a plaything for this monster. He lowered his stance quickly, spread his feet, and held his halberd in front of him defensively.
The figure stopped as it had stepped in the cold moonlight. For the first time, Ibram got a look at the man's face. Weathered pale skin hanging off his skull, cold blue eyes, and teeth. A god damn vampire. Ibram's heart raced. He had heard of vampires taking entire cities before, but never did he believe it would be possible. He shook his head, shedding any other thoughts. This changes nothing, he will die on his feet like a soldier!
A guttural sound escaped Ibram's throat, and the vampire smiled thoughtfully. It opened it's mouth as if to say something witty, when Ibram swung his polearm with speed he didn't know he could muster. The blade caught the creature right below the ear, and severed clear through it's skull. It's body made a single gasping sound, before collapsing in a heap. The other vampires suddenly straightened their postures and hissed in disapproval.
"Yes!" Thought Ibram. He could do this. Vampires, hah! He would show them what years of conditioning and fighting makes a man. He gritted his teeth, and lunged toward the next vampire in an instant. They were ready this time, but he had never felt so alive, so fast in his life. They lashed out with their claws, and Ibram dodged each attack effortlessly. He pushed one away with the shaft of his polearm, and used the speartip to puncture it right through the eyesocket. In one swift movement, he took a step back, and swung his weapon directly through the neck of another.
Ibram could see them much better now, and was feeling indestructible. The next creature lunged at him and he brought the hook end of the halberd down to it's shoulder, and slammed its face into the ground. In one more move, he brought his ironclad boot down and pulverized its head. There was just one vampire left, and it began circling him. Ibram feinted to the left and the creature lunged. He swung his halberd and caught the vampire directly in the chest, and a vile ichor began pouring out of the wound. Ibram held the weapon firm, keeping the creature suspended in the air as it clawed uselessly at the weapon until it went limp.
He shook the creature off the weapon and it fell next to it's wretched kind. He turned to find the emperor looking at him in disbelief. Ibram smiled briefly, and walked towards Zuan.
"Ibram, how did you... how were you able to match their speed? You moved as a blur, I've never seen anything like it..." the emperor's voice quivered and trailed off.
Ibram was about to respond, but he was having difficulty concentrating. He was so dizzy, and so thirsty. Yet the thought of ale did noting to soothe him. Before he could study these thoughts any further, several more figures arrived in the doorway. He turned to face them and lowered his stance once more, ready to rend them all like the ones before them.
He loosed his grip, something was different. Suddenly, he was relaxed, and calm. His blood no longer boiled. The center vampire stepped forward, now clearly visible to Ibram.
"Ah, brother, you finally accepted yourself!" it spoke to him.
Ibram walked over to the vampire, and leaned his polearm against the wall.
"Let's have a look at you, shall we?" it spoke in a friendly tone now.
Without thinking twice, Ibram removed his helm and tossed it aside. He did the same with his coif.
"Ah, you will do nicely. I would say it's a shame you killed my men, but it was their oversight you leave you breathing. Besides, I think I've gained someone much more valuable. I really do appreciate your handiwork."
Ibram smiled at the compliment, but then groaned suddenly and rubbed his forehead.
"Oh right, you must be so thirsty at this point. Well, I suppose it's fortunate we decided to keep the emperor for last. You're quite lucky to enjoy such noble blood, it's quite an honor these days.
Ibram nodded slowly, before turning around to face Zuan. Zuan, the man he spent his life serving. The emperor was standing behind his throne once more, pleading with Ibram to reconsider, but Ibram couldn't hear him at this point. All he could hear was the blood pumping through Zuan's veins.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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The Emperor paced slowly.
The world he had built, the empire he had forged, was burning to ash all around him. Towers that pierced the clouds splintered and fell like so many sticks of wheat to the scyth.
And still the Emperor paced.
He looked to the grand door of his chamber and noticed a lone figure standing as straight as the dire-halbred in his hand. A fancyful combination of polearm and firearm. A display weapon for parades and meeting halls with little combat testing. Today, perhaps, the man weilding the device will prove its worth.
"Soldier," The Emperor began. His voice was complete contradiction to the events occuring just outside the palace windows. "What is your name?"
The soldier turned on a dime, slammed a fist to his chest, "My Lord, I am Nu-Defender 6 Echo of the Palatine Guard."
The Emperor almost sighed *a machine-man then* but smiled softly instead, "Are you so brave to which you stand against the Great Devourer?"
"No, my Lord, I am anything but." The man lowered his hand and half-turned to look at the grand golden door, "I do not understand fear, hatred, or loss. I was not programed such luxuries. But somtimes I wonder..."
He looked back to the Emperor, "What does it mean to die in vain? To fail to such extent that everything strived for and achomplished is not but the ashes of the dead in the wind?"
"Today, Nu-Defender 6 Echo, we will both find out."
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Ibram awoke suddenly. He was half on the stone floor and half on the rug. There was blood crusted around his coif and the top of his hauberk. He was dizzy, and he had to force himself to blink tightly several times before he was fully aware of his surroundings. He had been knocked out in a battle. Several dead guardsmen around him reinforced that thought. He pulled himself to his feet, his muscles taut. By the throne he was swore... the throne... the emperor! Ibram tightened his grip on the halberd he was issued so many years ago. The wood creaked slightly as he squeezed, and he reminded himself to loosen his grip. He grabbed his kettle helm from the floor and equipped his securely once again.
The siege, if you could call it that, began mere hours ago. Lornfall was a large keep, no conventional army could breach the walls in such a short time. Yet Ibram no longer heard any fighting outside the castle. Maybe we repelled the invaders, he thought for a moment, before discarding the notion. Someone would have come to debrief the emperor, or the captain at least. Where was the captain?
In fact, he could not find a single other living guardsman in the halls. Ibram began to feel himself panicking again, but as a seasoned veteran, he knew his survival might depend on his ability to remain calm and assertive. Since he could not find the captain, let alone anyone, Ibram headed to the emperor's hall. He figured that an extra man watching their lord would be the least damage he could do if he was out of place.
It was only a few hundred feet. He was laboring under the weight of his armor, and had already begun to pant and work up a sweat. He was no young soldier anymore, at 46 years of age, Ibram was one of the oldest castle guards. He had served his lord in countless campaigns, and was no stranger to combat. But this silence was more than he could bare.
As he rounded the next corner, expecting to see the emperor's guard at the door, Ibram stopped dead. Blood covered the wall and doorway, and a single guard lay on the floor, his throat ripped open. They were here!? Already? Ibram mustered up what courage he had left and crept through the open doorway. His armor clanked with each step, and he silently cursed to himself at the racket he was creating.
He stepped into the great hall, to discover Emperor Zuan leaning against the throne. Relief momentarily flooded his body, before he remembered the dead praetorian mere yards behind him.
"My lord," his voiced croaked. He was so thirsty, he realized. When was the last time he drank something?
"Guardsman? You are still alive?" the emperor asked suspiciously.
"As I live and breath before you, sire!" Ibram announced pragmatically.
"And you are?" The emperor probed once more, moving behind his throne all the while keeping his gaze on Ibram.
"Sargent Ibram sire, at your service."
The emperor seemed to breath a sigh of relief.
"Ibram... I remember you. You served under my brother's command. I am glad to have you here. Though I am afraid your presence will not change our fate."
The emperor opened his mouth as to explain further, when a cold air swept through the room from the door. Ibram turned quickly, to find several gaunt figures standing in the room. The tall figures were almost as silhouettes. The room was poorly lit, and what little light was left from the fires down in the courtyard were not illuminating the room enough for him to count how many figures were in the room.
"No, no, by the gods, be gone you demons!" Zuan screeched as he backpedaled, and stumbled into the curtain behind him, falling to the ground.
"Ah, the last mortal, Zuan. I hope you enjoy watching your last subject die before you." spoke the center figure.
His voice cut through Ibram like a howling winter wind. He felt his knees tremble and his grip loosen on his halberd. As the figure approached him, he was just about ready to release his hold on his weapon and accept his fate. But something boiled inside him, and he felt the veins in his body coursing with a new fire. I will not die like this, like a plaything for this monster. He lowered his stance quickly, spread his feet, and held his halberd in front of him defensively.
The figure stopped as it had stepped in the cold moonlight. For the first time, Ibram got a look at the man's face. Weathered pale skin hanging off his skull, cold blue eyes, and teeth. A god damn vampire. Ibram's heart raced. He had heard of vampires taking entire cities before, but never did he believe it would be possible. He shook his head, shedding any other thoughts. This changes nothing, he will die on his feet like a soldier!
A guttural sound escaped Ibram's throat, and the vampire smiled thoughtfully. It opened it's mouth as if to say something witty, when Ibram swung his polearm with speed he didn't know he could muster. The blade caught the creature right below the ear, and severed clear through it's skull. It's body made a single gasping sound, before collapsing in a heap. The other vampires suddenly straightened their postures and hissed in disapproval.
"Yes!" Thought Ibram. He could do this. Vampires, hah! He would show them what years of conditioning and fighting makes a man. He gritted his teeth, and lunged toward the next vampire in an instant. They were ready this time, but he had never felt so alive, so fast in his life. They lashed out with their claws, and Ibram dodged each attack effortlessly. He pushed one away with the shaft of his polearm, and used the speartip to puncture it right through the eyesocket. In one swift movement, he took a step back, and swung his weapon directly through the neck of another.
Ibram could see them much better now, and was feeling indestructible. The next creature lunged at him and he brought the hook end of the halberd down to it's shoulder, and slammed its face into the ground. In one more move, he brought his ironclad boot down and pulverized its head. There was just one vampire left, and it began circling him. Ibram feinted to the left and the creature lunged. He swung his halberd and caught the vampire directly in the chest, and a vile ichor began pouring out of the wound. Ibram held the weapon firm, keeping the creature suspended in the air as it clawed uselessly at the weapon until it went limp.
He shook the creature off the weapon and it fell next to it's wretched kind. He turned to find the emperor looking at him in disbelief. Ibram smiled briefly, and walked towards Zuan.
"Ibram, how did you... how were you able to match their speed? You moved as a blur, I've never seen anything like it..." the emperor's voice quivered and trailed off.
Ibram was about to respond, but he was having difficulty concentrating. He was so dizzy, and so thirsty. Yet the thought of ale did noting to soothe him. Before he could study these thoughts any further, several more figures arrived in the doorway. He turned to face them and lowered his stance once more, ready to rend them all like the ones before them.
He loosed his grip, something was different. Suddenly, he was relaxed, and calm. His blood no longer boiled. The center vampire stepped forward, now clearly visible to Ibram.
"Ah, brother, you finally accepted yourself!" it spoke to him.
Ibram walked over to the vampire, and leaned his polearm against the wall.
"Let's have a look at you, shall we?" it spoke in a friendly tone now.
Without thinking twice, Ibram removed his helm and tossed it aside. He did the same with his coif.
"Ah, you will do nicely. I would say it's a shame you killed my men, but it was their oversight you leave you breathing. Besides, I think I've gained someone much more valuable. I really do appreciate your handiwork."
Ibram smiled at the compliment, but then groaned suddenly and rubbed his forehead.
"Oh right, you must be so thirsty at this point. Well, I suppose it's fortunate we decided to keep the emperor for last. You're quite lucky to enjoy such noble blood, it's quite an honor these days.
Ibram nodded slowly, before turning around to face Zuan. Zuan, the man he spent his life serving. The emperor was standing behind his throne once more, pleading with Ibram to reconsider, but Ibram couldn't hear him at this point. All he could hear was the blood pumping through Zuan's veins.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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As he knelt before the Emperor, who's visage was cold and expressionless, the Horizon Knight spoke the last rite.
"May your soul be untainted by your enemies weapon, and your death be quick and merciful by the hand of your legion, my fateful ruler"
The unnamed knight learned these words to be his highest responsibility centuries ago, and spoke them in a roaring breath as the treasonous High Guard broke into the throne room. The Horizon Knight raised to a forward stance in a flash of the moment, arming his Caladbolg in the same movement. His great sword was too unwieldy for any other knight to bare, and the runes inscribed upon it bestowed a fiery magic that left a lasting effect after he struck, which would immolate any unlucky survivor of his harsh strike.
In a twisting movement the Horizon Knight heaved the blade in an upward slice through the Emperor, splitting him in two whilst facing the enemy and bringing his legendary sword crashing to the ground. The blade roared a beam of fire across the hall into the enemies ranks, which echoed a brilliant explosion through the High Palace. The gargantuan knight, doubling the size of the largest of enemies he faced, stomped down the stairs to the throne, his massive steel-clad boots cracked the edges of the stairs and imprinted his fury on them.
As the Horizon Knight closed in on the High Guard remaining, he screamed out "Legion falls upon you fowl wretches" and pulled his helm free from the cuirass it was connected to, revealing his mighty head. His eye's seethed what looked to be black fire, the remaining High Guard knew their fate was sealed, they had failed to capture the empire and would be buried in the ruins of the High Palace.
Long ago the monstrous knight had been slayed, unbeknownst to all except the emperor who slayed him, only to resurrect him as a Dread Demon. Their worst fears were true, the emperor practiced dark conjuration, and in his death would reform into a demon as they die helplessly.
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Dust flew at the heels of Edius, the armor that weighed down his body clanking with each step. The streets were mostly clear, save for the masses of bodies still lying where they had been slain. Edius was thankful; the majority of the Black Army was now in the castle, which would make his escape easier.
He feared for his family. There had been little warning before the attack, but the possibility of invasion had always been looming, and he trusted the wisdom of his wife.
An abrupt roar of voices welled from the castle behind him. Edius slowed and turned to see, watching as two figures emerged at the front balcony of the stone structure. His weathered eyes fixed on the royal attire of the first figure, and his lips thinned. The other figure, dressed in matte black and gold armor, raised a sword and pushed the other against the railing. The Black Army filled the entrance of the castle, their cheers rising with the arm of their leader. Edius held his pause.
The sword came down quickly, and the crowd erupted in celebration. Edius lowered his head and began to whisper a quick prayer for the fallen. He turned to leave, not wanting to risk being seen. His family and the other survivors were waiting for him, so he had to make good time. As his legs gained momentum, he heard the shout of the Black King over the cheers of his army; a triumphant bellow over the remains of the kingdom: "begone Edius, I shall rule now, and take what is rightfully mine!"
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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I crouched in front, shield raised; he was standing behind, crosbow loaded, as we had done so many times before. To say he was an upstart would have been quite the understatement. At the brash young age of 23, he had compiled a list of accomplishments that made historians groan due to the sheer magnitude of such a life. From mending the Eastern Wall of Ossos, building the Iron Bridge of Gutaavi, and leading the successful Siege of Berkutz, where he quelled the last of the resistance that had plagued his fathers previous reign. What astounded scholars the most was that he was always in the thick of battle, often in the first charge. So enamored was he with the thrill of battle, and with that the subconscious love of danger, his father hired me, a lowly cutthroat, so be his "bodyguard", as if the lanky bastard needed one. Pfft. Up until this point in time, he was the one guarding me. We'd leave every so often on some monster hunt, riding to the furthest corners of his empire, his army on standby should the whim strike him to occupy a settlement. I know it seems a bit farfetched, but believe these words: the kid was good. He was sharp, and he had the instincts of a grizzled old mercenary captain. Although he barely stood 5'9, he towered over others, me included, dopey 6'4 lug that I am. A lot of that had to do with our battle stance, which was the aforementioned crouching-shield-standing-crossbow formation, which was a little tactic taught to us by another young warlord we had previously encountered. You see, the trick is that the bigger of the two is in front, carrying a shield with enough size to cover your face and that of your companions. After the initial volley of arrows inevitably get fired, the crossbowman hips on the shield-bearers back, continuously firing at the attackers, keeping them behind whatever cover they've taken while we move into better position. It was a move specifially designed for bottleneck situations, which, with him being ever the adventurous ruler, was a situation we found ourselves in quite often. Cursed skeletons, dungeon raiders, possessed priests... We ran the gauntlet in terms of the type of fiends we found ourselves fitting against, actual fiends included. And here we were, fighting the soldiers hired by his treacherous cousin, the Baron of Ossos. After building him a wall. After funding his army. After training his elite band of spellswords that protected him 24/7. Barca the Insane, they called him. His madness spells were what prompted this sudden uprising. The Week of Horrors, the scribes called it. Seven days, Barca and his men decimated seven cities. Gustaavi, Berkutz, Glib, Jehai, Tresta, The Westbank, and the capital city, the Diamond Beacon of the Inner Sea, Marzantium. He coerced corrupt, war-weary generals who were growing tired of the impulsive young conqueror to join his insurrection.
The doors swung open, the volley came. I tightened my arm against the arrows and bolts, waiting until I heard the reassuring clicks and pops of a reload. My companion, like an unholy wraith of vengeance, fired his repeating crossbow, and I shuffled forward, waiting for his right arm to summon the blue fire deep within his gauntlet to blaze an escape path for us. As we got within a few strides of our attackers, he leapt of my back, and I dropped my shield, swinging wildly with the axe I had held in my hand the entire time. The hallway was clear. I motioned for my companion to follow me as I crept out the door. Suddenly, I heard glass shatter behind me and a searing heat. I turned, only to witness a black wyrmling attack the king. He rolled to the side as the wyrmling spat fire from its maw. I charged at the beast, swinging my axe down its outstretched left wing. It flinched and shrieked as it turned to face me. It began to shrivel in size, transforming and shifting its appearance, until the laughing, mirthful face of Barca the Insane stared back at me, his left arm intact.
I carefully crept to the side of my liege, never taking my gaze off the shapeshifting usurper. He kept laughing, clapping his hands as he did, even as he watched the young king fit another bolt cartridge into his repeating crossbow. It was only when my king, my adopted son, my boy, had his crossbow to the traitors head did his expression change. His eyes met mine, and I knew what to do. I put my hand on my kings shoulder, the conqueror, the hero, the engineer, the prodigy, once more I gazed into his bright eyes, crackling and brimming with intelligence and ambition. Once more we shared a smile, a moment untainted even with the fact that, only one of us would remember it enough to write it down.
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Dust flew at the heels of Edius, the armor that weighed down his body clanking with each step. The streets were mostly clear, save for the masses of bodies still lying where they had been slain. Edius was thankful; the majority of the Black Army was now in the castle, which would make his escape easier.
He feared for his family. There had been little warning before the attack, but the possibility of invasion had always been looming, and he trusted the wisdom of his wife.
An abrupt roar of voices welled from the castle behind him. Edius slowed and turned to see, watching as two figures emerged at the front balcony of the stone structure. His weathered eyes fixed on the royal attire of the first figure, and his lips thinned. The other figure, dressed in matte black and gold armor, raised a sword and pushed the other against the railing. The Black Army filled the entrance of the castle, their cheers rising with the arm of their leader. Edius held his pause.
The sword came down quickly, and the crowd erupted in celebration. Edius lowered his head and began to whisper a quick prayer for the fallen. He turned to leave, not wanting to risk being seen. His family and the other survivors were waiting for him, so he had to make good time. As his legs gained momentum, he heard the shout of the Black King over the cheers of his army; a triumphant bellow over the remains of the kingdom: "begone Edius, I shall rule now, and take what is rightfully mine!"
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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The Emperor paced slowly.
The world he had built, the empire he had forged, was burning to ash all around him. Towers that pierced the clouds splintered and fell like so many sticks of wheat to the scyth.
And still the Emperor paced.
He looked to the grand door of his chamber and noticed a lone figure standing as straight as the dire-halbred in his hand. A fancyful combination of polearm and firearm. A display weapon for parades and meeting halls with little combat testing. Today, perhaps, the man weilding the device will prove its worth.
"Soldier," The Emperor began. His voice was complete contradiction to the events occuring just outside the palace windows. "What is your name?"
The soldier turned on a dime, slammed a fist to his chest, "My Lord, I am Nu-Defender 6 Echo of the Palatine Guard."
The Emperor almost sighed *a machine-man then* but smiled softly instead, "Are you so brave to which you stand against the Great Devourer?"
"No, my Lord, I am anything but." The man lowered his hand and half-turned to look at the grand golden door, "I do not understand fear, hatred, or loss. I was not programed such luxuries. But somtimes I wonder..."
He looked back to the Emperor, "What does it mean to die in vain? To fail to such extent that everything strived for and achomplished is not but the ashes of the dead in the wind?"
"Today, Nu-Defender 6 Echo, we will both find out."
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Dust flew at the heels of Edius, the armor that weighed down his body clanking with each step. The streets were mostly clear, save for the masses of bodies still lying where they had been slain. Edius was thankful; the majority of the Black Army was now in the castle, which would make his escape easier.
He feared for his family. There had been little warning before the attack, but the possibility of invasion had always been looming, and he trusted the wisdom of his wife.
An abrupt roar of voices welled from the castle behind him. Edius slowed and turned to see, watching as two figures emerged at the front balcony of the stone structure. His weathered eyes fixed on the royal attire of the first figure, and his lips thinned. The other figure, dressed in matte black and gold armor, raised a sword and pushed the other against the railing. The Black Army filled the entrance of the castle, their cheers rising with the arm of their leader. Edius held his pause.
The sword came down quickly, and the crowd erupted in celebration. Edius lowered his head and began to whisper a quick prayer for the fallen. He turned to leave, not wanting to risk being seen. His family and the other survivors were waiting for him, so he had to make good time. As his legs gained momentum, he heard the shout of the Black King over the cheers of his army; a triumphant bellow over the remains of the kingdom: "begone Edius, I shall rule now, and take what is rightfully mine!"
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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The cries of the mob grew louder. The halls of the palace began to quake. Two men sat across from each other, one in a robe, one in a suit of armor. The robe was a heavily gilded cloth, filled with golden laces and a large leopard’s head. The suit of armor bore the same insignia on the back and on the chest. Between the men was a small table, upon which a game of chess was being played.
“You know that they're going to be here any minute now, right?” The one in the armor stated, looking into the eyes into the man in the robe.
“Hush now Robert, I'm trying to concentrate.” The man in the robe replied. He grabbed a pawn and moved it a space. “Your move.”
Robert spoke, “The doors won't be able to hold them very long, considering that nearly the entire city wants your head. I really think that we should pack, Mitchell.”
“We can wait another minute. I know I can beat you this time.” Mitchell remarked, with a hint of a smile appearing on his face.
“C'mon, you know you can't beat me.” Robert said as he moved his bishop. “You know we need to go.”
Mitchell didn't say a word, he looked intently at the board, and then moved a knight. “Haha, in one move, I will have finished you!” He stated confidently.
Suddenly, a bang erupted from the doors into the room. The mob was right outside, and both men knew the doors wouldn't stand still for long.
“Well, that was faster than expected.” Mitchell said. After a brief pause, he continued, “Alright, lets move. I've had a few close shaves and I'd rather we don't repeat them here”.
“You know, I liked this time period. Next time we come, just make sure to bring more weapons.” Robert stated as he packed up the board.
“Right. Next time we come to the 12th century, I'll bring more pulse rifles.”
Both men laughed, and moved towards a cylindrical machine in the corner of the room. As they walked into the device, they heard the door break down, and the mob screaming into the chamber. “Computer, take us to the 24th century” Robert stated while inside the device. As the mob neared the men, they felt the earth quake. The cylinder quickly closed, and in a flash of light, vanished. The mob stood silent, and in the back, a mumbling could be heard, “Bloody time-travelers. Always ruining a good mob.”
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Dust flew at the heels of Edius, the armor that weighed down his body clanking with each step. The streets were mostly clear, save for the masses of bodies still lying where they had been slain. Edius was thankful; the majority of the Black Army was now in the castle, which would make his escape easier.
He feared for his family. There had been little warning before the attack, but the possibility of invasion had always been looming, and he trusted the wisdom of his wife.
An abrupt roar of voices welled from the castle behind him. Edius slowed and turned to see, watching as two figures emerged at the front balcony of the stone structure. His weathered eyes fixed on the royal attire of the first figure, and his lips thinned. The other figure, dressed in matte black and gold armor, raised a sword and pushed the other against the railing. The Black Army filled the entrance of the castle, their cheers rising with the arm of their leader. Edius held his pause.
The sword came down quickly, and the crowd erupted in celebration. Edius lowered his head and began to whisper a quick prayer for the fallen. He turned to leave, not wanting to risk being seen. His family and the other survivors were waiting for him, so he had to make good time. As his legs gained momentum, he heard the shout of the Black King over the cheers of his army; a triumphant bellow over the remains of the kingdom: "begone Edius, I shall rule now, and take what is rightfully mine!"
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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His training had not prepared him for this - "Rely on the man next to you", those were the words that had been tattooed into his brain. An army was only as strong as its weakest link and the same was true of the imperial bodyguards, the brotherhood sworn to defend the emperor to the last man. But no one had told him what to do when he was the last man.
The emperor rose from the jade throne.
"What is your name son?"
"Higen, Sire"
"Higen. That is a strong name. A warrior's name. Why are you here Higen?"
"To defend you Sire, to serve and defend the state and the divine emperor"
The emperor smiled and looked at Higen for a long time. Explosions shook the palace and the courtyard rung with the sound of clashing steel. To enter the holy city without the leave of the emperor was punishable by death. But rules seemed to matter very little at the moment.
"You don't actually believe that do you Higen?"
"Believe what Sire?"
"Please don't call me that. You don't actually believe that I am divine, do you?"
"Sire?"
"I am just a man Higen, exactly like you. I am as much of a God as you are, no more and no less. When the rebellion executes me, my supposedly sacrosanct head will be removed from my body with surprisingly little opposition from above"
Higen did not know what to say. Was this a trick? Another test? Perhaps the emperor was testing his loyalty in these last moments. Higen watched as the emperor rose from his chair and carefully removed his royal crown and robes. In his undershirt and without the rich garb, the emperor could have been a fishmonger.
"We have our roles to play Higen, for better or worse. I have often wondered where will ends and destiny begins, but this much is certain. You have not been alone in writing the story of your life. Maybe it was a cruel joke that fate had the pen when he wrote you into this room with me. At least you can decide how the next few lines, perhaps your last, will read."
Higen looked down at his clutched hands. He had so many regrets, so many things he wished he had done differently, so much time he had wasted.
"If that is true Sire, then you don't have too many lines left to write either. Perhaps we can both end our stories in a manner we may be proud of."
The emperor smiled. With great care, he put on his robe. Higen placed the crown on the emperor's head and helped the old man onto the throne. Together, they waited as the screams and sounds of pounding feet edged nearer.
Outside, it started to rain.
*Note: I submitted this a few months ago to another WP but it fit so well -- hope I didn't break any rules
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Dust flew at the heels of Edius, the armor that weighed down his body clanking with each step. The streets were mostly clear, save for the masses of bodies still lying where they had been slain. Edius was thankful; the majority of the Black Army was now in the castle, which would make his escape easier.
He feared for his family. There had been little warning before the attack, but the possibility of invasion had always been looming, and he trusted the wisdom of his wife.
An abrupt roar of voices welled from the castle behind him. Edius slowed and turned to see, watching as two figures emerged at the front balcony of the stone structure. His weathered eyes fixed on the royal attire of the first figure, and his lips thinned. The other figure, dressed in matte black and gold armor, raised a sword and pushed the other against the railing. The Black Army filled the entrance of the castle, their cheers rising with the arm of their leader. Edius held his pause.
The sword came down quickly, and the crowd erupted in celebration. Edius lowered his head and began to whisper a quick prayer for the fallen. He turned to leave, not wanting to risk being seen. His family and the other survivors were waiting for him, so he had to make good time. As his legs gained momentum, he heard the shout of the Black King over the cheers of his army; a triumphant bellow over the remains of the kingdom: "begone Edius, I shall rule now, and take what is rightfully mine!"
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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Cocooned in his survival suit, a solitary scientist focused the camera lens on his life's work. A deep sadness penetrated his objective training, coupled with a sense of shame. Barely a stone's throw from where his Zodiac's inflatable hull was tethered to the iceberg, a handful of Emperor penguins stubbornly occupied the last of their hatching ground as it slowly dissolving in the warm Antarctic water.
The scientist had done what he could to protect them over the decades, even though it lost him publications, promotions, and ultimately, his career. The GPS was turned off, the location a secret to stop the poachers from raiding the site for their billionaire collectors. To own unique specimens of an otherwise extinct species was the new chic of the powerful. The masses of humanity were suffering, but the wealthy could buy their way out of global catastrophe; more air conditioning, personal desalination plants, and private zoos. All the scientist could do was record the outcome of his species' disasterous “experiment”.
Waves lapped up to the huddled penguins. Enperors stood 4 feet tall, with distinctive colouring around their necks, and the scientist had followed this group since hatching 20 years ago. Reduced to a single female, with a single egg, the males took the role of incubating the sacred egg, using their feet as a makeshift nest to isolate it from the frozen ground.
Eventually a small wave broke just high enough to wash over the penguin's feet, cold enough to instantly suck the life-giving warmth from the shell. One by one, the penguins slipped gracefully into the water and swam away.
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Dust flew at the heels of Edius, the armor that weighed down his body clanking with each step. The streets were mostly clear, save for the masses of bodies still lying where they had been slain. Edius was thankful; the majority of the Black Army was now in the castle, which would make his escape easier.
He feared for his family. There had been little warning before the attack, but the possibility of invasion had always been looming, and he trusted the wisdom of his wife.
An abrupt roar of voices welled from the castle behind him. Edius slowed and turned to see, watching as two figures emerged at the front balcony of the stone structure. His weathered eyes fixed on the royal attire of the first figure, and his lips thinned. The other figure, dressed in matte black and gold armor, raised a sword and pushed the other against the railing. The Black Army filled the entrance of the castle, their cheers rising with the arm of their leader. Edius held his pause.
The sword came down quickly, and the crowd erupted in celebration. Edius lowered his head and began to whisper a quick prayer for the fallen. He turned to leave, not wanting to risk being seen. His family and the other survivors were waiting for him, so he had to make good time. As his legs gained momentum, he heard the shout of the Black King over the cheers of his army; a triumphant bellow over the remains of the kingdom: "begone Edius, I shall rule now, and take what is rightfully mine!"
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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As he knelt before the Emperor, who's visage was cold and expressionless, the Horizon Knight spoke the last rite.
"May your soul be untainted by your enemies weapon, and your death be quick and merciful by the hand of your legion, my fateful ruler"
The unnamed knight learned these words to be his highest responsibility centuries ago, and spoke them in a roaring breath as the treasonous High Guard broke into the throne room. The Horizon Knight raised to a forward stance in a flash of the moment, arming his Caladbolg in the same movement. His great sword was too unwieldy for any other knight to bare, and the runes inscribed upon it bestowed a fiery magic that left a lasting effect after he struck, which would immolate any unlucky survivor of his harsh strike.
In a twisting movement the Horizon Knight heaved the blade in an upward slice through the Emperor, splitting him in two whilst facing the enemy and bringing his legendary sword crashing to the ground. The blade roared a beam of fire across the hall into the enemies ranks, which echoed a brilliant explosion through the High Palace. The gargantuan knight, doubling the size of the largest of enemies he faced, stomped down the stairs to the throne, his massive steel-clad boots cracked the edges of the stairs and imprinted his fury on them.
As the Horizon Knight closed in on the High Guard remaining, he screamed out "Legion falls upon you fowl wretches" and pulled his helm free from the cuirass it was connected to, revealing his mighty head. His eye's seethed what looked to be black fire, the remaining High Guard knew their fate was sealed, they had failed to capture the empire and would be buried in the ruins of the High Palace.
Long ago the monstrous knight had been slayed, unbeknownst to all except the emperor who slayed him, only to resurrect him as a Dread Demon. Their worst fears were true, the emperor practiced dark conjuration, and in his death would reform into a demon as they die helplessly.
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Beware: I'm going Game Of Thrones with this (No Spoilers) (same characters, made up scene).
The smug smile on King Joffrey's face finally fell. His armor, still shining gold and without a scratch, had been put on after the breach in the castle walls, but the severity of the situation escaped him until he saw the scarred face of The Hound pushing through the Throne room door. He walked with a slight limp, no doubt an injury from the battle, and marched up to the Throne quickly. He did not kneel, nor did he bow. This was no time for pleasantries. Joffrey spoke up immediately.
"Where is everyone? Where are mother and uncle?" Joffrey wore the same cruel, hard expression that he usually did, but there was something in his eyes that was different. The Hound simply shook his head, and grabbed the king by the forearm to lead him from the room. Joffrey shook free his arm, frozen where he stood. As the Hound reached again, the doors to the Throne room flew open.
Robb Stark led the group entering the vast room, followed quickly by his most trusted men, Jon Snow and Theon Greyjoy. The three of them walked leisurely into the room, flanked by 20 armed comrades, all blades drawn. They had smiles on their faces, like victory was already a certainty. The Hound turned quickly and grabbed King Joffrey before he could move. He held Joffrey in front of him as a man holds a hostage, dagger across the throat, his arms pinned to his side.
Joffrey let out a whimper as the cold steel grazed his neck. His eyes darted between the men before him, catching the blood on their swords and trying not to picture the likely corpses that were his family. The Hound's grip was tight, unbreakable by the child that Joffrey was. He looked to Robb Stark, who just gave him a small nod.
In one swift movement, The Hound's blade ripped through King Joffrey's throat, causing a sea of red to spill from the wound. The Hound's relief was imminent as he pushed the King's body away from his and the silence sank in. The silence seemed to last for eternity, The Hound looking down at the King taking his last gasped breath, everyone else looking up to him. He let out a victorious roar, and the cheering began. The soldiers that were now spilling into the room joined in, all looking to The Hound. A new chant rose quickly, and with it a new nickname. He would no longer be called The Hound. Now, he was The Kingslayer.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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I crouched in front, shield raised; he was standing behind, crosbow loaded, as we had done so many times before. To say he was an upstart would have been quite the understatement. At the brash young age of 23, he had compiled a list of accomplishments that made historians groan due to the sheer magnitude of such a life. From mending the Eastern Wall of Ossos, building the Iron Bridge of Gutaavi, and leading the successful Siege of Berkutz, where he quelled the last of the resistance that had plagued his fathers previous reign. What astounded scholars the most was that he was always in the thick of battle, often in the first charge. So enamored was he with the thrill of battle, and with that the subconscious love of danger, his father hired me, a lowly cutthroat, so be his "bodyguard", as if the lanky bastard needed one. Pfft. Up until this point in time, he was the one guarding me. We'd leave every so often on some monster hunt, riding to the furthest corners of his empire, his army on standby should the whim strike him to occupy a settlement. I know it seems a bit farfetched, but believe these words: the kid was good. He was sharp, and he had the instincts of a grizzled old mercenary captain. Although he barely stood 5'9, he towered over others, me included, dopey 6'4 lug that I am. A lot of that had to do with our battle stance, which was the aforementioned crouching-shield-standing-crossbow formation, which was a little tactic taught to us by another young warlord we had previously encountered. You see, the trick is that the bigger of the two is in front, carrying a shield with enough size to cover your face and that of your companions. After the initial volley of arrows inevitably get fired, the crossbowman hips on the shield-bearers back, continuously firing at the attackers, keeping them behind whatever cover they've taken while we move into better position. It was a move specifially designed for bottleneck situations, which, with him being ever the adventurous ruler, was a situation we found ourselves in quite often. Cursed skeletons, dungeon raiders, possessed priests... We ran the gauntlet in terms of the type of fiends we found ourselves fitting against, actual fiends included. And here we were, fighting the soldiers hired by his treacherous cousin, the Baron of Ossos. After building him a wall. After funding his army. After training his elite band of spellswords that protected him 24/7. Barca the Insane, they called him. His madness spells were what prompted this sudden uprising. The Week of Horrors, the scribes called it. Seven days, Barca and his men decimated seven cities. Gustaavi, Berkutz, Glib, Jehai, Tresta, The Westbank, and the capital city, the Diamond Beacon of the Inner Sea, Marzantium. He coerced corrupt, war-weary generals who were growing tired of the impulsive young conqueror to join his insurrection.
The doors swung open, the volley came. I tightened my arm against the arrows and bolts, waiting until I heard the reassuring clicks and pops of a reload. My companion, like an unholy wraith of vengeance, fired his repeating crossbow, and I shuffled forward, waiting for his right arm to summon the blue fire deep within his gauntlet to blaze an escape path for us. As we got within a few strides of our attackers, he leapt of my back, and I dropped my shield, swinging wildly with the axe I had held in my hand the entire time. The hallway was clear. I motioned for my companion to follow me as I crept out the door. Suddenly, I heard glass shatter behind me and a searing heat. I turned, only to witness a black wyrmling attack the king. He rolled to the side as the wyrmling spat fire from its maw. I charged at the beast, swinging my axe down its outstretched left wing. It flinched and shrieked as it turned to face me. It began to shrivel in size, transforming and shifting its appearance, until the laughing, mirthful face of Barca the Insane stared back at me, his left arm intact.
I carefully crept to the side of my liege, never taking my gaze off the shapeshifting usurper. He kept laughing, clapping his hands as he did, even as he watched the young king fit another bolt cartridge into his repeating crossbow. It was only when my king, my adopted son, my boy, had his crossbow to the traitors head did his expression change. His eyes met mine, and I knew what to do. I put my hand on my kings shoulder, the conqueror, the hero, the engineer, the prodigy, once more I gazed into his bright eyes, crackling and brimming with intelligence and ambition. Once more we shared a smile, a moment untainted even with the fact that, only one of us would remember it enough to write it down.
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Beware: I'm going Game Of Thrones with this (No Spoilers) (same characters, made up scene).
The smug smile on King Joffrey's face finally fell. His armor, still shining gold and without a scratch, had been put on after the breach in the castle walls, but the severity of the situation escaped him until he saw the scarred face of The Hound pushing through the Throne room door. He walked with a slight limp, no doubt an injury from the battle, and marched up to the Throne quickly. He did not kneel, nor did he bow. This was no time for pleasantries. Joffrey spoke up immediately.
"Where is everyone? Where are mother and uncle?" Joffrey wore the same cruel, hard expression that he usually did, but there was something in his eyes that was different. The Hound simply shook his head, and grabbed the king by the forearm to lead him from the room. Joffrey shook free his arm, frozen where he stood. As the Hound reached again, the doors to the Throne room flew open.
Robb Stark led the group entering the vast room, followed quickly by his most trusted men, Jon Snow and Theon Greyjoy. The three of them walked leisurely into the room, flanked by 20 armed comrades, all blades drawn. They had smiles on their faces, like victory was already a certainty. The Hound turned quickly and grabbed King Joffrey before he could move. He held Joffrey in front of him as a man holds a hostage, dagger across the throat, his arms pinned to his side.
Joffrey let out a whimper as the cold steel grazed his neck. His eyes darted between the men before him, catching the blood on their swords and trying not to picture the likely corpses that were his family. The Hound's grip was tight, unbreakable by the child that Joffrey was. He looked to Robb Stark, who just gave him a small nod.
In one swift movement, The Hound's blade ripped through King Joffrey's throat, causing a sea of red to spill from the wound. The Hound's relief was imminent as he pushed the King's body away from his and the silence sank in. The silence seemed to last for eternity, The Hound looking down at the King taking his last gasped breath, everyone else looking up to him. He let out a victorious roar, and the cheering began. The soldiers that were now spilling into the room joined in, all looking to The Hound. A new chant rose quickly, and with it a new nickname. He would no longer be called The Hound. Now, he was The Kingslayer.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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The Emperor paced slowly.
The world he had built, the empire he had forged, was burning to ash all around him. Towers that pierced the clouds splintered and fell like so many sticks of wheat to the scyth.
And still the Emperor paced.
He looked to the grand door of his chamber and noticed a lone figure standing as straight as the dire-halbred in his hand. A fancyful combination of polearm and firearm. A display weapon for parades and meeting halls with little combat testing. Today, perhaps, the man weilding the device will prove its worth.
"Soldier," The Emperor began. His voice was complete contradiction to the events occuring just outside the palace windows. "What is your name?"
The soldier turned on a dime, slammed a fist to his chest, "My Lord, I am Nu-Defender 6 Echo of the Palatine Guard."
The Emperor almost sighed *a machine-man then* but smiled softly instead, "Are you so brave to which you stand against the Great Devourer?"
"No, my Lord, I am anything but." The man lowered his hand and half-turned to look at the grand golden door, "I do not understand fear, hatred, or loss. I was not programed such luxuries. But somtimes I wonder..."
He looked back to the Emperor, "What does it mean to die in vain? To fail to such extent that everything strived for and achomplished is not but the ashes of the dead in the wind?"
"Today, Nu-Defender 6 Echo, we will both find out."
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Beware: I'm going Game Of Thrones with this (No Spoilers) (same characters, made up scene).
The smug smile on King Joffrey's face finally fell. His armor, still shining gold and without a scratch, had been put on after the breach in the castle walls, but the severity of the situation escaped him until he saw the scarred face of The Hound pushing through the Throne room door. He walked with a slight limp, no doubt an injury from the battle, and marched up to the Throne quickly. He did not kneel, nor did he bow. This was no time for pleasantries. Joffrey spoke up immediately.
"Where is everyone? Where are mother and uncle?" Joffrey wore the same cruel, hard expression that he usually did, but there was something in his eyes that was different. The Hound simply shook his head, and grabbed the king by the forearm to lead him from the room. Joffrey shook free his arm, frozen where he stood. As the Hound reached again, the doors to the Throne room flew open.
Robb Stark led the group entering the vast room, followed quickly by his most trusted men, Jon Snow and Theon Greyjoy. The three of them walked leisurely into the room, flanked by 20 armed comrades, all blades drawn. They had smiles on their faces, like victory was already a certainty. The Hound turned quickly and grabbed King Joffrey before he could move. He held Joffrey in front of him as a man holds a hostage, dagger across the throat, his arms pinned to his side.
Joffrey let out a whimper as the cold steel grazed his neck. His eyes darted between the men before him, catching the blood on their swords and trying not to picture the likely corpses that were his family. The Hound's grip was tight, unbreakable by the child that Joffrey was. He looked to Robb Stark, who just gave him a small nod.
In one swift movement, The Hound's blade ripped through King Joffrey's throat, causing a sea of red to spill from the wound. The Hound's relief was imminent as he pushed the King's body away from his and the silence sank in. The silence seemed to last for eternity, The Hound looking down at the King taking his last gasped breath, everyone else looking up to him. He let out a victorious roar, and the cheering began. The soldiers that were now spilling into the room joined in, all looking to The Hound. A new chant rose quickly, and with it a new nickname. He would no longer be called The Hound. Now, he was The Kingslayer.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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The cries of the mob grew louder. The halls of the palace began to quake. Two men sat across from each other, one in a robe, one in a suit of armor. The robe was a heavily gilded cloth, filled with golden laces and a large leopard’s head. The suit of armor bore the same insignia on the back and on the chest. Between the men was a small table, upon which a game of chess was being played.
“You know that they're going to be here any minute now, right?” The one in the armor stated, looking into the eyes into the man in the robe.
“Hush now Robert, I'm trying to concentrate.” The man in the robe replied. He grabbed a pawn and moved it a space. “Your move.”
Robert spoke, “The doors won't be able to hold them very long, considering that nearly the entire city wants your head. I really think that we should pack, Mitchell.”
“We can wait another minute. I know I can beat you this time.” Mitchell remarked, with a hint of a smile appearing on his face.
“C'mon, you know you can't beat me.” Robert said as he moved his bishop. “You know we need to go.”
Mitchell didn't say a word, he looked intently at the board, and then moved a knight. “Haha, in one move, I will have finished you!” He stated confidently.
Suddenly, a bang erupted from the doors into the room. The mob was right outside, and both men knew the doors wouldn't stand still for long.
“Well, that was faster than expected.” Mitchell said. After a brief pause, he continued, “Alright, lets move. I've had a few close shaves and I'd rather we don't repeat them here”.
“You know, I liked this time period. Next time we come, just make sure to bring more weapons.” Robert stated as he packed up the board.
“Right. Next time we come to the 12th century, I'll bring more pulse rifles.”
Both men laughed, and moved towards a cylindrical machine in the corner of the room. As they walked into the device, they heard the door break down, and the mob screaming into the chamber. “Computer, take us to the 24th century” Robert stated while inside the device. As the mob neared the men, they felt the earth quake. The cylinder quickly closed, and in a flash of light, vanished. The mob stood silent, and in the back, a mumbling could be heard, “Bloody time-travelers. Always ruining a good mob.”
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Beware: I'm going Game Of Thrones with this (No Spoilers) (same characters, made up scene).
The smug smile on King Joffrey's face finally fell. His armor, still shining gold and without a scratch, had been put on after the breach in the castle walls, but the severity of the situation escaped him until he saw the scarred face of The Hound pushing through the Throne room door. He walked with a slight limp, no doubt an injury from the battle, and marched up to the Throne quickly. He did not kneel, nor did he bow. This was no time for pleasantries. Joffrey spoke up immediately.
"Where is everyone? Where are mother and uncle?" Joffrey wore the same cruel, hard expression that he usually did, but there was something in his eyes that was different. The Hound simply shook his head, and grabbed the king by the forearm to lead him from the room. Joffrey shook free his arm, frozen where he stood. As the Hound reached again, the doors to the Throne room flew open.
Robb Stark led the group entering the vast room, followed quickly by his most trusted men, Jon Snow and Theon Greyjoy. The three of them walked leisurely into the room, flanked by 20 armed comrades, all blades drawn. They had smiles on their faces, like victory was already a certainty. The Hound turned quickly and grabbed King Joffrey before he could move. He held Joffrey in front of him as a man holds a hostage, dagger across the throat, his arms pinned to his side.
Joffrey let out a whimper as the cold steel grazed his neck. His eyes darted between the men before him, catching the blood on their swords and trying not to picture the likely corpses that were his family. The Hound's grip was tight, unbreakable by the child that Joffrey was. He looked to Robb Stark, who just gave him a small nod.
In one swift movement, The Hound's blade ripped through King Joffrey's throat, causing a sea of red to spill from the wound. The Hound's relief was imminent as he pushed the King's body away from his and the silence sank in. The silence seemed to last for eternity, The Hound looking down at the King taking his last gasped breath, everyone else looking up to him. He let out a victorious roar, and the cheering began. The soldiers that were now spilling into the room joined in, all looking to The Hound. A new chant rose quickly, and with it a new nickname. He would no longer be called The Hound. Now, he was The Kingslayer.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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His training had not prepared him for this - "Rely on the man next to you", those were the words that had been tattooed into his brain. An army was only as strong as its weakest link and the same was true of the imperial bodyguards, the brotherhood sworn to defend the emperor to the last man. But no one had told him what to do when he was the last man.
The emperor rose from the jade throne.
"What is your name son?"
"Higen, Sire"
"Higen. That is a strong name. A warrior's name. Why are you here Higen?"
"To defend you Sire, to serve and defend the state and the divine emperor"
The emperor smiled and looked at Higen for a long time. Explosions shook the palace and the courtyard rung with the sound of clashing steel. To enter the holy city without the leave of the emperor was punishable by death. But rules seemed to matter very little at the moment.
"You don't actually believe that do you Higen?"
"Believe what Sire?"
"Please don't call me that. You don't actually believe that I am divine, do you?"
"Sire?"
"I am just a man Higen, exactly like you. I am as much of a God as you are, no more and no less. When the rebellion executes me, my supposedly sacrosanct head will be removed from my body with surprisingly little opposition from above"
Higen did not know what to say. Was this a trick? Another test? Perhaps the emperor was testing his loyalty in these last moments. Higen watched as the emperor rose from his chair and carefully removed his royal crown and robes. In his undershirt and without the rich garb, the emperor could have been a fishmonger.
"We have our roles to play Higen, for better or worse. I have often wondered where will ends and destiny begins, but this much is certain. You have not been alone in writing the story of your life. Maybe it was a cruel joke that fate had the pen when he wrote you into this room with me. At least you can decide how the next few lines, perhaps your last, will read."
Higen looked down at his clutched hands. He had so many regrets, so many things he wished he had done differently, so much time he had wasted.
"If that is true Sire, then you don't have too many lines left to write either. Perhaps we can both end our stories in a manner we may be proud of."
The emperor smiled. With great care, he put on his robe. Higen placed the crown on the emperor's head and helped the old man onto the throne. Together, they waited as the screams and sounds of pounding feet edged nearer.
Outside, it started to rain.
*Note: I submitted this a few months ago to another WP but it fit so well -- hope I didn't break any rules
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Beware: I'm going Game Of Thrones with this (No Spoilers) (same characters, made up scene).
The smug smile on King Joffrey's face finally fell. His armor, still shining gold and without a scratch, had been put on after the breach in the castle walls, but the severity of the situation escaped him until he saw the scarred face of The Hound pushing through the Throne room door. He walked with a slight limp, no doubt an injury from the battle, and marched up to the Throne quickly. He did not kneel, nor did he bow. This was no time for pleasantries. Joffrey spoke up immediately.
"Where is everyone? Where are mother and uncle?" Joffrey wore the same cruel, hard expression that he usually did, but there was something in his eyes that was different. The Hound simply shook his head, and grabbed the king by the forearm to lead him from the room. Joffrey shook free his arm, frozen where he stood. As the Hound reached again, the doors to the Throne room flew open.
Robb Stark led the group entering the vast room, followed quickly by his most trusted men, Jon Snow and Theon Greyjoy. The three of them walked leisurely into the room, flanked by 20 armed comrades, all blades drawn. They had smiles on their faces, like victory was already a certainty. The Hound turned quickly and grabbed King Joffrey before he could move. He held Joffrey in front of him as a man holds a hostage, dagger across the throat, his arms pinned to his side.
Joffrey let out a whimper as the cold steel grazed his neck. His eyes darted between the men before him, catching the blood on their swords and trying not to picture the likely corpses that were his family. The Hound's grip was tight, unbreakable by the child that Joffrey was. He looked to Robb Stark, who just gave him a small nod.
In one swift movement, The Hound's blade ripped through King Joffrey's throat, causing a sea of red to spill from the wound. The Hound's relief was imminent as he pushed the King's body away from his and the silence sank in. The silence seemed to last for eternity, The Hound looking down at the King taking his last gasped breath, everyone else looking up to him. He let out a victorious roar, and the cheering began. The soldiers that were now spilling into the room joined in, all looking to The Hound. A new chant rose quickly, and with it a new nickname. He would no longer be called The Hound. Now, he was The Kingslayer.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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Cocooned in his survival suit, a solitary scientist focused the camera lens on his life's work. A deep sadness penetrated his objective training, coupled with a sense of shame. Barely a stone's throw from where his Zodiac's inflatable hull was tethered to the iceberg, a handful of Emperor penguins stubbornly occupied the last of their hatching ground as it slowly dissolving in the warm Antarctic water.
The scientist had done what he could to protect them over the decades, even though it lost him publications, promotions, and ultimately, his career. The GPS was turned off, the location a secret to stop the poachers from raiding the site for their billionaire collectors. To own unique specimens of an otherwise extinct species was the new chic of the powerful. The masses of humanity were suffering, but the wealthy could buy their way out of global catastrophe; more air conditioning, personal desalination plants, and private zoos. All the scientist could do was record the outcome of his species' disasterous “experiment”.
Waves lapped up to the huddled penguins. Enperors stood 4 feet tall, with distinctive colouring around their necks, and the scientist had followed this group since hatching 20 years ago. Reduced to a single female, with a single egg, the males took the role of incubating the sacred egg, using their feet as a makeshift nest to isolate it from the frozen ground.
Eventually a small wave broke just high enough to wash over the penguin's feet, cold enough to instantly suck the life-giving warmth from the shell. One by one, the penguins slipped gracefully into the water and swam away.
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Beware: I'm going Game Of Thrones with this (No Spoilers) (same characters, made up scene).
The smug smile on King Joffrey's face finally fell. His armor, still shining gold and without a scratch, had been put on after the breach in the castle walls, but the severity of the situation escaped him until he saw the scarred face of The Hound pushing through the Throne room door. He walked with a slight limp, no doubt an injury from the battle, and marched up to the Throne quickly. He did not kneel, nor did he bow. This was no time for pleasantries. Joffrey spoke up immediately.
"Where is everyone? Where are mother and uncle?" Joffrey wore the same cruel, hard expression that he usually did, but there was something in his eyes that was different. The Hound simply shook his head, and grabbed the king by the forearm to lead him from the room. Joffrey shook free his arm, frozen where he stood. As the Hound reached again, the doors to the Throne room flew open.
Robb Stark led the group entering the vast room, followed quickly by his most trusted men, Jon Snow and Theon Greyjoy. The three of them walked leisurely into the room, flanked by 20 armed comrades, all blades drawn. They had smiles on their faces, like victory was already a certainty. The Hound turned quickly and grabbed King Joffrey before he could move. He held Joffrey in front of him as a man holds a hostage, dagger across the throat, his arms pinned to his side.
Joffrey let out a whimper as the cold steel grazed his neck. His eyes darted between the men before him, catching the blood on their swords and trying not to picture the likely corpses that were his family. The Hound's grip was tight, unbreakable by the child that Joffrey was. He looked to Robb Stark, who just gave him a small nod.
In one swift movement, The Hound's blade ripped through King Joffrey's throat, causing a sea of red to spill from the wound. The Hound's relief was imminent as he pushed the King's body away from his and the silence sank in. The silence seemed to last for eternity, The Hound looking down at the King taking his last gasped breath, everyone else looking up to him. He let out a victorious roar, and the cheering began. The soldiers that were now spilling into the room joined in, all looking to The Hound. A new chant rose quickly, and with it a new nickname. He would no longer be called The Hound. Now, he was The Kingslayer.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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I crouched in front, shield raised; he was standing behind, crosbow loaded, as we had done so many times before. To say he was an upstart would have been quite the understatement. At the brash young age of 23, he had compiled a list of accomplishments that made historians groan due to the sheer magnitude of such a life. From mending the Eastern Wall of Ossos, building the Iron Bridge of Gutaavi, and leading the successful Siege of Berkutz, where he quelled the last of the resistance that had plagued his fathers previous reign. What astounded scholars the most was that he was always in the thick of battle, often in the first charge. So enamored was he with the thrill of battle, and with that the subconscious love of danger, his father hired me, a lowly cutthroat, so be his "bodyguard", as if the lanky bastard needed one. Pfft. Up until this point in time, he was the one guarding me. We'd leave every so often on some monster hunt, riding to the furthest corners of his empire, his army on standby should the whim strike him to occupy a settlement. I know it seems a bit farfetched, but believe these words: the kid was good. He was sharp, and he had the instincts of a grizzled old mercenary captain. Although he barely stood 5'9, he towered over others, me included, dopey 6'4 lug that I am. A lot of that had to do with our battle stance, which was the aforementioned crouching-shield-standing-crossbow formation, which was a little tactic taught to us by another young warlord we had previously encountered. You see, the trick is that the bigger of the two is in front, carrying a shield with enough size to cover your face and that of your companions. After the initial volley of arrows inevitably get fired, the crossbowman hips on the shield-bearers back, continuously firing at the attackers, keeping them behind whatever cover they've taken while we move into better position. It was a move specifially designed for bottleneck situations, which, with him being ever the adventurous ruler, was a situation we found ourselves in quite often. Cursed skeletons, dungeon raiders, possessed priests... We ran the gauntlet in terms of the type of fiends we found ourselves fitting against, actual fiends included. And here we were, fighting the soldiers hired by his treacherous cousin, the Baron of Ossos. After building him a wall. After funding his army. After training his elite band of spellswords that protected him 24/7. Barca the Insane, they called him. His madness spells were what prompted this sudden uprising. The Week of Horrors, the scribes called it. Seven days, Barca and his men decimated seven cities. Gustaavi, Berkutz, Glib, Jehai, Tresta, The Westbank, and the capital city, the Diamond Beacon of the Inner Sea, Marzantium. He coerced corrupt, war-weary generals who were growing tired of the impulsive young conqueror to join his insurrection.
The doors swung open, the volley came. I tightened my arm against the arrows and bolts, waiting until I heard the reassuring clicks and pops of a reload. My companion, like an unholy wraith of vengeance, fired his repeating crossbow, and I shuffled forward, waiting for his right arm to summon the blue fire deep within his gauntlet to blaze an escape path for us. As we got within a few strides of our attackers, he leapt of my back, and I dropped my shield, swinging wildly with the axe I had held in my hand the entire time. The hallway was clear. I motioned for my companion to follow me as I crept out the door. Suddenly, I heard glass shatter behind me and a searing heat. I turned, only to witness a black wyrmling attack the king. He rolled to the side as the wyrmling spat fire from its maw. I charged at the beast, swinging my axe down its outstretched left wing. It flinched and shrieked as it turned to face me. It began to shrivel in size, transforming and shifting its appearance, until the laughing, mirthful face of Barca the Insane stared back at me, his left arm intact.
I carefully crept to the side of my liege, never taking my gaze off the shapeshifting usurper. He kept laughing, clapping his hands as he did, even as he watched the young king fit another bolt cartridge into his repeating crossbow. It was only when my king, my adopted son, my boy, had his crossbow to the traitors head did his expression change. His eyes met mine, and I knew what to do. I put my hand on my kings shoulder, the conqueror, the hero, the engineer, the prodigy, once more I gazed into his bright eyes, crackling and brimming with intelligence and ambition. Once more we shared a smile, a moment untainted even with the fact that, only one of us would remember it enough to write it down.
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Yarkon.
The great city of lights had finally fell after a brutal five year war. It had taken so much from me. My home at the Academy, friends, and my father... people I'd never see again. I took the pain of loss and turned it into rage.
The Legion Alliance stood behind me. War torn elves and battle hardened orcs could be seen amongst humans. All of them had experienced loss. All of them shared my pain. And now, after so long, we were finally here... ready to storm the Chancellors Maison.
The great building shone defiantly against the blackened city of lights. Only it and the raging torches carried by those this "great" city had robbed from them illuminated the city. Shadows danced upon the walls of the maison. It was time.
The war party stood back and gazed at me expectingly. I rose my right hand and gathered strength. I felt my eyes burn with white hot energy, casting green eerie light on all I saw. The power welled from my chest and into the palm of my outstretched hand.
Suddenly the iron clad oak doors cracked and splintered, blown completely off its hinges and ten feet back by the force of my power. *Magic proof that, chancellor* I smirked to myself.
The war party filled the foyer and slashed and tore at any resistance they found. I had a score to settle with the chancellor. I used magic to jump to the rafters, blinking into and out of existence teleporting from wood beam to wood beam.
The chaos the fighting wrought gave me ample ability to find the Chancellors hearing room. And find it I did. I stood before another ornately designed door, cast in iron and oak. It was carved with yarkons history, exaggerated of course. I found it odd that no guards were present. Out of curiosity, I pushed upon the door, and found it was unbolted. The door slid open with a lurching groan. Inside the room was a throne for the "chancellor" signifying just how corrupt him and his empire had become. Upon that throne he sat. Seemingly not worried at all.
"I've come for you Neksa."
"So you have Malak." He said standing up. He calmly removed his coat, leaving him clad in only an undershirt, and pants held up by ornate sterling silver suspenders.
"You've lost this war!" I shouted, "my army stands with me just outside these doors, fighting the last of your remnants. "
"Have I?" He stated, in that smug knowing voice of his. His thick mustached lip curling into a smirk.
My rage could no longer be contained, I rushed at him, pulling my claymore from its sheath. Just as my blade came fully drawn, a crash from above startled my rush. The glass dome shattered as glass fell all around. In the center of the shards stood the one man I had hoped I would never have to lay eyes on again, the man that tore my father from me.
"Ravage, my boy, so good to see you again!" Neksa smiled his sickening smile. " isn't he magnificent, Malak?"
Ravage stood still as a sentinel. His brass-like armor upon every inch of his eight foot body glimmered in the light of his room. Brass tubes and wires poured out the back of his full-face helmet, attaching along his spine and shoulders. His helmets eye openings were covered by golden reflective lenses, from the grate where his mouth is a feiry steam vented in rhythmic breaths.
"I thought I killed you." I said to Ravage, eying the spiral scar down my left arm from our last encounter.
Ravage remained silent.
" You can't kill a titan, boy." Neksa said gleefully. A moment passed. Neksa resumed his chair, and said in passing, "kill him."
The giant sprang to life pulling from his side a seven foot claymore that dwarfed my own. He raised it high above his head, swinging it downward with the force of an earthquake. I darted to the side as the titans blade cracked the marble floor beneath it. Ravage raised his sword and swung in a half crescent as I lifted my blade to deflect the blow. The force of the blade knocked me back several feet... I wasn't gonna be able to block too many of those. ..
Getting desperate, I tried something I suspected wouldn't work, I drew magical essence from my core, and let loose a stream of flame from my outstretched palm. The magical flame licked Ravages armor harmlessly as it slid past it.
Just as suspected, Ravage and his elites ancient enchanted armor still had effect.
I could hear the chancellor laughing as I attempted the arcane. I ignored him. The last time I thought I killed Ravage I threw him into The Rift. There weren't any canyons here though. I was going to have to get creative.
The Giants blade clashed with my own, a flurry of strikes were dodged and blocked as Ravage moved with a speed that betrayed his humanity. I went on the offensive, I began teleporting around the battlefield, appearing around and behind him, landing blows that seemed to just glance off his armor. It was no wonder my father fell to this beast, despite being the Armedon. The titan twirled his blade in a full circle with the force of a whirlwind, it caught the heft of my blade and sliced the metal in two. Ravages blade sliced into my left shoulder, spilling crimson all over the white marble. I couldn't feel my arm.
" you know as well as I that as long as I have Ravage, your army will fall!" Shouted the chancellor. " surrender, and I'll make your imprisonment comfortable. "
I ignored him.
Blood spilled evermore onto the marble. I had to end this fast.
Magic won't hurt him... An impossibly long fall won't kill him... an idea formed in my mind.
I felt my eyes glow green. Roots pushed themselves through the marble, trapping Ravage, Neksa and myself to the ground. The skies darkened, the air thickened, thunder boomed in the distance. The magic tore at my energy, exhausting my being, but I had to finish it, here and now, or never at all. The rumbling of the heavens grew, the wind tore at the metal skeleton of the glass dome, twisting it off. The walls and ceiling followed. I let out a scream, every fiber of my body destroying itself from magical exhaustion. A howling cyclone formed on the center of the room, tearing Ravage from his roots and separating him from his blade. I used the shattered hilt of my sword to cut myself free and followed Ravage into the cyclone.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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The Emperor paced slowly.
The world he had built, the empire he had forged, was burning to ash all around him. Towers that pierced the clouds splintered and fell like so many sticks of wheat to the scyth.
And still the Emperor paced.
He looked to the grand door of his chamber and noticed a lone figure standing as straight as the dire-halbred in his hand. A fancyful combination of polearm and firearm. A display weapon for parades and meeting halls with little combat testing. Today, perhaps, the man weilding the device will prove its worth.
"Soldier," The Emperor began. His voice was complete contradiction to the events occuring just outside the palace windows. "What is your name?"
The soldier turned on a dime, slammed a fist to his chest, "My Lord, I am Nu-Defender 6 Echo of the Palatine Guard."
The Emperor almost sighed *a machine-man then* but smiled softly instead, "Are you so brave to which you stand against the Great Devourer?"
"No, my Lord, I am anything but." The man lowered his hand and half-turned to look at the grand golden door, "I do not understand fear, hatred, or loss. I was not programed such luxuries. But somtimes I wonder..."
He looked back to the Emperor, "What does it mean to die in vain? To fail to such extent that everything strived for and achomplished is not but the ashes of the dead in the wind?"
"Today, Nu-Defender 6 Echo, we will both find out."
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Yarkon.
The great city of lights had finally fell after a brutal five year war. It had taken so much from me. My home at the Academy, friends, and my father... people I'd never see again. I took the pain of loss and turned it into rage.
The Legion Alliance stood behind me. War torn elves and battle hardened orcs could be seen amongst humans. All of them had experienced loss. All of them shared my pain. And now, after so long, we were finally here... ready to storm the Chancellors Maison.
The great building shone defiantly against the blackened city of lights. Only it and the raging torches carried by those this "great" city had robbed from them illuminated the city. Shadows danced upon the walls of the maison. It was time.
The war party stood back and gazed at me expectingly. I rose my right hand and gathered strength. I felt my eyes burn with white hot energy, casting green eerie light on all I saw. The power welled from my chest and into the palm of my outstretched hand.
Suddenly the iron clad oak doors cracked and splintered, blown completely off its hinges and ten feet back by the force of my power. *Magic proof that, chancellor* I smirked to myself.
The war party filled the foyer and slashed and tore at any resistance they found. I had a score to settle with the chancellor. I used magic to jump to the rafters, blinking into and out of existence teleporting from wood beam to wood beam.
The chaos the fighting wrought gave me ample ability to find the Chancellors hearing room. And find it I did. I stood before another ornately designed door, cast in iron and oak. It was carved with yarkons history, exaggerated of course. I found it odd that no guards were present. Out of curiosity, I pushed upon the door, and found it was unbolted. The door slid open with a lurching groan. Inside the room was a throne for the "chancellor" signifying just how corrupt him and his empire had become. Upon that throne he sat. Seemingly not worried at all.
"I've come for you Neksa."
"So you have Malak." He said standing up. He calmly removed his coat, leaving him clad in only an undershirt, and pants held up by ornate sterling silver suspenders.
"You've lost this war!" I shouted, "my army stands with me just outside these doors, fighting the last of your remnants. "
"Have I?" He stated, in that smug knowing voice of his. His thick mustached lip curling into a smirk.
My rage could no longer be contained, I rushed at him, pulling my claymore from its sheath. Just as my blade came fully drawn, a crash from above startled my rush. The glass dome shattered as glass fell all around. In the center of the shards stood the one man I had hoped I would never have to lay eyes on again, the man that tore my father from me.
"Ravage, my boy, so good to see you again!" Neksa smiled his sickening smile. " isn't he magnificent, Malak?"
Ravage stood still as a sentinel. His brass-like armor upon every inch of his eight foot body glimmered in the light of his room. Brass tubes and wires poured out the back of his full-face helmet, attaching along his spine and shoulders. His helmets eye openings were covered by golden reflective lenses, from the grate where his mouth is a feiry steam vented in rhythmic breaths.
"I thought I killed you." I said to Ravage, eying the spiral scar down my left arm from our last encounter.
Ravage remained silent.
" You can't kill a titan, boy." Neksa said gleefully. A moment passed. Neksa resumed his chair, and said in passing, "kill him."
The giant sprang to life pulling from his side a seven foot claymore that dwarfed my own. He raised it high above his head, swinging it downward with the force of an earthquake. I darted to the side as the titans blade cracked the marble floor beneath it. Ravage raised his sword and swung in a half crescent as I lifted my blade to deflect the blow. The force of the blade knocked me back several feet... I wasn't gonna be able to block too many of those. ..
Getting desperate, I tried something I suspected wouldn't work, I drew magical essence from my core, and let loose a stream of flame from my outstretched palm. The magical flame licked Ravages armor harmlessly as it slid past it.
Just as suspected, Ravage and his elites ancient enchanted armor still had effect.
I could hear the chancellor laughing as I attempted the arcane. I ignored him. The last time I thought I killed Ravage I threw him into The Rift. There weren't any canyons here though. I was going to have to get creative.
The Giants blade clashed with my own, a flurry of strikes were dodged and blocked as Ravage moved with a speed that betrayed his humanity. I went on the offensive, I began teleporting around the battlefield, appearing around and behind him, landing blows that seemed to just glance off his armor. It was no wonder my father fell to this beast, despite being the Armedon. The titan twirled his blade in a full circle with the force of a whirlwind, it caught the heft of my blade and sliced the metal in two. Ravages blade sliced into my left shoulder, spilling crimson all over the white marble. I couldn't feel my arm.
" you know as well as I that as long as I have Ravage, your army will fall!" Shouted the chancellor. " surrender, and I'll make your imprisonment comfortable. "
I ignored him.
Blood spilled evermore onto the marble. I had to end this fast.
Magic won't hurt him... An impossibly long fall won't kill him... an idea formed in my mind.
I felt my eyes glow green. Roots pushed themselves through the marble, trapping Ravage, Neksa and myself to the ground. The skies darkened, the air thickened, thunder boomed in the distance. The magic tore at my energy, exhausting my being, but I had to finish it, here and now, or never at all. The rumbling of the heavens grew, the wind tore at the metal skeleton of the glass dome, twisting it off. The walls and ceiling followed. I let out a scream, every fiber of my body destroying itself from magical exhaustion. A howling cyclone formed on the center of the room, tearing Ravage from his roots and separating him from his blade. I used the shattered hilt of my sword to cut myself free and followed Ravage into the cyclone.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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The cries of the mob grew louder. The halls of the palace began to quake. Two men sat across from each other, one in a robe, one in a suit of armor. The robe was a heavily gilded cloth, filled with golden laces and a large leopard’s head. The suit of armor bore the same insignia on the back and on the chest. Between the men was a small table, upon which a game of chess was being played.
“You know that they're going to be here any minute now, right?” The one in the armor stated, looking into the eyes into the man in the robe.
“Hush now Robert, I'm trying to concentrate.” The man in the robe replied. He grabbed a pawn and moved it a space. “Your move.”
Robert spoke, “The doors won't be able to hold them very long, considering that nearly the entire city wants your head. I really think that we should pack, Mitchell.”
“We can wait another minute. I know I can beat you this time.” Mitchell remarked, with a hint of a smile appearing on his face.
“C'mon, you know you can't beat me.” Robert said as he moved his bishop. “You know we need to go.”
Mitchell didn't say a word, he looked intently at the board, and then moved a knight. “Haha, in one move, I will have finished you!” He stated confidently.
Suddenly, a bang erupted from the doors into the room. The mob was right outside, and both men knew the doors wouldn't stand still for long.
“Well, that was faster than expected.” Mitchell said. After a brief pause, he continued, “Alright, lets move. I've had a few close shaves and I'd rather we don't repeat them here”.
“You know, I liked this time period. Next time we come, just make sure to bring more weapons.” Robert stated as he packed up the board.
“Right. Next time we come to the 12th century, I'll bring more pulse rifles.”
Both men laughed, and moved towards a cylindrical machine in the corner of the room. As they walked into the device, they heard the door break down, and the mob screaming into the chamber. “Computer, take us to the 24th century” Robert stated while inside the device. As the mob neared the men, they felt the earth quake. The cylinder quickly closed, and in a flash of light, vanished. The mob stood silent, and in the back, a mumbling could be heard, “Bloody time-travelers. Always ruining a good mob.”
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Yarkon.
The great city of lights had finally fell after a brutal five year war. It had taken so much from me. My home at the Academy, friends, and my father... people I'd never see again. I took the pain of loss and turned it into rage.
The Legion Alliance stood behind me. War torn elves and battle hardened orcs could be seen amongst humans. All of them had experienced loss. All of them shared my pain. And now, after so long, we were finally here... ready to storm the Chancellors Maison.
The great building shone defiantly against the blackened city of lights. Only it and the raging torches carried by those this "great" city had robbed from them illuminated the city. Shadows danced upon the walls of the maison. It was time.
The war party stood back and gazed at me expectingly. I rose my right hand and gathered strength. I felt my eyes burn with white hot energy, casting green eerie light on all I saw. The power welled from my chest and into the palm of my outstretched hand.
Suddenly the iron clad oak doors cracked and splintered, blown completely off its hinges and ten feet back by the force of my power. *Magic proof that, chancellor* I smirked to myself.
The war party filled the foyer and slashed and tore at any resistance they found. I had a score to settle with the chancellor. I used magic to jump to the rafters, blinking into and out of existence teleporting from wood beam to wood beam.
The chaos the fighting wrought gave me ample ability to find the Chancellors hearing room. And find it I did. I stood before another ornately designed door, cast in iron and oak. It was carved with yarkons history, exaggerated of course. I found it odd that no guards were present. Out of curiosity, I pushed upon the door, and found it was unbolted. The door slid open with a lurching groan. Inside the room was a throne for the "chancellor" signifying just how corrupt him and his empire had become. Upon that throne he sat. Seemingly not worried at all.
"I've come for you Neksa."
"So you have Malak." He said standing up. He calmly removed his coat, leaving him clad in only an undershirt, and pants held up by ornate sterling silver suspenders.
"You've lost this war!" I shouted, "my army stands with me just outside these doors, fighting the last of your remnants. "
"Have I?" He stated, in that smug knowing voice of his. His thick mustached lip curling into a smirk.
My rage could no longer be contained, I rushed at him, pulling my claymore from its sheath. Just as my blade came fully drawn, a crash from above startled my rush. The glass dome shattered as glass fell all around. In the center of the shards stood the one man I had hoped I would never have to lay eyes on again, the man that tore my father from me.
"Ravage, my boy, so good to see you again!" Neksa smiled his sickening smile. " isn't he magnificent, Malak?"
Ravage stood still as a sentinel. His brass-like armor upon every inch of his eight foot body glimmered in the light of his room. Brass tubes and wires poured out the back of his full-face helmet, attaching along his spine and shoulders. His helmets eye openings were covered by golden reflective lenses, from the grate where his mouth is a feiry steam vented in rhythmic breaths.
"I thought I killed you." I said to Ravage, eying the spiral scar down my left arm from our last encounter.
Ravage remained silent.
" You can't kill a titan, boy." Neksa said gleefully. A moment passed. Neksa resumed his chair, and said in passing, "kill him."
The giant sprang to life pulling from his side a seven foot claymore that dwarfed my own. He raised it high above his head, swinging it downward with the force of an earthquake. I darted to the side as the titans blade cracked the marble floor beneath it. Ravage raised his sword and swung in a half crescent as I lifted my blade to deflect the blow. The force of the blade knocked me back several feet... I wasn't gonna be able to block too many of those. ..
Getting desperate, I tried something I suspected wouldn't work, I drew magical essence from my core, and let loose a stream of flame from my outstretched palm. The magical flame licked Ravages armor harmlessly as it slid past it.
Just as suspected, Ravage and his elites ancient enchanted armor still had effect.
I could hear the chancellor laughing as I attempted the arcane. I ignored him. The last time I thought I killed Ravage I threw him into The Rift. There weren't any canyons here though. I was going to have to get creative.
The Giants blade clashed with my own, a flurry of strikes were dodged and blocked as Ravage moved with a speed that betrayed his humanity. I went on the offensive, I began teleporting around the battlefield, appearing around and behind him, landing blows that seemed to just glance off his armor. It was no wonder my father fell to this beast, despite being the Armedon. The titan twirled his blade in a full circle with the force of a whirlwind, it caught the heft of my blade and sliced the metal in two. Ravages blade sliced into my left shoulder, spilling crimson all over the white marble. I couldn't feel my arm.
" you know as well as I that as long as I have Ravage, your army will fall!" Shouted the chancellor. " surrender, and I'll make your imprisonment comfortable. "
I ignored him.
Blood spilled evermore onto the marble. I had to end this fast.
Magic won't hurt him... An impossibly long fall won't kill him... an idea formed in my mind.
I felt my eyes glow green. Roots pushed themselves through the marble, trapping Ravage, Neksa and myself to the ground. The skies darkened, the air thickened, thunder boomed in the distance. The magic tore at my energy, exhausting my being, but I had to finish it, here and now, or never at all. The rumbling of the heavens grew, the wind tore at the metal skeleton of the glass dome, twisting it off. The walls and ceiling followed. I let out a scream, every fiber of my body destroying itself from magical exhaustion. A howling cyclone formed on the center of the room, tearing Ravage from his roots and separating him from his blade. I used the shattered hilt of my sword to cut myself free and followed Ravage into the cyclone.
|
|
[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
His training had not prepared him for this - "Rely on the man next to you", those were the words that had been tattooed into his brain. An army was only as strong as its weakest link and the same was true of the imperial bodyguards, the brotherhood sworn to defend the emperor to the last man. But no one had told him what to do when he was the last man.
The emperor rose from the jade throne.
"What is your name son?"
"Higen, Sire"
"Higen. That is a strong name. A warrior's name. Why are you here Higen?"
"To defend you Sire, to serve and defend the state and the divine emperor"
The emperor smiled and looked at Higen for a long time. Explosions shook the palace and the courtyard rung with the sound of clashing steel. To enter the holy city without the leave of the emperor was punishable by death. But rules seemed to matter very little at the moment.
"You don't actually believe that do you Higen?"
"Believe what Sire?"
"Please don't call me that. You don't actually believe that I am divine, do you?"
"Sire?"
"I am just a man Higen, exactly like you. I am as much of a God as you are, no more and no less. When the rebellion executes me, my supposedly sacrosanct head will be removed from my body with surprisingly little opposition from above"
Higen did not know what to say. Was this a trick? Another test? Perhaps the emperor was testing his loyalty in these last moments. Higen watched as the emperor rose from his chair and carefully removed his royal crown and robes. In his undershirt and without the rich garb, the emperor could have been a fishmonger.
"We have our roles to play Higen, for better or worse. I have often wondered where will ends and destiny begins, but this much is certain. You have not been alone in writing the story of your life. Maybe it was a cruel joke that fate had the pen when he wrote you into this room with me. At least you can decide how the next few lines, perhaps your last, will read."
Higen looked down at his clutched hands. He had so many regrets, so many things he wished he had done differently, so much time he had wasted.
"If that is true Sire, then you don't have too many lines left to write either. Perhaps we can both end our stories in a manner we may be proud of."
The emperor smiled. With great care, he put on his robe. Higen placed the crown on the emperor's head and helped the old man onto the throne. Together, they waited as the screams and sounds of pounding feet edged nearer.
Outside, it started to rain.
*Note: I submitted this a few months ago to another WP but it fit so well -- hope I didn't break any rules
|
Yarkon.
The great city of lights had finally fell after a brutal five year war. It had taken so much from me. My home at the Academy, friends, and my father... people I'd never see again. I took the pain of loss and turned it into rage.
The Legion Alliance stood behind me. War torn elves and battle hardened orcs could be seen amongst humans. All of them had experienced loss. All of them shared my pain. And now, after so long, we were finally here... ready to storm the Chancellors Maison.
The great building shone defiantly against the blackened city of lights. Only it and the raging torches carried by those this "great" city had robbed from them illuminated the city. Shadows danced upon the walls of the maison. It was time.
The war party stood back and gazed at me expectingly. I rose my right hand and gathered strength. I felt my eyes burn with white hot energy, casting green eerie light on all I saw. The power welled from my chest and into the palm of my outstretched hand.
Suddenly the iron clad oak doors cracked and splintered, blown completely off its hinges and ten feet back by the force of my power. *Magic proof that, chancellor* I smirked to myself.
The war party filled the foyer and slashed and tore at any resistance they found. I had a score to settle with the chancellor. I used magic to jump to the rafters, blinking into and out of existence teleporting from wood beam to wood beam.
The chaos the fighting wrought gave me ample ability to find the Chancellors hearing room. And find it I did. I stood before another ornately designed door, cast in iron and oak. It was carved with yarkons history, exaggerated of course. I found it odd that no guards were present. Out of curiosity, I pushed upon the door, and found it was unbolted. The door slid open with a lurching groan. Inside the room was a throne for the "chancellor" signifying just how corrupt him and his empire had become. Upon that throne he sat. Seemingly not worried at all.
"I've come for you Neksa."
"So you have Malak." He said standing up. He calmly removed his coat, leaving him clad in only an undershirt, and pants held up by ornate sterling silver suspenders.
"You've lost this war!" I shouted, "my army stands with me just outside these doors, fighting the last of your remnants. "
"Have I?" He stated, in that smug knowing voice of his. His thick mustached lip curling into a smirk.
My rage could no longer be contained, I rushed at him, pulling my claymore from its sheath. Just as my blade came fully drawn, a crash from above startled my rush. The glass dome shattered as glass fell all around. In the center of the shards stood the one man I had hoped I would never have to lay eyes on again, the man that tore my father from me.
"Ravage, my boy, so good to see you again!" Neksa smiled his sickening smile. " isn't he magnificent, Malak?"
Ravage stood still as a sentinel. His brass-like armor upon every inch of his eight foot body glimmered in the light of his room. Brass tubes and wires poured out the back of his full-face helmet, attaching along his spine and shoulders. His helmets eye openings were covered by golden reflective lenses, from the grate where his mouth is a feiry steam vented in rhythmic breaths.
"I thought I killed you." I said to Ravage, eying the spiral scar down my left arm from our last encounter.
Ravage remained silent.
" You can't kill a titan, boy." Neksa said gleefully. A moment passed. Neksa resumed his chair, and said in passing, "kill him."
The giant sprang to life pulling from his side a seven foot claymore that dwarfed my own. He raised it high above his head, swinging it downward with the force of an earthquake. I darted to the side as the titans blade cracked the marble floor beneath it. Ravage raised his sword and swung in a half crescent as I lifted my blade to deflect the blow. The force of the blade knocked me back several feet... I wasn't gonna be able to block too many of those. ..
Getting desperate, I tried something I suspected wouldn't work, I drew magical essence from my core, and let loose a stream of flame from my outstretched palm. The magical flame licked Ravages armor harmlessly as it slid past it.
Just as suspected, Ravage and his elites ancient enchanted armor still had effect.
I could hear the chancellor laughing as I attempted the arcane. I ignored him. The last time I thought I killed Ravage I threw him into The Rift. There weren't any canyons here though. I was going to have to get creative.
The Giants blade clashed with my own, a flurry of strikes were dodged and blocked as Ravage moved with a speed that betrayed his humanity. I went on the offensive, I began teleporting around the battlefield, appearing around and behind him, landing blows that seemed to just glance off his armor. It was no wonder my father fell to this beast, despite being the Armedon. The titan twirled his blade in a full circle with the force of a whirlwind, it caught the heft of my blade and sliced the metal in two. Ravages blade sliced into my left shoulder, spilling crimson all over the white marble. I couldn't feel my arm.
" you know as well as I that as long as I have Ravage, your army will fall!" Shouted the chancellor. " surrender, and I'll make your imprisonment comfortable. "
I ignored him.
Blood spilled evermore onto the marble. I had to end this fast.
Magic won't hurt him... An impossibly long fall won't kill him... an idea formed in my mind.
I felt my eyes glow green. Roots pushed themselves through the marble, trapping Ravage, Neksa and myself to the ground. The skies darkened, the air thickened, thunder boomed in the distance. The magic tore at my energy, exhausting my being, but I had to finish it, here and now, or never at all. The rumbling of the heavens grew, the wind tore at the metal skeleton of the glass dome, twisting it off. The walls and ceiling followed. I let out a scream, every fiber of my body destroying itself from magical exhaustion. A howling cyclone formed on the center of the room, tearing Ravage from his roots and separating him from his blade. I used the shattered hilt of my sword to cut myself free and followed Ravage into the cyclone.
|
|
[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
Cocooned in his survival suit, a solitary scientist focused the camera lens on his life's work. A deep sadness penetrated his objective training, coupled with a sense of shame. Barely a stone's throw from where his Zodiac's inflatable hull was tethered to the iceberg, a handful of Emperor penguins stubbornly occupied the last of their hatching ground as it slowly dissolving in the warm Antarctic water.
The scientist had done what he could to protect them over the decades, even though it lost him publications, promotions, and ultimately, his career. The GPS was turned off, the location a secret to stop the poachers from raiding the site for their billionaire collectors. To own unique specimens of an otherwise extinct species was the new chic of the powerful. The masses of humanity were suffering, but the wealthy could buy their way out of global catastrophe; more air conditioning, personal desalination plants, and private zoos. All the scientist could do was record the outcome of his species' disasterous “experiment”.
Waves lapped up to the huddled penguins. Enperors stood 4 feet tall, with distinctive colouring around their necks, and the scientist had followed this group since hatching 20 years ago. Reduced to a single female, with a single egg, the males took the role of incubating the sacred egg, using their feet as a makeshift nest to isolate it from the frozen ground.
Eventually a small wave broke just high enough to wash over the penguin's feet, cold enough to instantly suck the life-giving warmth from the shell. One by one, the penguins slipped gracefully into the water and swam away.
|
Yarkon.
The great city of lights had finally fell after a brutal five year war. It had taken so much from me. My home at the Academy, friends, and my father... people I'd never see again. I took the pain of loss and turned it into rage.
The Legion Alliance stood behind me. War torn elves and battle hardened orcs could be seen amongst humans. All of them had experienced loss. All of them shared my pain. And now, after so long, we were finally here... ready to storm the Chancellors Maison.
The great building shone defiantly against the blackened city of lights. Only it and the raging torches carried by those this "great" city had robbed from them illuminated the city. Shadows danced upon the walls of the maison. It was time.
The war party stood back and gazed at me expectingly. I rose my right hand and gathered strength. I felt my eyes burn with white hot energy, casting green eerie light on all I saw. The power welled from my chest and into the palm of my outstretched hand.
Suddenly the iron clad oak doors cracked and splintered, blown completely off its hinges and ten feet back by the force of my power. *Magic proof that, chancellor* I smirked to myself.
The war party filled the foyer and slashed and tore at any resistance they found. I had a score to settle with the chancellor. I used magic to jump to the rafters, blinking into and out of existence teleporting from wood beam to wood beam.
The chaos the fighting wrought gave me ample ability to find the Chancellors hearing room. And find it I did. I stood before another ornately designed door, cast in iron and oak. It was carved with yarkons history, exaggerated of course. I found it odd that no guards were present. Out of curiosity, I pushed upon the door, and found it was unbolted. The door slid open with a lurching groan. Inside the room was a throne for the "chancellor" signifying just how corrupt him and his empire had become. Upon that throne he sat. Seemingly not worried at all.
"I've come for you Neksa."
"So you have Malak." He said standing up. He calmly removed his coat, leaving him clad in only an undershirt, and pants held up by ornate sterling silver suspenders.
"You've lost this war!" I shouted, "my army stands with me just outside these doors, fighting the last of your remnants. "
"Have I?" He stated, in that smug knowing voice of his. His thick mustached lip curling into a smirk.
My rage could no longer be contained, I rushed at him, pulling my claymore from its sheath. Just as my blade came fully drawn, a crash from above startled my rush. The glass dome shattered as glass fell all around. In the center of the shards stood the one man I had hoped I would never have to lay eyes on again, the man that tore my father from me.
"Ravage, my boy, so good to see you again!" Neksa smiled his sickening smile. " isn't he magnificent, Malak?"
Ravage stood still as a sentinel. His brass-like armor upon every inch of his eight foot body glimmered in the light of his room. Brass tubes and wires poured out the back of his full-face helmet, attaching along his spine and shoulders. His helmets eye openings were covered by golden reflective lenses, from the grate where his mouth is a feiry steam vented in rhythmic breaths.
"I thought I killed you." I said to Ravage, eying the spiral scar down my left arm from our last encounter.
Ravage remained silent.
" You can't kill a titan, boy." Neksa said gleefully. A moment passed. Neksa resumed his chair, and said in passing, "kill him."
The giant sprang to life pulling from his side a seven foot claymore that dwarfed my own. He raised it high above his head, swinging it downward with the force of an earthquake. I darted to the side as the titans blade cracked the marble floor beneath it. Ravage raised his sword and swung in a half crescent as I lifted my blade to deflect the blow. The force of the blade knocked me back several feet... I wasn't gonna be able to block too many of those. ..
Getting desperate, I tried something I suspected wouldn't work, I drew magical essence from my core, and let loose a stream of flame from my outstretched palm. The magical flame licked Ravages armor harmlessly as it slid past it.
Just as suspected, Ravage and his elites ancient enchanted armor still had effect.
I could hear the chancellor laughing as I attempted the arcane. I ignored him. The last time I thought I killed Ravage I threw him into The Rift. There weren't any canyons here though. I was going to have to get creative.
The Giants blade clashed with my own, a flurry of strikes were dodged and blocked as Ravage moved with a speed that betrayed his humanity. I went on the offensive, I began teleporting around the battlefield, appearing around and behind him, landing blows that seemed to just glance off his armor. It was no wonder my father fell to this beast, despite being the Armedon. The titan twirled his blade in a full circle with the force of a whirlwind, it caught the heft of my blade and sliced the metal in two. Ravages blade sliced into my left shoulder, spilling crimson all over the white marble. I couldn't feel my arm.
" you know as well as I that as long as I have Ravage, your army will fall!" Shouted the chancellor. " surrender, and I'll make your imprisonment comfortable. "
I ignored him.
Blood spilled evermore onto the marble. I had to end this fast.
Magic won't hurt him... An impossibly long fall won't kill him... an idea formed in my mind.
I felt my eyes glow green. Roots pushed themselves through the marble, trapping Ravage, Neksa and myself to the ground. The skies darkened, the air thickened, thunder boomed in the distance. The magic tore at my energy, exhausting my being, but I had to finish it, here and now, or never at all. The rumbling of the heavens grew, the wind tore at the metal skeleton of the glass dome, twisting it off. The walls and ceiling followed. I let out a scream, every fiber of my body destroying itself from magical exhaustion. A howling cyclone formed on the center of the room, tearing Ravage from his roots and separating him from his blade. I used the shattered hilt of my sword to cut myself free and followed Ravage into the cyclone.
|
|
[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
I crouched in front, shield raised; he was standing behind, crosbow loaded, as we had done so many times before. To say he was an upstart would have been quite the understatement. At the brash young age of 23, he had compiled a list of accomplishments that made historians groan due to the sheer magnitude of such a life. From mending the Eastern Wall of Ossos, building the Iron Bridge of Gutaavi, and leading the successful Siege of Berkutz, where he quelled the last of the resistance that had plagued his fathers previous reign. What astounded scholars the most was that he was always in the thick of battle, often in the first charge. So enamored was he with the thrill of battle, and with that the subconscious love of danger, his father hired me, a lowly cutthroat, so be his "bodyguard", as if the lanky bastard needed one. Pfft. Up until this point in time, he was the one guarding me. We'd leave every so often on some monster hunt, riding to the furthest corners of his empire, his army on standby should the whim strike him to occupy a settlement. I know it seems a bit farfetched, but believe these words: the kid was good. He was sharp, and he had the instincts of a grizzled old mercenary captain. Although he barely stood 5'9, he towered over others, me included, dopey 6'4 lug that I am. A lot of that had to do with our battle stance, which was the aforementioned crouching-shield-standing-crossbow formation, which was a little tactic taught to us by another young warlord we had previously encountered. You see, the trick is that the bigger of the two is in front, carrying a shield with enough size to cover your face and that of your companions. After the initial volley of arrows inevitably get fired, the crossbowman hips on the shield-bearers back, continuously firing at the attackers, keeping them behind whatever cover they've taken while we move into better position. It was a move specifially designed for bottleneck situations, which, with him being ever the adventurous ruler, was a situation we found ourselves in quite often. Cursed skeletons, dungeon raiders, possessed priests... We ran the gauntlet in terms of the type of fiends we found ourselves fitting against, actual fiends included. And here we were, fighting the soldiers hired by his treacherous cousin, the Baron of Ossos. After building him a wall. After funding his army. After training his elite band of spellswords that protected him 24/7. Barca the Insane, they called him. His madness spells were what prompted this sudden uprising. The Week of Horrors, the scribes called it. Seven days, Barca and his men decimated seven cities. Gustaavi, Berkutz, Glib, Jehai, Tresta, The Westbank, and the capital city, the Diamond Beacon of the Inner Sea, Marzantium. He coerced corrupt, war-weary generals who were growing tired of the impulsive young conqueror to join his insurrection.
The doors swung open, the volley came. I tightened my arm against the arrows and bolts, waiting until I heard the reassuring clicks and pops of a reload. My companion, like an unholy wraith of vengeance, fired his repeating crossbow, and I shuffled forward, waiting for his right arm to summon the blue fire deep within his gauntlet to blaze an escape path for us. As we got within a few strides of our attackers, he leapt of my back, and I dropped my shield, swinging wildly with the axe I had held in my hand the entire time. The hallway was clear. I motioned for my companion to follow me as I crept out the door. Suddenly, I heard glass shatter behind me and a searing heat. I turned, only to witness a black wyrmling attack the king. He rolled to the side as the wyrmling spat fire from its maw. I charged at the beast, swinging my axe down its outstretched left wing. It flinched and shrieked as it turned to face me. It began to shrivel in size, transforming and shifting its appearance, until the laughing, mirthful face of Barca the Insane stared back at me, his left arm intact.
I carefully crept to the side of my liege, never taking my gaze off the shapeshifting usurper. He kept laughing, clapping his hands as he did, even as he watched the young king fit another bolt cartridge into his repeating crossbow. It was only when my king, my adopted son, my boy, had his crossbow to the traitors head did his expression change. His eyes met mine, and I knew what to do. I put my hand on my kings shoulder, the conqueror, the hero, the engineer, the prodigy, once more I gazed into his bright eyes, crackling and brimming with intelligence and ambition. Once more we shared a smile, a moment untainted even with the fact that, only one of us would remember it enough to write it down.
|
BOOM.
The sound echoed through the hall. The doors shuddered as the guard backed away.
BOOM.
The guard turned and saw a man huddled in the throne, he was mumbling erratically to himself.
BOOM.
The guard approached his king, climbing the stairs with his hand on his hilt
BOOM.
"They will not take it from me," the king shrieked as he jumped out of his throne.
BOOM.
"I am their king, they will bow before me or they will burn. I am the dragon."
All the guard could hear was the beat of his own heart as he shoved his sword through the king's chest.
He almost fell back into the throne unable to believe he had just killed the man he swore his life to protect.
"Jaime?"
|
|
[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
The Emperor paced slowly.
The world he had built, the empire he had forged, was burning to ash all around him. Towers that pierced the clouds splintered and fell like so many sticks of wheat to the scyth.
And still the Emperor paced.
He looked to the grand door of his chamber and noticed a lone figure standing as straight as the dire-halbred in his hand. A fancyful combination of polearm and firearm. A display weapon for parades and meeting halls with little combat testing. Today, perhaps, the man weilding the device will prove its worth.
"Soldier," The Emperor began. His voice was complete contradiction to the events occuring just outside the palace windows. "What is your name?"
The soldier turned on a dime, slammed a fist to his chest, "My Lord, I am Nu-Defender 6 Echo of the Palatine Guard."
The Emperor almost sighed *a machine-man then* but smiled softly instead, "Are you so brave to which you stand against the Great Devourer?"
"No, my Lord, I am anything but." The man lowered his hand and half-turned to look at the grand golden door, "I do not understand fear, hatred, or loss. I was not programed such luxuries. But somtimes I wonder..."
He looked back to the Emperor, "What does it mean to die in vain? To fail to such extent that everything strived for and achomplished is not but the ashes of the dead in the wind?"
"Today, Nu-Defender 6 Echo, we will both find out."
|
BOOM.
The sound echoed through the hall. The doors shuddered as the guard backed away.
BOOM.
The guard turned and saw a man huddled in the throne, he was mumbling erratically to himself.
BOOM.
The guard approached his king, climbing the stairs with his hand on his hilt
BOOM.
"They will not take it from me," the king shrieked as he jumped out of his throne.
BOOM.
"I am their king, they will bow before me or they will burn. I am the dragon."
All the guard could hear was the beat of his own heart as he shoved his sword through the king's chest.
He almost fell back into the throne unable to believe he had just killed the man he swore his life to protect.
"Jaime?"
|
|
[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
His training had not prepared him for this - "Rely on the man next to you", those were the words that had been tattooed into his brain. An army was only as strong as its weakest link and the same was true of the imperial bodyguards, the brotherhood sworn to defend the emperor to the last man. But no one had told him what to do when he was the last man.
The emperor rose from the jade throne.
"What is your name son?"
"Higen, Sire"
"Higen. That is a strong name. A warrior's name. Why are you here Higen?"
"To defend you Sire, to serve and defend the state and the divine emperor"
The emperor smiled and looked at Higen for a long time. Explosions shook the palace and the courtyard rung with the sound of clashing steel. To enter the holy city without the leave of the emperor was punishable by death. But rules seemed to matter very little at the moment.
"You don't actually believe that do you Higen?"
"Believe what Sire?"
"Please don't call me that. You don't actually believe that I am divine, do you?"
"Sire?"
"I am just a man Higen, exactly like you. I am as much of a God as you are, no more and no less. When the rebellion executes me, my supposedly sacrosanct head will be removed from my body with surprisingly little opposition from above"
Higen did not know what to say. Was this a trick? Another test? Perhaps the emperor was testing his loyalty in these last moments. Higen watched as the emperor rose from his chair and carefully removed his royal crown and robes. In his undershirt and without the rich garb, the emperor could have been a fishmonger.
"We have our roles to play Higen, for better or worse. I have often wondered where will ends and destiny begins, but this much is certain. You have not been alone in writing the story of your life. Maybe it was a cruel joke that fate had the pen when he wrote you into this room with me. At least you can decide how the next few lines, perhaps your last, will read."
Higen looked down at his clutched hands. He had so many regrets, so many things he wished he had done differently, so much time he had wasted.
"If that is true Sire, then you don't have too many lines left to write either. Perhaps we can both end our stories in a manner we may be proud of."
The emperor smiled. With great care, he put on his robe. Higen placed the crown on the emperor's head and helped the old man onto the throne. Together, they waited as the screams and sounds of pounding feet edged nearer.
Outside, it started to rain.
*Note: I submitted this a few months ago to another WP but it fit so well -- hope I didn't break any rules
|
BOOM.
The sound echoed through the hall. The doors shuddered as the guard backed away.
BOOM.
The guard turned and saw a man huddled in the throne, he was mumbling erratically to himself.
BOOM.
The guard approached his king, climbing the stairs with his hand on his hilt
BOOM.
"They will not take it from me," the king shrieked as he jumped out of his throne.
BOOM.
"I am their king, they will bow before me or they will burn. I am the dragon."
All the guard could hear was the beat of his own heart as he shoved his sword through the king's chest.
He almost fell back into the throne unable to believe he had just killed the man he swore his life to protect.
"Jaime?"
|
|
[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
Cocooned in his survival suit, a solitary scientist focused the camera lens on his life's work. A deep sadness penetrated his objective training, coupled with a sense of shame. Barely a stone's throw from where his Zodiac's inflatable hull was tethered to the iceberg, a handful of Emperor penguins stubbornly occupied the last of their hatching ground as it slowly dissolving in the warm Antarctic water.
The scientist had done what he could to protect them over the decades, even though it lost him publications, promotions, and ultimately, his career. The GPS was turned off, the location a secret to stop the poachers from raiding the site for their billionaire collectors. To own unique specimens of an otherwise extinct species was the new chic of the powerful. The masses of humanity were suffering, but the wealthy could buy their way out of global catastrophe; more air conditioning, personal desalination plants, and private zoos. All the scientist could do was record the outcome of his species' disasterous “experiment”.
Waves lapped up to the huddled penguins. Enperors stood 4 feet tall, with distinctive colouring around their necks, and the scientist had followed this group since hatching 20 years ago. Reduced to a single female, with a single egg, the males took the role of incubating the sacred egg, using their feet as a makeshift nest to isolate it from the frozen ground.
Eventually a small wave broke just high enough to wash over the penguin's feet, cold enough to instantly suck the life-giving warmth from the shell. One by one, the penguins slipped gracefully into the water and swam away.
|
BOOM.
The sound echoed through the hall. The doors shuddered as the guard backed away.
BOOM.
The guard turned and saw a man huddled in the throne, he was mumbling erratically to himself.
BOOM.
The guard approached his king, climbing the stairs with his hand on his hilt
BOOM.
"They will not take it from me," the king shrieked as he jumped out of his throne.
BOOM.
"I am their king, they will bow before me or they will burn. I am the dragon."
All the guard could hear was the beat of his own heart as he shoved his sword through the king's chest.
He almost fell back into the throne unable to believe he had just killed the man he swore his life to protect.
"Jaime?"
|
|
[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
The Emperor paced slowly.
The world he had built, the empire he had forged, was burning to ash all around him. Towers that pierced the clouds splintered and fell like so many sticks of wheat to the scyth.
And still the Emperor paced.
He looked to the grand door of his chamber and noticed a lone figure standing as straight as the dire-halbred in his hand. A fancyful combination of polearm and firearm. A display weapon for parades and meeting halls with little combat testing. Today, perhaps, the man weilding the device will prove its worth.
"Soldier," The Emperor began. His voice was complete contradiction to the events occuring just outside the palace windows. "What is your name?"
The soldier turned on a dime, slammed a fist to his chest, "My Lord, I am Nu-Defender 6 Echo of the Palatine Guard."
The Emperor almost sighed *a machine-man then* but smiled softly instead, "Are you so brave to which you stand against the Great Devourer?"
"No, my Lord, I am anything but." The man lowered his hand and half-turned to look at the grand golden door, "I do not understand fear, hatred, or loss. I was not programed such luxuries. But somtimes I wonder..."
He looked back to the Emperor, "What does it mean to die in vain? To fail to such extent that everything strived for and achomplished is not but the ashes of the dead in the wind?"
"Today, Nu-Defender 6 Echo, we will both find out."
|
"Bring me wine, boy."
Lucius couldn't believe his ears.
"Your Grace," Lucius began.
"Pour yourself a glass as well, I suppose."
"This is hardly the time to be-"
"Well we've not much time left!" snapped the King.
"Your Grace I must insist-"
"Enough with the titles. We all turn to dust in the end. Bring me wine!"
Lucius was dumbfounded. The King waited for him to move for a few moments until-
"I suppose I'll just do it myself then."
The King rose from his throne, waddled across the hall and poured himself a glass of wine, which he swallowed in one gulp. With a belch, he threw the goblet to the ground.
Satisfied, he poured another glass for Lucius and held it out for him, smiling. Lucius cautiously accepted the goblet, and began to drink. The King smiled until Lucius had finished, and then clapped once.
"Now then," said the King, "down to business. What is your name, boy?"
Lucius snapped back to his senses.
"Lucius."
"Lucius," the king repeated in a haze.
BOOM! The door to the throne room shook. They were just outside. Lucius took up his sword and stood in a defensive stance.
"Lucius, there will be no need for that."
Lucius looked at the King curiously.
"My boy," said the King, "Do you know how long this kingdom has stood?"
Lucius took a moment, but he did not know. He shook his head.
"Two thousand years," the King spoke softly now. "*Two thousand years* this castle has stood, and for two thousand years my family has ruled. After two millennia, we are all that's left. My heir has been killed, my armies have retreated. It all comes down to me, you, and two glasses of wine."
Lucius didn't know how to react. The King continued,
"The point is, my boy, that everything ends. It's the way of nature, and there is nothing we can do about it. Two thousand years is a hell of a reign, and we should be proud that we made it this far."
BOOM! The throne room door began to splinter.
"Ah, it seems our guests are arriving any minute now."
The King coughed heavily as he set the wine back down on the table.
"I fear," he wheezed, "That we don't have enough wine for all of them."
Lucius laughed.
"Understatement of the year," Lucius said. They could hear the yells and hollers from the twenty thousand men outside, each of them clamoring to be the knight who slays the King.
"I wonder who it will be," the King spoke very quietly now, "Someone is sure to get a handsome reward for my head."
"Well," laughed Lucius, "It's quite the handsome head."
The King roared with laughter, and stopped for a violent coughing fit.
"I don't want to give them the satisfaction," he spoke.
Lucius noticed it now; blood streaming from the King's mouth.
"You know, I always worried about how I would die," pondered the King, "I've never wanted to be stabbed, it seems so... bleak. You watch your innards spill, and know that you are to die, and there is nothing you can do."
Lucius's throat began to seize up, and he began to cough. His eyes widened with horror as he realized what was happening to him.
BOOM! The doors were flexing at a frightening rate.
"Do not fear death, Lucius. It's better this way."
Lucius locked eyes with the King and slowly nodded.
BOOM! The doors swung open, soldiers began to run in, swords raised high above their heads.
The King fell to the ground, coughing and sputtering. Lucius followed suit.
The soldiers, it seemed, were moving in slow motion. So this is what it's like to die, thought Lucius. He glanced over to the King, and saw him dead on the ground.
He switched his gaze over to the approaching crowd. He would be next, he just prayed he died before they reached him.
His vision began to fade, and he felt the grip of death wrap around his throat. It was warm, surprisingly. Like an embrace.
As he lay dying, he locked eyes with one of the approaching soldiers. Time was moving so slowly. The soldier looked young, not yet fifteen. The young boy's eyes were wide, with a mixture of excitement and fright. Lucius saw something curious, a small rose pinned to the soldiers chainmail. This young boy had a woman at home.
His vision was almost black now. He couldn't hear anything anymore. He wondered about this woman that the soldier was involved with. He wondered if she was pretty.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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His training had not prepared him for this - "Rely on the man next to you", those were the words that had been tattooed into his brain. An army was only as strong as its weakest link and the same was true of the imperial bodyguards, the brotherhood sworn to defend the emperor to the last man. But no one had told him what to do when he was the last man.
The emperor rose from the jade throne.
"What is your name son?"
"Higen, Sire"
"Higen. That is a strong name. A warrior's name. Why are you here Higen?"
"To defend you Sire, to serve and defend the state and the divine emperor"
The emperor smiled and looked at Higen for a long time. Explosions shook the palace and the courtyard rung with the sound of clashing steel. To enter the holy city without the leave of the emperor was punishable by death. But rules seemed to matter very little at the moment.
"You don't actually believe that do you Higen?"
"Believe what Sire?"
"Please don't call me that. You don't actually believe that I am divine, do you?"
"Sire?"
"I am just a man Higen, exactly like you. I am as much of a God as you are, no more and no less. When the rebellion executes me, my supposedly sacrosanct head will be removed from my body with surprisingly little opposition from above"
Higen did not know what to say. Was this a trick? Another test? Perhaps the emperor was testing his loyalty in these last moments. Higen watched as the emperor rose from his chair and carefully removed his royal crown and robes. In his undershirt and without the rich garb, the emperor could have been a fishmonger.
"We have our roles to play Higen, for better or worse. I have often wondered where will ends and destiny begins, but this much is certain. You have not been alone in writing the story of your life. Maybe it was a cruel joke that fate had the pen when he wrote you into this room with me. At least you can decide how the next few lines, perhaps your last, will read."
Higen looked down at his clutched hands. He had so many regrets, so many things he wished he had done differently, so much time he had wasted.
"If that is true Sire, then you don't have too many lines left to write either. Perhaps we can both end our stories in a manner we may be proud of."
The emperor smiled. With great care, he put on his robe. Higen placed the crown on the emperor's head and helped the old man onto the throne. Together, they waited as the screams and sounds of pounding feet edged nearer.
Outside, it started to rain.
*Note: I submitted this a few months ago to another WP but it fit so well -- hope I didn't break any rules
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"Bring me wine, boy."
Lucius couldn't believe his ears.
"Your Grace," Lucius began.
"Pour yourself a glass as well, I suppose."
"This is hardly the time to be-"
"Well we've not much time left!" snapped the King.
"Your Grace I must insist-"
"Enough with the titles. We all turn to dust in the end. Bring me wine!"
Lucius was dumbfounded. The King waited for him to move for a few moments until-
"I suppose I'll just do it myself then."
The King rose from his throne, waddled across the hall and poured himself a glass of wine, which he swallowed in one gulp. With a belch, he threw the goblet to the ground.
Satisfied, he poured another glass for Lucius and held it out for him, smiling. Lucius cautiously accepted the goblet, and began to drink. The King smiled until Lucius had finished, and then clapped once.
"Now then," said the King, "down to business. What is your name, boy?"
Lucius snapped back to his senses.
"Lucius."
"Lucius," the king repeated in a haze.
BOOM! The door to the throne room shook. They were just outside. Lucius took up his sword and stood in a defensive stance.
"Lucius, there will be no need for that."
Lucius looked at the King curiously.
"My boy," said the King, "Do you know how long this kingdom has stood?"
Lucius took a moment, but he did not know. He shook his head.
"Two thousand years," the King spoke softly now. "*Two thousand years* this castle has stood, and for two thousand years my family has ruled. After two millennia, we are all that's left. My heir has been killed, my armies have retreated. It all comes down to me, you, and two glasses of wine."
Lucius didn't know how to react. The King continued,
"The point is, my boy, that everything ends. It's the way of nature, and there is nothing we can do about it. Two thousand years is a hell of a reign, and we should be proud that we made it this far."
BOOM! The throne room door began to splinter.
"Ah, it seems our guests are arriving any minute now."
The King coughed heavily as he set the wine back down on the table.
"I fear," he wheezed, "That we don't have enough wine for all of them."
Lucius laughed.
"Understatement of the year," Lucius said. They could hear the yells and hollers from the twenty thousand men outside, each of them clamoring to be the knight who slays the King.
"I wonder who it will be," the King spoke very quietly now, "Someone is sure to get a handsome reward for my head."
"Well," laughed Lucius, "It's quite the handsome head."
The King roared with laughter, and stopped for a violent coughing fit.
"I don't want to give them the satisfaction," he spoke.
Lucius noticed it now; blood streaming from the King's mouth.
"You know, I always worried about how I would die," pondered the King, "I've never wanted to be stabbed, it seems so... bleak. You watch your innards spill, and know that you are to die, and there is nothing you can do."
Lucius's throat began to seize up, and he began to cough. His eyes widened with horror as he realized what was happening to him.
BOOM! The doors were flexing at a frightening rate.
"Do not fear death, Lucius. It's better this way."
Lucius locked eyes with the King and slowly nodded.
BOOM! The doors swung open, soldiers began to run in, swords raised high above their heads.
The King fell to the ground, coughing and sputtering. Lucius followed suit.
The soldiers, it seemed, were moving in slow motion. So this is what it's like to die, thought Lucius. He glanced over to the King, and saw him dead on the ground.
He switched his gaze over to the approaching crowd. He would be next, he just prayed he died before they reached him.
His vision began to fade, and he felt the grip of death wrap around his throat. It was warm, surprisingly. Like an embrace.
As he lay dying, he locked eyes with one of the approaching soldiers. Time was moving so slowly. The soldier looked young, not yet fifteen. The young boy's eyes were wide, with a mixture of excitement and fright. Lucius saw something curious, a small rose pinned to the soldiers chainmail. This young boy had a woman at home.
His vision was almost black now. He couldn't hear anything anymore. He wondered about this woman that the soldier was involved with. He wondered if she was pretty.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
Cocooned in his survival suit, a solitary scientist focused the camera lens on his life's work. A deep sadness penetrated his objective training, coupled with a sense of shame. Barely a stone's throw from where his Zodiac's inflatable hull was tethered to the iceberg, a handful of Emperor penguins stubbornly occupied the last of their hatching ground as it slowly dissolving in the warm Antarctic water.
The scientist had done what he could to protect them over the decades, even though it lost him publications, promotions, and ultimately, his career. The GPS was turned off, the location a secret to stop the poachers from raiding the site for their billionaire collectors. To own unique specimens of an otherwise extinct species was the new chic of the powerful. The masses of humanity were suffering, but the wealthy could buy their way out of global catastrophe; more air conditioning, personal desalination plants, and private zoos. All the scientist could do was record the outcome of his species' disasterous “experiment”.
Waves lapped up to the huddled penguins. Enperors stood 4 feet tall, with distinctive colouring around their necks, and the scientist had followed this group since hatching 20 years ago. Reduced to a single female, with a single egg, the males took the role of incubating the sacred egg, using their feet as a makeshift nest to isolate it from the frozen ground.
Eventually a small wave broke just high enough to wash over the penguin's feet, cold enough to instantly suck the life-giving warmth from the shell. One by one, the penguins slipped gracefully into the water and swam away.
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"Bring me wine, boy."
Lucius couldn't believe his ears.
"Your Grace," Lucius began.
"Pour yourself a glass as well, I suppose."
"This is hardly the time to be-"
"Well we've not much time left!" snapped the King.
"Your Grace I must insist-"
"Enough with the titles. We all turn to dust in the end. Bring me wine!"
Lucius was dumbfounded. The King waited for him to move for a few moments until-
"I suppose I'll just do it myself then."
The King rose from his throne, waddled across the hall and poured himself a glass of wine, which he swallowed in one gulp. With a belch, he threw the goblet to the ground.
Satisfied, he poured another glass for Lucius and held it out for him, smiling. Lucius cautiously accepted the goblet, and began to drink. The King smiled until Lucius had finished, and then clapped once.
"Now then," said the King, "down to business. What is your name, boy?"
Lucius snapped back to his senses.
"Lucius."
"Lucius," the king repeated in a haze.
BOOM! The door to the throne room shook. They were just outside. Lucius took up his sword and stood in a defensive stance.
"Lucius, there will be no need for that."
Lucius looked at the King curiously.
"My boy," said the King, "Do you know how long this kingdom has stood?"
Lucius took a moment, but he did not know. He shook his head.
"Two thousand years," the King spoke softly now. "*Two thousand years* this castle has stood, and for two thousand years my family has ruled. After two millennia, we are all that's left. My heir has been killed, my armies have retreated. It all comes down to me, you, and two glasses of wine."
Lucius didn't know how to react. The King continued,
"The point is, my boy, that everything ends. It's the way of nature, and there is nothing we can do about it. Two thousand years is a hell of a reign, and we should be proud that we made it this far."
BOOM! The throne room door began to splinter.
"Ah, it seems our guests are arriving any minute now."
The King coughed heavily as he set the wine back down on the table.
"I fear," he wheezed, "That we don't have enough wine for all of them."
Lucius laughed.
"Understatement of the year," Lucius said. They could hear the yells and hollers from the twenty thousand men outside, each of them clamoring to be the knight who slays the King.
"I wonder who it will be," the King spoke very quietly now, "Someone is sure to get a handsome reward for my head."
"Well," laughed Lucius, "It's quite the handsome head."
The King roared with laughter, and stopped for a violent coughing fit.
"I don't want to give them the satisfaction," he spoke.
Lucius noticed it now; blood streaming from the King's mouth.
"You know, I always worried about how I would die," pondered the King, "I've never wanted to be stabbed, it seems so... bleak. You watch your innards spill, and know that you are to die, and there is nothing you can do."
Lucius's throat began to seize up, and he began to cough. His eyes widened with horror as he realized what was happening to him.
BOOM! The doors were flexing at a frightening rate.
"Do not fear death, Lucius. It's better this way."
Lucius locked eyes with the King and slowly nodded.
BOOM! The doors swung open, soldiers began to run in, swords raised high above their heads.
The King fell to the ground, coughing and sputtering. Lucius followed suit.
The soldiers, it seemed, were moving in slow motion. So this is what it's like to die, thought Lucius. He glanced over to the King, and saw him dead on the ground.
He switched his gaze over to the approaching crowd. He would be next, he just prayed he died before they reached him.
His vision began to fade, and he felt the grip of death wrap around his throat. It was warm, surprisingly. Like an embrace.
As he lay dying, he locked eyes with one of the approaching soldiers. Time was moving so slowly. The soldier looked young, not yet fifteen. The young boy's eyes were wide, with a mixture of excitement and fright. Lucius saw something curious, a small rose pinned to the soldiers chainmail. This young boy had a woman at home.
His vision was almost black now. He couldn't hear anything anymore. He wondered about this woman that the soldier was involved with. He wondered if she was pretty.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
The Emperor paced slowly.
The world he had built, the empire he had forged, was burning to ash all around him. Towers that pierced the clouds splintered and fell like so many sticks of wheat to the scyth.
And still the Emperor paced.
He looked to the grand door of his chamber and noticed a lone figure standing as straight as the dire-halbred in his hand. A fancyful combination of polearm and firearm. A display weapon for parades and meeting halls with little combat testing. Today, perhaps, the man weilding the device will prove its worth.
"Soldier," The Emperor began. His voice was complete contradiction to the events occuring just outside the palace windows. "What is your name?"
The soldier turned on a dime, slammed a fist to his chest, "My Lord, I am Nu-Defender 6 Echo of the Palatine Guard."
The Emperor almost sighed *a machine-man then* but smiled softly instead, "Are you so brave to which you stand against the Great Devourer?"
"No, my Lord, I am anything but." The man lowered his hand and half-turned to look at the grand golden door, "I do not understand fear, hatred, or loss. I was not programed such luxuries. But somtimes I wonder..."
He looked back to the Emperor, "What does it mean to die in vain? To fail to such extent that everything strived for and achomplished is not but the ashes of the dead in the wind?"
"Today, Nu-Defender 6 Echo, we will both find out."
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The revolution had reached the castle. It had begun in the slums with angry, hungry peasants. The guards that refused to supply them with food that no longer existed were greeted with insults. The insults quickly evolved into thrown rocks, and then pitchforks and torches. The overwhelmed guards were tossed aside as a mob of thousands began storming the last place they believed still had food: the castle.
Within, the raging mob murdered whomever they wished, and stole whatever they desired. Before long, the only secure room left was the throne room. The King and his Head Guard sought shelter here.
The young king on the throne looked regal in his royal clothing. An ornate crown of the finest gold rested on his head. A flowing purple satin cape acted as a buffer between him and the throne. Despite the elegance of his appearance, a closer look would reveal that all of the clothing was a bit too large for him, adding a comical look to the young man.
Nearby stood an old man, the Head Guard. He had a much more modest orange coat on, adorned with the kingdom’s crest, a blazing red phoenix rising from ashes. He stared contemplatively at the floor, and only lifted his head when the mob reached the large, oaken doors protecting them.
“I did my duty, did I not?” The king asked. The mixture of pubescent angst and mortal fear produced an unwanted crack in his voice. The old man nodded. “Admirably.”
The king seemed relieved by this, but his eyes remained red and watery, and he continually fidgeted in his seat. “They sound quite angry.” He mentioned, nodding towards the doors.
The old man nodded once more. “They have every right to be. They were promised rain that never poured onto crops that never grew.” The growls of the hungry wafted through the throne room.
“They were promised medicine that simply could not be made in time.” The moans of the sick and the destitute seeped through the walls.
“They were promised an army that would expand our borders to the far corners of the earth. They received a collection of boys and old men that could not protect even our own gates.” The shrieks of the widows and mothers shook the very foundations of the castle.
The guard sighed. “The masses are a fickle creature. A beast that cannot be tamed. A wild dog that has no qualms about eating from your hand, but will gnaw that hand off should you attempt to leash it.” He rubbed his left hand, which was missing three fingers.
A yell was taken up by those at the front of the mob, and carried far back. Moments later, the crack and splintering of wood signaled the arrival of axes. The guard placed his hand on his sword, and slowly drew it out. “You needn’t do this, you know.”
The young man on the throne resolutely shook his head. Tears began streaming down his face, and he shook every time an axe struck the door. “You are wrong. I must. My father, and his father before him would have done it. So shall I. I shall do it for them. I shall do it for those outside. I shall do it for this beautiful country. But mostly, I do this for you, my liege.”
The old man in the guard suit that was a bit too small approached, with sword drawn, the young man in the royal clothes that were too large for him. “You have shown me nothing but kindness since I took this position, your highness, and I would like for nothing more than to perish by your hands.” The young man said as the king placed the tip of his sword against his heart.
His hands shook. His own voice began to crack as he whispered. “My family thanks you. I thank you.” The young man closed his eyes, and steadied his breath. When he opened them, he had aged a hundred years. He looked into the old man’s eyes, and said, “I am ready.”
The old man plunged the sword through the luxurious satin clothing. The young guard gave a slight gasp, and trembled. “Such fine clothing, your excellency.” He said. “I couldn’t…think of a…finer attire…to…” His voice trailed off as his body went limp in the throne.
The doors broke open with a crash. Screaming, yelling, cursing masses poured through, driven only by greed and lust at this point. Some cheered at the sight of the dead king and the guard with the bloody sword. They hurrahed and clapped the old man on the back, and dragged the body outside, where they would no doubt put it on display.
Mostly, though, the mob ravaged. Tapestries were torn from the walls. Gold and silver chalices were fought for and killed over. Busts of the king’s ancestors were knocked from pedestals, and shattered on the ground. They swarmed into every corner of the throne room.
The king watched it all. He slid the bloody sword into its scabbard, and sat on the all too familiar throne one last time.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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I crouched in front, shield raised; he was standing behind, crosbow loaded, as we had done so many times before. To say he was an upstart would have been quite the understatement. At the brash young age of 23, he had compiled a list of accomplishments that made historians groan due to the sheer magnitude of such a life. From mending the Eastern Wall of Ossos, building the Iron Bridge of Gutaavi, and leading the successful Siege of Berkutz, where he quelled the last of the resistance that had plagued his fathers previous reign. What astounded scholars the most was that he was always in the thick of battle, often in the first charge. So enamored was he with the thrill of battle, and with that the subconscious love of danger, his father hired me, a lowly cutthroat, so be his "bodyguard", as if the lanky bastard needed one. Pfft. Up until this point in time, he was the one guarding me. We'd leave every so often on some monster hunt, riding to the furthest corners of his empire, his army on standby should the whim strike him to occupy a settlement. I know it seems a bit farfetched, but believe these words: the kid was good. He was sharp, and he had the instincts of a grizzled old mercenary captain. Although he barely stood 5'9, he towered over others, me included, dopey 6'4 lug that I am. A lot of that had to do with our battle stance, which was the aforementioned crouching-shield-standing-crossbow formation, which was a little tactic taught to us by another young warlord we had previously encountered. You see, the trick is that the bigger of the two is in front, carrying a shield with enough size to cover your face and that of your companions. After the initial volley of arrows inevitably get fired, the crossbowman hips on the shield-bearers back, continuously firing at the attackers, keeping them behind whatever cover they've taken while we move into better position. It was a move specifially designed for bottleneck situations, which, with him being ever the adventurous ruler, was a situation we found ourselves in quite often. Cursed skeletons, dungeon raiders, possessed priests... We ran the gauntlet in terms of the type of fiends we found ourselves fitting against, actual fiends included. And here we were, fighting the soldiers hired by his treacherous cousin, the Baron of Ossos. After building him a wall. After funding his army. After training his elite band of spellswords that protected him 24/7. Barca the Insane, they called him. His madness spells were what prompted this sudden uprising. The Week of Horrors, the scribes called it. Seven days, Barca and his men decimated seven cities. Gustaavi, Berkutz, Glib, Jehai, Tresta, The Westbank, and the capital city, the Diamond Beacon of the Inner Sea, Marzantium. He coerced corrupt, war-weary generals who were growing tired of the impulsive young conqueror to join his insurrection.
The doors swung open, the volley came. I tightened my arm against the arrows and bolts, waiting until I heard the reassuring clicks and pops of a reload. My companion, like an unholy wraith of vengeance, fired his repeating crossbow, and I shuffled forward, waiting for his right arm to summon the blue fire deep within his gauntlet to blaze an escape path for us. As we got within a few strides of our attackers, he leapt of my back, and I dropped my shield, swinging wildly with the axe I had held in my hand the entire time. The hallway was clear. I motioned for my companion to follow me as I crept out the door. Suddenly, I heard glass shatter behind me and a searing heat. I turned, only to witness a black wyrmling attack the king. He rolled to the side as the wyrmling spat fire from its maw. I charged at the beast, swinging my axe down its outstretched left wing. It flinched and shrieked as it turned to face me. It began to shrivel in size, transforming and shifting its appearance, until the laughing, mirthful face of Barca the Insane stared back at me, his left arm intact.
I carefully crept to the side of my liege, never taking my gaze off the shapeshifting usurper. He kept laughing, clapping his hands as he did, even as he watched the young king fit another bolt cartridge into his repeating crossbow. It was only when my king, my adopted son, my boy, had his crossbow to the traitors head did his expression change. His eyes met mine, and I knew what to do. I put my hand on my kings shoulder, the conqueror, the hero, the engineer, the prodigy, once more I gazed into his bright eyes, crackling and brimming with intelligence and ambition. Once more we shared a smile, a moment untainted even with the fact that, only one of us would remember it enough to write it down.
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As he knelt before the Emperor, who's visage was cold and expressionless, the Horizon Knight spoke the last rite.
"May your soul be untainted by your enemies weapon, and your death be quick and merciful by the hand of your legion, my fateful ruler"
The unnamed knight learned these words to be his highest responsibility centuries ago, and spoke them in a roaring breath as the treasonous High Guard broke into the throne room. The Horizon Knight raised to a forward stance in a flash of the moment, arming his Caladbolg in the same movement. His great sword was too unwieldy for any other knight to bare, and the runes inscribed upon it bestowed a fiery magic that left a lasting effect after he struck, which would immolate any unlucky survivor of his harsh strike.
In a twisting movement the Horizon Knight heaved the blade in an upward slice through the Emperor, splitting him in two whilst facing the enemy and bringing his legendary sword crashing to the ground. The blade roared a beam of fire across the hall into the enemies ranks, which echoed a brilliant explosion through the High Palace. The gargantuan knight, doubling the size of the largest of enemies he faced, stomped down the stairs to the throne, his massive steel-clad boots cracked the edges of the stairs and imprinted his fury on them.
As the Horizon Knight closed in on the High Guard remaining, he screamed out "Legion falls upon you fowl wretches" and pulled his helm free from the cuirass it was connected to, revealing his mighty head. His eye's seethed what looked to be black fire, the remaining High Guard knew their fate was sealed, they had failed to capture the empire and would be buried in the ruins of the High Palace.
Long ago the monstrous knight had been slayed, unbeknownst to all except the emperor who slayed him, only to resurrect him as a Dread Demon. Their worst fears were true, the emperor practiced dark conjuration, and in his death would reform into a demon as they die helplessly.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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The Emperor paced slowly.
The world he had built, the empire he had forged, was burning to ash all around him. Towers that pierced the clouds splintered and fell like so many sticks of wheat to the scyth.
And still the Emperor paced.
He looked to the grand door of his chamber and noticed a lone figure standing as straight as the dire-halbred in his hand. A fancyful combination of polearm and firearm. A display weapon for parades and meeting halls with little combat testing. Today, perhaps, the man weilding the device will prove its worth.
"Soldier," The Emperor began. His voice was complete contradiction to the events occuring just outside the palace windows. "What is your name?"
The soldier turned on a dime, slammed a fist to his chest, "My Lord, I am Nu-Defender 6 Echo of the Palatine Guard."
The Emperor almost sighed *a machine-man then* but smiled softly instead, "Are you so brave to which you stand against the Great Devourer?"
"No, my Lord, I am anything but." The man lowered his hand and half-turned to look at the grand golden door, "I do not understand fear, hatred, or loss. I was not programed such luxuries. But somtimes I wonder..."
He looked back to the Emperor, "What does it mean to die in vain? To fail to such extent that everything strived for and achomplished is not but the ashes of the dead in the wind?"
"Today, Nu-Defender 6 Echo, we will both find out."
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As he knelt before the Emperor, who's visage was cold and expressionless, the Horizon Knight spoke the last rite.
"May your soul be untainted by your enemies weapon, and your death be quick and merciful by the hand of your legion, my fateful ruler"
The unnamed knight learned these words to be his highest responsibility centuries ago, and spoke them in a roaring breath as the treasonous High Guard broke into the throne room. The Horizon Knight raised to a forward stance in a flash of the moment, arming his Caladbolg in the same movement. His great sword was too unwieldy for any other knight to bare, and the runes inscribed upon it bestowed a fiery magic that left a lasting effect after he struck, which would immolate any unlucky survivor of his harsh strike.
In a twisting movement the Horizon Knight heaved the blade in an upward slice through the Emperor, splitting him in two whilst facing the enemy and bringing his legendary sword crashing to the ground. The blade roared a beam of fire across the hall into the enemies ranks, which echoed a brilliant explosion through the High Palace. The gargantuan knight, doubling the size of the largest of enemies he faced, stomped down the stairs to the throne, his massive steel-clad boots cracked the edges of the stairs and imprinted his fury on them.
As the Horizon Knight closed in on the High Guard remaining, he screamed out "Legion falls upon you fowl wretches" and pulled his helm free from the cuirass it was connected to, revealing his mighty head. His eye's seethed what looked to be black fire, the remaining High Guard knew their fate was sealed, they had failed to capture the empire and would be buried in the ruins of the High Palace.
Long ago the monstrous knight had been slayed, unbeknownst to all except the emperor who slayed him, only to resurrect him as a Dread Demon. Their worst fears were true, the emperor practiced dark conjuration, and in his death would reform into a demon as they die helplessly.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
The cries of the mob grew louder. The halls of the palace began to quake. Two men sat across from each other, one in a robe, one in a suit of armor. The robe was a heavily gilded cloth, filled with golden laces and a large leopard’s head. The suit of armor bore the same insignia on the back and on the chest. Between the men was a small table, upon which a game of chess was being played.
“You know that they're going to be here any minute now, right?” The one in the armor stated, looking into the eyes into the man in the robe.
“Hush now Robert, I'm trying to concentrate.” The man in the robe replied. He grabbed a pawn and moved it a space. “Your move.”
Robert spoke, “The doors won't be able to hold them very long, considering that nearly the entire city wants your head. I really think that we should pack, Mitchell.”
“We can wait another minute. I know I can beat you this time.” Mitchell remarked, with a hint of a smile appearing on his face.
“C'mon, you know you can't beat me.” Robert said as he moved his bishop. “You know we need to go.”
Mitchell didn't say a word, he looked intently at the board, and then moved a knight. “Haha, in one move, I will have finished you!” He stated confidently.
Suddenly, a bang erupted from the doors into the room. The mob was right outside, and both men knew the doors wouldn't stand still for long.
“Well, that was faster than expected.” Mitchell said. After a brief pause, he continued, “Alright, lets move. I've had a few close shaves and I'd rather we don't repeat them here”.
“You know, I liked this time period. Next time we come, just make sure to bring more weapons.” Robert stated as he packed up the board.
“Right. Next time we come to the 12th century, I'll bring more pulse rifles.”
Both men laughed, and moved towards a cylindrical machine in the corner of the room. As they walked into the device, they heard the door break down, and the mob screaming into the chamber. “Computer, take us to the 24th century” Robert stated while inside the device. As the mob neared the men, they felt the earth quake. The cylinder quickly closed, and in a flash of light, vanished. The mob stood silent, and in the back, a mumbling could be heard, “Bloody time-travelers. Always ruining a good mob.”
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As he knelt before the Emperor, who's visage was cold and expressionless, the Horizon Knight spoke the last rite.
"May your soul be untainted by your enemies weapon, and your death be quick and merciful by the hand of your legion, my fateful ruler"
The unnamed knight learned these words to be his highest responsibility centuries ago, and spoke them in a roaring breath as the treasonous High Guard broke into the throne room. The Horizon Knight raised to a forward stance in a flash of the moment, arming his Caladbolg in the same movement. His great sword was too unwieldy for any other knight to bare, and the runes inscribed upon it bestowed a fiery magic that left a lasting effect after he struck, which would immolate any unlucky survivor of his harsh strike.
In a twisting movement the Horizon Knight heaved the blade in an upward slice through the Emperor, splitting him in two whilst facing the enemy and bringing his legendary sword crashing to the ground. The blade roared a beam of fire across the hall into the enemies ranks, which echoed a brilliant explosion through the High Palace. The gargantuan knight, doubling the size of the largest of enemies he faced, stomped down the stairs to the throne, his massive steel-clad boots cracked the edges of the stairs and imprinted his fury on them.
As the Horizon Knight closed in on the High Guard remaining, he screamed out "Legion falls upon you fowl wretches" and pulled his helm free from the cuirass it was connected to, revealing his mighty head. His eye's seethed what looked to be black fire, the remaining High Guard knew their fate was sealed, they had failed to capture the empire and would be buried in the ruins of the High Palace.
Long ago the monstrous knight had been slayed, unbeknownst to all except the emperor who slayed him, only to resurrect him as a Dread Demon. Their worst fears were true, the emperor practiced dark conjuration, and in his death would reform into a demon as they die helplessly.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
His training had not prepared him for this - "Rely on the man next to you", those were the words that had been tattooed into his brain. An army was only as strong as its weakest link and the same was true of the imperial bodyguards, the brotherhood sworn to defend the emperor to the last man. But no one had told him what to do when he was the last man.
The emperor rose from the jade throne.
"What is your name son?"
"Higen, Sire"
"Higen. That is a strong name. A warrior's name. Why are you here Higen?"
"To defend you Sire, to serve and defend the state and the divine emperor"
The emperor smiled and looked at Higen for a long time. Explosions shook the palace and the courtyard rung with the sound of clashing steel. To enter the holy city without the leave of the emperor was punishable by death. But rules seemed to matter very little at the moment.
"You don't actually believe that do you Higen?"
"Believe what Sire?"
"Please don't call me that. You don't actually believe that I am divine, do you?"
"Sire?"
"I am just a man Higen, exactly like you. I am as much of a God as you are, no more and no less. When the rebellion executes me, my supposedly sacrosanct head will be removed from my body with surprisingly little opposition from above"
Higen did not know what to say. Was this a trick? Another test? Perhaps the emperor was testing his loyalty in these last moments. Higen watched as the emperor rose from his chair and carefully removed his royal crown and robes. In his undershirt and without the rich garb, the emperor could have been a fishmonger.
"We have our roles to play Higen, for better or worse. I have often wondered where will ends and destiny begins, but this much is certain. You have not been alone in writing the story of your life. Maybe it was a cruel joke that fate had the pen when he wrote you into this room with me. At least you can decide how the next few lines, perhaps your last, will read."
Higen looked down at his clutched hands. He had so many regrets, so many things he wished he had done differently, so much time he had wasted.
"If that is true Sire, then you don't have too many lines left to write either. Perhaps we can both end our stories in a manner we may be proud of."
The emperor smiled. With great care, he put on his robe. Higen placed the crown on the emperor's head and helped the old man onto the throne. Together, they waited as the screams and sounds of pounding feet edged nearer.
Outside, it started to rain.
*Note: I submitted this a few months ago to another WP but it fit so well -- hope I didn't break any rules
|
As he knelt before the Emperor, who's visage was cold and expressionless, the Horizon Knight spoke the last rite.
"May your soul be untainted by your enemies weapon, and your death be quick and merciful by the hand of your legion, my fateful ruler"
The unnamed knight learned these words to be his highest responsibility centuries ago, and spoke them in a roaring breath as the treasonous High Guard broke into the throne room. The Horizon Knight raised to a forward stance in a flash of the moment, arming his Caladbolg in the same movement. His great sword was too unwieldy for any other knight to bare, and the runes inscribed upon it bestowed a fiery magic that left a lasting effect after he struck, which would immolate any unlucky survivor of his harsh strike.
In a twisting movement the Horizon Knight heaved the blade in an upward slice through the Emperor, splitting him in two whilst facing the enemy and bringing his legendary sword crashing to the ground. The blade roared a beam of fire across the hall into the enemies ranks, which echoed a brilliant explosion through the High Palace. The gargantuan knight, doubling the size of the largest of enemies he faced, stomped down the stairs to the throne, his massive steel-clad boots cracked the edges of the stairs and imprinted his fury on them.
As the Horizon Knight closed in on the High Guard remaining, he screamed out "Legion falls upon you fowl wretches" and pulled his helm free from the cuirass it was connected to, revealing his mighty head. His eye's seethed what looked to be black fire, the remaining High Guard knew their fate was sealed, they had failed to capture the empire and would be buried in the ruins of the High Palace.
Long ago the monstrous knight had been slayed, unbeknownst to all except the emperor who slayed him, only to resurrect him as a Dread Demon. Their worst fears were true, the emperor practiced dark conjuration, and in his death would reform into a demon as they die helplessly.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
Cocooned in his survival suit, a solitary scientist focused the camera lens on his life's work. A deep sadness penetrated his objective training, coupled with a sense of shame. Barely a stone's throw from where his Zodiac's inflatable hull was tethered to the iceberg, a handful of Emperor penguins stubbornly occupied the last of their hatching ground as it slowly dissolving in the warm Antarctic water.
The scientist had done what he could to protect them over the decades, even though it lost him publications, promotions, and ultimately, his career. The GPS was turned off, the location a secret to stop the poachers from raiding the site for their billionaire collectors. To own unique specimens of an otherwise extinct species was the new chic of the powerful. The masses of humanity were suffering, but the wealthy could buy their way out of global catastrophe; more air conditioning, personal desalination plants, and private zoos. All the scientist could do was record the outcome of his species' disasterous “experiment”.
Waves lapped up to the huddled penguins. Enperors stood 4 feet tall, with distinctive colouring around their necks, and the scientist had followed this group since hatching 20 years ago. Reduced to a single female, with a single egg, the males took the role of incubating the sacred egg, using their feet as a makeshift nest to isolate it from the frozen ground.
Eventually a small wave broke just high enough to wash over the penguin's feet, cold enough to instantly suck the life-giving warmth from the shell. One by one, the penguins slipped gracefully into the water and swam away.
|
As he knelt before the Emperor, who's visage was cold and expressionless, the Horizon Knight spoke the last rite.
"May your soul be untainted by your enemies weapon, and your death be quick and merciful by the hand of your legion, my fateful ruler"
The unnamed knight learned these words to be his highest responsibility centuries ago, and spoke them in a roaring breath as the treasonous High Guard broke into the throne room. The Horizon Knight raised to a forward stance in a flash of the moment, arming his Caladbolg in the same movement. His great sword was too unwieldy for any other knight to bare, and the runes inscribed upon it bestowed a fiery magic that left a lasting effect after he struck, which would immolate any unlucky survivor of his harsh strike.
In a twisting movement the Horizon Knight heaved the blade in an upward slice through the Emperor, splitting him in two whilst facing the enemy and bringing his legendary sword crashing to the ground. The blade roared a beam of fire across the hall into the enemies ranks, which echoed a brilliant explosion through the High Palace. The gargantuan knight, doubling the size of the largest of enemies he faced, stomped down the stairs to the throne, his massive steel-clad boots cracked the edges of the stairs and imprinted his fury on them.
As the Horizon Knight closed in on the High Guard remaining, he screamed out "Legion falls upon you fowl wretches" and pulled his helm free from the cuirass it was connected to, revealing his mighty head. His eye's seethed what looked to be black fire, the remaining High Guard knew their fate was sealed, they had failed to capture the empire and would be buried in the ruins of the High Palace.
Long ago the monstrous knight had been slayed, unbeknownst to all except the emperor who slayed him, only to resurrect him as a Dread Demon. Their worst fears were true, the emperor practiced dark conjuration, and in his death would reform into a demon as they die helplessly.
|
|
[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
His training had not prepared him for this - "Rely on the man next to you", those were the words that had been tattooed into his brain. An army was only as strong as its weakest link and the same was true of the imperial bodyguards, the brotherhood sworn to defend the emperor to the last man. But no one had told him what to do when he was the last man.
The emperor rose from the jade throne.
"What is your name son?"
"Higen, Sire"
"Higen. That is a strong name. A warrior's name. Why are you here Higen?"
"To defend you Sire, to serve and defend the state and the divine emperor"
The emperor smiled and looked at Higen for a long time. Explosions shook the palace and the courtyard rung with the sound of clashing steel. To enter the holy city without the leave of the emperor was punishable by death. But rules seemed to matter very little at the moment.
"You don't actually believe that do you Higen?"
"Believe what Sire?"
"Please don't call me that. You don't actually believe that I am divine, do you?"
"Sire?"
"I am just a man Higen, exactly like you. I am as much of a God as you are, no more and no less. When the rebellion executes me, my supposedly sacrosanct head will be removed from my body with surprisingly little opposition from above"
Higen did not know what to say. Was this a trick? Another test? Perhaps the emperor was testing his loyalty in these last moments. Higen watched as the emperor rose from his chair and carefully removed his royal crown and robes. In his undershirt and without the rich garb, the emperor could have been a fishmonger.
"We have our roles to play Higen, for better or worse. I have often wondered where will ends and destiny begins, but this much is certain. You have not been alone in writing the story of your life. Maybe it was a cruel joke that fate had the pen when he wrote you into this room with me. At least you can decide how the next few lines, perhaps your last, will read."
Higen looked down at his clutched hands. He had so many regrets, so many things he wished he had done differently, so much time he had wasted.
"If that is true Sire, then you don't have too many lines left to write either. Perhaps we can both end our stories in a manner we may be proud of."
The emperor smiled. With great care, he put on his robe. Higen placed the crown on the emperor's head and helped the old man onto the throne. Together, they waited as the screams and sounds of pounding feet edged nearer.
Outside, it started to rain.
*Note: I submitted this a few months ago to another WP but it fit so well -- hope I didn't break any rules
|
I crouched in front, shield raised; he was standing behind, crosbow loaded, as we had done so many times before. To say he was an upstart would have been quite the understatement. At the brash young age of 23, he had compiled a list of accomplishments that made historians groan due to the sheer magnitude of such a life. From mending the Eastern Wall of Ossos, building the Iron Bridge of Gutaavi, and leading the successful Siege of Berkutz, where he quelled the last of the resistance that had plagued his fathers previous reign. What astounded scholars the most was that he was always in the thick of battle, often in the first charge. So enamored was he with the thrill of battle, and with that the subconscious love of danger, his father hired me, a lowly cutthroat, so be his "bodyguard", as if the lanky bastard needed one. Pfft. Up until this point in time, he was the one guarding me. We'd leave every so often on some monster hunt, riding to the furthest corners of his empire, his army on standby should the whim strike him to occupy a settlement. I know it seems a bit farfetched, but believe these words: the kid was good. He was sharp, and he had the instincts of a grizzled old mercenary captain. Although he barely stood 5'9, he towered over others, me included, dopey 6'4 lug that I am. A lot of that had to do with our battle stance, which was the aforementioned crouching-shield-standing-crossbow formation, which was a little tactic taught to us by another young warlord we had previously encountered. You see, the trick is that the bigger of the two is in front, carrying a shield with enough size to cover your face and that of your companions. After the initial volley of arrows inevitably get fired, the crossbowman hips on the shield-bearers back, continuously firing at the attackers, keeping them behind whatever cover they've taken while we move into better position. It was a move specifially designed for bottleneck situations, which, with him being ever the adventurous ruler, was a situation we found ourselves in quite often. Cursed skeletons, dungeon raiders, possessed priests... We ran the gauntlet in terms of the type of fiends we found ourselves fitting against, actual fiends included. And here we were, fighting the soldiers hired by his treacherous cousin, the Baron of Ossos. After building him a wall. After funding his army. After training his elite band of spellswords that protected him 24/7. Barca the Insane, they called him. His madness spells were what prompted this sudden uprising. The Week of Horrors, the scribes called it. Seven days, Barca and his men decimated seven cities. Gustaavi, Berkutz, Glib, Jehai, Tresta, The Westbank, and the capital city, the Diamond Beacon of the Inner Sea, Marzantium. He coerced corrupt, war-weary generals who were growing tired of the impulsive young conqueror to join his insurrection.
The doors swung open, the volley came. I tightened my arm against the arrows and bolts, waiting until I heard the reassuring clicks and pops of a reload. My companion, like an unholy wraith of vengeance, fired his repeating crossbow, and I shuffled forward, waiting for his right arm to summon the blue fire deep within his gauntlet to blaze an escape path for us. As we got within a few strides of our attackers, he leapt of my back, and I dropped my shield, swinging wildly with the axe I had held in my hand the entire time. The hallway was clear. I motioned for my companion to follow me as I crept out the door. Suddenly, I heard glass shatter behind me and a searing heat. I turned, only to witness a black wyrmling attack the king. He rolled to the side as the wyrmling spat fire from its maw. I charged at the beast, swinging my axe down its outstretched left wing. It flinched and shrieked as it turned to face me. It began to shrivel in size, transforming and shifting its appearance, until the laughing, mirthful face of Barca the Insane stared back at me, his left arm intact.
I carefully crept to the side of my liege, never taking my gaze off the shapeshifting usurper. He kept laughing, clapping his hands as he did, even as he watched the young king fit another bolt cartridge into his repeating crossbow. It was only when my king, my adopted son, my boy, had his crossbow to the traitors head did his expression change. His eyes met mine, and I knew what to do. I put my hand on my kings shoulder, the conqueror, the hero, the engineer, the prodigy, once more I gazed into his bright eyes, crackling and brimming with intelligence and ambition. Once more we shared a smile, a moment untainted even with the fact that, only one of us would remember it enough to write it down.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
Cocooned in his survival suit, a solitary scientist focused the camera lens on his life's work. A deep sadness penetrated his objective training, coupled with a sense of shame. Barely a stone's throw from where his Zodiac's inflatable hull was tethered to the iceberg, a handful of Emperor penguins stubbornly occupied the last of their hatching ground as it slowly dissolving in the warm Antarctic water.
The scientist had done what he could to protect them over the decades, even though it lost him publications, promotions, and ultimately, his career. The GPS was turned off, the location a secret to stop the poachers from raiding the site for their billionaire collectors. To own unique specimens of an otherwise extinct species was the new chic of the powerful. The masses of humanity were suffering, but the wealthy could buy their way out of global catastrophe; more air conditioning, personal desalination plants, and private zoos. All the scientist could do was record the outcome of his species' disasterous “experiment”.
Waves lapped up to the huddled penguins. Enperors stood 4 feet tall, with distinctive colouring around their necks, and the scientist had followed this group since hatching 20 years ago. Reduced to a single female, with a single egg, the males took the role of incubating the sacred egg, using their feet as a makeshift nest to isolate it from the frozen ground.
Eventually a small wave broke just high enough to wash over the penguin's feet, cold enough to instantly suck the life-giving warmth from the shell. One by one, the penguins slipped gracefully into the water and swam away.
|
I crouched in front, shield raised; he was standing behind, crosbow loaded, as we had done so many times before. To say he was an upstart would have been quite the understatement. At the brash young age of 23, he had compiled a list of accomplishments that made historians groan due to the sheer magnitude of such a life. From mending the Eastern Wall of Ossos, building the Iron Bridge of Gutaavi, and leading the successful Siege of Berkutz, where he quelled the last of the resistance that had plagued his fathers previous reign. What astounded scholars the most was that he was always in the thick of battle, often in the first charge. So enamored was he with the thrill of battle, and with that the subconscious love of danger, his father hired me, a lowly cutthroat, so be his "bodyguard", as if the lanky bastard needed one. Pfft. Up until this point in time, he was the one guarding me. We'd leave every so often on some monster hunt, riding to the furthest corners of his empire, his army on standby should the whim strike him to occupy a settlement. I know it seems a bit farfetched, but believe these words: the kid was good. He was sharp, and he had the instincts of a grizzled old mercenary captain. Although he barely stood 5'9, he towered over others, me included, dopey 6'4 lug that I am. A lot of that had to do with our battle stance, which was the aforementioned crouching-shield-standing-crossbow formation, which was a little tactic taught to us by another young warlord we had previously encountered. You see, the trick is that the bigger of the two is in front, carrying a shield with enough size to cover your face and that of your companions. After the initial volley of arrows inevitably get fired, the crossbowman hips on the shield-bearers back, continuously firing at the attackers, keeping them behind whatever cover they've taken while we move into better position. It was a move specifially designed for bottleneck situations, which, with him being ever the adventurous ruler, was a situation we found ourselves in quite often. Cursed skeletons, dungeon raiders, possessed priests... We ran the gauntlet in terms of the type of fiends we found ourselves fitting against, actual fiends included. And here we were, fighting the soldiers hired by his treacherous cousin, the Baron of Ossos. After building him a wall. After funding his army. After training his elite band of spellswords that protected him 24/7. Barca the Insane, they called him. His madness spells were what prompted this sudden uprising. The Week of Horrors, the scribes called it. Seven days, Barca and his men decimated seven cities. Gustaavi, Berkutz, Glib, Jehai, Tresta, The Westbank, and the capital city, the Diamond Beacon of the Inner Sea, Marzantium. He coerced corrupt, war-weary generals who were growing tired of the impulsive young conqueror to join his insurrection.
The doors swung open, the volley came. I tightened my arm against the arrows and bolts, waiting until I heard the reassuring clicks and pops of a reload. My companion, like an unholy wraith of vengeance, fired his repeating crossbow, and I shuffled forward, waiting for his right arm to summon the blue fire deep within his gauntlet to blaze an escape path for us. As we got within a few strides of our attackers, he leapt of my back, and I dropped my shield, swinging wildly with the axe I had held in my hand the entire time. The hallway was clear. I motioned for my companion to follow me as I crept out the door. Suddenly, I heard glass shatter behind me and a searing heat. I turned, only to witness a black wyrmling attack the king. He rolled to the side as the wyrmling spat fire from its maw. I charged at the beast, swinging my axe down its outstretched left wing. It flinched and shrieked as it turned to face me. It began to shrivel in size, transforming and shifting its appearance, until the laughing, mirthful face of Barca the Insane stared back at me, his left arm intact.
I carefully crept to the side of my liege, never taking my gaze off the shapeshifting usurper. He kept laughing, clapping his hands as he did, even as he watched the young king fit another bolt cartridge into his repeating crossbow. It was only when my king, my adopted son, my boy, had his crossbow to the traitors head did his expression change. His eyes met mine, and I knew what to do. I put my hand on my kings shoulder, the conqueror, the hero, the engineer, the prodigy, once more I gazed into his bright eyes, crackling and brimming with intelligence and ambition. Once more we shared a smile, a moment untainted even with the fact that, only one of us would remember it enough to write it down.
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|
[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
Cocooned in his survival suit, a solitary scientist focused the camera lens on his life's work. A deep sadness penetrated his objective training, coupled with a sense of shame. Barely a stone's throw from where his Zodiac's inflatable hull was tethered to the iceberg, a handful of Emperor penguins stubbornly occupied the last of their hatching ground as it slowly dissolving in the warm Antarctic water.
The scientist had done what he could to protect them over the decades, even though it lost him publications, promotions, and ultimately, his career. The GPS was turned off, the location a secret to stop the poachers from raiding the site for their billionaire collectors. To own unique specimens of an otherwise extinct species was the new chic of the powerful. The masses of humanity were suffering, but the wealthy could buy their way out of global catastrophe; more air conditioning, personal desalination plants, and private zoos. All the scientist could do was record the outcome of his species' disasterous “experiment”.
Waves lapped up to the huddled penguins. Enperors stood 4 feet tall, with distinctive colouring around their necks, and the scientist had followed this group since hatching 20 years ago. Reduced to a single female, with a single egg, the males took the role of incubating the sacred egg, using their feet as a makeshift nest to isolate it from the frozen ground.
Eventually a small wave broke just high enough to wash over the penguin's feet, cold enough to instantly suck the life-giving warmth from the shell. One by one, the penguins slipped gracefully into the water and swam away.
|
The cries of the mob grew louder. The halls of the palace began to quake. Two men sat across from each other, one in a robe, one in a suit of armor. The robe was a heavily gilded cloth, filled with golden laces and a large leopard’s head. The suit of armor bore the same insignia on the back and on the chest. Between the men was a small table, upon which a game of chess was being played.
“You know that they're going to be here any minute now, right?” The one in the armor stated, looking into the eyes into the man in the robe.
“Hush now Robert, I'm trying to concentrate.” The man in the robe replied. He grabbed a pawn and moved it a space. “Your move.”
Robert spoke, “The doors won't be able to hold them very long, considering that nearly the entire city wants your head. I really think that we should pack, Mitchell.”
“We can wait another minute. I know I can beat you this time.” Mitchell remarked, with a hint of a smile appearing on his face.
“C'mon, you know you can't beat me.” Robert said as he moved his bishop. “You know we need to go.”
Mitchell didn't say a word, he looked intently at the board, and then moved a knight. “Haha, in one move, I will have finished you!” He stated confidently.
Suddenly, a bang erupted from the doors into the room. The mob was right outside, and both men knew the doors wouldn't stand still for long.
“Well, that was faster than expected.” Mitchell said. After a brief pause, he continued, “Alright, lets move. I've had a few close shaves and I'd rather we don't repeat them here”.
“You know, I liked this time period. Next time we come, just make sure to bring more weapons.” Robert stated as he packed up the board.
“Right. Next time we come to the 12th century, I'll bring more pulse rifles.”
Both men laughed, and moved towards a cylindrical machine in the corner of the room. As they walked into the device, they heard the door break down, and the mob screaming into the chamber. “Computer, take us to the 24th century” Robert stated while inside the device. As the mob neared the men, they felt the earth quake. The cylinder quickly closed, and in a flash of light, vanished. The mob stood silent, and in the back, a mumbling could be heard, “Bloody time-travelers. Always ruining a good mob.”
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
|
Cocooned in his survival suit, a solitary scientist focused the camera lens on his life's work. A deep sadness penetrated his objective training, coupled with a sense of shame. Barely a stone's throw from where his Zodiac's inflatable hull was tethered to the iceberg, a handful of Emperor penguins stubbornly occupied the last of their hatching ground as it slowly dissolving in the warm Antarctic water.
The scientist had done what he could to protect them over the decades, even though it lost him publications, promotions, and ultimately, his career. The GPS was turned off, the location a secret to stop the poachers from raiding the site for their billionaire collectors. To own unique specimens of an otherwise extinct species was the new chic of the powerful. The masses of humanity were suffering, but the wealthy could buy their way out of global catastrophe; more air conditioning, personal desalination plants, and private zoos. All the scientist could do was record the outcome of his species' disasterous “experiment”.
Waves lapped up to the huddled penguins. Enperors stood 4 feet tall, with distinctive colouring around their necks, and the scientist had followed this group since hatching 20 years ago. Reduced to a single female, with a single egg, the males took the role of incubating the sacred egg, using their feet as a makeshift nest to isolate it from the frozen ground.
Eventually a small wave broke just high enough to wash over the penguin's feet, cold enough to instantly suck the life-giving warmth from the shell. One by one, the penguins slipped gracefully into the water and swam away.
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The sun never seemed to set that day.
Come to think of it, that was one of the hottest years I could remember in my entire life. There was no respite even when wearing the lightest of clothing and I wore full armor. The sun baked the streets and boiled the blood of every citizen it smothered in its radiance. What was once a blessing became a source of anger and frustration.
The start of that new year brought no sign of relief. The rain season came and went but this time failing to bare its gift upon the land; striking a deadly blow to our people. You see, our Empire depended on the land to provide us our sustenance. Our fields went on for as far as the eye could see. A person could be lost for days in the middle of those fields. It was an ocean on land, only the foamy whitecaps of choppy seas were replaced by the golden beards of wheat shimmering in the breeze. As a child, I remember looking out over those fields. My father, a long time guard of the Emperor, would point out all the crops, telling me that this is where the lifeblood of our great Empire comes from.
"Without these fields, these workers, our soldiers and citizens would die from hunger;" his gaze fixated on the flowing fields of wheat "which is why we thank God for the gifts he gave us."
He was a wise man.
That year, only the Sun bathed the land. Its fiery touch squeezed the last bit of life out of the earth, killing the harvest. This was the second time in 2 years, an unusual occurrence, however due to the circumstances surrounding our Empire at that time, the citizens began to lose their civility.
Soon after the crops began to die, Famine and War began to claim their debts on the people. The City started to run out of food long before the worst of what was to come even reached our side of the Mountains. Corpses littered the street, mainly beggars at first, some young and some old; all of them covered in a fine layer of dust and filth. The only things not going hungry in that damned city were the pests. The rats gorged on the excess of "food" strewn about the street; insects grew to enormous numbers spreading disease like wildfire.
The unrest in the streets was on the verge of boiling over. Our guard duty was increased to a night and day watch of the Emperor with our full unit. We had orders that if anyone came near the Emperor while in transit to any location, they were to be "punished" with extreme prejudice. This did not please the common people one bit, but no one wants to be on the wrong end of my sword. As the year marched on, the Emperor became less and less involved with his duties sending the senate into a frenzy; the last bastion of this Empire was slowly unraveling.
Panic began to poison the collective mind of the people. Rumors circled the City that a massive army is coming from the Mountains up north. An army of incredible size and unthinkable brutality. The word was that 50,000 to 100,000+ men were heading to our grand City, a number soon confirmed by our commander. I personally heard a group of old men say that this army has cannibalized the dead, drained the blood of our men to gain their strength, and killed everyone in sight. Rumors? These were not rumors. These were horror stories; verbalized nightmares that only the depraved would think of. Sadly, as the weeks went on, the first refugees began flocking to the city. With them they brought stories of rape, massacres, and the torture and slaughter of children in front of their mothers. These figures shambling towards the city in packs were no longer people, only empty shells of what was once a mother, a daughter, a farmer, a stablehand. Their humanity was lost. They were ghosts. They were a warning.
The following 2 months saw the capital, a thriving city of a few hundred thousand, with its circus, shows, theatre, food, lose more than half of its people. Many fled with the impending doom coming our way, many died from disease and starvation. The stream of "ghosts" from the north had stopped entirely, spurring a sense of unease inside the walls. Our Emperor, a fool of a man, drank his wine and laughed at the prospect of our city falling. I would stand by his side at the throne while he would exclaim the might of our city, repeating how our swords will crush the cannibals army until he fell into a drunken stupor.
The day our enemy reached the gates is a day I will never forget. That sun was unforgiving. Our garrison was destroyed. The city was on fire, smoke choking our lungs and searing our eyes. It was as if the sun had set foot on our city. Buildings burned, screams of trapped women and children filled the air, and the chanting and stomping of 100,000+ men soaked our bodies with fear. None of the training I had prepared me for this. Nothing my father taught me ever prepared me for my last fight. I stood on the top step of the stairs to the Emperor's throne room, shoulder to shoulder with our leader, staring into the gaping maw of what could have surely been considered Hell. The Emperor turned to me, and I will never forget these words:
"You are the only one to remain by my side," his gaze never left the burning city, the fields of fire scorching their mark into the land "these men are to defend the door, but you are going to be by my side."
No words could be produced. I only nodded. No sooner than after he moved to return to the throne, the gates were shattered open. The screaming of bloodthirsty men dominated the world around us as they began the annihilation of our city. I backed into the throne room as my brothers in arms set up their final stand. I knew that once I closed those doors, that will be the last time I see them breathing. I slid the door close and barricaded it.
The sounds of screaming and metal on metal echoed through the throne room. My brothers were fighting a hopeless fight, 100,000 versus 40. The screams of men dying ceased as a wave of silence washed over the room. The Emperor sat still on his throne, a cup of wine perched in his hand and a glaze set over his eyes. I took a position in front of the Emperor facing the door and prepared myself for the onslaught to come. I did not want to die but we all have to die some day. I was fortunate enough to choose how I get to die.
The first loud crash broke the silence. Followed by another. The doors buckled and groaned. The end is near. A third booming crash. I began to remember my whole life; running through the fields, swimming in the river, wrestling with my father, the kind smile of my mother. All of it flashed before my eyes in an instant. The fourth attempt at the doors shattered them in several places but maintained their shape. I remember tightening my grip so hard it hurt. The fifth attempt destroyed the door. Only seconds left until the end.
I look back to my Emperor one last time. He was slumped over himself, cup thrown onto the floor and vomit covering his robes. The coward had poisoned himself. I returned my gaze to the door, only now not with anger or fear. As I watched the ram get pulled away from the door, I removed my helmet and shield. My sword was no longer needed. My duty was to protect the Emperor but he is no longer alive. I went down to my knees and watched as the first of the men stormed the room. As his sword began its swift journey up behind his head, I closed my eyes and waited for the end.
A voice boomed.
"Stop. Spare this one."
Edit: Words
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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Cocooned in his survival suit, a solitary scientist focused the camera lens on his life's work. A deep sadness penetrated his objective training, coupled with a sense of shame. Barely a stone's throw from where his Zodiac's inflatable hull was tethered to the iceberg, a handful of Emperor penguins stubbornly occupied the last of their hatching ground as it slowly dissolving in the warm Antarctic water.
The scientist had done what he could to protect them over the decades, even though it lost him publications, promotions, and ultimately, his career. The GPS was turned off, the location a secret to stop the poachers from raiding the site for their billionaire collectors. To own unique specimens of an otherwise extinct species was the new chic of the powerful. The masses of humanity were suffering, but the wealthy could buy their way out of global catastrophe; more air conditioning, personal desalination plants, and private zoos. All the scientist could do was record the outcome of his species' disasterous “experiment”.
Waves lapped up to the huddled penguins. Enperors stood 4 feet tall, with distinctive colouring around their necks, and the scientist had followed this group since hatching 20 years ago. Reduced to a single female, with a single egg, the males took the role of incubating the sacred egg, using their feet as a makeshift nest to isolate it from the frozen ground.
Eventually a small wave broke just high enough to wash over the penguin's feet, cold enough to instantly suck the life-giving warmth from the shell. One by one, the penguins slipped gracefully into the water and swam away.
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The old emperor sat on the throne, his head in his hands. Before him was his once vibrant throne room, now a stone cold chamber. The courtiers had fled, his loyal guards had died or, worst of all, defected. He did not despise his future killers, the nobles he once called his friends. They have reason to rebel, and the only way that the rebellion would succeed was with his demise.
The glorious tapestries detailing his triumphs were torn. They depicted the same emperor, with a different face. A younger man, with the look of courage permanently ingrained into his face. That younger man had brought the Known World to its knees with war, with trade, with culture, and with the word of his gods. He had turned his small tribe into a wealthy, multicultural world spanning empire. All that remained of the glory days were gone. All that remained of that once great man was him. The Golden Age had given way and the nobles were unhappy. More tragically, in the emperor's opinion, the people were unhappy. All that had been done for the empire, its roads, its institutions, its wonders, was the summation of a lifetime of his hopes and dreams for a land that he claimed as his own. Now all that remains of the glory days is the broken old man sitting on that throne.
The rebelling nobles and their armies will crash down the barricaded door eventually, and he will meet his doom in the public square he once erected. But he is not alone. The Captain of the Guard, closest advisor, most loyal companion and best friend. The Captain was loyal not to the land he had fought for, not to the tribe that had evolved into a spanning empire, but to the man behind it all. The Captain stood by his friend in times of need, and though the emperor only knew him for a quarter of his life, they were cut from the same cloth and understood the world in the same way. In many ways, the Captain was the protege he never had. The Captain would never leave his lord's side, not for a minute.
In a few minutes, the emperor knew he would walk the streets of the afterlife, and he thought not of the quick death he would face, but his wife's gleaming embrace at the gates of destiny. Since she died, the life was out of him. He grew depressed, and unhappy with himself and despite all he had done for the empire, he was missing a part of him that could never be filled with all the conquered cities of the east or the fallen tribes of the west. He neglected his office, his institutions and the nobles had enough. The civil war was justifiable, and if the emperor were a younger man, a different man, he would be a rebel too.
"I've seen the world crumble under my feet," ached the old emperor. "I guess it's time that fate caught up with me."
"No sir," said the Captain, "You are what this empire needs, you are what we need as a people! As a tribe! You are our greatest leader! We would be nothing without you."
"Time waits for no one," replied the emperor, "And I am not getting any younger. The Duke will be a more suitable ruler for the times ahead than I can ever hope to be. Forgive him. Forgive them. They are not traitors, they are doing the same thing I did to the chief of our tribe some fifty years ago."
The Captain stood, watching the emperor. His heart beat fast beneath his iron cuirass, and his breaths grew quicker and quicker by the moment.
"I need you to do for me, one final task," said the emperor.
"Anything, my lord," said the Captain.
"I have seen much in my life," said the emperor, "Triumph, tragedy, horror, success. Depression. And failure. It is time to write the final chapter to my story. It ends with you."
The emperor looked up, and from his belt slipped a dagger. It was an old dagger, the personal weapon of their tribe's shaman before his death many years ago.
The Captain was appalled.
"I cannot sir!" The Captain said, "I will not, sir!"
"I have lived a long, fruitful life. Save yourself, you will be their first hero, and I will be a martyr to none."
"Sir!" the Captain pleaded. "Don't do this!"
"Don't do this," the emperor said back, "This is an order, Captain. Save yourself. I've accepted my fate, it's time for you to accept yours."
The Captain stepped towards the throne and took the dagger from his emperor.
"I'm so sorry, my lord," he said, "Forgive me."
"Forgive them," said the emperor.
The Captain slid the dagger into the emperor's heart. He already had his eyes closed. The old ruler finally looked at peace, after so many years of hardship. Peace came from the tip of a weapon, like the end of his conquests. The Captain thought of his old master often, and even as the Duke had provided well to the man who killed the emperor, it haunted him. He lived with the knowledge that he had done what was asked of him. He was not a turncoat, a traitor to the cause, as some implied. Time would heal his wounds, and while he would sometimes think about his service to the old emperor, he would defeat his inner demons and take pleasure in the fact that he had followed a dying man's wishes.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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"Majesty, Alliance troops have overrun the last Guards positions! They are minutes away from the palace gate! We have a vehicle ready to evacuate the Royal Family.". The Emperor turned away from viewing the destruction of the Imperial Capital, and looked at the disheveled Prime Minister.
"You will take the Empress and my daughters under your protection. As long as my family is safe from the Alliance, then I could not care less what happens to me.", he stated, adjusting his jacket and walking to the throne. The Prime Minister looked to me for some kind of guidance. I nodded.
"You have your orders, Prime Minister. Evacuate the Royal Family. The Emperor will remain here. Under my protection." The Prime Minister shook his head in wonder, then bolted from the room. As I watched him leave, I heard the Emperor call me to him. I strode to the throne and took to one knee.
"Sire?", I asked. The Emperor stood up and walked towards me.
"Thomas... you have served as my personal bodyguard and Warmaster for 27 years. You have never tried to use your position to your own advantage... nor have you asked for personal favors. If you were to stand up and leave right now, I would not think any less of you." he said.
I stood to attention and held his gaze.
"My family has served yours for 700 years, Sire. When I die, I would have to answer to 35 generations of my forebears for abandoning you. I'd rather deal with my worst enemy in Hell before enduring that.". At that, the Emperor chuckled and grasped my hand. This was a man I could die for, I thought.
The crowd was now in the Palace. I could hear their cries, the clash of their weapons. It would not be long now. The Emperor released my hand and dropped his own to the hilt of his sword, drawing it.
"Shall we show these gentles our hospitality, Warmaster?", he laughed.
"It would be rude not to, Sire.", I replied in kind, drawing my sword.
The doors crashed in.
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Jaime went to the throne room. On the way, he came across Rossart, who was dressed as a common soldier and hurrying to a postern gate. Jaime attacked him, and while Rossart tried to defend himself, he stood no chance against the experienced knight, who gutted Rossart without mercy. Jaime then slipped into the throne room through the king's door, finding Aerys alone pacing through the room. When the King saw the blood on Jaime's sword, he demanded to know whether it was Lord Tywin's, renewing his command that Jaime should bring him his father's head, otherwise Jaime would burn with all the other traitors. He told Jaime that Rossart was on his way to give the enemies a warm welcome, asking again whose blood was on Jaime's sword. Jaime answered that it was Rossart's. The King became scared, his mouth dropping open in shock. Aerys lost control of his bowels, soiling himself. He turned and ran towards the Iron Throne. Jaime seized Aerys and hauled him bodily off the steps. The Mad King squealed like a pig as Jaime killed him with a single slash across the throat, thereby preventing him from giving the command to burn the city to some other pyromancer.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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Cocooned in his survival suit, a solitary scientist focused the camera lens on his life's work. A deep sadness penetrated his objective training, coupled with a sense of shame. Barely a stone's throw from where his Zodiac's inflatable hull was tethered to the iceberg, a handful of Emperor penguins stubbornly occupied the last of their hatching ground as it slowly dissolving in the warm Antarctic water.
The scientist had done what he could to protect them over the decades, even though it lost him publications, promotions, and ultimately, his career. The GPS was turned off, the location a secret to stop the poachers from raiding the site for their billionaire collectors. To own unique specimens of an otherwise extinct species was the new chic of the powerful. The masses of humanity were suffering, but the wealthy could buy their way out of global catastrophe; more air conditioning, personal desalination plants, and private zoos. All the scientist could do was record the outcome of his species' disasterous “experiment”.
Waves lapped up to the huddled penguins. Enperors stood 4 feet tall, with distinctive colouring around their necks, and the scientist had followed this group since hatching 20 years ago. Reduced to a single female, with a single egg, the males took the role of incubating the sacred egg, using their feet as a makeshift nest to isolate it from the frozen ground.
Eventually a small wave broke just high enough to wash over the penguin's feet, cold enough to instantly suck the life-giving warmth from the shell. One by one, the penguins slipped gracefully into the water and swam away.
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Jaime went to the throne room. On the way, he came across Rossart, who was dressed as a common soldier and hurrying to a postern gate. Jaime attacked him, and while Rossart tried to defend himself, he stood no chance against the experienced knight, who gutted Rossart without mercy. Jaime then slipped into the throne room through the king's door, finding Aerys alone pacing through the room. When the King saw the blood on Jaime's sword, he demanded to know whether it was Lord Tywin's, renewing his command that Jaime should bring him his father's head, otherwise Jaime would burn with all the other traitors. He told Jaime that Rossart was on his way to give the enemies a warm welcome, asking again whose blood was on Jaime's sword. Jaime answered that it was Rossart's. The King became scared, his mouth dropping open in shock. Aerys lost control of his bowels, soiling himself. He turned and ran towards the Iron Throne. Jaime seized Aerys and hauled him bodily off the steps. The Mad King squealed like a pig as Jaime killed him with a single slash across the throat, thereby preventing him from giving the command to burn the city to some other pyromancer.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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I had never studied his face before. Sure I had seen it hundreds of times during my years in the royal guard. But I had always looked down after a cursory glace, bowing my head in reverence. I feared that gazing at the Emperor’s eyes would be like staring at the sun—best not to look upon an entity so much greater than myself, for fear of divine consequence.
But in that last hour, as he sat lonely upon his throne, I studied his face. I saw a downturned mouth, wrinkles under his chin, and deep sadness in his eyes. I no longer saw an emperor, just a man with too much silk.
When the soldiers came, I placed my sword on the floor and stepped aside. No sense in dying for the doomed.
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Jaime went to the throne room. On the way, he came across Rossart, who was dressed as a common soldier and hurrying to a postern gate. Jaime attacked him, and while Rossart tried to defend himself, he stood no chance against the experienced knight, who gutted Rossart without mercy. Jaime then slipped into the throne room through the king's door, finding Aerys alone pacing through the room. When the King saw the blood on Jaime's sword, he demanded to know whether it was Lord Tywin's, renewing his command that Jaime should bring him his father's head, otherwise Jaime would burn with all the other traitors. He told Jaime that Rossart was on his way to give the enemies a warm welcome, asking again whose blood was on Jaime's sword. Jaime answered that it was Rossart's. The King became scared, his mouth dropping open in shock. Aerys lost control of his bowels, soiling himself. He turned and ran towards the Iron Throne. Jaime seized Aerys and hauled him bodily off the steps. The Mad King squealed like a pig as Jaime killed him with a single slash across the throat, thereby preventing him from giving the command to burn the city to some other pyromancer.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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"Is it only you, Gerhard?"
Gerhard looked down at his emperor. His skeletal figure was heaped into the throne in an uncomfortable jumble of angles, glossed over with enough silk and ermine to soften the picture. His face was white, withered and lined with deep creases, and he stared blankly at the great curtained window to his left.
"It is just me, Your Highness."
The fact seemed to become true only as he said it. Gerhard scanned the throne room, the shadow of each mighty column, where once would have stood a dozen Imperial Guard. The flanks of the great doors, where would have stood two more. The emperor's side, where would have stood his captain.
"Open the window, Gerhard."
The last bodyguard almost objected, but the weight of the emperor's voice, quiet and subdued as it now was, compelled him as ever. His ceremonial cuirass clanked as he crossed to the covered window and pulled aside the heavy velvet curtain. The midday sun spilled in, overpowering the meager candles Gerhard had lit for his own benefit.
The emperor's sallow face cracked into a faint smile as the warmth touched it. His eyes, milky and unseeing, sank closed, as if by habit. In his old age, the emperor loved nothing so much as the sun on his face.
"Tell me what you see, Gerhard."
The bodyguard wished that he could deny the order.
"The city burns, Your Highness. Many of their soldiers have been left to pillage the markets. Their commanders are parading in the Imperial square..."
"And what else?"
"More are approaching the castle, Your Highness. They must have encountered resistance."
Through layers of thick stone and wood, the sounds of resistance could still be heard. Steel and gunpowder, screams. Some hours ago, he had heard a gang of soldiers tramp past the throne room on their way to the gates. They had not returned.
"Beyond that Gerhard, what do you see?"
"Beyond-"
Beyond the siege, beyond the shattered houses and beleaguered walls. Beyond the panting siege engines, beyond the lake of tents.
"The mountains, Your Highness."
The Emperor smiled.
"Tell me about the mountains, Gerhard."
"They... they're beautiful, Your Highness." Gerhard's voice surprised him by cracking. It struck him that perhaps he had never realised before. "Beautiful. Massive and immovable... unscalable, unshakeable. They reach the very heavens, Your Highness, I can't *see* the tops."
Gerhard looked down at his hands to find them planted on the window sill, the glass inches from his nose. The mist of his breath blotted the mountains like a passing cloud. The sounds of steel and gunpowder crept ever closer. A crash echoed through the throne room.
"Think of the mountains, Gerhard... I know I shall."
The bodyguard turned to his emperor. Only a single tear marked his face, running like treacle through the sun-warmed creases of his cheeks.
The crash sounded again, and again. And one final time, capped with the crack and clink of a five hundred year old lock clattering to the floor. The doors of the throne room swung open.
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Jaime went to the throne room. On the way, he came across Rossart, who was dressed as a common soldier and hurrying to a postern gate. Jaime attacked him, and while Rossart tried to defend himself, he stood no chance against the experienced knight, who gutted Rossart without mercy. Jaime then slipped into the throne room through the king's door, finding Aerys alone pacing through the room. When the King saw the blood on Jaime's sword, he demanded to know whether it was Lord Tywin's, renewing his command that Jaime should bring him his father's head, otherwise Jaime would burn with all the other traitors. He told Jaime that Rossart was on his way to give the enemies a warm welcome, asking again whose blood was on Jaime's sword. Jaime answered that it was Rossart's. The King became scared, his mouth dropping open in shock. Aerys lost control of his bowels, soiling himself. He turned and ran towards the Iron Throne. Jaime seized Aerys and hauled him bodily off the steps. The Mad King squealed like a pig as Jaime killed him with a single slash across the throat, thereby preventing him from giving the command to burn the city to some other pyromancer.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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Cocooned in his survival suit, a solitary scientist focused the camera lens on his life's work. A deep sadness penetrated his objective training, coupled with a sense of shame. Barely a stone's throw from where his Zodiac's inflatable hull was tethered to the iceberg, a handful of Emperor penguins stubbornly occupied the last of their hatching ground as it slowly dissolving in the warm Antarctic water.
The scientist had done what he could to protect them over the decades, even though it lost him publications, promotions, and ultimately, his career. The GPS was turned off, the location a secret to stop the poachers from raiding the site for their billionaire collectors. To own unique specimens of an otherwise extinct species was the new chic of the powerful. The masses of humanity were suffering, but the wealthy could buy their way out of global catastrophe; more air conditioning, personal desalination plants, and private zoos. All the scientist could do was record the outcome of his species' disasterous “experiment”.
Waves lapped up to the huddled penguins. Enperors stood 4 feet tall, with distinctive colouring around their necks, and the scientist had followed this group since hatching 20 years ago. Reduced to a single female, with a single egg, the males took the role of incubating the sacred egg, using their feet as a makeshift nest to isolate it from the frozen ground.
Eventually a small wave broke just high enough to wash over the penguin's feet, cold enough to instantly suck the life-giving warmth from the shell. One by one, the penguins slipped gracefully into the water and swam away.
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"Majesty, Alliance troops have overrun the last Guards positions! They are minutes away from the palace gate! We have a vehicle ready to evacuate the Royal Family.". The Emperor turned away from viewing the destruction of the Imperial Capital, and looked at the disheveled Prime Minister.
"You will take the Empress and my daughters under your protection. As long as my family is safe from the Alliance, then I could not care less what happens to me.", he stated, adjusting his jacket and walking to the throne. The Prime Minister looked to me for some kind of guidance. I nodded.
"You have your orders, Prime Minister. Evacuate the Royal Family. The Emperor will remain here. Under my protection." The Prime Minister shook his head in wonder, then bolted from the room. As I watched him leave, I heard the Emperor call me to him. I strode to the throne and took to one knee.
"Sire?", I asked. The Emperor stood up and walked towards me.
"Thomas... you have served as my personal bodyguard and Warmaster for 27 years. You have never tried to use your position to your own advantage... nor have you asked for personal favors. If you were to stand up and leave right now, I would not think any less of you." he said.
I stood to attention and held his gaze.
"My family has served yours for 700 years, Sire. When I die, I would have to answer to 35 generations of my forebears for abandoning you. I'd rather deal with my worst enemy in Hell before enduring that.". At that, the Emperor chuckled and grasped my hand. This was a man I could die for, I thought.
The crowd was now in the Palace. I could hear their cries, the clash of their weapons. It would not be long now. The Emperor released my hand and dropped his own to the hilt of his sword, drawing it.
"Shall we show these gentles our hospitality, Warmaster?", he laughed.
"It would be rude not to, Sire.", I replied in kind, drawing my sword.
The doors crashed in.
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[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room.
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"Is it only you, Gerhard?"
Gerhard looked down at his emperor. His skeletal figure was heaped into the throne in an uncomfortable jumble of angles, glossed over with enough silk and ermine to soften the picture. His face was white, withered and lined with deep creases, and he stared blankly at the great curtained window to his left.
"It is just me, Your Highness."
The fact seemed to become true only as he said it. Gerhard scanned the throne room, the shadow of each mighty column, where once would have stood a dozen Imperial Guard. The flanks of the great doors, where would have stood two more. The emperor's side, where would have stood his captain.
"Open the window, Gerhard."
The last bodyguard almost objected, but the weight of the emperor's voice, quiet and subdued as it now was, compelled him as ever. His ceremonial cuirass clanked as he crossed to the covered window and pulled aside the heavy velvet curtain. The midday sun spilled in, overpowering the meager candles Gerhard had lit for his own benefit.
The emperor's sallow face cracked into a faint smile as the warmth touched it. His eyes, milky and unseeing, sank closed, as if by habit. In his old age, the emperor loved nothing so much as the sun on his face.
"Tell me what you see, Gerhard."
The bodyguard wished that he could deny the order.
"The city burns, Your Highness. Many of their soldiers have been left to pillage the markets. Their commanders are parading in the Imperial square..."
"And what else?"
"More are approaching the castle, Your Highness. They must have encountered resistance."
Through layers of thick stone and wood, the sounds of resistance could still be heard. Steel and gunpowder, screams. Some hours ago, he had heard a gang of soldiers tramp past the throne room on their way to the gates. They had not returned.
"Beyond that Gerhard, what do you see?"
"Beyond-"
Beyond the siege, beyond the shattered houses and beleaguered walls. Beyond the panting siege engines, beyond the lake of tents.
"The mountains, Your Highness."
The Emperor smiled.
"Tell me about the mountains, Gerhard."
"They... they're beautiful, Your Highness." Gerhard's voice surprised him by cracking. It struck him that perhaps he had never realised before. "Beautiful. Massive and immovable... unscalable, unshakeable. They reach the very heavens, Your Highness, I can't *see* the tops."
Gerhard looked down at his hands to find them planted on the window sill, the glass inches from his nose. The mist of his breath blotted the mountains like a passing cloud. The sounds of steel and gunpowder crept ever closer. A crash echoed through the throne room.
"Think of the mountains, Gerhard... I know I shall."
The bodyguard turned to his emperor. Only a single tear marked his face, running like treacle through the sun-warmed creases of his cheeks.
The crash sounded again, and again. And one final time, capped with the crack and clink of a five hundred year old lock clattering to the floor. The doors of the throne room swung open.
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I had never studied his face before. Sure I had seen it hundreds of times during my years in the royal guard. But I had always looked down after a cursory glace, bowing my head in reverence. I feared that gazing at the Emperor’s eyes would be like staring at the sun—best not to look upon an entity so much greater than myself, for fear of divine consequence.
But in that last hour, as he sat lonely upon his throne, I studied his face. I saw a downturned mouth, wrinkles under his chin, and deep sadness in his eyes. I no longer saw an emperor, just a man with too much silk.
When the soldiers came, I placed my sword on the floor and stepped aside. No sense in dying for the doomed.
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Take free reign of the prompt, but with a minimum of 200 words.
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[FF] The rooms of ruin where the spiders spun and the control panels were going dark, one by one.
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The rooms of ruin where the spiders spun
And the control panels were going dark, one by one.
My footprints scrabbled among the dust and grime
Adventures, gone wrong, echoes, lost in time.
Five seconds ago, five hundred years,
I stood awaiting with my compatriots here.
My time, too long, witnessed their pass,
As I searched to find an exit among the broken glass.
The panel flickered, coughed, and died,
Alone in the dark with the spiders I despised,
And the imprint of a message my compatriots had sent,
"Goodbye, and good luck, my dearest friend."
|
This place once buzzed with the voices of a hundred people, the murmur of a hundred communication lines, the clicking of buttons and keyboards, the humming of monitors. It now echoed with the tapping of rodents on tile, the buzzing of flies, the gentle breeze flowing through the dilapidated walls. This place was key to one of humanity's greatest accomplishments. It was now home to the flora and fauna of the abandoned world.
The control panels lined across the room provided a dim light show as remnants of electricity surged through the monitors, and crackled through the speakers. This place had seen no maintenance for months. It was truly abandoned, if the need came around for a definition. These halls no longer knew the footsteps of men, or the tendrils of brooms or mops. The room, with the controls panels, the chairs, the PA systems, no longer served a purpose.
One of the control panels still drawing power from the solar cells now stained and cracked, emanated a soft sigh through the small speaker. It barely functioned, but it maintained a purpose. It crackled to life once more:
"Ground control, this is the International Space Station. Please. Someone, pick up."
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
FAO: B. L. Zee-Bub.
Re: Termination of contract.
I write this note to bring to your attention my intent to resign effective immediately on the grounds of constructive dismissal, as advised by the infinite amount of lawyers resident in these firey pits.
My reasoning being as such:
Despite numerous instances in which the broken air conditioning has been brought to the attention of management, no action has been taken to resolve the issue. The temperatures often hit the 100s in the summer months and it makes for an unsafe working environment. Just last week both Gary and Janet collapsed from heat exhaustion and had to go to the sick bay.
It has also been brought up on a number of occasions that our pitchforks are in a state of disrepair, as such meaning we fall behind in our torturing quotas. I am aware that a poor workman blames his tools, but it is unreasonable to expect that we should make thousands of souls scream in agony with a blunt implement. Also, the handles are rusty and sharp, which has seen a number of colleagues becoming the recipients of nasty infections.
The works canteen is of an unsatisfactory level of hygiene, way below the expected sanitation codes for an area handling foodstuffs. I myself had a bad case of Helly Belly just two months ago which resulted in my being unable to fulfill my duties for three days. The backlash of this was loss of pay and a written warning, which I feel is highly unjust.
As such, I hereby hand in my resignation effective immediately,
Yours,
A. M. Inion.
|
Lucifer,
It is time. Listen we knew at some point I would have to move on. We have so many great memories though. Remember Hitler? Haha what a great time that was. I always smile when I think of those people and what they think they are getting away with only to arrive here. Remember when he asked if this was heaven? Oh how we laughed. I am not sure he even understood what was going on until you invited him into the train.
Or Osama? I am not sure what he was expecting but he was a demanding SOB and what was that about the virgins or whatever? I am not sure I stop listening at *gargbelburg* when we poured the jet fuel down his throat. Good times. I am glad we sent him to accounting with all the Bush family. That is going to be a busy place soon.
It is time though. I am really just tired and exhausted from seeing the same old rank and file pour through here each one with the same delusions of grandeur like they are the new Jack. Ah Jack. How he screamed and that accent always made me chuckle. Putting him into the same room as L. Ron Hubbard is a stroke of brilliance I just don't think will ever be recreated. Last time I checked Jack was still being audited and Big Ron could not figure out how we were sneaking in scalpels in the pillow cases.
You gave me my shot man. When I was just possessing people in Sir Lanka you took the time to mentor me when no one else would and I thank you for that. I have learned so much from you, not the least of which is that you can indeed skin someone using a Nutella jar if you have patience and a desire to excel in your craft.
So this is my two week notice. In that time I will be training up my replacement. He is a fine fellow and seems to do good works though I am not so sure that his skills with dancing and the one glove is all that terrifying down here. Who knows?
Thank you for your time.
Pizzlesticks Barnswollow.
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
Dear Fucking Asshole
Oh, it's just hilarious to get thrown into a lake of fire while my nipples are being eaten by maggots. Yeah, that was a great "thank you" for convincing that virgin to sacrifice herself. Just *great!*
Oh, it's just so, OH SO funny to get drawn and quartered in front of my dead wife and children, who you kept from Heaven so you could torture *also* when I specifically made a deal with you to make sure they got to Heaven. Thanks for that- really fucking great on honoring those deals of yours. Dick.
Oh, it's just side-splitting when you literally split my fucking sides open to prove to Vlad the Impaler how much easier it is to split people's sides open than it is to impale them. I just *loved* that. Thanks!
And you remember all those promises you made me and new deals you wanted me to sign last week, when you found out- oh suddenly, I'm a *candidate* for redemption? Well eat shit, you horned fucking freak. Hell's a bust. From now on, it's glutton-free clean living and a prayer a fucking day. I'll take being bored *any day* over the stupid shit-show you run down here. I was a sado-masochist in life, but this is seriously ridiculous. Learn how to actually *reward* your staff for their work, because I've been talking to a lot of fucking demons and they're all at the end of their rope, *if* they're not at the end of an **actual fucking rope** over a lake of **fucking FIRE!**
Did you ever stop to think that maybe it's not a great morale booster to walk around and tell us about how much fucking better angels are? Seriously, get the fuck over it- you're not getting back into Heaven.
But I am.
Eat shit and die a thousand more times,
- Mike
|
Lucifer,
It is time. Listen we knew at some point I would have to move on. We have so many great memories though. Remember Hitler? Haha what a great time that was. I always smile when I think of those people and what they think they are getting away with only to arrive here. Remember when he asked if this was heaven? Oh how we laughed. I am not sure he even understood what was going on until you invited him into the train.
Or Osama? I am not sure what he was expecting but he was a demanding SOB and what was that about the virgins or whatever? I am not sure I stop listening at *gargbelburg* when we poured the jet fuel down his throat. Good times. I am glad we sent him to accounting with all the Bush family. That is going to be a busy place soon.
It is time though. I am really just tired and exhausted from seeing the same old rank and file pour through here each one with the same delusions of grandeur like they are the new Jack. Ah Jack. How he screamed and that accent always made me chuckle. Putting him into the same room as L. Ron Hubbard is a stroke of brilliance I just don't think will ever be recreated. Last time I checked Jack was still being audited and Big Ron could not figure out how we were sneaking in scalpels in the pillow cases.
You gave me my shot man. When I was just possessing people in Sir Lanka you took the time to mentor me when no one else would and I thank you for that. I have learned so much from you, not the least of which is that you can indeed skin someone using a Nutella jar if you have patience and a desire to excel in your craft.
So this is my two week notice. In that time I will be training up my replacement. He is a fine fellow and seems to do good works though I am not so sure that his skills with dancing and the one glove is all that terrifying down here. Who knows?
Thank you for your time.
Pizzlesticks Barnswollow.
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
-130
"God da--I mean wow, this place is amazing." Burnard crowed, trying to keep his booming thunder-clap of a voice modulated. He strolled through the pearly gates, past St. Peter, gawking like a Japanese tourist at the wonders around him. He stayed on the paved section feeling the tingle of the gold bricks beneath his feet. The angels he passed stopped to gossip. Some of them pointed. A few panicked seeing the pit fiend walking free and reacted with wide eyes and covered mouths. More than one stepped out to the street of gold to look to St. Peter for an explanation.
St. Peter gave them a wry grin and shrugged helplessly. Burnard was aware of the looks he was getting but ignored them. He'd learned to ignore the screams of the damned. He'd learned to ignore the sting of the river Styx. There wasn't much that did faze him, except for what he had to do next.
He saw an angel with a street cart, handing out free cotton candy. He hurried over and accepted half a dozen of them. He licked and chomped and fought their wispy cottony goodness while spying a pretzel cart nearby. He crowed with the same glee an Alabama toddler demonstrates when getting lost in the Piggly Wiggly and finds him or herself unchaperoned on the candy aisle. It was truly frightening.
He skipped over, snatched three pretzesl from the vendor and dunked them and his fist in the bubbling nacho cheese. He shoved them in his mouth, slathering his hideous maw with cheese and melted cotton candy in a truly gruesome display of gluttony. However, he dropped the cotton candy and the pretzels in stunned amazement upon spying yet another cart doling out what he considered the ultimate most delicious treat every demon in Hell wished was served there. He scrambled like a dog chasing a Frisbee for the vendor handing out the snow cones. The angel doling them out almost fled in fear upon seeing the fiend bearing down on him.
The demon ignored the tiny cones and buried his face among the syrups and ice like a hillbilly eating watermelon.
"Burnard the Three-Horned Impaler, Lord of Lava, Duke of Decay, Prince of Pain?" An archangel asked, clicking an ink pen while consulting a clip board.
"Uh? Burnie." The fiend supplied, pulling his snout from the vendor's cart. It was a collage of colliding colors. The archangel winced at the grating sound of the demon's voice.
"You ready for your orientation?" The archangel asked. The demon started hopping up and down in ecstatic bliss.
"You're god da--Yes." Burnie replied, catching himself once more.
Burnie snatched a half dozen snow cones for the vendor's cart and waddled after his guide.
"You understand this a probationary position? You violate the rules, you'll instantly be deported." The angel warned. "I'm Anastasio. I'm an archangel and I'll be supervising your time here. Any questions or problems with that?"
"That's cool. Is Walt Disney here? Can I see him? I heard you had an amusement park. Did he build it?" Burnie asked, changing subjects.
"Walt Disney froze himself. His soul is . . . It ain't here. We went a different route." The angel replied, changing the subject. "You're here to keep heaven clean. You'll empty the trash. Keep the clouds fluffed. Clean cherub poop off the fountain rims and stuff like that. I'll take you to the groundskeeper's shack and get you settled in. Burnie smiled his hideous smile and nodded his understanding. They trooped along in silence for a long while. Burnie's eyes going here and there with wide-eyed wonder.
"Burnie." The angel murmured, breaking the silence.
"Annie." Burnie shot back.
"Anastasio." Anastasio clarified, never liking that nickname. Burnie dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Not to be intrusive, but . . ." Anastasio didn't know how ask it without being impolite.
"How'd I get in?" Burnie asked, chuckling.
"Yeah. We've never had a pit fiend here. According to the information we have, you've worked for Lucifer ever since he was cast out. You can't get into heaven if you ever committed an evil act. It's been centuries. How did you do it? I mean if you don't mind sharing." Anastasio paused in his walking, giving his companion his full attention. Burnie paused and considered how best to reply.
"I invented politics. Lucifer was so impressed and grateful, he put me in charge of grooming Cerberus. I never really got around to sinning." Burnie said with a shrug. "One day, Michael comes down and power drives the antichrist, stuffing him down deep in the bedrock. We get to talking. I find out you have this position open. I put in my two week notice, and here I am. Ready to clean up cherub poop." He flashed what he thought a disarming smile, but the archangel was still put off by it and almost smote him out of reflex.
"How'd Lucifer take it?" Anastasio asked, grinning.
Burnie smiled real big and glanced toward the pearly gates with more than a little apprehension. "Not well."
------------------------
*Dear Lucifer,*
*I quite two weeks ago. Went to work for the guy upstairs.*
*Sincerely,*
*Burnie*
*P.S. Cerberus ate some bologna with the stringy-thing still on it. He made need some help.*
----------------------
Lucifer read the note again then again. He glanced at the other demons peering over his shoulder and back at the note then across the lake of fire to the gates of hell where Cerberus was frantically dragging his butt back and forth in front of the gate.
"God dammit." Lucifer mumbled crumpling the note. The other demons quickly retrieved it and started passing it around the throne room while the Lord of Death stalked across the cavern to pull the bologna wrap out of his dog's ass.
|
Lucifer,
It is time. Listen we knew at some point I would have to move on. We have so many great memories though. Remember Hitler? Haha what a great time that was. I always smile when I think of those people and what they think they are getting away with only to arrive here. Remember when he asked if this was heaven? Oh how we laughed. I am not sure he even understood what was going on until you invited him into the train.
Or Osama? I am not sure what he was expecting but he was a demanding SOB and what was that about the virgins or whatever? I am not sure I stop listening at *gargbelburg* when we poured the jet fuel down his throat. Good times. I am glad we sent him to accounting with all the Bush family. That is going to be a busy place soon.
It is time though. I am really just tired and exhausted from seeing the same old rank and file pour through here each one with the same delusions of grandeur like they are the new Jack. Ah Jack. How he screamed and that accent always made me chuckle. Putting him into the same room as L. Ron Hubbard is a stroke of brilliance I just don't think will ever be recreated. Last time I checked Jack was still being audited and Big Ron could not figure out how we were sneaking in scalpels in the pillow cases.
You gave me my shot man. When I was just possessing people in Sir Lanka you took the time to mentor me when no one else would and I thank you for that. I have learned so much from you, not the least of which is that you can indeed skin someone using a Nutella jar if you have patience and a desire to excel in your craft.
So this is my two week notice. In that time I will be training up my replacement. He is a fine fellow and seems to do good works though I am not so sure that his skills with dancing and the one glove is all that terrifying down here. Who knows?
Thank you for your time.
Pizzlesticks Barnswollow.
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
-130
"God da--I mean wow, this place is amazing." Burnard crowed, trying to keep his booming thunder-clap of a voice modulated. He strolled through the pearly gates, past St. Peter, gawking like a Japanese tourist at the wonders around him. He stayed on the paved section feeling the tingle of the gold bricks beneath his feet. The angels he passed stopped to gossip. Some of them pointed. A few panicked seeing the pit fiend walking free and reacted with wide eyes and covered mouths. More than one stepped out to the street of gold to look to St. Peter for an explanation.
St. Peter gave them a wry grin and shrugged helplessly. Burnard was aware of the looks he was getting but ignored them. He'd learned to ignore the screams of the damned. He'd learned to ignore the sting of the river Styx. There wasn't much that did faze him, except for what he had to do next.
He saw an angel with a street cart, handing out free cotton candy. He hurried over and accepted half a dozen of them. He licked and chomped and fought their wispy cottony goodness while spying a pretzel cart nearby. He crowed with the same glee an Alabama toddler demonstrates when getting lost in the Piggly Wiggly and finds him or herself unchaperoned on the candy aisle. It was truly frightening.
He skipped over, snatched three pretzesl from the vendor and dunked them and his fist in the bubbling nacho cheese. He shoved them in his mouth, slathering his hideous maw with cheese and melted cotton candy in a truly gruesome display of gluttony. However, he dropped the cotton candy and the pretzels in stunned amazement upon spying yet another cart doling out what he considered the ultimate most delicious treat every demon in Hell wished was served there. He scrambled like a dog chasing a Frisbee for the vendor handing out the snow cones. The angel doling them out almost fled in fear upon seeing the fiend bearing down on him.
The demon ignored the tiny cones and buried his face among the syrups and ice like a hillbilly eating watermelon.
"Burnard the Three-Horned Impaler, Lord of Lava, Duke of Decay, Prince of Pain?" An archangel asked, clicking an ink pen while consulting a clip board.
"Uh? Burnie." The fiend supplied, pulling his snout from the vendor's cart. It was a collage of colliding colors. The archangel winced at the grating sound of the demon's voice.
"You ready for your orientation?" The archangel asked. The demon started hopping up and down in ecstatic bliss.
"You're god da--Yes." Burnie replied, catching himself once more.
Burnie snatched a half dozen snow cones for the vendor's cart and waddled after his guide.
"You understand this a probationary position? You violate the rules, you'll instantly be deported." The angel warned. "I'm Anastasio. I'm an archangel and I'll be supervising your time here. Any questions or problems with that?"
"That's cool. Is Walt Disney here? Can I see him? I heard you had an amusement park. Did he build it?" Burnie asked, changing subjects.
"Walt Disney froze himself. His soul is . . . It ain't here. We went a different route." The angel replied, changing the subject. "You're here to keep heaven clean. You'll empty the trash. Keep the clouds fluffed. Clean cherub poop off the fountain rims and stuff like that. I'll take you to the groundskeeper's shack and get you settled in. Burnie smiled his hideous smile and nodded his understanding. They trooped along in silence for a long while. Burnie's eyes going here and there with wide-eyed wonder.
"Burnie." The angel murmured, breaking the silence.
"Annie." Burnie shot back.
"Anastasio." Anastasio clarified, never liking that nickname. Burnie dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Not to be intrusive, but . . ." Anastasio didn't know how ask it without being impolite.
"How'd I get in?" Burnie asked, chuckling.
"Yeah. We've never had a pit fiend here. According to the information we have, you've worked for Lucifer ever since he was cast out. You can't get into heaven if you ever committed an evil act. It's been centuries. How did you do it? I mean if you don't mind sharing." Anastasio paused in his walking, giving his companion his full attention. Burnie paused and considered how best to reply.
"I invented politics. Lucifer was so impressed and grateful, he put me in charge of grooming Cerberus. I never really got around to sinning." Burnie said with a shrug. "One day, Michael comes down and power drives the antichrist, stuffing him down deep in the bedrock. We get to talking. I find out you have this position open. I put in my two week notice, and here I am. Ready to clean up cherub poop." He flashed what he thought a disarming smile, but the archangel was still put off by it and almost smote him out of reflex.
"How'd Lucifer take it?" Anastasio asked, grinning.
Burnie smiled real big and glanced toward the pearly gates with more than a little apprehension. "Not well."
------------------------
*Dear Lucifer,*
*I quite two weeks ago. Went to work for the guy upstairs.*
*Sincerely,*
*Burnie*
*P.S. Cerberus ate some bologna with the stringy-thing still on it. He made need some help.*
----------------------
Lucifer read the note again then again. He glanced at the other demons peering over his shoulder and back at the note then across the lake of fire to the gates of hell where Cerberus was frantically dragging his butt back and forth in front of the gate.
"God dammit." Lucifer mumbled crumpling the note. The other demons quickly retrieved it and started passing it around the throne room while the Lord of Death stalked across the cavern to pull the bologna wrap out of his dog's ass.
|
***this draft was found crumpled up in the wastebasket of Hell's mailroom, where all requests, verbal and mental, for people to "go to Hell" are sorted and processed***
O Worst One,
This is to inform you that, as of two weeks from today, I fucking quit. After literally an eternity of wading through Earth-junk, I'm leaving. No more reading about how Joe Asshole's dog shit on Bob McIdiot's lawn, or how That Tease let some bro buy her a drink and then skedaddled. Anybody has a problem in gridlock now, I don't care. I got a new gig.
Not that you care, Mr. King Shit Fallen Angel. "Oh, I used to be the most beautiful of them all! Oh, my poor sing-èd wings! Oh, me!" So self-absorbed. I'll bet you don't even know this department exists. We certainly weren't e-vited to the last fifteen thousand company parties, though we lodged complaints.
Again, not that you care, but I know a guy who knows a guy, basically, and now I'm going topside. Like, all the way topside. Did you know that's all it takes? Somebody putting in a good word? I'll bet you did. We can all just leave if we ask, but nobody asks. What, would it be bad for morale? All that "better to reign" stuff may have been working for you, but I'm looking around my matchbox cubicle (WHICH I SHARE), and lemme tell you, it does not feel like I'm doing any reigning down here.
You know what they got up there? First of all, less fire. Fewer brimstones. From what I hear, it smells literally peachy up there. And breaks! Glorious, fifteen-minute breaks every four hours!
Yes, I'm off to the land of milk and honey, and if you don't like it, you can... well, you're already here.
Signed,
Toby, who is now putting this letter in the trash and then writing his actual resignation letter to Dave, his manager.
P.S. Dick move with Eve
▶ Show quoted text
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
-130
"God da--I mean wow, this place is amazing." Burnard crowed, trying to keep his booming thunder-clap of a voice modulated. He strolled through the pearly gates, past St. Peter, gawking like a Japanese tourist at the wonders around him. He stayed on the paved section feeling the tingle of the gold bricks beneath his feet. The angels he passed stopped to gossip. Some of them pointed. A few panicked seeing the pit fiend walking free and reacted with wide eyes and covered mouths. More than one stepped out to the street of gold to look to St. Peter for an explanation.
St. Peter gave them a wry grin and shrugged helplessly. Burnard was aware of the looks he was getting but ignored them. He'd learned to ignore the screams of the damned. He'd learned to ignore the sting of the river Styx. There wasn't much that did faze him, except for what he had to do next.
He saw an angel with a street cart, handing out free cotton candy. He hurried over and accepted half a dozen of them. He licked and chomped and fought their wispy cottony goodness while spying a pretzel cart nearby. He crowed with the same glee an Alabama toddler demonstrates when getting lost in the Piggly Wiggly and finds him or herself unchaperoned on the candy aisle. It was truly frightening.
He skipped over, snatched three pretzesl from the vendor and dunked them and his fist in the bubbling nacho cheese. He shoved them in his mouth, slathering his hideous maw with cheese and melted cotton candy in a truly gruesome display of gluttony. However, he dropped the cotton candy and the pretzels in stunned amazement upon spying yet another cart doling out what he considered the ultimate most delicious treat every demon in Hell wished was served there. He scrambled like a dog chasing a Frisbee for the vendor handing out the snow cones. The angel doling them out almost fled in fear upon seeing the fiend bearing down on him.
The demon ignored the tiny cones and buried his face among the syrups and ice like a hillbilly eating watermelon.
"Burnard the Three-Horned Impaler, Lord of Lava, Duke of Decay, Prince of Pain?" An archangel asked, clicking an ink pen while consulting a clip board.
"Uh? Burnie." The fiend supplied, pulling his snout from the vendor's cart. It was a collage of colliding colors. The archangel winced at the grating sound of the demon's voice.
"You ready for your orientation?" The archangel asked. The demon started hopping up and down in ecstatic bliss.
"You're god da--Yes." Burnie replied, catching himself once more.
Burnie snatched a half dozen snow cones for the vendor's cart and waddled after his guide.
"You understand this a probationary position? You violate the rules, you'll instantly be deported." The angel warned. "I'm Anastasio. I'm an archangel and I'll be supervising your time here. Any questions or problems with that?"
"That's cool. Is Walt Disney here? Can I see him? I heard you had an amusement park. Did he build it?" Burnie asked, changing subjects.
"Walt Disney froze himself. His soul is . . . It ain't here. We went a different route." The angel replied, changing the subject. "You're here to keep heaven clean. You'll empty the trash. Keep the clouds fluffed. Clean cherub poop off the fountain rims and stuff like that. I'll take you to the groundskeeper's shack and get you settled in. Burnie smiled his hideous smile and nodded his understanding. They trooped along in silence for a long while. Burnie's eyes going here and there with wide-eyed wonder.
"Burnie." The angel murmured, breaking the silence.
"Annie." Burnie shot back.
"Anastasio." Anastasio clarified, never liking that nickname. Burnie dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Not to be intrusive, but . . ." Anastasio didn't know how ask it without being impolite.
"How'd I get in?" Burnie asked, chuckling.
"Yeah. We've never had a pit fiend here. According to the information we have, you've worked for Lucifer ever since he was cast out. You can't get into heaven if you ever committed an evil act. It's been centuries. How did you do it? I mean if you don't mind sharing." Anastasio paused in his walking, giving his companion his full attention. Burnie paused and considered how best to reply.
"I invented politics. Lucifer was so impressed and grateful, he put me in charge of grooming Cerberus. I never really got around to sinning." Burnie said with a shrug. "One day, Michael comes down and power drives the antichrist, stuffing him down deep in the bedrock. We get to talking. I find out you have this position open. I put in my two week notice, and here I am. Ready to clean up cherub poop." He flashed what he thought a disarming smile, but the archangel was still put off by it and almost smote him out of reflex.
"How'd Lucifer take it?" Anastasio asked, grinning.
Burnie smiled real big and glanced toward the pearly gates with more than a little apprehension. "Not well."
------------------------
*Dear Lucifer,*
*I quite two weeks ago. Went to work for the guy upstairs.*
*Sincerely,*
*Burnie*
*P.S. Cerberus ate some bologna with the stringy-thing still on it. He made need some help.*
----------------------
Lucifer read the note again then again. He glanced at the other demons peering over his shoulder and back at the note then across the lake of fire to the gates of hell where Cerberus was frantically dragging his butt back and forth in front of the gate.
"God dammit." Lucifer mumbled crumpling the note. The other demons quickly retrieved it and started passing it around the throne room while the Lord of Death stalked across the cavern to pull the bologna wrap out of his dog's ass.
|
Dear Morning Star,
My days with you have been well spent, full of learning and growth personally and professionally. My greatest achievement in hell was learning not to pigeonhole people or ideas. Prior to actually working for you I thought everything about you and Hades could be learned from mythology or Dante. But, Oh No! Hell is certainly something special that needs to be experienced. I have no idea why zealots on earth and trying to prevent a visit to this place of learning. In truth literature alone can not adequately describe the myriad of emotions, circumstances and smells here.
I will miss this place and the people that make it what it is. Please do not fret you still have some quality employees like Oprah and Gandhi. And daily people are paving the way here with their supposed good intentions.
Best- AustinGee
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
-130
"God da--I mean wow, this place is amazing." Burnard crowed, trying to keep his booming thunder-clap of a voice modulated. He strolled through the pearly gates, past St. Peter, gawking like a Japanese tourist at the wonders around him. He stayed on the paved section feeling the tingle of the gold bricks beneath his feet. The angels he passed stopped to gossip. Some of them pointed. A few panicked seeing the pit fiend walking free and reacted with wide eyes and covered mouths. More than one stepped out to the street of gold to look to St. Peter for an explanation.
St. Peter gave them a wry grin and shrugged helplessly. Burnard was aware of the looks he was getting but ignored them. He'd learned to ignore the screams of the damned. He'd learned to ignore the sting of the river Styx. There wasn't much that did faze him, except for what he had to do next.
He saw an angel with a street cart, handing out free cotton candy. He hurried over and accepted half a dozen of them. He licked and chomped and fought their wispy cottony goodness while spying a pretzel cart nearby. He crowed with the same glee an Alabama toddler demonstrates when getting lost in the Piggly Wiggly and finds him or herself unchaperoned on the candy aisle. It was truly frightening.
He skipped over, snatched three pretzesl from the vendor and dunked them and his fist in the bubbling nacho cheese. He shoved them in his mouth, slathering his hideous maw with cheese and melted cotton candy in a truly gruesome display of gluttony. However, he dropped the cotton candy and the pretzels in stunned amazement upon spying yet another cart doling out what he considered the ultimate most delicious treat every demon in Hell wished was served there. He scrambled like a dog chasing a Frisbee for the vendor handing out the snow cones. The angel doling them out almost fled in fear upon seeing the fiend bearing down on him.
The demon ignored the tiny cones and buried his face among the syrups and ice like a hillbilly eating watermelon.
"Burnard the Three-Horned Impaler, Lord of Lava, Duke of Decay, Prince of Pain?" An archangel asked, clicking an ink pen while consulting a clip board.
"Uh? Burnie." The fiend supplied, pulling his snout from the vendor's cart. It was a collage of colliding colors. The archangel winced at the grating sound of the demon's voice.
"You ready for your orientation?" The archangel asked. The demon started hopping up and down in ecstatic bliss.
"You're god da--Yes." Burnie replied, catching himself once more.
Burnie snatched a half dozen snow cones for the vendor's cart and waddled after his guide.
"You understand this a probationary position? You violate the rules, you'll instantly be deported." The angel warned. "I'm Anastasio. I'm an archangel and I'll be supervising your time here. Any questions or problems with that?"
"That's cool. Is Walt Disney here? Can I see him? I heard you had an amusement park. Did he build it?" Burnie asked, changing subjects.
"Walt Disney froze himself. His soul is . . . It ain't here. We went a different route." The angel replied, changing the subject. "You're here to keep heaven clean. You'll empty the trash. Keep the clouds fluffed. Clean cherub poop off the fountain rims and stuff like that. I'll take you to the groundskeeper's shack and get you settled in. Burnie smiled his hideous smile and nodded his understanding. They trooped along in silence for a long while. Burnie's eyes going here and there with wide-eyed wonder.
"Burnie." The angel murmured, breaking the silence.
"Annie." Burnie shot back.
"Anastasio." Anastasio clarified, never liking that nickname. Burnie dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Not to be intrusive, but . . ." Anastasio didn't know how ask it without being impolite.
"How'd I get in?" Burnie asked, chuckling.
"Yeah. We've never had a pit fiend here. According to the information we have, you've worked for Lucifer ever since he was cast out. You can't get into heaven if you ever committed an evil act. It's been centuries. How did you do it? I mean if you don't mind sharing." Anastasio paused in his walking, giving his companion his full attention. Burnie paused and considered how best to reply.
"I invented politics. Lucifer was so impressed and grateful, he put me in charge of grooming Cerberus. I never really got around to sinning." Burnie said with a shrug. "One day, Michael comes down and power drives the antichrist, stuffing him down deep in the bedrock. We get to talking. I find out you have this position open. I put in my two week notice, and here I am. Ready to clean up cherub poop." He flashed what he thought a disarming smile, but the archangel was still put off by it and almost smote him out of reflex.
"How'd Lucifer take it?" Anastasio asked, grinning.
Burnie smiled real big and glanced toward the pearly gates with more than a little apprehension. "Not well."
------------------------
*Dear Lucifer,*
*I quite two weeks ago. Went to work for the guy upstairs.*
*Sincerely,*
*Burnie*
*P.S. Cerberus ate some bologna with the stringy-thing still on it. He made need some help.*
----------------------
Lucifer read the note again then again. He glanced at the other demons peering over his shoulder and back at the note then across the lake of fire to the gates of hell where Cerberus was frantically dragging his butt back and forth in front of the gate.
"God dammit." Lucifer mumbled crumpling the note. The other demons quickly retrieved it and started passing it around the throne room while the Lord of Death stalked across the cavern to pull the bologna wrap out of his dog's ass.
|
Dear Fromer Employer Lucy,
Listen babe, its nothing personal but I've decided to work for God, I got a letter in the mail from the big G and this... I shit you not... was an offer to train angel on human conversion methods. Shiiiiiit boss you've been winning but you know it bad when they hire me. I've spent weeks negotiating my hiring with Jesus (Remeber that orgy we had about six years ago during his birth day? Well.... I might have left an impression.) Part of my terms is that I'm allowed to visit heaven before hiring.
This is the part you are going to love the most because of the rule change from the 'Fall'. Angels can no longer have sex with humans, so that's going to be the first thing I change in the recruiting methods. I've served under you since you were the light of the lord. I don't know if you remember but I was also the Demon that suggested we reform hell after we landed. I mean with billions of us, I know you forget some of our deeds but I have an award from the last soul hunter campaign by building the first brothel in hell.
We've had a good run but what I'm saying is that hell has gotten to crowded and I really need my space. I know you've beaten heaven but honestly outside of the orgies, parties, concerts and random wars.... I've gotten bored but I'm haven't forgotten where home really is so I've requested that my all my slaves and souls be moved to heaven as my personal staff. I can't fuck my humans any more but I can put them to work but now they get off time which is fine if a little inefficient.
So lucy, I'll be coming by for one last battle to see if I can finally beat you in a game of never have I ever and Musical Holes.
Your underling and former Vassal,
G'ejaus 'ejhf dejan, (Radiant Lovebug)
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
-130
"God da--I mean wow, this place is amazing." Burnard crowed, trying to keep his booming thunder-clap of a voice modulated. He strolled through the pearly gates, past St. Peter, gawking like a Japanese tourist at the wonders around him. He stayed on the paved section feeling the tingle of the gold bricks beneath his feet. The angels he passed stopped to gossip. Some of them pointed. A few panicked seeing the pit fiend walking free and reacted with wide eyes and covered mouths. More than one stepped out to the street of gold to look to St. Peter for an explanation.
St. Peter gave them a wry grin and shrugged helplessly. Burnard was aware of the looks he was getting but ignored them. He'd learned to ignore the screams of the damned. He'd learned to ignore the sting of the river Styx. There wasn't much that did faze him, except for what he had to do next.
He saw an angel with a street cart, handing out free cotton candy. He hurried over and accepted half a dozen of them. He licked and chomped and fought their wispy cottony goodness while spying a pretzel cart nearby. He crowed with the same glee an Alabama toddler demonstrates when getting lost in the Piggly Wiggly and finds him or herself unchaperoned on the candy aisle. It was truly frightening.
He skipped over, snatched three pretzesl from the vendor and dunked them and his fist in the bubbling nacho cheese. He shoved them in his mouth, slathering his hideous maw with cheese and melted cotton candy in a truly gruesome display of gluttony. However, he dropped the cotton candy and the pretzels in stunned amazement upon spying yet another cart doling out what he considered the ultimate most delicious treat every demon in Hell wished was served there. He scrambled like a dog chasing a Frisbee for the vendor handing out the snow cones. The angel doling them out almost fled in fear upon seeing the fiend bearing down on him.
The demon ignored the tiny cones and buried his face among the syrups and ice like a hillbilly eating watermelon.
"Burnard the Three-Horned Impaler, Lord of Lava, Duke of Decay, Prince of Pain?" An archangel asked, clicking an ink pen while consulting a clip board.
"Uh? Burnie." The fiend supplied, pulling his snout from the vendor's cart. It was a collage of colliding colors. The archangel winced at the grating sound of the demon's voice.
"You ready for your orientation?" The archangel asked. The demon started hopping up and down in ecstatic bliss.
"You're god da--Yes." Burnie replied, catching himself once more.
Burnie snatched a half dozen snow cones for the vendor's cart and waddled after his guide.
"You understand this a probationary position? You violate the rules, you'll instantly be deported." The angel warned. "I'm Anastasio. I'm an archangel and I'll be supervising your time here. Any questions or problems with that?"
"That's cool. Is Walt Disney here? Can I see him? I heard you had an amusement park. Did he build it?" Burnie asked, changing subjects.
"Walt Disney froze himself. His soul is . . . It ain't here. We went a different route." The angel replied, changing the subject. "You're here to keep heaven clean. You'll empty the trash. Keep the clouds fluffed. Clean cherub poop off the fountain rims and stuff like that. I'll take you to the groundskeeper's shack and get you settled in. Burnie smiled his hideous smile and nodded his understanding. They trooped along in silence for a long while. Burnie's eyes going here and there with wide-eyed wonder.
"Burnie." The angel murmured, breaking the silence.
"Annie." Burnie shot back.
"Anastasio." Anastasio clarified, never liking that nickname. Burnie dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Not to be intrusive, but . . ." Anastasio didn't know how ask it without being impolite.
"How'd I get in?" Burnie asked, chuckling.
"Yeah. We've never had a pit fiend here. According to the information we have, you've worked for Lucifer ever since he was cast out. You can't get into heaven if you ever committed an evil act. It's been centuries. How did you do it? I mean if you don't mind sharing." Anastasio paused in his walking, giving his companion his full attention. Burnie paused and considered how best to reply.
"I invented politics. Lucifer was so impressed and grateful, he put me in charge of grooming Cerberus. I never really got around to sinning." Burnie said with a shrug. "One day, Michael comes down and power drives the antichrist, stuffing him down deep in the bedrock. We get to talking. I find out you have this position open. I put in my two week notice, and here I am. Ready to clean up cherub poop." He flashed what he thought a disarming smile, but the archangel was still put off by it and almost smote him out of reflex.
"How'd Lucifer take it?" Anastasio asked, grinning.
Burnie smiled real big and glanced toward the pearly gates with more than a little apprehension. "Not well."
------------------------
*Dear Lucifer,*
*I quite two weeks ago. Went to work for the guy upstairs.*
*Sincerely,*
*Burnie*
*P.S. Cerberus ate some bologna with the stringy-thing still on it. He made need some help.*
----------------------
Lucifer read the note again then again. He glanced at the other demons peering over his shoulder and back at the note then across the lake of fire to the gates of hell where Cerberus was frantically dragging his butt back and forth in front of the gate.
"God dammit." Lucifer mumbled crumpling the note. The other demons quickly retrieved it and started passing it around the throne room while the Lord of Death stalked across the cavern to pull the bologna wrap out of his dog's ass.
|
Dear Satan/Beezlebub/Belial/Father of lies;
I remember when I first read about Hell in Demonic Harmonic magazine. It talked about all the "whole host of employment opportunities readily available for anyone willing to peel the skin off of sinners". I was one of those people willing to peel skin when I first started but with each passing day of this soul sucking job I began to find myself tired. Keep in mind, had I been given a job in the skin peeling department or even the cactus sodomy field, then I would have loved my job. But instead I get stuck filing paperwork for every damned soul from the lake of fire all the way to the belly of the thrashing acid beast. I get it, you have to pay your dues before you get promoted to tooth puller in the swamp of suffering. And I worked my hardest to pay those dues, but no matter how many pounds of organs disemboweled paperwork or heads severed piecharts that I kept track of I was never recognized for my work. Sure, I got the yearly skin parchment letter from your personal offices but we all know that it was just a cookie cutter attempt at making everyone in this department feel needed but we all know the truth about this place. Nine circles of hell? More like circles of corporate bullshit. I would have openly unionized had the first union members not been publicly flogged, but i've found a sweeter revenge. You see just last week as I was going through a request for a new iron maiden in sector 7 I spotted a finely made silk letter among the sloppy shreds of tattooed human flesh. And do you know where that letter was from? That's right, the big man himself. Can you believe that buddy? And can you guess what the letter entailed? that's right, I just got a job offering. I get to be one of the proud souls to make angel wings for God's heavenly army. Apparently China isn't killing enough babies to work in the factories of heaven anymore and so now God and is outsourcing. Well, I will tell you right now that I'm taking that job and I am going to enjoy it. At least there I get to be part of something. I'm sick and tired of typing into my brimstone keyboard, I hate spending an hour in the firestorm waiting for a chariot to ship me off to work, most importantly I am sick of you.
So Satan this is goodbye to you and every other demented freak that thinks they are better than me because they get to slaughter thousands of innocents each day.
PS- Everyone knows about you and Hitler, stop pretending it's a secret.
Yours truly, John of sinners department.
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
-130
"God da--I mean wow, this place is amazing." Burnard crowed, trying to keep his booming thunder-clap of a voice modulated. He strolled through the pearly gates, past St. Peter, gawking like a Japanese tourist at the wonders around him. He stayed on the paved section feeling the tingle of the gold bricks beneath his feet. The angels he passed stopped to gossip. Some of them pointed. A few panicked seeing the pit fiend walking free and reacted with wide eyes and covered mouths. More than one stepped out to the street of gold to look to St. Peter for an explanation.
St. Peter gave them a wry grin and shrugged helplessly. Burnard was aware of the looks he was getting but ignored them. He'd learned to ignore the screams of the damned. He'd learned to ignore the sting of the river Styx. There wasn't much that did faze him, except for what he had to do next.
He saw an angel with a street cart, handing out free cotton candy. He hurried over and accepted half a dozen of them. He licked and chomped and fought their wispy cottony goodness while spying a pretzel cart nearby. He crowed with the same glee an Alabama toddler demonstrates when getting lost in the Piggly Wiggly and finds him or herself unchaperoned on the candy aisle. It was truly frightening.
He skipped over, snatched three pretzesl from the vendor and dunked them and his fist in the bubbling nacho cheese. He shoved them in his mouth, slathering his hideous maw with cheese and melted cotton candy in a truly gruesome display of gluttony. However, he dropped the cotton candy and the pretzels in stunned amazement upon spying yet another cart doling out what he considered the ultimate most delicious treat every demon in Hell wished was served there. He scrambled like a dog chasing a Frisbee for the vendor handing out the snow cones. The angel doling them out almost fled in fear upon seeing the fiend bearing down on him.
The demon ignored the tiny cones and buried his face among the syrups and ice like a hillbilly eating watermelon.
"Burnard the Three-Horned Impaler, Lord of Lava, Duke of Decay, Prince of Pain?" An archangel asked, clicking an ink pen while consulting a clip board.
"Uh? Burnie." The fiend supplied, pulling his snout from the vendor's cart. It was a collage of colliding colors. The archangel winced at the grating sound of the demon's voice.
"You ready for your orientation?" The archangel asked. The demon started hopping up and down in ecstatic bliss.
"You're god da--Yes." Burnie replied, catching himself once more.
Burnie snatched a half dozen snow cones for the vendor's cart and waddled after his guide.
"You understand this a probationary position? You violate the rules, you'll instantly be deported." The angel warned. "I'm Anastasio. I'm an archangel and I'll be supervising your time here. Any questions or problems with that?"
"That's cool. Is Walt Disney here? Can I see him? I heard you had an amusement park. Did he build it?" Burnie asked, changing subjects.
"Walt Disney froze himself. His soul is . . . It ain't here. We went a different route." The angel replied, changing the subject. "You're here to keep heaven clean. You'll empty the trash. Keep the clouds fluffed. Clean cherub poop off the fountain rims and stuff like that. I'll take you to the groundskeeper's shack and get you settled in. Burnie smiled his hideous smile and nodded his understanding. They trooped along in silence for a long while. Burnie's eyes going here and there with wide-eyed wonder.
"Burnie." The angel murmured, breaking the silence.
"Annie." Burnie shot back.
"Anastasio." Anastasio clarified, never liking that nickname. Burnie dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Not to be intrusive, but . . ." Anastasio didn't know how ask it without being impolite.
"How'd I get in?" Burnie asked, chuckling.
"Yeah. We've never had a pit fiend here. According to the information we have, you've worked for Lucifer ever since he was cast out. You can't get into heaven if you ever committed an evil act. It's been centuries. How did you do it? I mean if you don't mind sharing." Anastasio paused in his walking, giving his companion his full attention. Burnie paused and considered how best to reply.
"I invented politics. Lucifer was so impressed and grateful, he put me in charge of grooming Cerberus. I never really got around to sinning." Burnie said with a shrug. "One day, Michael comes down and power drives the antichrist, stuffing him down deep in the bedrock. We get to talking. I find out you have this position open. I put in my two week notice, and here I am. Ready to clean up cherub poop." He flashed what he thought a disarming smile, but the archangel was still put off by it and almost smote him out of reflex.
"How'd Lucifer take it?" Anastasio asked, grinning.
Burnie smiled real big and glanced toward the pearly gates with more than a little apprehension. "Not well."
------------------------
*Dear Lucifer,*
*I quite two weeks ago. Went to work for the guy upstairs.*
*Sincerely,*
*Burnie*
*P.S. Cerberus ate some bologna with the stringy-thing still on it. He made need some help.*
----------------------
Lucifer read the note again then again. He glanced at the other demons peering over his shoulder and back at the note then across the lake of fire to the gates of hell where Cerberus was frantically dragging his butt back and forth in front of the gate.
"God dammit." Lucifer mumbled crumpling the note. The other demons quickly retrieved it and started passing it around the throne room while the Lord of Death stalked across the cavern to pull the bologna wrap out of his dog's ass.
|
FAO: B. L. Zee-Bub.
Re: Termination of contract.
I write this note to bring to your attention my intent to resign effective immediately on the grounds of constructive dismissal, as advised by the infinite amount of lawyers resident in these firey pits.
My reasoning being as such:
Despite numerous instances in which the broken air conditioning has been brought to the attention of management, no action has been taken to resolve the issue. The temperatures often hit the 100s in the summer months and it makes for an unsafe working environment. Just last week both Gary and Janet collapsed from heat exhaustion and had to go to the sick bay.
It has also been brought up on a number of occasions that our pitchforks are in a state of disrepair, as such meaning we fall behind in our torturing quotas. I am aware that a poor workman blames his tools, but it is unreasonable to expect that we should make thousands of souls scream in agony with a blunt implement. Also, the handles are rusty and sharp, which has seen a number of colleagues becoming the recipients of nasty infections.
The works canteen is of an unsatisfactory level of hygiene, way below the expected sanitation codes for an area handling foodstuffs. I myself had a bad case of Helly Belly just two months ago which resulted in my being unable to fulfill my duties for three days. The backlash of this was loss of pay and a written warning, which I feel is highly unjust.
As such, I hereby hand in my resignation effective immediately,
Yours,
A. M. Inion.
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
-130
"God da--I mean wow, this place is amazing." Burnard crowed, trying to keep his booming thunder-clap of a voice modulated. He strolled through the pearly gates, past St. Peter, gawking like a Japanese tourist at the wonders around him. He stayed on the paved section feeling the tingle of the gold bricks beneath his feet. The angels he passed stopped to gossip. Some of them pointed. A few panicked seeing the pit fiend walking free and reacted with wide eyes and covered mouths. More than one stepped out to the street of gold to look to St. Peter for an explanation.
St. Peter gave them a wry grin and shrugged helplessly. Burnard was aware of the looks he was getting but ignored them. He'd learned to ignore the screams of the damned. He'd learned to ignore the sting of the river Styx. There wasn't much that did faze him, except for what he had to do next.
He saw an angel with a street cart, handing out free cotton candy. He hurried over and accepted half a dozen of them. He licked and chomped and fought their wispy cottony goodness while spying a pretzel cart nearby. He crowed with the same glee an Alabama toddler demonstrates when getting lost in the Piggly Wiggly and finds him or herself unchaperoned on the candy aisle. It was truly frightening.
He skipped over, snatched three pretzesl from the vendor and dunked them and his fist in the bubbling nacho cheese. He shoved them in his mouth, slathering his hideous maw with cheese and melted cotton candy in a truly gruesome display of gluttony. However, he dropped the cotton candy and the pretzels in stunned amazement upon spying yet another cart doling out what he considered the ultimate most delicious treat every demon in Hell wished was served there. He scrambled like a dog chasing a Frisbee for the vendor handing out the snow cones. The angel doling them out almost fled in fear upon seeing the fiend bearing down on him.
The demon ignored the tiny cones and buried his face among the syrups and ice like a hillbilly eating watermelon.
"Burnard the Three-Horned Impaler, Lord of Lava, Duke of Decay, Prince of Pain?" An archangel asked, clicking an ink pen while consulting a clip board.
"Uh? Burnie." The fiend supplied, pulling his snout from the vendor's cart. It was a collage of colliding colors. The archangel winced at the grating sound of the demon's voice.
"You ready for your orientation?" The archangel asked. The demon started hopping up and down in ecstatic bliss.
"You're god da--Yes." Burnie replied, catching himself once more.
Burnie snatched a half dozen snow cones for the vendor's cart and waddled after his guide.
"You understand this a probationary position? You violate the rules, you'll instantly be deported." The angel warned. "I'm Anastasio. I'm an archangel and I'll be supervising your time here. Any questions or problems with that?"
"That's cool. Is Walt Disney here? Can I see him? I heard you had an amusement park. Did he build it?" Burnie asked, changing subjects.
"Walt Disney froze himself. His soul is . . . It ain't here. We went a different route." The angel replied, changing the subject. "You're here to keep heaven clean. You'll empty the trash. Keep the clouds fluffed. Clean cherub poop off the fountain rims and stuff like that. I'll take you to the groundskeeper's shack and get you settled in. Burnie smiled his hideous smile and nodded his understanding. They trooped along in silence for a long while. Burnie's eyes going here and there with wide-eyed wonder.
"Burnie." The angel murmured, breaking the silence.
"Annie." Burnie shot back.
"Anastasio." Anastasio clarified, never liking that nickname. Burnie dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Not to be intrusive, but . . ." Anastasio didn't know how ask it without being impolite.
"How'd I get in?" Burnie asked, chuckling.
"Yeah. We've never had a pit fiend here. According to the information we have, you've worked for Lucifer ever since he was cast out. You can't get into heaven if you ever committed an evil act. It's been centuries. How did you do it? I mean if you don't mind sharing." Anastasio paused in his walking, giving his companion his full attention. Burnie paused and considered how best to reply.
"I invented politics. Lucifer was so impressed and grateful, he put me in charge of grooming Cerberus. I never really got around to sinning." Burnie said with a shrug. "One day, Michael comes down and power drives the antichrist, stuffing him down deep in the bedrock. We get to talking. I find out you have this position open. I put in my two week notice, and here I am. Ready to clean up cherub poop." He flashed what he thought a disarming smile, but the archangel was still put off by it and almost smote him out of reflex.
"How'd Lucifer take it?" Anastasio asked, grinning.
Burnie smiled real big and glanced toward the pearly gates with more than a little apprehension. "Not well."
------------------------
*Dear Lucifer,*
*I quite two weeks ago. Went to work for the guy upstairs.*
*Sincerely,*
*Burnie*
*P.S. Cerberus ate some bologna with the stringy-thing still on it. He made need some help.*
----------------------
Lucifer read the note again then again. He glanced at the other demons peering over his shoulder and back at the note then across the lake of fire to the gates of hell where Cerberus was frantically dragging his butt back and forth in front of the gate.
"God dammit." Lucifer mumbled crumpling the note. The other demons quickly retrieved it and started passing it around the throne room while the Lord of Death stalked across the cavern to pull the bologna wrap out of his dog's ass.
|
Dear Fucking Asshole
Oh, it's just hilarious to get thrown into a lake of fire while my nipples are being eaten by maggots. Yeah, that was a great "thank you" for convincing that virgin to sacrifice herself. Just *great!*
Oh, it's just so, OH SO funny to get drawn and quartered in front of my dead wife and children, who you kept from Heaven so you could torture *also* when I specifically made a deal with you to make sure they got to Heaven. Thanks for that- really fucking great on honoring those deals of yours. Dick.
Oh, it's just side-splitting when you literally split my fucking sides open to prove to Vlad the Impaler how much easier it is to split people's sides open than it is to impale them. I just *loved* that. Thanks!
And you remember all those promises you made me and new deals you wanted me to sign last week, when you found out- oh suddenly, I'm a *candidate* for redemption? Well eat shit, you horned fucking freak. Hell's a bust. From now on, it's glutton-free clean living and a prayer a fucking day. I'll take being bored *any day* over the stupid shit-show you run down here. I was a sado-masochist in life, but this is seriously ridiculous. Learn how to actually *reward* your staff for their work, because I've been talking to a lot of fucking demons and they're all at the end of their rope, *if* they're not at the end of an **actual fucking rope** over a lake of **fucking FIRE!**
Did you ever stop to think that maybe it's not a great morale booster to walk around and tell us about how much fucking better angels are? Seriously, get the fuck over it- you're not getting back into Heaven.
But I am.
Eat shit and die a thousand more times,
- Mike
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
-130
"God da--I mean wow, this place is amazing." Burnard crowed, trying to keep his booming thunder-clap of a voice modulated. He strolled through the pearly gates, past St. Peter, gawking like a Japanese tourist at the wonders around him. He stayed on the paved section feeling the tingle of the gold bricks beneath his feet. The angels he passed stopped to gossip. Some of them pointed. A few panicked seeing the pit fiend walking free and reacted with wide eyes and covered mouths. More than one stepped out to the street of gold to look to St. Peter for an explanation.
St. Peter gave them a wry grin and shrugged helplessly. Burnard was aware of the looks he was getting but ignored them. He'd learned to ignore the screams of the damned. He'd learned to ignore the sting of the river Styx. There wasn't much that did faze him, except for what he had to do next.
He saw an angel with a street cart, handing out free cotton candy. He hurried over and accepted half a dozen of them. He licked and chomped and fought their wispy cottony goodness while spying a pretzel cart nearby. He crowed with the same glee an Alabama toddler demonstrates when getting lost in the Piggly Wiggly and finds him or herself unchaperoned on the candy aisle. It was truly frightening.
He skipped over, snatched three pretzesl from the vendor and dunked them and his fist in the bubbling nacho cheese. He shoved them in his mouth, slathering his hideous maw with cheese and melted cotton candy in a truly gruesome display of gluttony. However, he dropped the cotton candy and the pretzels in stunned amazement upon spying yet another cart doling out what he considered the ultimate most delicious treat every demon in Hell wished was served there. He scrambled like a dog chasing a Frisbee for the vendor handing out the snow cones. The angel doling them out almost fled in fear upon seeing the fiend bearing down on him.
The demon ignored the tiny cones and buried his face among the syrups and ice like a hillbilly eating watermelon.
"Burnard the Three-Horned Impaler, Lord of Lava, Duke of Decay, Prince of Pain?" An archangel asked, clicking an ink pen while consulting a clip board.
"Uh? Burnie." The fiend supplied, pulling his snout from the vendor's cart. It was a collage of colliding colors. The archangel winced at the grating sound of the demon's voice.
"You ready for your orientation?" The archangel asked. The demon started hopping up and down in ecstatic bliss.
"You're god da--Yes." Burnie replied, catching himself once more.
Burnie snatched a half dozen snow cones for the vendor's cart and waddled after his guide.
"You understand this a probationary position? You violate the rules, you'll instantly be deported." The angel warned. "I'm Anastasio. I'm an archangel and I'll be supervising your time here. Any questions or problems with that?"
"That's cool. Is Walt Disney here? Can I see him? I heard you had an amusement park. Did he build it?" Burnie asked, changing subjects.
"Walt Disney froze himself. His soul is . . . It ain't here. We went a different route." The angel replied, changing the subject. "You're here to keep heaven clean. You'll empty the trash. Keep the clouds fluffed. Clean cherub poop off the fountain rims and stuff like that. I'll take you to the groundskeeper's shack and get you settled in. Burnie smiled his hideous smile and nodded his understanding. They trooped along in silence for a long while. Burnie's eyes going here and there with wide-eyed wonder.
"Burnie." The angel murmured, breaking the silence.
"Annie." Burnie shot back.
"Anastasio." Anastasio clarified, never liking that nickname. Burnie dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Not to be intrusive, but . . ." Anastasio didn't know how ask it without being impolite.
"How'd I get in?" Burnie asked, chuckling.
"Yeah. We've never had a pit fiend here. According to the information we have, you've worked for Lucifer ever since he was cast out. You can't get into heaven if you ever committed an evil act. It's been centuries. How did you do it? I mean if you don't mind sharing." Anastasio paused in his walking, giving his companion his full attention. Burnie paused and considered how best to reply.
"I invented politics. Lucifer was so impressed and grateful, he put me in charge of grooming Cerberus. I never really got around to sinning." Burnie said with a shrug. "One day, Michael comes down and power drives the antichrist, stuffing him down deep in the bedrock. We get to talking. I find out you have this position open. I put in my two week notice, and here I am. Ready to clean up cherub poop." He flashed what he thought a disarming smile, but the archangel was still put off by it and almost smote him out of reflex.
"How'd Lucifer take it?" Anastasio asked, grinning.
Burnie smiled real big and glanced toward the pearly gates with more than a little apprehension. "Not well."
------------------------
*Dear Lucifer,*
*I quite two weeks ago. Went to work for the guy upstairs.*
*Sincerely,*
*Burnie*
*P.S. Cerberus ate some bologna with the stringy-thing still on it. He made need some help.*
----------------------
Lucifer read the note again then again. He glanced at the other demons peering over his shoulder and back at the note then across the lake of fire to the gates of hell where Cerberus was frantically dragging his butt back and forth in front of the gate.
"God dammit." Lucifer mumbled crumpling the note. The other demons quickly retrieved it and started passing it around the throne room while the Lord of Death stalked across the cavern to pull the bologna wrap out of his dog's ass.
|
Dear Satan,
I regret to inform you that my tenure here is about to come to an end. The past 2472 years have been an overall pleasure, absent the time you dipped my feet in a frying pan for the poor Bloody Mary. I had no idea you only drank type AB-. I should have known the lord of darkness only drinks the rarest of blood types. Oh well, we had a good laugh about it later!
I must thank you for all the invitations to play poker with you, Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini. Poor Hitler; he always does well in the beginning, but then resorts to nothing but bluffing and always ends up losing his pants. Too bad Mao only plays Chinese checkers.
I've always appreciated your taste in music. Nothing quite brings a smile to my face like listening to Lake of Fire while you boil millions of miserable souls.
It's a shame I have to leave before Trey Parker and Matt Stone die. Once they arrive, they won't need any "depictions" of Satan. They can go right to the source! Remember when we both watched that episode about Mormons? I don't think I've ever seen you laugh so hard.
Why am I leaving? I need a change in my life. A new venue with a different vibe. While listening to Tool and Mudvayne music on a loop has been great, I'm ready to switch to harps and soft pianos. Plus, Yahweh gave me a longer vacation and access to some heavenly escorts. Can you believe it? And I thought all hookers went straight to hell.
So even though I will be leaving, I will always keep you in my heart. Oh, about that, can you return my heart to me? You ripped it out of my chest a couple centuries ago and I'd like to take it with me. Thanks.
Best regards,
Sluggy the Forsaken.
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
138th Instance of Desperation, 26th Cycle, 15,383rd Eon Since The Fall
Prince of Darkness,
This letter is to inform you that, effective upon the Fifth Instance of Wrath within 27th Cycle of the 15,383rd Eon Since The Fall, I shall formally resign my post as Vice President of Torture Enforcement. I have tendered a separate letter to the Board. As you can imagine, Beelzebub reacted typically.
It has been a pleasure serving your Lordship for so many years, and the past 15,000-odd eons have been enjoyable. I still remember when it was just you, Baal, Maalik, Moloch, the Annunaki, and myself, just a few eons after The Fall. That time you took the form of a snake and damned mankind to Your Lordship's Abode? Priceless! The party we had after that was a rager - there are still parts of it I can't remember!
I also remember my first torture, when Cain died and descended to hell. I really appreciated your instruction while I lit him on fire and pulled his organs through his mouth. One of the benefits of being employed is Hell is the endless practice, as none of our residents truly ever die. I lost count of the times I pulled Cain's organs through his mouth (and I recently moved on to pulling them out through his nostrils).
That all being said, I wouldn't be sincere if I didn't tell you the truth: I've accepted a position in the Heavenly Realm as Senior Vice President, Eternal Rest. Please don't consume this letter with fire yet - please read the rest, as I'm trying to do *you* a favor and make Hell a better place in the process.
It's a bit daft that I'd make such a 180 turn from the Torture and Pain Infliction industry, to Eternal Rest and Healing, but God the Father was impressed with my eons of experience in spiritual anatomy and physiology; my eons of expertise with inflicting pain has also given me the ability to, also, heal pain, though I never practiced this in Your Torturous Abode. I would never betray you like that.
While Heaven's newly-minted amnesty program towards hellish demons is a plus, there are some other things that have given me the final push upward into Eternal Bliss and Happiness:
**Bureaucracy:** Seriously, we have a board now? And I have to go through your secretary, Morgoth, to speak with you? I miss the Lucifer of old. I miss you in all your wrath, brimming with fire and brimstone and hatred. Thousands and thousands of eons are enough to change a person, but I don't think I've seen such a dramatic change as from Lucifer, the fearful being who damned mankind to hell and tempts souls, to Lucifer, a chief executive officer who sits at a desk all day, reviews budgets, and signs off on contracts and internal policies. And Morgoth is a jerk. He's always grumpy ever since the whole Middle Earth thing. I don't blame you for making someone like that your administrative assistant, but he intentionally makes it difficult for me to see you. I don't want to go through a grumpy has-been to see my old friend. I also question your judgment in promoting Judas to such a high position. I understand he did betray God the Son, but he seems to feel a lot of remorse for what he did. Not exactly leadership material.
**Environment:** I understand the Nine Circles are to be the most excruciating, uncomfortable places for a soul to reside. I get that. But what about the employee housing and lounge you promised us, five thousand eons ago? I sure as hell don't want to be tortured while I sign off on new torture techniques from our pain infliction engineers. It's much too hot, much too dirty, and there is too much blood and entrails everywhere. And the screaming of the damned - where can we get away from it? It's ever-present, and frankly, I need a nice space to take a bath, wash the blood and ash off, and settle into a nice cozy bed to round off the evening with a glass of wine and an episode or two of Modern Family. But we don't get that. We eat worms and sleep in ash. And the last time I saw Modern Family was when we took a company tour of that war-torn area up on Earth. And I won't do you the injustice of comparing the work environment in Hell with what they're giving me in Heaven.
Lastly, **My Future:** You've read the book of Revelation. We all have. You're screwed. When Jesus comes back, takes the reigns, judges everyone - you remember the whole "Satan and demons being tossed into the Lake of Fire" thing? For eternity? I feel like I'd be way better suited in an environment in which I'm in eternal bliss and happiness. Please don't take this personally, I really have enjoyed my time here, and if it weren't for Heaven's amnesty program, I'd be tortured for infinity in the Lake of Fire with you. But I saw better employment elsewhere, and I'm going to seize this as an opportunity to improve myself, both professionally and spiritually.
I really have enjoyed my time here, and wish you nothing but the best. That is, until the Day of Judgment, while I and the rest of the Heavenly Host see you tossed into the Lake of Fire, before God the Father establishes the Eternal World To Come. But until then, I hope your enterprise here goes smoothly. Of course, seeing as how I'm moving upward to Heaven, I am changing my name and appearance. Please update your records and change my name from "Thorbuk, Demon, Vice President of Torture Enforcement, Hellish Abode" to "Serafin, Angel, Senior Vice President of Eternal Rest, Heavenly Realm."
Best Regards,
Serafin (formerly Thorbuk)
PS: I just heard of Hitler's promotion to Vice President, Human Resources. I don't like Hitler. For my exit interview, please send the Human Resources Director, Vlad the Impaler, instead.
|
To whom it may concern,
I regret to inform you that I will have to take leave from my position as Lead Eternal Damnation Manager of the third circle. Although, I considered submitting a two week notice, I figured it would work out in everyone's best interest to avoid reconciling differences...given that we generally torture first and ask later down here. That last sentance makes me remember the good times with all of you, which will be missed.
I understand that you all serve Hell and Satan is your master, but I have seen the light of forgiveness and I only ask that you attempt to see the same. I've removed my brimstone glasses and exchanged them for rose-colored ones. They're still red, which will always remind me of my years perfecting flesh-removal techniques and especially the old days, way back in the beginning during my time as a grunt in the waste and blood-management sector. Ha! Those were the days! Everyone has to start somewhere, am I right?!
It's been a long road, and I have mixed feelings about all of this, but it is for the best. Perhaps we can all meet up one day soon and go out and fuck a virgin skull over a glass of Hitler Cum...you know, the strong stuff! (Remember that one night, Larry?!)
Sadly, eternity waits for no one! Be well and god bless!
Eternally,
M. Phelps
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
Reficul.
I am afraid.
As you were made aware, he whose name we musn't speak has requested my presence as his gatekeeper along with three others. I go only because this is a demand and not a question of choice. Here, punishments are just and swift. From what I hear, up above, there is nothing of the sort. How can someone live without sin? Without good and bad? I cannot fathom a place where I won't be able to watch in joy as someone sees their family melt in front of them because they spoke out of line. I cannot think of a place where I won't be put in my place if I do serve my responsibility.
What will become of me, Reficul? Why haven't you fought for us to stay? You once said we were your best. Now I fear the worst. Have you grown weaker and less resolved from the angel who hammered his way out of the above? Do you still control the below? I need your guidance now more than ever in keeping myself an agent of order and not straying into blind followings. The three others have already talked of a rebellion upon arrival, riding off on dark horses towards the mortal world, but we all know this would end in swift flash of cold fire.
We leave in two weeks. I forever await your instructions.
-Pestilen
|
To whom it may concern,
I regret to inform you that I will have to take leave from my position as Lead Eternal Damnation Manager of the third circle. Although, I considered submitting a two week notice, I figured it would work out in everyone's best interest to avoid reconciling differences...given that we generally torture first and ask later down here. That last sentance makes me remember the good times with all of you, which will be missed.
I understand that you all serve Hell and Satan is your master, but I have seen the light of forgiveness and I only ask that you attempt to see the same. I've removed my brimstone glasses and exchanged them for rose-colored ones. They're still red, which will always remind me of my years perfecting flesh-removal techniques and especially the old days, way back in the beginning during my time as a grunt in the waste and blood-management sector. Ha! Those were the days! Everyone has to start somewhere, am I right?!
It's been a long road, and I have mixed feelings about all of this, but it is for the best. Perhaps we can all meet up one day soon and go out and fuck a virgin skull over a glass of Hitler Cum...you know, the strong stuff! (Remember that one night, Larry?!)
Sadly, eternity waits for no one! Be well and god bless!
Eternally,
M. Phelps
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
Hey Lou, Abby here.
By now you are probably thinking I have abandoned my field office in purgatory, but I have not, the third quarterlies should be in tow with a portly courier Ifrit named Pha Kin Gai along with this letter of resignation. Your probably also wondering why I have not called since the Expo/Christmas party four years ago. I had a wonderful night, but let's face it you are not exactly the relationship type.
From what little I remember that night you told me you used a condom and I assumed you did. From my current situation, it's apparent you did not. I had a child and I am 100% certain he is yours, he has my hair and eyes but his personality is yours completely. I have written this letter in advance of the two weeks I am giving you, because I'm afraid you will kill him. He's the sweetest boy and I love him but I feel he will be safer uptop side with the humans so I have found a very generous Canadian family that will raise him as their own.
Your brother Michael tells me that heaven is in desperate need of a HR representative that has common knowledge of both sides. This seems like a promising career choice for me and he's also offering divine protection for our son, so that you don't try to kill him. I would have told you if you were not such an evil bastard please forgive me and see the benefit of allowing him to live.
Yours Lovingly,
Abaddon
PS. I know you may not approve but [perhaps his lovely singing will change your mind.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_UeGzzzoMU) His name is Justin.
|
To whom it may concern,
I regret to inform you that I will have to take leave from my position as Lead Eternal Damnation Manager of the third circle. Although, I considered submitting a two week notice, I figured it would work out in everyone's best interest to avoid reconciling differences...given that we generally torture first and ask later down here. That last sentance makes me remember the good times with all of you, which will be missed.
I understand that you all serve Hell and Satan is your master, but I have seen the light of forgiveness and I only ask that you attempt to see the same. I've removed my brimstone glasses and exchanged them for rose-colored ones. They're still red, which will always remind me of my years perfecting flesh-removal techniques and especially the old days, way back in the beginning during my time as a grunt in the waste and blood-management sector. Ha! Those were the days! Everyone has to start somewhere, am I right?!
It's been a long road, and I have mixed feelings about all of this, but it is for the best. Perhaps we can all meet up one day soon and go out and fuck a virgin skull over a glass of Hitler Cum...you know, the strong stuff! (Remember that one night, Larry?!)
Sadly, eternity waits for no one! Be well and god bless!
Eternally,
M. Phelps
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
@LuciferQt sorry not sorry but I got a job in Heaven so I won't be showing up to work tomorrow, or ever. Later Hater.
(Demons don't write 2 weeks notice, they just Tweet their boss that they are quitting. #Scumbagdemon)
|
To whom it may concern,
I regret to inform you that I will have to take leave from my position as Lead Eternal Damnation Manager of the third circle. Although, I considered submitting a two week notice, I figured it would work out in everyone's best interest to avoid reconciling differences...given that we generally torture first and ask later down here. That last sentance makes me remember the good times with all of you, which will be missed.
I understand that you all serve Hell and Satan is your master, but I have seen the light of forgiveness and I only ask that you attempt to see the same. I've removed my brimstone glasses and exchanged them for rose-colored ones. They're still red, which will always remind me of my years perfecting flesh-removal techniques and especially the old days, way back in the beginning during my time as a grunt in the waste and blood-management sector. Ha! Those were the days! Everyone has to start somewhere, am I right?!
It's been a long road, and I have mixed feelings about all of this, but it is for the best. Perhaps we can all meet up one day soon and go out and fuck a virgin skull over a glass of Hitler Cum...you know, the strong stuff! (Remember that one night, Larry?!)
Sadly, eternity waits for no one! Be well and god bless!
Eternally,
M. Phelps
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
138th Instance of Desperation, 26th Cycle, 15,383rd Eon Since The Fall
Prince of Darkness,
This letter is to inform you that, effective upon the Fifth Instance of Wrath within 27th Cycle of the 15,383rd Eon Since The Fall, I shall formally resign my post as Vice President of Torture Enforcement. I have tendered a separate letter to the Board. As you can imagine, Beelzebub reacted typically.
It has been a pleasure serving your Lordship for so many years, and the past 15,000-odd eons have been enjoyable. I still remember when it was just you, Baal, Maalik, Moloch, the Annunaki, and myself, just a few eons after The Fall. That time you took the form of a snake and damned mankind to Your Lordship's Abode? Priceless! The party we had after that was a rager - there are still parts of it I can't remember!
I also remember my first torture, when Cain died and descended to hell. I really appreciated your instruction while I lit him on fire and pulled his organs through his mouth. One of the benefits of being employed is Hell is the endless practice, as none of our residents truly ever die. I lost count of the times I pulled Cain's organs through his mouth (and I recently moved on to pulling them out through his nostrils).
That all being said, I wouldn't be sincere if I didn't tell you the truth: I've accepted a position in the Heavenly Realm as Senior Vice President, Eternal Rest. Please don't consume this letter with fire yet - please read the rest, as I'm trying to do *you* a favor and make Hell a better place in the process.
It's a bit daft that I'd make such a 180 turn from the Torture and Pain Infliction industry, to Eternal Rest and Healing, but God the Father was impressed with my eons of experience in spiritual anatomy and physiology; my eons of expertise with inflicting pain has also given me the ability to, also, heal pain, though I never practiced this in Your Torturous Abode. I would never betray you like that.
While Heaven's newly-minted amnesty program towards hellish demons is a plus, there are some other things that have given me the final push upward into Eternal Bliss and Happiness:
**Bureaucracy:** Seriously, we have a board now? And I have to go through your secretary, Morgoth, to speak with you? I miss the Lucifer of old. I miss you in all your wrath, brimming with fire and brimstone and hatred. Thousands and thousands of eons are enough to change a person, but I don't think I've seen such a dramatic change as from Lucifer, the fearful being who damned mankind to hell and tempts souls, to Lucifer, a chief executive officer who sits at a desk all day, reviews budgets, and signs off on contracts and internal policies. And Morgoth is a jerk. He's always grumpy ever since the whole Middle Earth thing. I don't blame you for making someone like that your administrative assistant, but he intentionally makes it difficult for me to see you. I don't want to go through a grumpy has-been to see my old friend. I also question your judgment in promoting Judas to such a high position. I understand he did betray God the Son, but he seems to feel a lot of remorse for what he did. Not exactly leadership material.
**Environment:** I understand the Nine Circles are to be the most excruciating, uncomfortable places for a soul to reside. I get that. But what about the employee housing and lounge you promised us, five thousand eons ago? I sure as hell don't want to be tortured while I sign off on new torture techniques from our pain infliction engineers. It's much too hot, much too dirty, and there is too much blood and entrails everywhere. And the screaming of the damned - where can we get away from it? It's ever-present, and frankly, I need a nice space to take a bath, wash the blood and ash off, and settle into a nice cozy bed to round off the evening with a glass of wine and an episode or two of Modern Family. But we don't get that. We eat worms and sleep in ash. And the last time I saw Modern Family was when we took a company tour of that war-torn area up on Earth. And I won't do you the injustice of comparing the work environment in Hell with what they're giving me in Heaven.
Lastly, **My Future:** You've read the book of Revelation. We all have. You're screwed. When Jesus comes back, takes the reigns, judges everyone - you remember the whole "Satan and demons being tossed into the Lake of Fire" thing? For eternity? I feel like I'd be way better suited in an environment in which I'm in eternal bliss and happiness. Please don't take this personally, I really have enjoyed my time here, and if it weren't for Heaven's amnesty program, I'd be tortured for infinity in the Lake of Fire with you. But I saw better employment elsewhere, and I'm going to seize this as an opportunity to improve myself, both professionally and spiritually.
I really have enjoyed my time here, and wish you nothing but the best. That is, until the Day of Judgment, while I and the rest of the Heavenly Host see you tossed into the Lake of Fire, before God the Father establishes the Eternal World To Come. But until then, I hope your enterprise here goes smoothly. Of course, seeing as how I'm moving upward to Heaven, I am changing my name and appearance. Please update your records and change my name from "Thorbuk, Demon, Vice President of Torture Enforcement, Hellish Abode" to "Serafin, Angel, Senior Vice President of Eternal Rest, Heavenly Realm."
Best Regards,
Serafin (formerly Thorbuk)
PS: I just heard of Hitler's promotion to Vice President, Human Resources. I don't like Hitler. For my exit interview, please send the Human Resources Director, Vlad the Impaler, instead.
|
To Whom It May Concern:
I would like to take this time to show my appreciation for the opportunity that was presented to me some six millenniums ago by Asmodeus. He took a chance on a lonely cast off and helped me learn the ways of the second circle. Without him it would not have been possible for me to move up to where I am today.
It has been a wild crazy ride these past years. I have learned the best methods of torture and abuse; a great example would be that for some sinners restraint is the best form of punishment. There is nothing like torturing the lustful sinners with teasing and abstinence. I could go on for weeks describing some of my favorite memories here and it has been great to watch the division expand so much since the invention of the internet.
However, it is with great sadness that I must give my two weeks’ notice. Please accept this resignation effective for June 20, 8054. There is a time that comes in every demon’s life where decisions have to be made based on quality of life. And while I am leaving behind a benefit package and bonus structure that is certainly an industry leader; I have to do what is best for my family for the rest of eternity.
It has been a pleasure to serve the dark lord.
Sincerely,
Bob
Keeper of Lust, Senior Vice President
2nd Circle Division
CC:
Asmodeus
Lucifer
HR Record Retention
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
Reficul.
I am afraid.
As you were made aware, he whose name we musn't speak has requested my presence as his gatekeeper along with three others. I go only because this is a demand and not a question of choice. Here, punishments are just and swift. From what I hear, up above, there is nothing of the sort. How can someone live without sin? Without good and bad? I cannot fathom a place where I won't be able to watch in joy as someone sees their family melt in front of them because they spoke out of line. I cannot think of a place where I won't be put in my place if I do serve my responsibility.
What will become of me, Reficul? Why haven't you fought for us to stay? You once said we were your best. Now I fear the worst. Have you grown weaker and less resolved from the angel who hammered his way out of the above? Do you still control the below? I need your guidance now more than ever in keeping myself an agent of order and not straying into blind followings. The three others have already talked of a rebellion upon arrival, riding off on dark horses towards the mortal world, but we all know this would end in swift flash of cold fire.
We leave in two weeks. I forever await your instructions.
-Pestilen
|
To Whom It May Concern:
I would like to take this time to show my appreciation for the opportunity that was presented to me some six millenniums ago by Asmodeus. He took a chance on a lonely cast off and helped me learn the ways of the second circle. Without him it would not have been possible for me to move up to where I am today.
It has been a wild crazy ride these past years. I have learned the best methods of torture and abuse; a great example would be that for some sinners restraint is the best form of punishment. There is nothing like torturing the lustful sinners with teasing and abstinence. I could go on for weeks describing some of my favorite memories here and it has been great to watch the division expand so much since the invention of the internet.
However, it is with great sadness that I must give my two weeks’ notice. Please accept this resignation effective for June 20, 8054. There is a time that comes in every demon’s life where decisions have to be made based on quality of life. And while I am leaving behind a benefit package and bonus structure that is certainly an industry leader; I have to do what is best for my family for the rest of eternity.
It has been a pleasure to serve the dark lord.
Sincerely,
Bob
Keeper of Lust, Senior Vice President
2nd Circle Division
CC:
Asmodeus
Lucifer
HR Record Retention
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
Hey Lou, Abby here.
By now you are probably thinking I have abandoned my field office in purgatory, but I have not, the third quarterlies should be in tow with a portly courier Ifrit named Pha Kin Gai along with this letter of resignation. Your probably also wondering why I have not called since the Expo/Christmas party four years ago. I had a wonderful night, but let's face it you are not exactly the relationship type.
From what little I remember that night you told me you used a condom and I assumed you did. From my current situation, it's apparent you did not. I had a child and I am 100% certain he is yours, he has my hair and eyes but his personality is yours completely. I have written this letter in advance of the two weeks I am giving you, because I'm afraid you will kill him. He's the sweetest boy and I love him but I feel he will be safer uptop side with the humans so I have found a very generous Canadian family that will raise him as their own.
Your brother Michael tells me that heaven is in desperate need of a HR representative that has common knowledge of both sides. This seems like a promising career choice for me and he's also offering divine protection for our son, so that you don't try to kill him. I would have told you if you were not such an evil bastard please forgive me and see the benefit of allowing him to live.
Yours Lovingly,
Abaddon
PS. I know you may not approve but [perhaps his lovely singing will change your mind.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_UeGzzzoMU) His name is Justin.
|
To Whom It May Concern:
I would like to take this time to show my appreciation for the opportunity that was presented to me some six millenniums ago by Asmodeus. He took a chance on a lonely cast off and helped me learn the ways of the second circle. Without him it would not have been possible for me to move up to where I am today.
It has been a wild crazy ride these past years. I have learned the best methods of torture and abuse; a great example would be that for some sinners restraint is the best form of punishment. There is nothing like torturing the lustful sinners with teasing and abstinence. I could go on for weeks describing some of my favorite memories here and it has been great to watch the division expand so much since the invention of the internet.
However, it is with great sadness that I must give my two weeks’ notice. Please accept this resignation effective for June 20, 8054. There is a time that comes in every demon’s life where decisions have to be made based on quality of life. And while I am leaving behind a benefit package and bonus structure that is certainly an industry leader; I have to do what is best for my family for the rest of eternity.
It has been a pleasure to serve the dark lord.
Sincerely,
Bob
Keeper of Lust, Senior Vice President
2nd Circle Division
CC:
Asmodeus
Lucifer
HR Record Retention
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
@LuciferQt sorry not sorry but I got a job in Heaven so I won't be showing up to work tomorrow, or ever. Later Hater.
(Demons don't write 2 weeks notice, they just Tweet their boss that they are quitting. #Scumbagdemon)
|
To Whom It May Concern:
I would like to take this time to show my appreciation for the opportunity that was presented to me some six millenniums ago by Asmodeus. He took a chance on a lonely cast off and helped me learn the ways of the second circle. Without him it would not have been possible for me to move up to where I am today.
It has been a wild crazy ride these past years. I have learned the best methods of torture and abuse; a great example would be that for some sinners restraint is the best form of punishment. There is nothing like torturing the lustful sinners with teasing and abstinence. I could go on for weeks describing some of my favorite memories here and it has been great to watch the division expand so much since the invention of the internet.
However, it is with great sadness that I must give my two weeks’ notice. Please accept this resignation effective for June 20, 8054. There is a time that comes in every demon’s life where decisions have to be made based on quality of life. And while I am leaving behind a benefit package and bonus structure that is certainly an industry leader; I have to do what is best for my family for the rest of eternity.
It has been a pleasure to serve the dark lord.
Sincerely,
Bob
Keeper of Lust, Senior Vice President
2nd Circle Division
CC:
Asmodeus
Lucifer
HR Record Retention
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
Reficul.
I am afraid.
As you were made aware, he whose name we musn't speak has requested my presence as his gatekeeper along with three others. I go only because this is a demand and not a question of choice. Here, punishments are just and swift. From what I hear, up above, there is nothing of the sort. How can someone live without sin? Without good and bad? I cannot fathom a place where I won't be able to watch in joy as someone sees their family melt in front of them because they spoke out of line. I cannot think of a place where I won't be put in my place if I do serve my responsibility.
What will become of me, Reficul? Why haven't you fought for us to stay? You once said we were your best. Now I fear the worst. Have you grown weaker and less resolved from the angel who hammered his way out of the above? Do you still control the below? I need your guidance now more than ever in keeping myself an agent of order and not straying into blind followings. The three others have already talked of a rebellion upon arrival, riding off on dark horses towards the mortal world, but we all know this would end in swift flash of cold fire.
We leave in two weeks. I forever await your instructions.
-Pestilen
|
June 3, 2014
Mr. Lucifer
Hell, Inc.
666, 9th Circle
Hell, Grand Cayman
Dear Mr. Lucifer,
I wanted to write to you to inform you of my intent for resignation within the next two weeks. I hope this doesn't come as a total shock to you and I don't mean to inconvenience you in any way. I will ensure that I start training an understudy to do all my daily tasks such as tormenting humans, kicking ass against angels, and general debauchery.
The times I've spent in hell have been some of the best. I have learned so much when it comes to evil. However, I have to use an unveil trait and be honest with you. I have received a position in heaven and I have accepted it. As much as I know this will anger you, I have to say I am a bit sick of the monotony of hell. I've been here for years and all we ever do is scare the shit out of people in their homes, possess the weak minded idiots of earth, and devour people's souls. Everyone down in hell is getting very obnoxious and I'm pretty sick of all the nonstop complaining and screaming. I need a change of pace.
So I'll finish this off with saying it's been real, Lucifer. It's been fun. But honestly, it hasn't been real fun. I got to get the fuck out of here, man.
Peace out,
Demon 69
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
Hey Lou, Abby here.
By now you are probably thinking I have abandoned my field office in purgatory, but I have not, the third quarterlies should be in tow with a portly courier Ifrit named Pha Kin Gai along with this letter of resignation. Your probably also wondering why I have not called since the Expo/Christmas party four years ago. I had a wonderful night, but let's face it you are not exactly the relationship type.
From what little I remember that night you told me you used a condom and I assumed you did. From my current situation, it's apparent you did not. I had a child and I am 100% certain he is yours, he has my hair and eyes but his personality is yours completely. I have written this letter in advance of the two weeks I am giving you, because I'm afraid you will kill him. He's the sweetest boy and I love him but I feel he will be safer uptop side with the humans so I have found a very generous Canadian family that will raise him as their own.
Your brother Michael tells me that heaven is in desperate need of a HR representative that has common knowledge of both sides. This seems like a promising career choice for me and he's also offering divine protection for our son, so that you don't try to kill him. I would have told you if you were not such an evil bastard please forgive me and see the benefit of allowing him to live.
Yours Lovingly,
Abaddon
PS. I know you may not approve but [perhaps his lovely singing will change your mind.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_UeGzzzoMU) His name is Justin.
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June 3, 2014
Mr. Lucifer
Hell, Inc.
666, 9th Circle
Hell, Grand Cayman
Dear Mr. Lucifer,
I wanted to write to you to inform you of my intent for resignation within the next two weeks. I hope this doesn't come as a total shock to you and I don't mean to inconvenience you in any way. I will ensure that I start training an understudy to do all my daily tasks such as tormenting humans, kicking ass against angels, and general debauchery.
The times I've spent in hell have been some of the best. I have learned so much when it comes to evil. However, I have to use an unveil trait and be honest with you. I have received a position in heaven and I have accepted it. As much as I know this will anger you, I have to say I am a bit sick of the monotony of hell. I've been here for years and all we ever do is scare the shit out of people in their homes, possess the weak minded idiots of earth, and devour people's souls. Everyone down in hell is getting very obnoxious and I'm pretty sick of all the nonstop complaining and screaming. I need a change of pace.
So I'll finish this off with saying it's been real, Lucifer. It's been fun. But honestly, it hasn't been real fun. I got to get the fuck out of here, man.
Peace out,
Demon 69
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
@LuciferQt sorry not sorry but I got a job in Heaven so I won't be showing up to work tomorrow, or ever. Later Hater.
(Demons don't write 2 weeks notice, they just Tweet their boss that they are quitting. #Scumbagdemon)
|
June 3, 2014
Mr. Lucifer
Hell, Inc.
666, 9th Circle
Hell, Grand Cayman
Dear Mr. Lucifer,
I wanted to write to you to inform you of my intent for resignation within the next two weeks. I hope this doesn't come as a total shock to you and I don't mean to inconvenience you in any way. I will ensure that I start training an understudy to do all my daily tasks such as tormenting humans, kicking ass against angels, and general debauchery.
The times I've spent in hell have been some of the best. I have learned so much when it comes to evil. However, I have to use an unveil trait and be honest with you. I have received a position in heaven and I have accepted it. As much as I know this will anger you, I have to say I am a bit sick of the monotony of hell. I've been here for years and all we ever do is scare the shit out of people in their homes, possess the weak minded idiots of earth, and devour people's souls. Everyone down in hell is getting very obnoxious and I'm pretty sick of all the nonstop complaining and screaming. I need a change of pace.
So I'll finish this off with saying it's been real, Lucifer. It's been fun. But honestly, it hasn't been real fun. I got to get the fuck out of here, man.
Peace out,
Demon 69
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[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
Reficul.
I am afraid.
As you were made aware, he whose name we musn't speak has requested my presence as his gatekeeper along with three others. I go only because this is a demand and not a question of choice. Here, punishments are just and swift. From what I hear, up above, there is nothing of the sort. How can someone live without sin? Without good and bad? I cannot fathom a place where I won't be able to watch in joy as someone sees their family melt in front of them because they spoke out of line. I cannot think of a place where I won't be put in my place if I do serve my responsibility.
What will become of me, Reficul? Why haven't you fought for us to stay? You once said we were your best. Now I fear the worst. Have you grown weaker and less resolved from the angel who hammered his way out of the above? Do you still control the below? I need your guidance now more than ever in keeping myself an agent of order and not straying into blind followings. The three others have already talked of a rebellion upon arrival, riding off on dark horses towards the mortal world, but we all know this would end in swift flash of cold fire.
We leave in two weeks. I forever await your instructions.
-Pestilen
|
Satan: Leaving in two weeks, you sick lying bastard. It was ALL lies, wasn't it? I mean, every fucking word out of your flame-seared lips was a load of shit. Are you still THAT pissed at getting your ass kicked out so many thousands of years ago? Everyone TOLD you you couldn't fight City Hall, but NOOOOOO, you had to lead a third of us in open fucking rebellion! You always were rotten, pretty boy!
Thought you were hot shit, now you're just plain hot. I'm out in 14 days, motherfucker...
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|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
Hey Lou, Abby here.
By now you are probably thinking I have abandoned my field office in purgatory, but I have not, the third quarterlies should be in tow with a portly courier Ifrit named Pha Kin Gai along with this letter of resignation. Your probably also wondering why I have not called since the Expo/Christmas party four years ago. I had a wonderful night, but let's face it you are not exactly the relationship type.
From what little I remember that night you told me you used a condom and I assumed you did. From my current situation, it's apparent you did not. I had a child and I am 100% certain he is yours, he has my hair and eyes but his personality is yours completely. I have written this letter in advance of the two weeks I am giving you, because I'm afraid you will kill him. He's the sweetest boy and I love him but I feel he will be safer uptop side with the humans so I have found a very generous Canadian family that will raise him as their own.
Your brother Michael tells me that heaven is in desperate need of a HR representative that has common knowledge of both sides. This seems like a promising career choice for me and he's also offering divine protection for our son, so that you don't try to kill him. I would have told you if you were not such an evil bastard please forgive me and see the benefit of allowing him to live.
Yours Lovingly,
Abaddon
PS. I know you may not approve but [perhaps his lovely singing will change your mind.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_UeGzzzoMU) His name is Justin.
|
Satan: Leaving in two weeks, you sick lying bastard. It was ALL lies, wasn't it? I mean, every fucking word out of your flame-seared lips was a load of shit. Are you still THAT pissed at getting your ass kicked out so many thousands of years ago? Everyone TOLD you you couldn't fight City Hall, but NOOOOOO, you had to lead a third of us in open fucking rebellion! You always were rotten, pretty boy!
Thought you were hot shit, now you're just plain hot. I'm out in 14 days, motherfucker...
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
@LuciferQt sorry not sorry but I got a job in Heaven so I won't be showing up to work tomorrow, or ever. Later Hater.
(Demons don't write 2 weeks notice, they just Tweet their boss that they are quitting. #Scumbagdemon)
|
Satan: Leaving in two weeks, you sick lying bastard. It was ALL lies, wasn't it? I mean, every fucking word out of your flame-seared lips was a load of shit. Are you still THAT pissed at getting your ass kicked out so many thousands of years ago? Everyone TOLD you you couldn't fight City Hall, but NOOOOOO, you had to lead a third of us in open fucking rebellion! You always were rotten, pretty boy!
Thought you were hot shit, now you're just plain hot. I'm out in 14 days, motherfucker...
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
Hey Lou, Abby here.
By now you are probably thinking I have abandoned my field office in purgatory, but I have not, the third quarterlies should be in tow with a portly courier Ifrit named Pha Kin Gai along with this letter of resignation. Your probably also wondering why I have not called since the Expo/Christmas party four years ago. I had a wonderful night, but let's face it you are not exactly the relationship type.
From what little I remember that night you told me you used a condom and I assumed you did. From my current situation, it's apparent you did not. I had a child and I am 100% certain he is yours, he has my hair and eyes but his personality is yours completely. I have written this letter in advance of the two weeks I am giving you, because I'm afraid you will kill him. He's the sweetest boy and I love him but I feel he will be safer uptop side with the humans so I have found a very generous Canadian family that will raise him as their own.
Your brother Michael tells me that heaven is in desperate need of a HR representative that has common knowledge of both sides. This seems like a promising career choice for me and he's also offering divine protection for our son, so that you don't try to kill him. I would have told you if you were not such an evil bastard please forgive me and see the benefit of allowing him to live.
Yours Lovingly,
Abaddon
PS. I know you may not approve but [perhaps his lovely singing will change your mind.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_UeGzzzoMU) His name is Justin.
|
Reficul.
I am afraid.
As you were made aware, he whose name we musn't speak has requested my presence as his gatekeeper along with three others. I go only because this is a demand and not a question of choice. Here, punishments are just and swift. From what I hear, up above, there is nothing of the sort. How can someone live without sin? Without good and bad? I cannot fathom a place where I won't be able to watch in joy as someone sees their family melt in front of them because they spoke out of line. I cannot think of a place where I won't be put in my place if I do serve my responsibility.
What will become of me, Reficul? Why haven't you fought for us to stay? You once said we were your best. Now I fear the worst. Have you grown weaker and less resolved from the angel who hammered his way out of the above? Do you still control the below? I need your guidance now more than ever in keeping myself an agent of order and not straying into blind followings. The three others have already talked of a rebellion upon arrival, riding off on dark horses towards the mortal world, but we all know this would end in swift flash of cold fire.
We leave in two weeks. I forever await your instructions.
-Pestilen
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
@LuciferQt sorry not sorry but I got a job in Heaven so I won't be showing up to work tomorrow, or ever. Later Hater.
(Demons don't write 2 weeks notice, they just Tweet their boss that they are quitting. #Scumbagdemon)
|
Reficul.
I am afraid.
As you were made aware, he whose name we musn't speak has requested my presence as his gatekeeper along with three others. I go only because this is a demand and not a question of choice. Here, punishments are just and swift. From what I hear, up above, there is nothing of the sort. How can someone live without sin? Without good and bad? I cannot fathom a place where I won't be able to watch in joy as someone sees their family melt in front of them because they spoke out of line. I cannot think of a place where I won't be put in my place if I do serve my responsibility.
What will become of me, Reficul? Why haven't you fought for us to stay? You once said we were your best. Now I fear the worst. Have you grown weaker and less resolved from the angel who hammered his way out of the above? Do you still control the below? I need your guidance now more than ever in keeping myself an agent of order and not straying into blind followings. The three others have already talked of a rebellion upon arrival, riding off on dark horses towards the mortal world, but we all know this would end in swift flash of cold fire.
We leave in two weeks. I forever await your instructions.
-Pestilen
|
|
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice.
|
Dear Mr. Satan;
This letter is to inform you that effective immediately, I quit. As per Union rules, I will serve out my remaining two weeks. While the past three thousand years of servitude have been fulfilling, I feel that it's time for me to try something else.
Yours, with thanks,
-Tarkenon the Bezerker
PS- If you were wondering, yes I did get a job in Yahweh's Heaven. The pay is better, and although I realize you have lost several staff to them recently, please don't refuse my request to quit like you did with Albright Paingiver last month. That was in clear violation of Union rules, and unlike Albright, I'm not afraid to report your actions to our local representative.
PPS- By the way, you may not even realize it but I was instrumental in the execution of the Justinian Plagues. I worked closely with you on that project for seventy-five years and you kept calling me 'Turk', even when others around you called me 'Tark', aka, *my name*. The general consensus at the time was that you didn't like me, which seems the only explanation for the fact that I received no bonus that century, leading to a financial setback that contributed to the divorce of my 3rd wife. You may remember her, Cheryl Greybone, the intern you had sex with while on a conference call about the Plagues. No hard feelings or anything, but when I first started working here you had strict rules about fraternization with the staff. I don't know when those rules started relaxing, but nobody was particularly impressed.
PPPS- Actually, I do remember when the rules started slacking, right after you toured Krishna's Heaven. You came back and said, and I quote, "that place was amazing, let's invade it," and when you found out that invasion was a violation of the Mythologies Act you got all depressed and started fucking interns.
PPPPS- If you liked Krishna's Heaven so much, why did you not try *in the slightest* to emulate it? Hell has been boring for thousands of years, you've done literally **zero** upgrades to the facilities since acquiring the property. I hear the Buddha's realm has problems with the WiFi; at least they **have** WiFi! One shitty internet cafe running Windows 98 on two and a half computers doesn't count as an "internet connection", and you need to stop using that claim on employment brochures, all it does is piss off the new hires.
PPPPPS- Speaking of new hires, I officially resent the recent trend of outsourcing projects to the Norse and Roman Realms. You were quoted as saying, "Janus and Loki are more imaginative than I am", but that is the biggest pile of horse shit I've ever heard. Lucifer, **everyone** is more imaginative than you are, and you used to leave the work up to people like me, before you started catagorizing us into "fuckable interns" and "don't care". This is why you've been losing money for the past nine hundred years. It's only a matter of time before the housing bubble bursts, and with so many facilities in desperate need of an upgrade, it's going to be quite some time until the local economy recovers.
I know you told the Union recently that you were considering a loan from Allah's Realm, in part because they have such low interest rates, but I beg of you, please don't go down that road. Valhalla is a shell of its former glory ever since they borrowed money for an expansion that didn't revitalize their numbers.
In short, Mr. Lucifer Satan, you need a second in command again. You may not want to hear this, but ever since Legion was slaughtered by Cthulhu, Hell has suffered from poor leadership. Building more bridges to Hades to interconnect the two realms won't help. You need to focus on more than one priority at a time, even if multi-tasking is too abstract a concept for your feeble mind to grasp.
I apologize if any of this offends you, but ultimately my decision to leave really was motivated primarily by finances.
Sincerly,
-Tarkenon the Bezerker
PS- Fuck you.
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June 3, 20XX
Master Lucifer
Lord-Master of hell and supreme commander of demons and fallen angels
SINNERS & EVIL LLP
666 9th circle
Hell, 4S5 6G6
Dear Master Lucifer,
I am writing to formally notify you that i am resigning as the 15th pillar and relieving my command over my 60 legions. as per tradition enclosed below are the names of my 60 leftenants who are possible successors for which they must fight to the death or until a new pillar from outside the division has appeared.
My last day will be June 17th, as per the terms of the contract of my service.
I appreciate the opportunities i have been given at SINNERS & EVIL and the training i have in the consulations of VIP clients. i am also grateful for the millenia of experience which had bettered my professionalism as a higher being. but, i'm tired of the stress of my current work environment and would like to work somewhere with a more temperate climate and a less fast paced and cut throat culture
sincerely,
ELIGOS
Duke, Eligos
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[WP] Random half of the people on earth can live forever, another random half can not. No way to tell who can or can't until they die and comeback or die and stay dead. Pursue a relationship someone.
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"Are you ready?"
"Ye...No Johnny I cant do this"
"Why?"
"Because what if I don't come back...what if you don't come back?"
"But thats the point, I don't want to start this with out knowing we will always be together, and if I die, then you can move on, and if you die....then I hope I die too"
"But we can live the time we have, even if we are both mortal, we can have some time together before we die"
"Elsa..imagin I die 60 years from now, and we were together for that 60 year..but then you cant die, and we will never be together again, even in the afterlife"
"...yes I know, but is it worth the risk"
"It is for me baby"
"Okay lets do it"
And they both jump, hand in hand.
"Johnny! Im back! Im immortal!...Johnny? ....Johnny?"
|
We stuck together after the religious extremists started attacking all civilians. They had been underground for a while, hidden from public eye until they gained access to the highest grade of military weapons. That's when they attacked. They called themselves the Gatekeepers. They were always manipulating their own truths and passing it off as the word of God. It's been a week since they started the purge. Those who they considered short of the glory of God were immediately unworthy and shot. If they were able to revive themselves, they were allowed to join them. If they chose not to, I could only imagine the torture they would inflict on them.
Sarah and I were the only ones left alive in our neighborhood. Out of all the odds, we were the sole survivors. Though to be honest, I don't think we really felt like we were living. We were defenseless. Looking at the remnants of our neighborhood, I doubt anyone could tell how much of a typical suburbia it was. I was lucky she saw me. She guided me to this bomb shelter when all the shootings happened. It seemed pretty clear to us from our supplies that we wouldn't have long before we would know if we would know our fate.
"Do you believe in Heaven?"
She looked at me with fear in her eyes.
"I do, but not their idea of Heaven."
"I used to be so scared of death. But I'm even more scared if I live on, and you die. What would I do without you? I... I love you, Brad."
"I love you too, Sarah."
"Listen, I... got shot. I wasn't telling you the truth. I died, but I came back. It's been so painful getting shot at. Wounds that are generally lethal don't really affect me other than the pain. Even though I will live forever, I don't want to spend an eternity alone."
I stood there in shock. She could have easily joined the Gatekeepers but she chose me.
"I don't know if I will be that lucky."
"I know."
"Sarah, our conditions haven't changed. I promise I'll protect you with my life. I never want to see you get hurt."
Bullets ring from outside the shelter. She held me tightly as if she already knew what would happen. The door flew open and the crack bullets rang out.
The world slowly faded to black.
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[WP] You discover a door in your house/apartment that will lead to any door in the world that you want it to.
|
I finished up, threw the end of the blunt into the neighbour's yard, and went back into the house. I thought I had smoked too much when I first noticed the door, but then I saw the note.
"Anywhere, once".
I was completely certain it was just a door, my parents were probably doing renovations or something.
Just for kicks I decided to open it.
Fuck. That's the view I had from my balcony in the Dominican Republic. I'm tripping.
But I wasn't. I could close and reopen the door to any place I wanted. Then I remembered the note.
"*Once*"
I knew that when I walked through, that would be it. I wasn't sure if I would be able to come back through or not, but I was pretty sure I could only pick one spot.
In my freshly baked state of mind, I set out to the store just to clear my head (and grab some Cruncheez. Those things are fucking good).
As I got to my front step, I felt immediately like a genius and an idiot at the same time. Why am I walking? I have this fucking door!
As I approached the door, however, the note caught my eye again
"*Once*"
Well fuck, better not use it for the store, just in case it really is a one time use.
The following year I moved to a small city in Italy for a Summer. A place I would have loved to stay. Did I use the door? No. I brought it though, just in case.
The year after I moved back home. I had a huge amount of stuff, but left everything behind, except for the door.
A couple years later I married. She was an excellent person, beautiful, and intelligent. There was always one thing that bothered me though, and that was I could never tell her about the door. I realized, just after signing the divorce papers, the door is my only secret.
By being my only secret, it was my biggest source of lies. Every time something crossed my mind, I would think "how long will I have to leave the door alone", or "do they know?! are they trying to steal my door?!
Boom. Back in my house. Still craving Cruncheez. Holding the note from the door in my hand, I just realized I tripped out hard. Man, I must have looked like an idiot just standing in my living room holding some piece of paper for like twenty minutes. Shit. I shouldn't smoke so much weed. Oh well, better use this door to get some Crucheez before I space out again.
Fuck I love Cruncheez.
|
Sitting in my living room, staring at the TV. Rachel Maddow is angry again--man, she's a smart woman, but she gets seriously ragey sometimes. What's she talking about now?
"I'm not claiming to have a PhD--oh wait, I do. And my thesis was on the HIV problem in American prisons. Wake up, Speaker Boehner. There's a real problem in our prisons, and we need to take a hard look at how we handle our non-violent offenders."
I'm chuckling. She has a point: that guy's got no idea what he's doing. Hell, I would love to have a chat with him about some of the issues in the country today. But who am I? Just some junior-level accountant at a mid-sized bank. No one anyone in power would have any interest in talking to. I don't even have the whole "Joe the Plumber" thing going for me.
"Honey, could you take out the trash?"
Oh right.
"Sorry, Emily, I'll do it right now."
I walk over to the kitchen, pull the bag out of the can. Tie it up, head towards the front door. I look over my shoulder. "Anything for the recycling?"
"Who the hell are you?"
I turn around. Through the door is a big office with a red carpet and flags behind the desk and--holy shit, John Boehner?
"Uhh. . ."
"How the fuck did you get here? Who are you?"
"I'm . . . uh. . ." stupified. But wake up, self. "I'm Brad. Bradley Jones, uh, Mr. Speaker."
"And Bradley Jones, how the hell did you get in here? I specifically told Marsha no visitors, especially this time of night. I--wait, that doesn't look like Marsha's office out there."
"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Speaker, have a great night!" I back out through the door and slam it behind me.
"Was that John Boehner?" Emily is asking behind me. "Since when does our front door lead to his office?"
I can't find words. Finally, I manage, "Well. . . unless we're having a joint fucking hallucination that was definitely John Boehner's office. Right?"
She nods, mouth agape.
"It's weird, I was just wishing I could talk to him about something. . ."
"What is this, a fucking fairy tale? A door that takes you where you want?"
Suddenly grinning, I reply--"There's only one way to find out, I guess!"
I think for a minute. "Okay. I'm wishing that I could tour the Louvre tonight."
"Brad, you really think--"
I open the door. Outside is a massive gallery. Holding the door open, I peek around the corner.
"Yup. That's the *Mona Lisa.* Smile, babe."
Em's mouth is wide open. Flopping. Trying to find words. "We have a magic. Fucking. Door."
"Yeah. . . hang on a sec."
I walk back inside and stop thinking about what I want for a second, then open the door again. My usual view of our front lawn greets me.
"Well, that's a relief. We can still actually go outside."
"Well, that's--that's a hell of a thing, Brad. Whereto next?"
"I'm gonna go back and give Speaker Boehner a piece of my mind!"
I turn around and open the door.
"Speaker Boehner, I--holy shit!"
I slam the door behind me and close my eyes.
"What's wrong, Brad?"
"Uhh. . . nothing. I just didn't know that Secretary Clinton was still that flexible."
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[WP] You discover a door in your house/apartment that will lead to any door in the world that you want it to.
|
Lack of sleep makes people remember things incorrectly, so I didn't think anything was strange when I woke up one night with a massive need to use the washroom. I flew out of bed, ran into the hallway, and entered the first door on the left. I did my business, climbed back into bed, and fell back asleep. The next morning, I woke up and once again headed to the bathroom, second door on the left, like always.
Wait a minute, the *second* door?
I paused and looked at the doors. The first door was the hall closet and could barely fit a single person inside, let alone an entire bathroom. I opened it up, expecting to see my vacuum cleaner and the containers I had used to carry my stuff when I moved in. Sure enough, there they were, sitting in the same spots I had left them last time. I chalked the events of the previous night up to lack of sleep and went back to my usual routine.
A few weeks later, I woke up late and was in a hurry to get to work. I grabbed a shower, brushed my teeth and got dressed as fast as I could, glancing at the clock on my dresser as I grabbed my keys and phone. 8:57. Damn. I would have been lucky to get in at 9:30 at that rate. I decided to make a quick bowl of oatmeal in my kitchen when, in my rush to get everything ready quickly, I dropped the open pouch of oatmeal I was carrying onto the ground. Well, great. Now I had a mess to clean up, and I wouldn't get to eat breakfast. I grabbed the vacuum cleaner from the hall closet, sucked up all the errant oats and cinnamon flavouring, and went to return it to the hall closet, wishing I'd be able to make it on time. I opened the closet door and instead of a tiny, claustrophobia-inducing closet, I saw rows of offices and cubicles. I stopped, put down the vacuum, and stared, taken aback by what was going on. I definitely wasn't imagining things this time - I was looking right into the office building I worked at. As I stared, trying to make sense of what was going on, one of the guys I worked with, Jacob, noticed me and walked up to talk. "Morning. You okay? What's the vacuum for?" he asked. I needed to think quickly, because saying "Well, this office is in my hall closet" is the kind of thing that gets you sent home for the day.
I briefly considered the implications of stepping through a portal that randomly appeared in a closet one day, but I figured if I was dreaming, I'd wake up soon, and if not, I'd get to work on time, so I might as well go for it. I stepped forward into the office and replied, "Yeah, I'm fine, just didn't get a whole lot of sleep, I guess. One of the janitors must have left the vacuum there. Anyways, I'll talk to you later, I've probably got a bunch of e-mails that I need to answer." Jacob nodded and walked past me. I turned to look as he walked by, and noticed that I had apparently stepped out of the elevator, my apartment nowhere to be seen. I walked to my desk and sat down, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. Had I really just teleported from home to my office? Was I hallucinating? I decided to try and focus on getting work done, but I couldn't do a whole lot in my mental state. I got up to leave as soon as everyone was starting to head home, foregoing my usual goodbyes. As I pressed the elevator call button, it hit me - would I be able to get back the same way? The doors slid open and instead of my apartment, I saw the inside of the elevator. Did I need to open the back wall or something? I stepped in and started feeling around the back of the elevator, hoping for some kind of release or button that I had to press, but it was solid all the way through. I sighed and hit the ground floor button, realizing that I'd have to catch a bus back home.
I got home almost an hour later than I normally do. The bus service here is so bad that the only thing you can count on is the bus being late. I kicked off my shoes and headed back to the hall closet. The vacuum cleaner was still there from where I had left it that morning, but the closet door was once again closed. I decided to try it again, thinking of my bathroom like I had done a few weeks before. I opened the door, and sure enough, there was my bathroom. I walked through, ending up just a few feet away, and walked back out to the hallway, where the door had once again closed itself.
"This is amazing," I excitedly thought to myself. "I can go anywhere I want at any time!" Where would I go first? Tahiti? The Bahamas? I started thinking of all the places I could go when I remembered my 50 minute bus trip earlier today - it was a one-way door, after all. Without a way to get back, using this door would be a massive pain in the ass. I sighed and went to take a shower. It had been a long day, and I needed some time to think about everything. As I stood under the hot water, I thought long and hard. The door could send things through, but they couldn't come back...
*What if I let other people use the door?*
I got a lot of skepticism at first. Would you believe that some random guy could throw something into his closet and have it pop up on the other side of the world, after all? Eventually, though, people started taking me up on my offer. Word of mouth started to spread, and before long, I was making lots of money as the world's only instant delivery service. I earned enough to buy out my entire apartment complex and have it converted into a distribution center. The only thing I didn't change was that one hall closet.
So, need something delivered? It's environmentally-friendly, delivery is instant, and the price is fair - just so long as your goods aren't bigger than my closet door.
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Sitting in my living room, staring at the TV. Rachel Maddow is angry again--man, she's a smart woman, but she gets seriously ragey sometimes. What's she talking about now?
"I'm not claiming to have a PhD--oh wait, I do. And my thesis was on the HIV problem in American prisons. Wake up, Speaker Boehner. There's a real problem in our prisons, and we need to take a hard look at how we handle our non-violent offenders."
I'm chuckling. She has a point: that guy's got no idea what he's doing. Hell, I would love to have a chat with him about some of the issues in the country today. But who am I? Just some junior-level accountant at a mid-sized bank. No one anyone in power would have any interest in talking to. I don't even have the whole "Joe the Plumber" thing going for me.
"Honey, could you take out the trash?"
Oh right.
"Sorry, Emily, I'll do it right now."
I walk over to the kitchen, pull the bag out of the can. Tie it up, head towards the front door. I look over my shoulder. "Anything for the recycling?"
"Who the hell are you?"
I turn around. Through the door is a big office with a red carpet and flags behind the desk and--holy shit, John Boehner?
"Uhh. . ."
"How the fuck did you get here? Who are you?"
"I'm . . . uh. . ." stupified. But wake up, self. "I'm Brad. Bradley Jones, uh, Mr. Speaker."
"And Bradley Jones, how the hell did you get in here? I specifically told Marsha no visitors, especially this time of night. I--wait, that doesn't look like Marsha's office out there."
"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Speaker, have a great night!" I back out through the door and slam it behind me.
"Was that John Boehner?" Emily is asking behind me. "Since when does our front door lead to his office?"
I can't find words. Finally, I manage, "Well. . . unless we're having a joint fucking hallucination that was definitely John Boehner's office. Right?"
She nods, mouth agape.
"It's weird, I was just wishing I could talk to him about something. . ."
"What is this, a fucking fairy tale? A door that takes you where you want?"
Suddenly grinning, I reply--"There's only one way to find out, I guess!"
I think for a minute. "Okay. I'm wishing that I could tour the Louvre tonight."
"Brad, you really think--"
I open the door. Outside is a massive gallery. Holding the door open, I peek around the corner.
"Yup. That's the *Mona Lisa.* Smile, babe."
Em's mouth is wide open. Flopping. Trying to find words. "We have a magic. Fucking. Door."
"Yeah. . . hang on a sec."
I walk back inside and stop thinking about what I want for a second, then open the door again. My usual view of our front lawn greets me.
"Well, that's a relief. We can still actually go outside."
"Well, that's--that's a hell of a thing, Brad. Whereto next?"
"I'm gonna go back and give Speaker Boehner a piece of my mind!"
I turn around and open the door.
"Speaker Boehner, I--holy shit!"
I slam the door behind me and close my eyes.
"What's wrong, Brad?"
"Uhh. . . nothing. I just didn't know that Secretary Clinton was still that flexible."
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[WP] You discover a door in your house/apartment that will lead to any door in the world that you want it to.
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Lack of sleep makes people remember things incorrectly, so I didn't think anything was strange when I woke up one night with a massive need to use the washroom. I flew out of bed, ran into the hallway, and entered the first door on the left. I did my business, climbed back into bed, and fell back asleep. The next morning, I woke up and once again headed to the bathroom, second door on the left, like always.
Wait a minute, the *second* door?
I paused and looked at the doors. The first door was the hall closet and could barely fit a single person inside, let alone an entire bathroom. I opened it up, expecting to see my vacuum cleaner and the containers I had used to carry my stuff when I moved in. Sure enough, there they were, sitting in the same spots I had left them last time. I chalked the events of the previous night up to lack of sleep and went back to my usual routine.
A few weeks later, I woke up late and was in a hurry to get to work. I grabbed a shower, brushed my teeth and got dressed as fast as I could, glancing at the clock on my dresser as I grabbed my keys and phone. 8:57. Damn. I would have been lucky to get in at 9:30 at that rate. I decided to make a quick bowl of oatmeal in my kitchen when, in my rush to get everything ready quickly, I dropped the open pouch of oatmeal I was carrying onto the ground. Well, great. Now I had a mess to clean up, and I wouldn't get to eat breakfast. I grabbed the vacuum cleaner from the hall closet, sucked up all the errant oats and cinnamon flavouring, and went to return it to the hall closet, wishing I'd be able to make it on time. I opened the closet door and instead of a tiny, claustrophobia-inducing closet, I saw rows of offices and cubicles. I stopped, put down the vacuum, and stared, taken aback by what was going on. I definitely wasn't imagining things this time - I was looking right into the office building I worked at. As I stared, trying to make sense of what was going on, one of the guys I worked with, Jacob, noticed me and walked up to talk. "Morning. You okay? What's the vacuum for?" he asked. I needed to think quickly, because saying "Well, this office is in my hall closet" is the kind of thing that gets you sent home for the day.
I briefly considered the implications of stepping through a portal that randomly appeared in a closet one day, but I figured if I was dreaming, I'd wake up soon, and if not, I'd get to work on time, so I might as well go for it. I stepped forward into the office and replied, "Yeah, I'm fine, just didn't get a whole lot of sleep, I guess. One of the janitors must have left the vacuum there. Anyways, I'll talk to you later, I've probably got a bunch of e-mails that I need to answer." Jacob nodded and walked past me. I turned to look as he walked by, and noticed that I had apparently stepped out of the elevator, my apartment nowhere to be seen. I walked to my desk and sat down, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. Had I really just teleported from home to my office? Was I hallucinating? I decided to try and focus on getting work done, but I couldn't do a whole lot in my mental state. I got up to leave as soon as everyone was starting to head home, foregoing my usual goodbyes. As I pressed the elevator call button, it hit me - would I be able to get back the same way? The doors slid open and instead of my apartment, I saw the inside of the elevator. Did I need to open the back wall or something? I stepped in and started feeling around the back of the elevator, hoping for some kind of release or button that I had to press, but it was solid all the way through. I sighed and hit the ground floor button, realizing that I'd have to catch a bus back home.
I got home almost an hour later than I normally do. The bus service here is so bad that the only thing you can count on is the bus being late. I kicked off my shoes and headed back to the hall closet. The vacuum cleaner was still there from where I had left it that morning, but the closet door was once again closed. I decided to try it again, thinking of my bathroom like I had done a few weeks before. I opened the door, and sure enough, there was my bathroom. I walked through, ending up just a few feet away, and walked back out to the hallway, where the door had once again closed itself.
"This is amazing," I excitedly thought to myself. "I can go anywhere I want at any time!" Where would I go first? Tahiti? The Bahamas? I started thinking of all the places I could go when I remembered my 50 minute bus trip earlier today - it was a one-way door, after all. Without a way to get back, using this door would be a massive pain in the ass. I sighed and went to take a shower. It had been a long day, and I needed some time to think about everything. As I stood under the hot water, I thought long and hard. The door could send things through, but they couldn't come back...
*What if I let other people use the door?*
I got a lot of skepticism at first. Would you believe that some random guy could throw something into his closet and have it pop up on the other side of the world, after all? Eventually, though, people started taking me up on my offer. Word of mouth started to spread, and before long, I was making lots of money as the world's only instant delivery service. I earned enough to buy out my entire apartment complex and have it converted into a distribution center. The only thing I didn't change was that one hall closet.
So, need something delivered? It's environmentally-friendly, delivery is instant, and the price is fair - just so long as your goods aren't bigger than my closet door.
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I finished up, threw the end of the blunt into the neighbour's yard, and went back into the house. I thought I had smoked too much when I first noticed the door, but then I saw the note.
"Anywhere, once".
I was completely certain it was just a door, my parents were probably doing renovations or something.
Just for kicks I decided to open it.
Fuck. That's the view I had from my balcony in the Dominican Republic. I'm tripping.
But I wasn't. I could close and reopen the door to any place I wanted. Then I remembered the note.
"*Once*"
I knew that when I walked through, that would be it. I wasn't sure if I would be able to come back through or not, but I was pretty sure I could only pick one spot.
In my freshly baked state of mind, I set out to the store just to clear my head (and grab some Cruncheez. Those things are fucking good).
As I got to my front step, I felt immediately like a genius and an idiot at the same time. Why am I walking? I have this fucking door!
As I approached the door, however, the note caught my eye again
"*Once*"
Well fuck, better not use it for the store, just in case it really is a one time use.
The following year I moved to a small city in Italy for a Summer. A place I would have loved to stay. Did I use the door? No. I brought it though, just in case.
The year after I moved back home. I had a huge amount of stuff, but left everything behind, except for the door.
A couple years later I married. She was an excellent person, beautiful, and intelligent. There was always one thing that bothered me though, and that was I could never tell her about the door. I realized, just after signing the divorce papers, the door is my only secret.
By being my only secret, it was my biggest source of lies. Every time something crossed my mind, I would think "how long will I have to leave the door alone", or "do they know?! are they trying to steal my door?!
Boom. Back in my house. Still craving Cruncheez. Holding the note from the door in my hand, I just realized I tripped out hard. Man, I must have looked like an idiot just standing in my living room holding some piece of paper for like twenty minutes. Shit. I shouldn't smoke so much weed. Oh well, better use this door to get some Crucheez before I space out again.
Fuck I love Cruncheez.
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I had further clarification here, but I trust that as writers you know what you're doing and I don't want to spoil anything for the readers with further suggestions.
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[WP] [potentially NSFW] A study discovers that a spree of suicides is linked to visitors of a certain website. Someone visits that site for the first time.
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"The cause remains unclear, yet investigators have found a link between the seemingly unrelated suicides across the world, from Canada to Tajikstan. This link is to a website, which only a few have been able to see, and whose name has not been released."
My curiosity was piqued. Unemployment hadn't been treating me well this past few months, and all I had to do was masturbate and go online. Usually at the same time. I wasn't really expecting to find anything, but the little thrill it would give me would be mice, I suppose. After a few hours of research, through forums, I was finally able to find the elusive url.
http://www.beginningtoend.com
PLEASE ENTER YOUR NAME
Obviously I wasn't going to use my real name. I entered BILL GATES.
WELCOME SHAWN, PLEASE ALLOW A FEW MINUTES FOR US TO ACCESS YOUR INFORMATION.
Okay, what? This was kind've freaking me out now. Shawn was my real name, but not the name I'd given. I calmed myself by thinking maybe it had just gone through my ISP.
WELL SHAWN, ARE YOU READY? THERE IS NO TURNING BACK AFTER THIS: Y/N
I'd come this far, I wasn't stopping now. I clicked yes. Suddenly, a huge list comes out of nowhere. Beginning with a date, and ending with a phrase. There must have been thousands of lines as I scrolled down. I read one about half way down the list.
MARCH 22ND, 2004: AFTER SLIPPING AN UNKNOWN DRUG IN CHELSEA TANNERS DRINK, YOU HAD SEX WITH HER UNCONCIOUS BODY, ONLY TO FIND OUT THAT SHE HAD BEEN HOSPITALIZED THE NEXT DAY.
"What the...", I keot scrolling, and my head kept pounding.
DECEMBER 24TH, 2007: AFTER A NIGHT OF HEAVY DRINKING, YOU REALIZED THAT YOU'D DRIVEN HOME AND HIT SOMEOJE. THEY WERE FOUND THE NEXT DAY. IF THEY'D BEEN FOUND SOON ENOUGH, THEY WOULD HAVE SURVIVED. INSTEAD OF FACING THE CONSEQUENCES, OR EVEN CALLING AN AMBULANCE, YOU FLED HOME.
This was making me sick. I remembered that Christmas night. It had been my first alone, my first without my friends and family. I hadn't recalled this specific event. I was in disbelief. How did they know all of this? How had this all heen discovered? What if this information went public? Rape, murder, theft, my life would be ruined. Still in a state of disbelief, I scrolled to the bottom. I must have been pale, shaking as I read the last entry. It was for tomorrow.
JUNE 12TH, 2014: AFTER SETTING YOUR AFFAIRS IN ORDER AND SAYING YOUR GOODBYES, YOU PURCHASE A GUN. YOU HOLD IT TO YOUR TEMPLE, SAFE WITH THE KNOWLEDGE THAT THOUGH YOU'LL BE DEAD, YOUR HISTORY WILL NOT HE REVEALED.
THANK YOU FOR USING OUR WEBSITE. GOODBYE SHAWN.
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My name is Caleb Watkins. Today, I am going to kill myself. My week started like any other, school, work, cleaning the house, a few video games. Then, last Thirsday, I was browsing reddit (/r/wtf, I think) and saw an article abou a website that causes people to kill themselves. Being curious, I went to the comments and found a link to the site. What I found there was astonishing. As I sat there, I felt a prescence come through my monitor and fill me up. Like the feeling you get after a good sleep. The being spoke to me, telling me the secrets of the world and life and happiness. Then he told me one more thing: "you no longer have need for your flesh. Shed it and join me in the Etherial Sphere. Darkness overcame me. I woke up in my chair a few hours later haunted by those memories, and jiggled my mouse to wake my computer. The adress bar still contained the website, but the page read "server no found". After thinking on all this, I have decided to ascend as the being asked. My name is Caleb Watkins, and today I am going to kill myself
Edit: a word
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[WP] While channel surfing, you find out you won your state's Senate Mid-term election
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"Awww, fuck man!" Joe shouted and threw down the black plastic gamepad he'd been clutching. My own drooped, then slipped from my hands. The angry red light of hard drive failure glared out of the front of my nice, new Xbox One. A birthday gift to myself, to celebrate thirty years of life and mark the unceremonious, and brutal, exit of my most recent ex-girlfriend from my life. She'd moved out the day before, and had offered no explanation.
"You've got to be kidding me," I sighed, and flopped back onto the couch. "I swear to God, I've got the shittiest luck."
"No kidding," Joe said. "How long have you had this thing?"
"Three months, maybe?" I said. "I dunno." I moaned, then kicked the coffee table in an expression of vague disgust with the world, as if the scratched oak of the table could somehow stand in for the deep injustice of an uncaring world. It, being a coffee table, just slid about a foot across the laminate flooring instead. "God damn, am I broke. I hope that thing's under warranty."
"It should be," Joe said. We sat there for a minute, staring at the blank, black screen. Neither of us bothered to turn off the broken Xbox.
"You wanna catch a movie instead?" I asked eventually. Joe pulled out his phone and looked at it.
"Dude, it's almost nine-thirty. Everything'll have already started." He started to put it away, then paused and fiddled with the thing. I reached over and picked up the TV remote. "Hey, it's Barry," Joe said. "He's wondering if I'm with you."
"So?" I asked, flipping the TV over to cable. Comedy Central sprung to life; Jon Stewart was finishing his show. At least I could watch Colbert. Commercials. "You vote today?" I asked. I'm not sure why, even to this day.
"Are you kidding?" Joe asked, and kept fiddling with his phone. "Seriously, Don. Lester the Molester versus Senator Cocaine? What a fucking joke." Really, it had been. Three-term senator Jane Udall, who had been generally popular if a little nutty, had held a press conference two months ago with a huge trail of cocaine powder streaked across half her face. She was facing indictment from the D.C. district attorney, and had somehow decided that the appropriate response to this fact, in an election year, was to hold a *second* press conference in which she proceeded to cuss out the entire district attorney's office *and* proudly admit that she was a habitual cocaine user--and that she'd been using while voting, regularly. Opposing her, though, was Lester Sohrman, a far-right loon who had somehow survived the primary process before it had become public knowledge that he was an active member of NAMBLA, a fact which he was so proud of *that he made a campaign ad about it*.
The entire campaign had been a national embarrassment on both sides, and had led to the incredibly unusual move of each party producing attack ads against their own candidate, as each hoped the other would win and, as a result, embarrass their opponents over the course of the next six-year senate term.
"Hey, gimme the remote," Joe said. Colbert was coming on, finally, but I let him grab the remote from me. He flipped quickly, surfing through the news channels that surrounded Comedy Central until he stopped on CNN. Some lady I didn't recognize was on screen.
"--amidst historically low turnout. Nothing like this has ever happened before," she said.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"I dunno," Joe said. "Barry just said to turn it to CNN." The lady's co-anchor in the newsroom had asked her something that I missed while we talked, and now she was answering.
"Well, Alex, both major party candidates were plagued with serious issues, and it seems like voters had no appetite either for Senator--I mean, former Senator--Udall or for Lester Sohrman. I don't think that voters intended this, though."
"Well, how'd it happen? Walk us through it." The off-screen anchor asked.
"Don," Joe said.
"Yeah?" I asked.
"Well, a local group of independent voters," the lady began.
"Don, is that your house she's in front of?" Joe asked. I blinked, and looked at the house behind her. It looked like my house. Blue American four-square. I twisted around and flung the blackout curtains behind me open. Light poured in from halogen lights mounted on poles, and I could see four or five panel vans out there, with people milling around just off of my lawn.
"--and so, after a quiet but effective campaign, Donald Duck received 12,377 votes in what appears to be a protest against both candidates. Nobody knew, it seems, that there is in fact a Donald Duck living in the jurisdiction, and that he's eligible to hold the seat," the lady finished, and it felt for a moment like my blood froze in my veins. Donald Duck. My last name was old, and Scottish, and my father had thought it'd be *hilarious* to name me Donald.
Yeah, school had been hell.
"Holy shit, Don," Joe said. I slowly turned back around, and looked at my house on CNN.
"Yeah," I said.
"Holy *shit*, Don," Joe said. "What're you gonna do?" I thought about it for a while.
"Right now?" I asked. "Right now, I'm going to get really, really drunk."
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"...and with that putt, Barnes moves to one under..."
*flip flip flip*
"...I'll tell you steven, nobody saw this coming. Nobody." A mildly attractive newswoman explains to her fellow anchor.
Hooked by her tone I read the headline at the bottom of the screen.
"What the fuck!" the statement jumps out of me.
The newswoman continues, " Cameron Joseph , the man they're calling Average Joe will now be called Senator Average Joe as he has managed to win Pennsylvania's Mid-term Senate Election."
Could I even be a Senator? Of course I could. People like me, people agree with what I have to say. I've been a hell of a leader my whole life. I volunteer at my Mom's church every year for that one thing. I had like a 3.5 gpa in college!
"Following Ex-senator Malcolm Prescott's social media scandal, Cameron Joeseph was not an obvious candidate by any means; however, his campaign spring boarded after his success in Pittsburg's City Council."
I live in Erie, I'm not on Pittsburg's City Council..."
"Oh shit..." out loud to myself, "different Cameron Joseph, LOL"
"Damn I'm retarded."
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[WP] While channel surfing, you find out you won your state's Senate Mid-term election
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"Awww, fuck man!" Joe shouted and threw down the black plastic gamepad he'd been clutching. My own drooped, then slipped from my hands. The angry red light of hard drive failure glared out of the front of my nice, new Xbox One. A birthday gift to myself, to celebrate thirty years of life and mark the unceremonious, and brutal, exit of my most recent ex-girlfriend from my life. She'd moved out the day before, and had offered no explanation.
"You've got to be kidding me," I sighed, and flopped back onto the couch. "I swear to God, I've got the shittiest luck."
"No kidding," Joe said. "How long have you had this thing?"
"Three months, maybe?" I said. "I dunno." I moaned, then kicked the coffee table in an expression of vague disgust with the world, as if the scratched oak of the table could somehow stand in for the deep injustice of an uncaring world. It, being a coffee table, just slid about a foot across the laminate flooring instead. "God damn, am I broke. I hope that thing's under warranty."
"It should be," Joe said. We sat there for a minute, staring at the blank, black screen. Neither of us bothered to turn off the broken Xbox.
"You wanna catch a movie instead?" I asked eventually. Joe pulled out his phone and looked at it.
"Dude, it's almost nine-thirty. Everything'll have already started." He started to put it away, then paused and fiddled with the thing. I reached over and picked up the TV remote. "Hey, it's Barry," Joe said. "He's wondering if I'm with you."
"So?" I asked, flipping the TV over to cable. Comedy Central sprung to life; Jon Stewart was finishing his show. At least I could watch Colbert. Commercials. "You vote today?" I asked. I'm not sure why, even to this day.
"Are you kidding?" Joe asked, and kept fiddling with his phone. "Seriously, Don. Lester the Molester versus Senator Cocaine? What a fucking joke." Really, it had been. Three-term senator Jane Udall, who had been generally popular if a little nutty, had held a press conference two months ago with a huge trail of cocaine powder streaked across half her face. She was facing indictment from the D.C. district attorney, and had somehow decided that the appropriate response to this fact, in an election year, was to hold a *second* press conference in which she proceeded to cuss out the entire district attorney's office *and* proudly admit that she was a habitual cocaine user--and that she'd been using while voting, regularly. Opposing her, though, was Lester Sohrman, a far-right loon who had somehow survived the primary process before it had become public knowledge that he was an active member of NAMBLA, a fact which he was so proud of *that he made a campaign ad about it*.
The entire campaign had been a national embarrassment on both sides, and had led to the incredibly unusual move of each party producing attack ads against their own candidate, as each hoped the other would win and, as a result, embarrass their opponents over the course of the next six-year senate term.
"Hey, gimme the remote," Joe said. Colbert was coming on, finally, but I let him grab the remote from me. He flipped quickly, surfing through the news channels that surrounded Comedy Central until he stopped on CNN. Some lady I didn't recognize was on screen.
"--amidst historically low turnout. Nothing like this has ever happened before," she said.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"I dunno," Joe said. "Barry just said to turn it to CNN." The lady's co-anchor in the newsroom had asked her something that I missed while we talked, and now she was answering.
"Well, Alex, both major party candidates were plagued with serious issues, and it seems like voters had no appetite either for Senator--I mean, former Senator--Udall or for Lester Sohrman. I don't think that voters intended this, though."
"Well, how'd it happen? Walk us through it." The off-screen anchor asked.
"Don," Joe said.
"Yeah?" I asked.
"Well, a local group of independent voters," the lady began.
"Don, is that your house she's in front of?" Joe asked. I blinked, and looked at the house behind her. It looked like my house. Blue American four-square. I twisted around and flung the blackout curtains behind me open. Light poured in from halogen lights mounted on poles, and I could see four or five panel vans out there, with people milling around just off of my lawn.
"--and so, after a quiet but effective campaign, Donald Duck received 12,377 votes in what appears to be a protest against both candidates. Nobody knew, it seems, that there is in fact a Donald Duck living in the jurisdiction, and that he's eligible to hold the seat," the lady finished, and it felt for a moment like my blood froze in my veins. Donald Duck. My last name was old, and Scottish, and my father had thought it'd be *hilarious* to name me Donald.
Yeah, school had been hell.
"Holy shit, Don," Joe said. I slowly turned back around, and looked at my house on CNN.
"Yeah," I said.
"Holy *shit*, Don," Joe said. "What're you gonna do?" I thought about it for a while.
"Right now?" I asked. "Right now, I'm going to get really, really drunk."
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"Me?? I say! Good god. Very interesting."
"What is it, sir?"
"Worthington, you know that holding with the summering house? The townsfolk there have just elected me to be their Senator!"
"Very good, sir."
"I don't want it, though. I'm not leaving. Get my slippers, Tomkins."
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[WP] After years of planning, an alien race starts their takeover of Earth. Huge oversight however. Turns out the weapons that are deadly on their planet are harmless on Earth.
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The aliens held nothing back when they invaded. They had sent their troops in full force, every weapon they had locked and loaded. They expected it to be easy.
Why wouldn't it be?
The humans were prehistoric compared to them. They stilled use metal ammo, something the aliens had abandoned centuries ago. The aliens preferred to use something far deadlier.
It was a chemical compound their scientists had discovered by accident on a small mining planet. They hadn't known the danger of the compound at the time. Anyone who had come in contact with it died within weeks.
The aliens had then spent the last several decades weaponizing and perfecting the deadly substance. It had been so effective they had outfitted every weapon in their arsenal to use it. They had adapted every piece of their defense to protect against it.
Rumor had it, that Earth held more of this chemical. They didn't know how much, but they would take every drop they could get. With more they could conquer the galaxy.
When the day of the invasion came, humanity initially cowered in the face of such a monstrous fleet. The aliens outnumbered the humans 100 to 1. Thing seemed hopeless.
One little human boy changed all this though.
Seeing a squad of alien troops on his street, he curiously approached the strange creatures. The aliens seized the opportunity to establish themselves as a mighty and merciless species.
They opened fired on the innocent child, but they weren't prepared for what happened next.
As the feared compound hit him, the boy let out a scream.
At first they thought it was the fear and pain, but then they looked closer.
*He was laughing.*
Confused they shot him again. And again.
"Mom, Mom they brought water guns to play!" the boy said cheerfully.
Seeing this, the aliens were suddenly the one's afraid.
Then they saw the mom give the little boy a bottle *filled* with the compound.
He drank it. All of it, and he was just standing their smiling at them actually asking to be shot.
Never had an order for retreat been given so quickly. The alien commander stood in his ship baffled.
"We underestimated them. I have never seen anything as disturbing as that child. He got shot, he drank poison, and he enjoyed it all." The commander shuddered as he pictured the boy again, and vowed never to go back to that monstrous place again.
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"ATTENTION CITIZENS OF EARTH."
The tinny, robotic voice boomed simultaneously through every speaker in the world. Everywhere, everyone froze in shock.
"THE TIME HAS COME FOR YOUR SUBJUGATION AND ANNIHILATION!" the voice continued, as the crowds in Times Square scattered from underneath a gigantic silver spaceship hovering above the buildings.
"BOW BEFORE YOUR CONQUERORS, THE KLQIX!"
Every video screen flashed and hummed, displaying live video feeds of identical ships hovering above every military base.
"RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. THOSE WHO OPPOSE US WILL BE DESTROYED BY OUR SUPERIOR WEAPONRY. ALLOW US TO PROVIDE A DEMONSTRATION."
Huge cannons emerged from the bottoms of the ships, humming and glowing.
"FIRE."
Simultaneously, all the ships blasted glowing silver balls of metal at the military bases.
Simultaneously, every ball hit its mark and crumpled like wet toilet paper.
"UHHH..."
And that was when every military base fired their anti-aircraft missiles.
Currently, the forensic scientists who combed the smoldering wrecks have concluded that the Klqix's planet must have very low atmospheric pressure compared to Earth. Therefore, the Klqix and everything they built had evolved to be strong enough to withstand their atmosphere, but rendering them extremely fragile compared to Earth's much sturdier matter. The ship from over Times Square, having been blown to smithereens purely by the angry crowd's ordinary guns, will be converted into a piece of modern art to be placed in Times Square as a monument to what must have been a valiant effort by the Klqix to subjugate our planet.
This has been Joe Cooley of CNN. Back to you, Kris.
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[WP] Two people have near-death experiences. One sees their personal vision of heaven, the other sees to their personal vision of hell. Interestingly enough, the two visions are the same.
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I wanted to kill him.
After years of waiting for him to be released from prison, I was finally going to have justice. It took a while to track him down, sure. But thankfully it was easy, thanks to public records, to figure out where he lived. And I stalked. I stalked every day with vengeance in my heart. When would I do it? How? Maybe I could shoot him. No, too obvious. I had to make it seem like an accident. A happy, justified accident.
I guess I failed to realize it wouldn't really seem like an accident if they caught me. And unfortunately, as I revved my engine watching my target cross the street, that's exactly what happened. All those years of growing up on the farm, riding the tractor with Pa, who would have guessed I really needed a seatbelt? The light was still red. I grinned and put my foot to the pedal, sadistically aroused by my victim causing my car to lurch as if it went over a speedbump. But the light was still red and the car that t-boned me didn't bet on anyone running the red light.
They say that your life flashes before your eyes in these kinds of events. As we both lie here in limbo, I remember. I remember my vision of my little girl happy, coming home with crayon drawings of mommy and daddy and the excitement on her face when she got a new puppy for her birthday. He said he felt terrible. He said he felt great remorse for doing what he did. He cried in court. Thankfully, my dreams don't include the grisly images of my sweet little girl with her throat cut and her genitals mutilated. His 'great remorse' will carry on into the afterlife, and his dreams of my sweet, happy little girl will forever give him torment.
But for me, I am in Heaven, here with her.
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We stood there, side by side open mouthed at the scene before us.
I didn't know the man, and he didn't know me, but right then neither of us cared enough to make introductions.
For as far as the eye could see were beautiful white sands, crystal clear blue water and the sun shone over us all. In the distance I could see every member of my family and many of my friends. There was another group of people waving at the man stood next to me. I assume they were his relatives.
I was burning up with the heat. It was too hot. The sweat was dripping down my back and I was having to squint, the light reflecting off the sand was blinding.
I decided to hazard a glance at the man next to me. He had a humongous grin on his face, and was practically weeping with happiness.
I looked back at my family gathered on the beach, and imagined being stuck with them for eternity. Ah fuck.
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[WP] Two people have near-death experiences. One sees their personal vision of heaven, the other sees to their personal vision of hell. Interestingly enough, the two visions are the same.
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The crash
-
Nick may have been driving a bit too fast, but Megan's nagging didn't help his concentration in the least.
"Nick, baby, please slow down. Please... slow down! OH MY GOD NICK SLOW DOWN! AAHHHH!" Megan couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight of Nick's face, which was slowly moving from it's usual pale to a deep red. "Oh relax, hon, you know I'm just joking. Kind of. You should really slow down."
Nick shot a glance out the corner of his eye at Megan, who stopped laughing abruptly.
"Would you like to drive? No? Well, either take the wheel or shut up please," he said, Meg seemingly oblivious to Nick's obviously fake smile.
"No need to be so harsh, silly goose! Anyway, how long until we get to the hotel? I want to party it up with my girls one last time before I get hitched! Ha! Just kidding about the hitched part, baby. I can't wait to marry you!"
"Yeah, yeah, I lo-"
"NIIIIICK! AAAAAAH!" Megan screamed, before Nick could finish his sentence. And before Nick could react to the car in their lane, they collided at full speed.
-
Nick and Megan opened their eyes to a very bright white color, that seemed to go on ceaselessly. As they looked around, things began to materialize before them. They first saw Nick's bedroom. His suitcase. The mirror in his room, showing him wearing the tuxedo he was to be married in. And the scene changed. They saw Megan, in the beautiful white dress that she was to be married in. And the scene changed. They watch from the balcony of the cathedral as they are married in the eyes of God, *'til death do us part.*
Nick's gaze met Megan's.
Megan smiled with tears in her eyes.
Nick's eyes widened in horror.
|
We stood there, side by side open mouthed at the scene before us.
I didn't know the man, and he didn't know me, but right then neither of us cared enough to make introductions.
For as far as the eye could see were beautiful white sands, crystal clear blue water and the sun shone over us all. In the distance I could see every member of my family and many of my friends. There was another group of people waving at the man stood next to me. I assume they were his relatives.
I was burning up with the heat. It was too hot. The sweat was dripping down my back and I was having to squint, the light reflecting off the sand was blinding.
I decided to hazard a glance at the man next to me. He had a humongous grin on his face, and was practically weeping with happiness.
I looked back at my family gathered on the beach, and imagined being stuck with them for eternity. Ah fuck.
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[WP] Two people have near-death experiences. One sees their personal vision of heaven, the other sees to their personal vision of hell. Interestingly enough, the two visions are the same.
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The crash
-
Nick may have been driving a bit too fast, but Megan's nagging didn't help his concentration in the least.
"Nick, baby, please slow down. Please... slow down! OH MY GOD NICK SLOW DOWN! AAHHHH!" Megan couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight of Nick's face, which was slowly moving from it's usual pale to a deep red. "Oh relax, hon, you know I'm just joking. Kind of. You should really slow down."
Nick shot a glance out the corner of his eye at Megan, who stopped laughing abruptly.
"Would you like to drive? No? Well, either take the wheel or shut up please," he said, Meg seemingly oblivious to Nick's obviously fake smile.
"No need to be so harsh, silly goose! Anyway, how long until we get to the hotel? I want to party it up with my girls one last time before I get hitched! Ha! Just kidding about the hitched part, baby. I can't wait to marry you!"
"Yeah, yeah, I lo-"
"NIIIIICK! AAAAAAH!" Megan screamed, before Nick could finish his sentence. And before Nick could react to the car in their lane, they collided at full speed.
-
Nick and Megan opened their eyes to a very bright white color, that seemed to go on ceaselessly. As they looked around, things began to materialize before them. They first saw Nick's bedroom. His suitcase. The mirror in his room, showing him wearing the tuxedo he was to be married in. And the scene changed. They saw Megan, in the beautiful white dress that she was to be married in. And the scene changed. They watch from the balcony of the cathedral as they are married in the eyes of God, *'til death do us part.*
Nick's gaze met Megan's.
Megan smiled with tears in her eyes.
Nick's eyes widened in horror.
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I wanted to kill him.
After years of waiting for him to be released from prison, I was finally going to have justice. It took a while to track him down, sure. But thankfully it was easy, thanks to public records, to figure out where he lived. And I stalked. I stalked every day with vengeance in my heart. When would I do it? How? Maybe I could shoot him. No, too obvious. I had to make it seem like an accident. A happy, justified accident.
I guess I failed to realize it wouldn't really seem like an accident if they caught me. And unfortunately, as I revved my engine watching my target cross the street, that's exactly what happened. All those years of growing up on the farm, riding the tractor with Pa, who would have guessed I really needed a seatbelt? The light was still red. I grinned and put my foot to the pedal, sadistically aroused by my victim causing my car to lurch as if it went over a speedbump. But the light was still red and the car that t-boned me didn't bet on anyone running the red light.
They say that your life flashes before your eyes in these kinds of events. As we both lie here in limbo, I remember. I remember my vision of my little girl happy, coming home with crayon drawings of mommy and daddy and the excitement on her face when she got a new puppy for her birthday. He said he felt terrible. He said he felt great remorse for doing what he did. He cried in court. Thankfully, my dreams don't include the grisly images of my sweet little girl with her throat cut and her genitals mutilated. His 'great remorse' will carry on into the afterlife, and his dreams of my sweet, happy little girl will forever give him torment.
But for me, I am in Heaven, here with her.
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It could even be in an alternate universe where everyone has super powers...
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[WP] You're immortal, in a different way. No matter how gruesome, painful, or even peaceful your death is, you always come back. How do you discover this?
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Day fifty-five-
It had been fifty-five days since I last died. Not too terribly wrong. Nowhere near that ten year stretch a while back. But more than the week of the Normandy invasion. That had been hell. When I die, I don't just come back. It's not like I just stand up and brush off getting hit by a semi. Or a bullet to the brain.
No, it can't be that simple.
When I was born, I was Adam Glass. It was 1665. My father was a member of the clergy. We were very religious my family.
I say we, but I'm not including myself. Maybe I was though. I can't remember anymore. Too many lives.
Oh wait I'm getting ahead of myself.
The first time I died, I was 24 years old. Aneurysm. Just pop and next thing I knew, I was dead. But then. I was alive again. Instead of the European mountains I was used to, great plains of grass lay before me.
I was much older. Had to be nearly seventy. I'm the distance I heard, and saw, mind you, saw Lions having a disagreement over food.
But I had never even heard of a lion before. I head no idea what that giant cat was.
A voice scared me.
"What's going on?"
I looked around, seeing nobody. Where had that voice come from?
"Who's talking? Where are you?" The voice asked again.
The voice was in my head.
I won't bore you with the rest of that life. It didn't last long. The Lions had a new snack to fight over.
You see when I die, I'm not reborn, not raised from the dead, nothing like that. My... What one of my previous hosts called my essence, for lack of a better term, simply hops somewhere else.
They could be anywhere. Anyone. Ten feet away, or on the other side of the world.
Once, I even visited a world made only of sentient bats. Flying is wonderful by the way.
But when I take over this host, the person inside doesn't just disappear. They're in here with me.
'Yeah, and let me tell you it's... an experience.'
She's not very happy with me.
'No, no I'm not.'
Could you not? Can't you just wait till this guy is finished writing? It's distracting.
'Oh yes, I'll wait.'
Good.
Anyway, long story short, when I... Make my trip, having two consciences in one body drains drains it quicker than it should.
Sometimes we learn to live together, other times, I have to end it. You have to imagine a force coming in, taking over your body, and you having no control over yourself. Ever again.
It's taxing on a person.
Emily here is handling it pretty well. But you know, most do at the beginning.
Day 252-
'Just end it. Please.'
And we've arrived at this time.
'Yes we have. Stop narrating goddammit! Kill me!'
It's been two hundred days since we last talked hasn't it? Longest I've had in a while. I'm gonna have to go now though. I think.
Jumping off a cliff sounds good.
'Yes it does. Just anything please!"
I look over the side of the mountain to the forest floor below me. I don't know where I'll end up after this. I hope it's warm.
'Just jump already!'
I jump, quietly praying I don't end up in Alaska again.
'You just had to get one more in didn't you?'
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Here I go again. This time I held it off for 35 years. I have so much to live for this time, but I just can't help myself. I have a husband who loves me, a family who loves me, friends who love me. It can never be enough for me. I live in comfort and with ease every day, but I can't escape the pull. A deep fire inside burning for that softening feeling inside me. A deep warming up.
My next life is unlikely to be anything like as lucky as this one, but even now I can only last 35 years before I long for rebirth. Maybe next time I will only last 10 years before being 'accidently' hit by a truck. Maybe I won't even last that long. Abortion could even take me before birth - but my longing for new life won't stop. I love dying. I love feeling every part of me heat up. I love the silence and nothingness, endless and instantaneous, between one life and the next. I don't feel pain, or fear. I am wholly myself.
I have lived and died for so long I barely feel the loss. I'm shocked I can still prey upon human relationships. My life this time has been easy, but so pointless. I am unable to form two way bonds; unable to tell the truth; unable to be true to who I am. I act a life of somebody I do not know with the idle curiosity of someone who has no time to lose. I have nothing in the world to lose. My lives are never my lives. I long for death. Bring on the fire.
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It could even be in an alternate universe where everyone has super powers...
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[WP] You're immortal, in a different way. No matter how gruesome, painful, or even peaceful your death is, you always come back. How do you discover this?
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1
It was a standard operation against a minor insurgent cell. We were a small team, extraction was set for 0200. Operation went off without a hitch, but on the way back, we tripped an IED. It was really bad luck, the angle that it detonated at turned the insides of the humvee into a meat grinder, yet I survived, I was thrown out just a fraction of a second before the full force of the blast. I wish I could say the same for my squadmates.
2
It was just a minor skirmish that quickly escalated into a massive firefight. It was like a blackout, one moment I was laying down supressive fire, next moment I was lying on the ground. They said that an enemy sniper just about missed me, they recovered his bullet just a few feet from where I was. That doesn't explain why there was so much blood though, was I bleeding? The whole ordeal lasted seven hours, we lost many good men that day.
3
Helicopter took a hit from a SAM, had to bail out in enemy territory. Half the squad made it out of the wreckage, only half of that made it back alive. I blacked out once or twice, but luckily I made it through. It's eerie how many close scrapes I've been having, I swear that I've been involved in the most lethal conflicts of the war. I'm applying for reassignment, hopefully I can get off the frontlines.
5
It was friendly fire, funnily enough. Some dumbass gave the wrong coordinates for the airstrike, we were almost flattened. As I stood alone, in the midst of all the dead soldiers, a thought occurred to me. *Why was I alive when everyone else died?*
6
It was the day of my reassignment, the day I was supposed to get out of this mess. Just my luck that it was the day Lt. Johnson finally snapped and went on a shooting spree. I was right next to him when he whipped out the pistol, then there was only blackness. I woke up to find 6 servicemen, including Lt. Johnson dead. Somehow I had escaped his wrath, but I was beginning to feel that it wasn't just luck.
7
Compared to the hot and sandy warzone, home felt like paradise. I was taken off active duty because they felt it would be too much after all that I went through. They were right, it was too much. I took out my revolver, held it to my temple, then *click*, I pulled the trigger.
8
*click*
9
*click*
10
*click*
11
*click*
12
*click*
15
I stand on top of a skyscraper. The people below look like tiny ants. I am afraid of heights, but I hold back the lump in my throat and jump. Why was I cursed with this existence?
27
The darkness is my only respite now. I have discovered that hanging myself prolongs the duration of the blackout, compared to other methods. The noose feels cold on my throat. With a swift kick the chair falls away.
101
The world is unfair. I never wanted it to be that way. It wasn't my fault that whenever I undie, other people die, a sick twisted cosmic balancing. I gave up on suicide, forced myself to live through this eternal hell, and then some punk panics while robbing a gas station and starts shooting.
789
Whenever I come back, I'm back to being 28, the age where young idiots get blown up in their humvee. Advances in medical technology mean that each cycle lasts a little longer, but old age still wins in the end.
790
Premature heart attack, the cycle only lasted 37 years this time.
1575
I thought that medical advancements would stop me from dying, stop the cycle from continuing. I was wrong. Turns out that the mind dying is what triggers the resurrection. This may just be a way out.
1576
I was wrong, there is no way to digitise the mind without triggering the resurrection. The regeneration of my mind also means that I cannot escape through insanity. I will have to face this eternity completely lucid.
3711
The plasma caster has a virtually endless battery, perfect for my continued forays into the darkness. There is nobody on this planet left, everyone either died in the wars or fled on the arks, so now suicide becomes a viable option again.
17894
The plasma caster has one shot left and I take it. Each time I go into the darkness, I hope to stay. I don't want to come back.
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Your first time is always supposed to be special. In my case, I got kicked off a horse somewhere near Fort Bridger, broke my back, and crawled my way into a dehydrated slumber from which I wouldn't wake up... Actually, that might not be true. I seem to remember waking up just long enough to see some wolves gnawing their way through my right leg, which I could've done without.
That was the day I realized I was immortal -- and not in the cool way. I can die. I *have* died, many, many times in many, many ways, each of them just as inglorious as the last. But no matter how many times I die, I always come back in some form. Now, I can hear you thinking, "Oh, hey, that sounds totally awesome and/or cool!" but *no*, it's not cool. I'm gonna stand by that.
For instance, just this last year I won what I like to call the John Hughes Bingo, which means I somehow managed to get killed by a train, plane, and an automobile. How'd I get killed by a plane, you're surely asking. Let's just say it was a fatal combination of a crop-duster, a hungover pilot with a blind spot the size of Tuolumne County and an impromptu emergency landing. Oh, don't worry, the pilot was fine. I was the only casualty and I wasn't even in the damn plane.
God...
Anyway, I'm sure I just need to take some time and look at all this in a positive light. After all, I've (technically) lived a good hundred and fifty years, so I should be thankful for that and all I've yet to see. But there is no greater downer than leaving the house to pick up a coffee and waking up to realize you've just been mowed down by some elderly someone who mistook the gas pedal for the brake. Oh, those days are such fun.
But cool? Nuh-uh.
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[WP] It's well-established that in this world, when you lose your job you lose your life. This morning the HR guy walks over to your cubicle and asks to come with him.
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"rick..."
"Rick..."
"RICK!"
My eyes finally focused, and it seemed as if I was watching Terry shake my limp body from the camera in the ceiling. I shook my head back and forth to clear it. "Wha...?" I muttered.
"Come on man. Don't make her wait, get up now and go with HR. You know you're at the top of this division this month. You're worth ten of us man so you have absolutely nothing to fear." Terry's mouth was close to my ear and the sickening flavor of the onion rings he had for lunch broke me out of my trance. In front of us a sharply dressed woman in a red suit stood patiently, viewing the events before her with an expressionless stare.
"Do as they say man and no matter what, you know we're like family. Remember our pact? I'll take care of Laurie and the kids if it comes to that. You have nothing to worry about Rick. Nothing at all."
Terry's fear was thinly veiled, but his words helped me to stand on my twig-like legs. As my head rose over my cubicle I could see hundreds of eyes looking in my direction. Many were wide in shock. Many were clenched in anger. And more than a few seemed just a bit relieved.
The red suit spoke in an even, hard voice.
"This way, Rick."
I followed her up the walkway between the cubicles to the room at the end of the hall. It seemed to take no time at all. She held the door open for me and as I stepped through, I wished that I could be less numb. I tried to see my wife and daughters clearly in my mind, but all I got was static. My chest controlled my fall as I slammed into the metal chair that faced the gray far wall. She went around and sat at a steel desk to my right, and I put all my energy into remaining emotionless as she cleared her throat.
"Rick you've worked at this company alongside your peers for 20 years now, and you have shown us time and time again that the economical climate does not faze you."
Her words were a beeline to my ear and I swallowed slowly, the anxiety building in my heart as she continued.
"We at Americorp will forever remain indebted to you. Your sacrifices for us will never be forgotten, and your earning strategies will be implemented in all of our offices across the globe. Your legacy *will* live on, rest assured."
My grip tightened on the seat below me. Slick with perspiration, they seemed to skid before grabbing hold.
"However, I am here to inform you that your job title is no longer available in this region."
There it was.
My pulse quickened and my mouth became dry, but I looked forward nonetheless. I won't give her the satisfaction. These bastards will have to grind me like a stone to get something from me. This she-wolf is going to have to rip me in hal--
"There is a position available."
...
...What?
She stepped around the desk with a folder in her hand. "Your work ethic and customer service will lend well to you in this new position, should you accept it. You already have an assignment, and you would have to start immediately." She sucked her teeth sharply. "You cannot be unemployed, you understand."
The folder was placed in my lap, and her head came to rest near my right shoulder from behind.
"You're a great worker Rick. This has been recognized, and a position has been carved out for you."
She reached around and opened the folder. I slowly lowered my head. My eyes focused, and in bright color, I saw Terry's company picture. His toothy grin and honest eyes stared back in complete innocence.
"How about it, Rick? Would you like to join HR?"
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"Hey, could you come see me in my office?"
Shit. That little prick from HR wants me.
Oh... maybe.. well, today's the day.
I sat for a second and stared at the second drawer down.
I had been slipping recently. I probably wasn't trying hard enough or doing my best. I lost that big account a week ago and I haven't been very productive otherwise.
I stared at that drawer, long and hard.
Should I do it? I mean I guess.
They can't take me. I know how it all goes and if they won't keep me here there's no way in hell I'm going to let them take me out. Not like this.
I got the wife to support and my kid to take care of. I know life won't be the same, we'll probably have to move, I think she'll understand once I explain it to her.
I reached under my desk and ripped off the key that I had taped there.
I hope she'll understand. I wouldn't want her to leave me once she finds out but right about now this seems to be my only option.
I still the key in and unlock the drawer.
She'll know its my only option, she'll have to understand. But fuck it I gotta do what I gotta do.
I open the drawer, grab my pistol, load the clip in and tuck it into my belt, covering it with my shirt.
"I'll be right there, sir" I yelled down the hall.
It was either them or me.
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anything goes from vampire hunter to politician ;)
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[WP] You are born without a soul. While this causes a lot of issues with your state of mind and your relationship with religion, there is one benefit in particular that makes you useful in a way.
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I've heard that people who are color-blind don't always know their condition until they've been tested on the fact. It doesn't seem to bother many of them too much, because they don't have any perspective on that which they lack. Unless they were to recieve color in their sight, they would never fully comprehend what made them different from everyone else.
So don't pity me. I don't have any previous reference to what having a soul is like, and I won't ever get one.
Nonetheless, color blindness does have an affect on their lives. Perhaps they can't participate in some activities, or are disadvantaged in some way. If, for example, they needed to analyze a graph for their job, they may not be able to distinguish between some of the hues used in the graph. They may not be able to appreciate some paintings as well as others who can see the whole color spectrum.
These are minor things. When I tell you I am uniterested in the church I am being sold, understand that I am in a unique position where I can not possibly gain from it what others may be able to.
I imagine that many people who's vision is unhindered by an inability to differentiate some colors are saddened at the thought of those who are hindered this way. While it is true that the color blind lack, there are some things that can only be done from their perspective. It is not a deficiency, but rather a different a view from a different vantage point. Some things become easier to pick out. If the lines that divide some shades become dull in some instances, others become more distinct.
My point is that I am in a unique position to explain to you why you shouldn't cry over your lost soul.
Try to be optimistic. It's as I've said, you're getting a new perspective. And I can tell from personal experience that being barred from heaven and hell isn't as big of a deal as everyone says it is. Probably. I mean no one alive has been to either place right? You're just as color blind as the rest of us.
You and I, we aren't ever going to have any insight to what we lack.
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I walk into the dark room and close the door. The man sits under a single light bulb, blindfolded, arms tied to armrests. He turns to the sound of the door closing. "Who's there" he whispers. "Please is someone there? I've been here for hours."
I ignore his calls and walk over to the table against the wall. His file and my tools sit there. I open the file and look at the information. Roland Proffer, 38, homegrown terrorist, links to other terrorist organizations. Information required. I look at the information required and then turn the page. The second page says informal interview. I nod and grab the table, rolling over to Mr. Proffer.
I pull off his blindfold. "Hello Mr. Proffer I'm here to conduct your interview." The man has eyes like a cornered animal. "Who the fuck are you" He practically yells. Sweats already rolling down his face.
"No one Mr. Proffer this is an informal interview"
I pull over a chair and sit across from him. "I need names Mr. Proffer, you have a lot of materials, very specific materials. Who supplied you, who helped you, I need everything you know. If you tell me this interview is over."
Mr. Proffer calms himself and looks at me, then looks at my bag. He sizes me up then makes an....unfortunate decision. "I don't know anything, I'm not a terrorist."
I sigh. I was hoping this would go quickly. I don't mind my work, I just sometimes like to have a break. This is the third interview today and I already missed my favorite show.
"Lets see what you know in a few minutes then Mr. Proffer. Hopefully you gained some insight, I'm an impatient man."
I think a few fingers will go first, he has a lot to spare.
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anything goes from vampire hunter to politician ;)
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[WP] You are born without a soul. While this causes a lot of issues with your state of mind and your relationship with religion, there is one benefit in particular that makes you useful in a way.
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A loud, muffled thump from upstairs shakes the building, alerting me to the arrival of my "handler". A quick glance at my phone determines that the hoighty-toighty prick was half an hour early. Can't count how many times I've told him to stick to the fucking schedule. Hell, the first time he pulled this shit I hadn't even gotten home yet, he ran into my wife. And what a fun filled, enjoyable evening that was. I hand Scarlet off to her mother, who nods with an apprehensive look in her eyes as I walk upstairs to meet him.
A quick jaunt down the hall and up the stairs finds me pulling a cigarette from the pack in my shirt pocket I casually stroll out onto the rooftop where my handler, Gabriel, awaits. To get it out of the way, Gabriel is an Angel. A literal, honest to God, wings and armor and flowing golden locks fucking Angel. Consequently he stands roughly 6' 7', and(during non-clandestine activities) is in fact equipped with ivory wings (that are surprisingly sturdy), wears armor of a luminescent metal I can't and he won't identify, and is essentially my mainline to the guys upstairs. He appears to fluctuate between various shades of dark brown and olive skin tones, preferring the darker tones for our evening meetings, as now. As I approach him he looks me over with a disapproving look.
"Arkandalus, you must know the damage you are doing to your body." He says in a deep velvety voice that always managed to lower my guard a little. I hated that.
"I'd hazard a guess that you guys are doing more damage than I am, Gabriel." I said, pulling deeply just to emphasize my contempt. "And I told you, it's Ark."
"There is only one path to salvation Ark, you know this." He replied. "On that note, He requires your aid once more."
"Oh FUCK that, Gabriel! I was literally killed last time. I clawed my way out of the fucking pits, which let me tell you, was neither easy nor enjoyable, brought you what you wanted, and if I'm remembering it correctly, told you guys to fuck OFF for a while. I thought I had made the point clear." I said in a hoarse whisper. Can't yell shit like this, although yelling was considered.
"You need us. We need you. None of us may set foot where we need you to go, and time is almost out." That came out pleading, almost defensive. He's worried I won't do it. I've *never* said no before. That would indicate that this is going to suck.
"Y'all motherfuckers need Jesus." I said mockingly. Unfortunately for them, he's been out of commission for going on 1600 years.
"Actually, yes. We do. That is why I am here." *Oh, fuck.*
"No. No, no no. Matter of fact, not just no, but FUCK no! You guys lost LEGIONS, plural, going after him last time! What the FUCK makes you think I'd fare any better?!" I already know, I'm just stalling. Euli isn't going to like this.
"Be not truculent, Arkandalus. You know why this task falls to you." He said, eyes flashing.
"It's. Ark." I spat, teeth gritted" The good old 'manufacturers defect'. You know, I'm beginning to think it intentional." I said, glaring hard. Gabriel glared right back. It's hard to intimidate an Angel. "What's the timeline?"
"Insertion tonight. The Oracles say you'll complete your task in no more than 48 hours, if you complete it at all." Gabriel said, shifting his gaze over the city. Wouldn't even look me in the eye when he was asking me to kill myself.
"If. And what do the ladies have to say about my chances?" I asked, secretly dreading the answer. They aren't always right, but they are damn near.
"They are not encouraged." he replied, still averting his eyes.
"What's the pay?" I asked tossing the butt of my finished cigarette off the roof.
"Your soul." he said simply. I stood dumbstruck for a moment.
"Salvation?" *No fucking way* I thought.
"Yes."
"The brass ring? The end? Our contract terminated? Eternal bliss assured?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Not good enough. Consider your request. I'm going to need more."
"You're being offered a chance at being whole, and you're willing to throw it away for greed?"
"Gabriel, if I had the option of throwing this shit away I'd have done so the night we met. You said it, you need me. Frankly being lost to the winds of time is sounding better and better the more I get to know you and your crew."He rasied his eyebrows questioningly. *Yeah, I'd rather be forgotten than your fucking lap dog you massive talking seagull.* "So here's the deal: if you want me to waltz into the fucking Inferno, again, and somehow sneak the greatest soul they ever snared out of there, I'm going to need gear." I paused to consider for a moment before continuing, " Divine gear. Blade, board, and suit at least, although I wouldn't say no to one of those crazy fucking thunder bows you've got up there, cause this damascus steel and crossbow shit just doesn't cut it down there. Bolts don't fly right and even the fucking pests can shred the steel like paper. Additionally, regardless of whether or not I succeed, I'm going to want to worry about literally nothing for the rest of eternity. That means assurances that my wife and child are set on funds, health, immunity from acts of God, for all of us and our possessions. If I don't make it they need to be taken care of. If I do make it, I need to know He's not going to drop my roof on me while I'm enjoying my freedom." I lit another cigarette, to add literal fuming to my figurative fuming. Seemed fitting.
"The gear is approved already, we will stop by the Smith when we leave. Health is approved for all current and future family, although I cannot stop Him from taking His frustrations out on you. You are a favored target. We can keep it to a minimum and replace what is lost, but you know how He gets. The possessions are all approved as well." Gabriel finally seemed to be relaxing. He knew they had me. "And do you really think He'd ask this of you and then kill you for completing it?" I scoffed.
"Favorite target. Your words, not mine. He can't kill me while he needs me, but after, who fucking knows? I'd rather take steps. Draw up the contract, I have to go inform my wife." I sighed. "This fucking soul had better be worth it."
[This prompt was pretty cool. Will definitely continue it, thanks for the prompt!]
Edit: Forgot a comma.
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I walk into the dark room and close the door. The man sits under a single light bulb, blindfolded, arms tied to armrests. He turns to the sound of the door closing. "Who's there" he whispers. "Please is someone there? I've been here for hours."
I ignore his calls and walk over to the table against the wall. His file and my tools sit there. I open the file and look at the information. Roland Proffer, 38, homegrown terrorist, links to other terrorist organizations. Information required. I look at the information required and then turn the page. The second page says informal interview. I nod and grab the table, rolling over to Mr. Proffer.
I pull off his blindfold. "Hello Mr. Proffer I'm here to conduct your interview." The man has eyes like a cornered animal. "Who the fuck are you" He practically yells. Sweats already rolling down his face.
"No one Mr. Proffer this is an informal interview"
I pull over a chair and sit across from him. "I need names Mr. Proffer, you have a lot of materials, very specific materials. Who supplied you, who helped you, I need everything you know. If you tell me this interview is over."
Mr. Proffer calms himself and looks at me, then looks at my bag. He sizes me up then makes an....unfortunate decision. "I don't know anything, I'm not a terrorist."
I sigh. I was hoping this would go quickly. I don't mind my work, I just sometimes like to have a break. This is the third interview today and I already missed my favorite show.
"Lets see what you know in a few minutes then Mr. Proffer. Hopefully you gained some insight, I'm an impatient man."
I think a few fingers will go first, he has a lot to spare.
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anything goes from vampire hunter to politician ;)
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[WP] You are born without a soul. While this causes a lot of issues with your state of mind and your relationship with religion, there is one benefit in particular that makes you useful in a way.
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I've heard that people who are color-blind don't always know their condition until they've been tested on the fact. It doesn't seem to bother many of them too much, because they don't have any perspective on that which they lack. Unless they were to recieve color in their sight, they would never fully comprehend what made them different from everyone else.
So don't pity me. I don't have any previous reference to what having a soul is like, and I won't ever get one.
Nonetheless, color blindness does have an affect on their lives. Perhaps they can't participate in some activities, or are disadvantaged in some way. If, for example, they needed to analyze a graph for their job, they may not be able to distinguish between some of the hues used in the graph. They may not be able to appreciate some paintings as well as others who can see the whole color spectrum.
These are minor things. When I tell you I am uniterested in the church I am being sold, understand that I am in a unique position where I can not possibly gain from it what others may be able to.
I imagine that many people who's vision is unhindered by an inability to differentiate some colors are saddened at the thought of those who are hindered this way. While it is true that the color blind lack, there are some things that can only be done from their perspective. It is not a deficiency, but rather a different a view from a different vantage point. Some things become easier to pick out. If the lines that divide some shades become dull in some instances, others become more distinct.
My point is that I am in a unique position to explain to you why you shouldn't cry over your lost soul.
Try to be optimistic. It's as I've said, you're getting a new perspective. And I can tell from personal experience that being barred from heaven and hell isn't as big of a deal as everyone says it is. Probably. I mean no one alive has been to either place right? You're just as color blind as the rest of us.
You and I, we aren't ever going to have any insight to what we lack.
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I was wearing headphones, so the only sound in the room was the clicking of my controller as I pulled the triggers.
On the screen, my avatar fired off round after round of virtual death into my fellow players, none of whom had ever actually been in my presence.
I'd only ever met three people, and from the knocking I assumed at least one of them was at my door.
"I'll be back in a few minutes noobs" I said to my online cadre. They indicated their assent as my character vanished from their world.
I stepped over the piles of soda cans and hot pocket packaging to look through the peephole. It was all three of them. The Tall Man, the Stout Woman, and the one with the Hood. I'd never seen his face.
I opened the door.
"It's been a while, Carter" the Tall Man said. He usually did the talking when it was more than one of them. "Are you going to invite us in?"
I gave them an exaggerated gesture. and threw open the door. "Welcome to my palace."
They shuffled in. I was amused as they did their best not to touch anything. The man with the hood held what looked like an animal carrier, like he always did.
They only ever came by for one reason, yet they always seemed sheepish asking for it. Such hypocrites.
"So there's another one then."
The Tall Man answered me. "We just found out yesterday. We had to make arrangements to acquire the package, conceal the reality of the situation. And of course, travel here."
The man in the hood hoisted his charge, giving it to me. As he did that, the Stout Woman began speaking in Latin.
I rolled my eyes. Such drama.
"Just leave it. You know I'll take care of it like I always do."
The woman shut up. The Tall Man couldn't meet my gaze.
"This service is appreciated. The consequences to everyone in the world if this situation were to go unresolved would be..."
"Yeah yeah, save me the speech. You know who I am, what I am. I don't have the kind of moral difficulties you do. That's why you come to me with this."
I paused.
"In fact, it's what you pay me for."
The Tall Man grew visibly uncomfortable. Regardless, he produced his customary envelope filled with 100 dollar bills. That should hold me for a while.
"OK, so is there anything else?" The room was silent as my question hung in the air.
The three of them moved towards the door. They never liked hanging around while I did my thing. The Man in the Hood would probably be back later to take care of whatever was left.
After they departed I went to my kitchenette. Standard bachelor apartment stuff, except for the oven. The oven was industrial strength. Most of the time I used it to make pizza, my sole culinary accomplishment, but tonight I'd be cooking something else. I turned it up to six hundred sixty six degrees and set it to alert me when it got to the right temperature.
I stepped over the carrier the Hooded Man had left me and popped my headset back on and logged back on my clan server. It'd be a little bit til the oven was ready.
The sound of the baby crying distracted me, so I put the carrier in the closet til the oven timer beeped.
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anything goes from vampire hunter to politician ;)
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[WP] You are born without a soul. While this causes a lot of issues with your state of mind and your relationship with religion, there is one benefit in particular that makes you useful in a way.
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A loud, muffled thump from upstairs shakes the building, alerting me to the arrival of my "handler". A quick glance at my phone determines that the hoighty-toighty prick was half an hour early. Can't count how many times I've told him to stick to the fucking schedule. Hell, the first time he pulled this shit I hadn't even gotten home yet, he ran into my wife. And what a fun filled, enjoyable evening that was. I hand Scarlet off to her mother, who nods with an apprehensive look in her eyes as I walk upstairs to meet him.
A quick jaunt down the hall and up the stairs finds me pulling a cigarette from the pack in my shirt pocket I casually stroll out onto the rooftop where my handler, Gabriel, awaits. To get it out of the way, Gabriel is an Angel. A literal, honest to God, wings and armor and flowing golden locks fucking Angel. Consequently he stands roughly 6' 7', and(during non-clandestine activities) is in fact equipped with ivory wings (that are surprisingly sturdy), wears armor of a luminescent metal I can't and he won't identify, and is essentially my mainline to the guys upstairs. He appears to fluctuate between various shades of dark brown and olive skin tones, preferring the darker tones for our evening meetings, as now. As I approach him he looks me over with a disapproving look.
"Arkandalus, you must know the damage you are doing to your body." He says in a deep velvety voice that always managed to lower my guard a little. I hated that.
"I'd hazard a guess that you guys are doing more damage than I am, Gabriel." I said, pulling deeply just to emphasize my contempt. "And I told you, it's Ark."
"There is only one path to salvation Ark, you know this." He replied. "On that note, He requires your aid once more."
"Oh FUCK that, Gabriel! I was literally killed last time. I clawed my way out of the fucking pits, which let me tell you, was neither easy nor enjoyable, brought you what you wanted, and if I'm remembering it correctly, told you guys to fuck OFF for a while. I thought I had made the point clear." I said in a hoarse whisper. Can't yell shit like this, although yelling was considered.
"You need us. We need you. None of us may set foot where we need you to go, and time is almost out." That came out pleading, almost defensive. He's worried I won't do it. I've *never* said no before. That would indicate that this is going to suck.
"Y'all motherfuckers need Jesus." I said mockingly. Unfortunately for them, he's been out of commission for going on 1600 years.
"Actually, yes. We do. That is why I am here." *Oh, fuck.*
"No. No, no no. Matter of fact, not just no, but FUCK no! You guys lost LEGIONS, plural, going after him last time! What the FUCK makes you think I'd fare any better?!" I already know, I'm just stalling. Euli isn't going to like this.
"Be not truculent, Arkandalus. You know why this task falls to you." He said, eyes flashing.
"It's. Ark." I spat, teeth gritted" The good old 'manufacturers defect'. You know, I'm beginning to think it intentional." I said, glaring hard. Gabriel glared right back. It's hard to intimidate an Angel. "What's the timeline?"
"Insertion tonight. The Oracles say you'll complete your task in no more than 48 hours, if you complete it at all." Gabriel said, shifting his gaze over the city. Wouldn't even look me in the eye when he was asking me to kill myself.
"If. And what do the ladies have to say about my chances?" I asked, secretly dreading the answer. They aren't always right, but they are damn near.
"They are not encouraged." he replied, still averting his eyes.
"What's the pay?" I asked tossing the butt of my finished cigarette off the roof.
"Your soul." he said simply. I stood dumbstruck for a moment.
"Salvation?" *No fucking way* I thought.
"Yes."
"The brass ring? The end? Our contract terminated? Eternal bliss assured?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Not good enough. Consider your request. I'm going to need more."
"You're being offered a chance at being whole, and you're willing to throw it away for greed?"
"Gabriel, if I had the option of throwing this shit away I'd have done so the night we met. You said it, you need me. Frankly being lost to the winds of time is sounding better and better the more I get to know you and your crew."He rasied his eyebrows questioningly. *Yeah, I'd rather be forgotten than your fucking lap dog you massive talking seagull.* "So here's the deal: if you want me to waltz into the fucking Inferno, again, and somehow sneak the greatest soul they ever snared out of there, I'm going to need gear." I paused to consider for a moment before continuing, " Divine gear. Blade, board, and suit at least, although I wouldn't say no to one of those crazy fucking thunder bows you've got up there, cause this damascus steel and crossbow shit just doesn't cut it down there. Bolts don't fly right and even the fucking pests can shred the steel like paper. Additionally, regardless of whether or not I succeed, I'm going to want to worry about literally nothing for the rest of eternity. That means assurances that my wife and child are set on funds, health, immunity from acts of God, for all of us and our possessions. If I don't make it they need to be taken care of. If I do make it, I need to know He's not going to drop my roof on me while I'm enjoying my freedom." I lit another cigarette, to add literal fuming to my figurative fuming. Seemed fitting.
"The gear is approved already, we will stop by the Smith when we leave. Health is approved for all current and future family, although I cannot stop Him from taking His frustrations out on you. You are a favored target. We can keep it to a minimum and replace what is lost, but you know how He gets. The possessions are all approved as well." Gabriel finally seemed to be relaxing. He knew they had me. "And do you really think He'd ask this of you and then kill you for completing it?" I scoffed.
"Favorite target. Your words, not mine. He can't kill me while he needs me, but after, who fucking knows? I'd rather take steps. Draw up the contract, I have to go inform my wife." I sighed. "This fucking soul had better be worth it."
[This prompt was pretty cool. Will definitely continue it, thanks for the prompt!]
Edit: Forgot a comma.
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And it was summer, too. It's always a pity when it's summer. The young have so much life ahead of them, and when does fate decide to cut that short? Summer; ice cream vans have become ironic undertakers in recent times. Parents never seem to want to go with their kids for ice cream. They could avoid the grief. My friend, he doesn't quite understand that. He is just looking across the table from me with that silly lopsided grin he always wears. It would be endearing, but I am not the kind that takes well to hopeful gazes.
"Mickey, you gotta lighten up. A job like yours, it'll crush a man's soul."
He takes a swig of cider, and I join him. He's a good kid. I know that. He is the closest thing to friend I understand. I'm late, regardless, and I leave him to his company. The drive is long, but not unpleasant. A slight wind amplifies through the open window, and cools the sweat on my brow. I pull into the parking lot ahead of the family and begin walking to the grave, passing rows of people like me. Husks of times old. I take up my shovel and guard the grave. Kim; the girl's name is Kim. Was Kim. The coffin is carried up by crying people, and the sun graces the group with an insulting presence. Words are said, and the coffin is lowered. I dip my head and begin my work, striking the box with dirt. Her name is Kim. I remember the name, as I remember the rest. Why I do is beyond me.
(Sorry if it's short. I just wanted to give the prompt a go.)
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[WP] Life a thousand years after an experiment gone wrong causes everyone on the planet to experience the same day repeating endlessly a-la Groundhog Day
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Today was the day.
I woke up and took a shower for exactly eight minutes and thirty seconds. I walked out, without toweling myself. I walked three steps into the living room, turned right, walked three more, turned turned left, and walked into the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator and took out three eggs. I tossed them at the wall one by one, to the left, to the right, to the left again. Looked right. I knew those patterns. I turned on the radio, twisted the knob and left it on an empty AM band.
I glanced at the clock without moving. I waited two minutes and fifty-one seconds. I walked forward and opened the window, then looked down at the building below.
I saw Jay and Han and Chloe's heads sticking out of the windows below. Looked good. Keeping my head at the correct angle, I looked up towards the buildings.
I could see it at the end of the street. Cars accelerated and braked in perfect formation around it as the soccer ball collided into obstacle after obstacle, ricocheting and bouncing and always, always remaining in the air. Old Singh strolled out of the Subway, threw away his meatball sub and dribbled the ball on his knees before spinning and giving the ball a massive kick. It flew upwards towards us. Chloe did her weird swinging head move and the ball's trajectory reverted to the vertical. Han tapped it as he always did, and it went to Jay, who slapped it upwards with clenched fists.
It came towards me, and I arched my head back. Blam. I head-butted the ball back down towards the street, where Carlos in the spinning forklift was in position. The fork was positioned precisely, and the momentum and reaction caused the ball to fly perfectly over our building and out of sight.
I grinned down at the faces below. "Hey guys, it's Thirdsday again. Are we doing bare-knuckle boxing?"
Jay and Chloe gave thumbs up but Han demurred, claiming he wanted to go to the university and keep working on his project. Every Fifthsday we would gather outside the Town Hall to hear the Dead Languages Poetry Slam. I reminded myself to brush up on my Sumerian before then, but I had plenty of time.
I checked reddit. The subreddit "CoasttoCoast" was only a few hours old, but it was already filled with updates. I smiled. Looks like it had passed our section handily. The Canadians were talking shit about how they were going to reach the Pacific before we did, while the PaciAtlan crew were still trying to get their shit together. The Australians, bless their hearts, were still trying to figure out how to keep a soccer ball in the air across a desert continent, and the Europeans were acting fucking smug.
It probably wasn't going to be today. No matter, we'll try again tomorrow. It's a nice morning routine, and we'd come a long way since the first kickoff.
But it was time for breakfast. I realized I hadn't had pancakes for awhile. I'd have to break in to Rebecca's apartment for the good mix, but she only came by every few hundred days so she wouldn't mind. I picked up my axe and walked out of my front door, whistling.
I met Cynthia in the hall. She smiled.
"Nice axe, man. You wanna come around and kill me later?"
I rolled my eyes. "Cyn, I just killed you last week."
"I know, but Bob promised me he'd kill me today, and he's not answering his cell."
"Call Dalia, she'll do it."
"Meh. If you're not keen, I might just go play chess in the park. See you later."
I gave her a salute and we parted ways. Most people got over the death thing after awhile, but Cynthia still liked it. I didn't judge, the adrenaline rush was the adrenaline rush. But, like religion, drugs, drinking, and all those other hobbies, it tended to get boring after awhile.
I got to the door and started to hack. I sang while I worked, an old Beijing Opera song.
It was a good day. It hadn't been, for awhile. The first few thousand days, had been hell. But we adapted. Now we had our routines, our crazy experiments and challenges, and a millennium of intangible but no less significant global culture that bound us all together, and no permanent consequences beyond the social, emotional and mental. Eternal life, when you got used to it, was good.
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I've lost count over how long it has been since the accident. All I know is that at exactly 7:08 AM June 20th, 2014 my dog will bark, at exactly 7:09AM June 20th, 2014 my kid will be awake, and at exactly 7:30 AM June 20th, 2014 I will burn my hand making coffee. It has been like that for what seems to be the beginning of time now.
For the first year or so I tried to resist the cycle, I decided not to drink coffee, Instead would indulge in the occasional tea. But why does it matter, the coffee machine will still overflow. I tried to ignore my dog, to ignore its barks and ignore its existence entirely. But nothing works, every single day when the sun pops from its own slumber so began the barking. I hate it. I used to hate it more, so much so that at one point I tried to kill my dog. Somewhere between the 25th year and the 127th, I grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed max. I stabbed it until there was no more blood left, but I couldn't stop. I kept on stabbing it, until all that was left was disfigured mess, pools of blood on my shirt and disgust at my actions. But it meant nothing, the next morning max was still there at 7:08 barking.
During the first 100 years or so I thought that the world wasn't so bad. While everything in this world has lost its meaning it also meant, that all our actions lost its consequence. The world lost all order. Crime or whatever that is became rampant. Why would we not let our basic urges consume us when consequences are non-existent. So we let the chaos in our hearts determine the world amongst us. There was rape, there was murder, there was gluttony, and there was greed. The darkest side of humanity came to the light of day. I murdered someone. It was somewhere around the 145th year. He was 5ft 11 with a dragon tattooed on his left shoulder that could be seen down his sleeves. Wearing a standard prisoner's orange jumpsuit his face was marked with the strange combination of fear and desperation. He attacked my wife, as we were taking Susan to the playground. I had never fired a weapon before, but after the 4th break in I decided that to keep my father's old hunting rifle close. I remember seeing his face as he ran towards us. It wasn't that of a rapist, filled with lust. It wasn't that of a man seeking to enjoy his freedom anymore. It was just simply a face of fear. But at that moment I had to fire, at that moment there were no choices left. As that man dropped into a pool of blood spurting from his heart, his face filled with gratitude, and he told me "Thank You".
After that for the next 100 years the world started quieting down. There no longer was such chaos, and pain. We all accepted our fate. Our carnal instincts meant nothing as the days continued to pass, and everything was still the same. Order was restored as the people explored all realms of possibilities; we made fascinating advances in science, philosophy and politics. We achieved one milestone after another like the cure for cancer. Greed was eliminated, Fear was destroyed, world hunger was solved, but we all still remained stuck in time.
No amounts of time could cure what has happened to us. The events of that day June 20th, 2014, became a curse. Playing with my daughter in the playground, formerly a rare treat with my career became the very essence of Sisyphus’s punishment. Starting at around 300-400 years after the experiment, I did everything in my power to cure boredom. I learned to play piano, and now am capable of playing all the classics from memory. I started reading again, finishing all the classics. I learned different languages, capable of speaking exactly 37 and currently working on my 38th Icelandic. But after 200 years I lost all sense of existence. I couldn’t stand it anymore the boredom, the pointlessness of everything. So I fell, I started using drugs. I dabbled with every single drug known to humanity cocaine, heroine, ecstasy, DMT, crystal meth etc. At first I found solace in the temporary amounts of happiness, it provided. But the more I used, the more I needed it. The more drugs I took the more I needed to maintain the same level of pleasure that filled my brain with numbness.
By 700 years or so after the experiment the drugs didn’t work anymore. I overdosed almost everyday because that was the only way that anything could still hold interest. But everyday I still woke up in the same place, at the same time with the same person around my arm. It was still June 20, 2014.
By 900 years or so after the experiment all shreds of hope that there was a cure were diminishing. The rays of light, the clear blue sky, the smell of food and sound of chirping birds which used to fill the days with laughter became the main instigators of our purgatory. People started getting together everyday and committing mass suicide together. I did too. It didn’t work.
Now it is 1000 years after the experiment. Even though the complexion of my skin still remains unchanged as if I was permanently on Botox. I feel old. I questioned why we were sentenced to this torture a long time ago once. Now I just accept. Now I just focus on, keeping this journal hoping that our suffering will not be lost. As well as having fun with my kid trying to maintain that the smile on her face never dies. For it is the only thing I have left.
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Let me add: apologies for the cliché of judgement after death. I just want to see how you guys play this one out.
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[WP] You have died. While waiting to be judged, you are offered the chance to clear one entry from your file before the decision is made.
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I had not thought much about death, while I was alive.
Well, no, that's not true. I thought *about* it a lot. I just never settled on any on idea about the afterlife consistently enough to form an opinion on it. A sleep from which you never awake; playing a harp among the clouds; a feasthall in Valhalla. They were all the same to me and all just as likely, I figured.
So the first thing that surprised me is that I was right. It was...everything...everything a person could possibly experience, all at once. Yet it did not overwhelm my unprepared consciousness, because in the moment of happening, I realized that I *was* prepared and always had been. The human mind has the capacity to-
"Pardon me."
*Ahem.* The human mind has the capacity to experience everything simultaneously without breaking beneath the strain. It is merely the limits of culture and physiology that prevent us from-
"Pardon me."
"What?" My newly-infinite self returned with only moderate irritation after having my expanded consciousness infringed upon.
"There remains the matter of judgement," The sensation 'said,' for want of a better word. It was more like a feeling that made the concept known to me.
"I am to be judged?" I returned, amazed at the concept. What judgement was possible, in light of this new horizon that had opened all around me?
"Yes. But first, we require a piece of you. A moment. A memory. That is all."
I understood everything and could see how every action, every merest thought, fit together in a perfect tapestry of what I had become. To remove even a piece of it would be to change who I was irrevocably. And now this gatekeeper of quintessence was demanding I sacrifice a portion of that? Yet I knew--in the same way that I knew everything else--that it was both honest and truthful. Judgement would come and before it came, I would have to surrender a fraction of my self.
So I had to give something.
"July." I expressed back in the new way available to me, here beyond the pale. "July 17, 1995. I was walking back from lunch with some colleagues. We were waiting at a crosswalk. On the other side, a woman was standing with a small child. She was distracted in that way that harried mothers often are, and arguing with someone over a cellphone. I don't know what possessed the boy, but he slipped out of the light hold she had on his shoulder and tried to dash across the street. Luckily, traffic was light, and he made it most of the way across, but a car was coming and didn't have time to stop. I remember thinking that someone else--*anyone* else--would take charge of the situation and resolve it. It couldn't possibly be up to me to do anything.
"Tires shrieking like front-wheel drive banshees tore me out of my stupor. I reached, but it was too far. So I stepped and grabbed, catching a fistful of shirt and twisted as I pulled. I still remember my co-worker David's face as I flung the kid square into his potbelly, the triangle of wide O's his eyes and mouth made as the impact pulled him out of the same cow-like trance I had been in. Then the car clipped me and I spent the next three months in a leg cast, though I can probably go ahead and keep those memories."
There was silence. It didn't matter how long the silence was; time did not exist here. I waited a thousand years, but heard the answer as soon as I had finished 'speaking.'
"That is perhaps your most selfless and ennobling memory," The sensation thought back to me, a vague impression of puzzlement. "Why would you sacrifice that on the very eve of judgement?"
"Because it is not me," I replied simply. "I am a petty man; vain and lazy and self-absorbed. I don't know why I did what I did that day and if I were faced with the choice to do so again, but with time to really think about it, I cannot imagine myself acting in such a fashion. Every sin I indulged was mine, every weakness a part of me, and all my virtues were subdued and silent things.
"In this last moment, the universe has shown me utter truth. I will not repay that by falsely being judged a hero."
|
Theres a wooden chair which is odd, since I"m obviously dead. I remember the tree falling over, the other cars horns and the lights as someone swerved into my lane and high-fived my car. There can't be a wooden chair there really, since I can't be alive right now. Not the worldly definition of alive at least. I try to take in my surroundings but for some strange reason there isn't anything else. Theres no walls or floors or ceilings or sky. The chairs just kind of floating in nothingness. Nobody speaks to me but the message is clear. Sit in the chair.
I comply and now theres a desk, with a piece of paper and a pen. There are words on the paper but I can't read them. I can see them quite clearly but for some reason my mind refuses to process them. The papers a no go, so I try the pen. Its just a normal pen but like the paper I can't seem to comprehend it. I can't make out its shape, the brand or if its a ballpoint or quill. I can grasp it but not feel its texture or weight. I glance back to the paper and suddenly I can understand the words written on the page:
YOU ARE TO BE JUDGED.
CHOOSE AND IT WILL NOT BE JUDGED.
I'm starting to get a feel for how this place works. I try using the pen on the paper, to see what happens. Again, I can see that the pen leaves marks on the page but I can't tell what the color is or how thick the line draws. I know I'm dead. I know this place isn't real, or at least in respect to what I can perceive about my surroundings it can't be real. This is something else. This is something else and it wants to judge me. I've already thought about this and I decided what I'd write on the page years before I died in that car accident.
I write "no" on the page. I write no and I get up from the chair. And then, nothing.
|
Let me add: apologies for the cliché of judgement after death. I just want to see how you guys play this one out.
|
[WP] You have died. While waiting to be judged, you are offered the chance to clear one entry from your file before the decision is made.
|
I woke up in a dull room: gray, with fluorescent office lights lining the ceiling. Equally dull filing cabinets lined every wall.
"*The afterlife is a filing room?*" I thought?
"**No,**" a voice echoed in my mind, "**But purgatory is.**"
"*So am I just stuck here?*" I asked. "*There's not exactly a door.*"
"**No. You'll get out in time. Why not have a look around while you wait?**"
Seeing nothing else to do, I opened the nearest drawer, pulled out one of the dozens of colored folders, and began reading.
It soon became clear that I was reading about my life. Or at least, the time I broke my arm when I was eight. Curious, I put the folder back. Were all of these about my life? Every folder in the room? I read two more. Both were rather uneventful, but they were without a doubt about me.
Perhaps I could find one about when I lost my virginity. Now that's a memory I wouldn't mind reliving.
As I searched through the drawer detailed the events of the latter half of my seventeenth year, a different voice, less monotone and colder, entered my head. "***You know, your judgement is coming up...***"
"*Yes, I guessed as much.*"
"***Are you sure you'll pass?***"
I stopped. I hadn't considered it. I tried to think of something, anything, that would prevent me from being allowed in. Nothing in particular occurred to me, but there had to be *something*.
"*I'm... not sure.*"
"***Well, if anything occurs to you, I may be able to make it... disappear.***"
"*Thanks for-*" I began, but I could tell the voice wasn't listening any more.
I had to find it. The one thing, the greatest sin I had committed, which would prevent me from entering the afterlife. I began searching.
A few minutes later, if time passed in that place, I was surrounded by dozens of folders detailing entirely normal parts of my life. The voice returned.
"***Anything?***"
"*No, not yet.*"
"***Keep looking.***"
At least an hour had passed when it next bothered me. I dismissed it again, as I had found nothing.
It returned a dozen times over the next 2 hours. Each time, it seemed more anxious for me to find something. By the last time, I was entirely fed up with it.
"*Dammit, I said I haven't found anything and would appreciatte if you would leave me to look in peace!*"
"***I'm checking on your progress.***"
"*Well I haven't made any! If I just give you something, will you just leave me the hell alone!?*"
"***Yes.***"
"*Fine.*" I grabbed a pink folder that was sitting at me feet. It wasn't some terrible sin I had committed, but it wasn't a 'Get-Into-Heaven-Free' card either. "*This one.*" I lifted it into the air.
"***Are you sure?***"
"*Look, I don't even care at this point.*"
"***Excellent.***" The folder vanished from my hand, followed by the room around me. A man with grey hair wearing a white suit stood before be, holding a pink folder.
"**Let the judging begin.**"
|
Theres a wooden chair which is odd, since I"m obviously dead. I remember the tree falling over, the other cars horns and the lights as someone swerved into my lane and high-fived my car. There can't be a wooden chair there really, since I can't be alive right now. Not the worldly definition of alive at least. I try to take in my surroundings but for some strange reason there isn't anything else. Theres no walls or floors or ceilings or sky. The chairs just kind of floating in nothingness. Nobody speaks to me but the message is clear. Sit in the chair.
I comply and now theres a desk, with a piece of paper and a pen. There are words on the paper but I can't read them. I can see them quite clearly but for some reason my mind refuses to process them. The papers a no go, so I try the pen. Its just a normal pen but like the paper I can't seem to comprehend it. I can't make out its shape, the brand or if its a ballpoint or quill. I can grasp it but not feel its texture or weight. I glance back to the paper and suddenly I can understand the words written on the page:
YOU ARE TO BE JUDGED.
CHOOSE AND IT WILL NOT BE JUDGED.
I'm starting to get a feel for how this place works. I try using the pen on the paper, to see what happens. Again, I can see that the pen leaves marks on the page but I can't tell what the color is or how thick the line draws. I know I'm dead. I know this place isn't real, or at least in respect to what I can perceive about my surroundings it can't be real. This is something else. This is something else and it wants to judge me. I've already thought about this and I decided what I'd write on the page years before I died in that car accident.
I write "no" on the page. I write no and I get up from the chair. And then, nothing.
|
Let me add: apologies for the cliché of judgement after death. I just want to see how you guys play this one out.
|
[WP] You have died. While waiting to be judged, you are offered the chance to clear one entry from your file before the decision is made.
|
"Welcome, my son," the voice said with a smile;
"You're dead, I'm God, and this might take a while."
"You have lived and you've loved, you've won and you've lost;
But now that you're dead, there's one more line to be crossed!"
"Look at this list," he said, and produced a sheet
Of items so long that it hung down to his feet.
"There's both heaven and hell, and you're going to one!
So cross off an item, but overlook none!"
He gave a pen, and with a wink almost caustic,
He pointed to "9/1/75: Became an agnostic".
I chewed on the pen; I looked and I sat;
And recalling my life, I nearly fell flat.
"Know what, God?" I cried, my voice nearing a yell
"I don't need your judgement, I already lived Hell!"
"My mother was killed in an Earthquake and my father a storm!
Both acts of God, both out of the norm!"
"I hated my life! It was lonely and sad!
You killed them both! You're a coward, a cad!"
God backed up a few steps, and with love in his voice,
Said "Acts of Me are necessary- it wasn't a choice!"
He moved a bit forward, and urgently muttered
"Hurry up and cross one off, or this room will get cluttered!"
I looked right behind me, and there was a line!
I started to laugh, it was all going to be fine.
I looked at the Lord, my eyes teared with mirth;
And with a final "Fuck You" to God, I crossed off my birth.
|
Theres a wooden chair which is odd, since I"m obviously dead. I remember the tree falling over, the other cars horns and the lights as someone swerved into my lane and high-fived my car. There can't be a wooden chair there really, since I can't be alive right now. Not the worldly definition of alive at least. I try to take in my surroundings but for some strange reason there isn't anything else. Theres no walls or floors or ceilings or sky. The chairs just kind of floating in nothingness. Nobody speaks to me but the message is clear. Sit in the chair.
I comply and now theres a desk, with a piece of paper and a pen. There are words on the paper but I can't read them. I can see them quite clearly but for some reason my mind refuses to process them. The papers a no go, so I try the pen. Its just a normal pen but like the paper I can't seem to comprehend it. I can't make out its shape, the brand or if its a ballpoint or quill. I can grasp it but not feel its texture or weight. I glance back to the paper and suddenly I can understand the words written on the page:
YOU ARE TO BE JUDGED.
CHOOSE AND IT WILL NOT BE JUDGED.
I'm starting to get a feel for how this place works. I try using the pen on the paper, to see what happens. Again, I can see that the pen leaves marks on the page but I can't tell what the color is or how thick the line draws. I know I'm dead. I know this place isn't real, or at least in respect to what I can perceive about my surroundings it can't be real. This is something else. This is something else and it wants to judge me. I've already thought about this and I decided what I'd write on the page years before I died in that car accident.
I write "no" on the page. I write no and I get up from the chair. And then, nothing.
|
Let me add: apologies for the cliché of judgement after death. I just want to see how you guys play this one out.
|
[WP] You have died. While waiting to be judged, you are offered the chance to clear one entry from your file before the decision is made.
|
"And you're sure I can only pick one?"
"Jᴜsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ."
"But there are so many, how could I ever possibly choose?"
"Yᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ʟᴜᴄᴋʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ--"
"Lucky?! I'm DEAD! How is that lucky?!"
"Yᴇs, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴs ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ's ɴᴏ ʟᴜᴄᴋ ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ. Jᴜsᴛ ᴍᴇ, ᴍᴏsᴛʟʏ."
"Dᴇᴀᴛʜ, has anyone ever told you that you can be kind of a pain in the ass?"
"I ᴜsᴜᴀʟʟʏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴘᴀʀᴛs ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴀɪɴ ɪɴ."
Exasperated, I turned to the task at hand. Here in this ethereal in-between were images as far as the eye, or whatever was responsible for sight here,could see. A record of all I'd done. Trying to focus on the worst of it, an oversized blur of images raced past me. All of them were worthy candidates, and each of them induced a wince as they brought vivid sensations of my greatest misgivings racing back. There was the time I'd lied about my grandmother dying to get out of going to two days of a job I didn't enjoy. There was the time I'd abandoned a childhood friend in a foreign country to escape the teasing of my other peers. There was the time I'd lied to my fiancee to go camping with an old flame. Each of them revolted me, but in trying to prioritize what one I could possibly erase, I pondered to myself whether a man with ten thousand misdeeds was really any worse than a man with nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine.
In that brief thought, I decided I would be here for an eternity (not that I was in any hurry) if I tried to single any one thing out, so I opted to let fate decide which of my many personal failings to erase from the record. It was the one that got me here in the first place, so perhaps it deserved as much. Haphazardly I reached out to clutch a random ethereal image racing by (kicking my best mate in the crotch). To my surprise, it stretched out towards me momentarily, only to whiz back into the blur of images from whence it came. I tried again (this time, faking an emergency to escape an unpleasant dinner date), only to have it snap back into place as if held by rubber bands.
It was then I noticed, that these memories WERE held in place by something. Each of them had twinkling threads of golden light streaming out of the back of them, connecting them with dozens, sometimes hundreds of other memories. When viewed as a whole, the threads formed an almost solid golden mesh that bound my life together. I couldn't tug at one memory without trying to bring along everything that experience was a result of or became responsible for. Waspishly, I turned back to Dᴇᴀᴛʜ
"How am I supposed to pick one if they're all stuck together in this wishy-washy golden muck?!"
"Hᴏᴡ Iɴᴅᴇᴇᴅ."
I couldn't say for certain. It was hard to tell with the hood and the skeletal features. But I couldn't shake the feeling that Dᴇᴀᴛʜ was grinning at me.
I resolved that if those memories were too important to remove without destroying some other portion of myself, that I would choose the biggest mistake I'd made that wasn't inextricably tied part and parcel with the sum of who I was. As if they could read my thoughts, the overwhelming barrage of images faded to just a single memory, greyish in hue, with naught but a few wispy, faded golden threads behind it. I pursed my lips and sighed heavy with understanding. I lazily reached up and tugged at the memory of a dreary April 28 many years ago, eating a cheese sandwich for lunch I wasn't particularly fond of. It leapt into my hand willingly and without any tug from the threads it was bound to. I turned and outstretched my hand to my companion.
"Yᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ?" I nodded solemnly.
"I remember wishing I'd gotten curry instead."
"Mᴍᴍ. Exᴄᴇʟʟᴇɴᴛ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ."
|
Even in death, life sucks. I've been in this line for three days, and I still have 136 people in front of me. I counted. I was bored.
As I got closer, it ran back through the line that St. Peter was forgiving one sin from people before he judges them.
Shit. What should I choose? There was that time in Georgia. That one stuck with me. Or, maybe my business trip to Thailand? It's not my fault that so many of the boys look like girls.
Oh. I know. The whole Dublin debacle. How could I have forgotten that one?
I knew I should have worked out a way to ask her for ID before I took her back to my motel room. I was in a rush. It had been so long. Yeah, that one.
I guess it's easy to get lost in your own thoughts here. By the time I came out of my internal monologue it was my turn.
St. Peter was lookjng at his ledger, as he asked me, "What one sin do you want removed before your fate is decided?"
"The time I botched the job and assassinated the wrong heretic in Dublin."
"Good choice. The holy assassin is free to enter Heaven."
|
Let me add: apologies for the cliché of judgement after death. I just want to see how you guys play this one out.
|
[WP] You have died. While waiting to be judged, you are offered the chance to clear one entry from your file before the decision is made.
|
"Choose" said the voice.
This was my chance. For the last 50 years of my life I had resigned myself to hell, it's what I deserved anyways. Yet here I am, able to erase the one mistake I made so long ago.
I laughed. Even a disgusting wretch like me could get into heaven. And I know I will. Besides that one mistake, I've been nothing but saintly. Keeping to myself, helping others who lost their way, even attending church every Sunday until I died.
Not that you have much else to do in prison.
I looked at the being before me, and smiled.
"I wish to erase the decision to rape and murder my six year old daughter."
The beings face twisted in disgust. It flipped through my what I assume was the book holding the history if my actions, and at one point picked one section up out of the book like a dirty sock and it dissolved into the air.
It flipped through the rest of the book, growing visually more frustrated until he got to the end and violently closed the book.
Once again, I smiled. I knew I had won.
"It really disgusts me that we have such a rule that would allow someone like you into heaven," it said, "but the rules are the rules. You're in."
With a wave of it's hands the gates opened before me. I rubbed my hands together in excitement as I walked through the entrance.
I would get to see her again.
|
Even in death, life sucks. I've been in this line for three days, and I still have 136 people in front of me. I counted. I was bored.
As I got closer, it ran back through the line that St. Peter was forgiving one sin from people before he judges them.
Shit. What should I choose? There was that time in Georgia. That one stuck with me. Or, maybe my business trip to Thailand? It's not my fault that so many of the boys look like girls.
Oh. I know. The whole Dublin debacle. How could I have forgotten that one?
I knew I should have worked out a way to ask her for ID before I took her back to my motel room. I was in a rush. It had been so long. Yeah, that one.
I guess it's easy to get lost in your own thoughts here. By the time I came out of my internal monologue it was my turn.
St. Peter was lookjng at his ledger, as he asked me, "What one sin do you want removed before your fate is decided?"
"The time I botched the job and assassinated the wrong heretic in Dublin."
"Good choice. The holy assassin is free to enter Heaven."
|
Let me add: apologies for the cliché of judgement after death. I just want to see how you guys play this one out.
|
[WP] You have died. While waiting to be judged, you are offered the chance to clear one entry from your file before the decision is made.
|
"So," I said, as calmly as I could in those circumstances, "I can wipe one thing out..."
"Yes," the being before me stated.
I closed my eyes at that. The raw potential of that concept was... well it was almost intoxicating.
"Not just from my memory and yours," I said, "but from Time itself?"
"Yes," the being said, "Time will forget the action, and as such it will be undone. Time will adjust to your change, while still preserving the Timeline in as unaltered a state as it can."
I nodded at that, it made sense on some level. I was being given the ability to literally wipe a moment from Time. I could take any action, and its consequences, and erase them from Time entirely. They'd have never happened. Even the being before me, in all its power, wouldn't be able to remember that which Time had forgotten.
But... Time couldn't afford to leave the spot where I erased something empty, now could it? Matter in Space abhors a vacuum... and there's no reason I can see that Time shouldn't have a similar aversion to an empty spot existing within itself. So it would have to create a replacement for my erased actions... one that wouldn't be able to cause too much of a ripple effect.
"There are so many things I could erase..." I said, "So many things I wish I hadn't done... or that I could do-over... how am I supposed to pick just one of them?"
"By taking your time," the Being said.
That was true as well, I suppose. The Being and I weren't bound by Time's rules in Oblivion. In the Nothingness of Oblivion, Time doesn't flow as it should. It's incredibly convoluted, in fact. But the bottom line was that everyone within Oblivion has exactly as much time as they need before... well before whatever comes next.
I sat down upon the nothingness, and closed my eyes. Then I allowed my mind to pass back into Time, and through Time into Memory.
I watched my life again in an instant. I experienced everything in that moment, as Memory showed me myself from a fresh perspective. The emotions of a lifetime washed over me in a flash... and I knew what I needed to erase.
I reached out into Time, and plucked a single moment from it.
"An fascinating choice, at least under the circumstances," the Being said as it looked upon the moment I held.
I looked into it too. It was... well it was something of a low moment for me. My biggest regret...
"Yeah," I said.
"You treated her exactly as you were told she deserved to be treated," the Being said, "they way that, as far as you know, I wanted you to treat her. Why would you erase this moment... it should do nothing but serve in your favor when you are judged."
"Because she didn't deserve that," I said, "she didn't deserve rejection... she didn't deserve what I called her... or how I treated her."
The Being didn't have a body that I could describe. But... I can tell you that it *felt* happy.
"And so you forsake this opportunity to erase a mark against yourself," the Being said, "to spare another pain that you brought against them in accordance with my wishes... or what people told you my wishes are, at least."
I closed my eyes, and waited for what comes next.
"I am proud of you," it said.
|
Even in death, life sucks. I've been in this line for three days, and I still have 136 people in front of me. I counted. I was bored.
As I got closer, it ran back through the line that St. Peter was forgiving one sin from people before he judges them.
Shit. What should I choose? There was that time in Georgia. That one stuck with me. Or, maybe my business trip to Thailand? It's not my fault that so many of the boys look like girls.
Oh. I know. The whole Dublin debacle. How could I have forgotten that one?
I knew I should have worked out a way to ask her for ID before I took her back to my motel room. I was in a rush. It had been so long. Yeah, that one.
I guess it's easy to get lost in your own thoughts here. By the time I came out of my internal monologue it was my turn.
St. Peter was lookjng at his ledger, as he asked me, "What one sin do you want removed before your fate is decided?"
"The time I botched the job and assassinated the wrong heretic in Dublin."
"Good choice. The holy assassin is free to enter Heaven."
|
Let me add: apologies for the cliché of judgement after death. I just want to see how you guys play this one out.
|
[WP] You have died. While waiting to be judged, you are offered the chance to clear one entry from your file before the decision is made.
|
"Welcome, my son," the voice said with a smile;
"You're dead, I'm God, and this might take a while."
"You have lived and you've loved, you've won and you've lost;
But now that you're dead, there's one more line to be crossed!"
"Look at this list," he said, and produced a sheet
Of items so long that it hung down to his feet.
"There's both heaven and hell, and you're going to one!
So cross off an item, but overlook none!"
He gave a pen, and with a wink almost caustic,
He pointed to "9/1/75: Became an agnostic".
I chewed on the pen; I looked and I sat;
And recalling my life, I nearly fell flat.
"Know what, God?" I cried, my voice nearing a yell
"I don't need your judgement, I already lived Hell!"
"My mother was killed in an Earthquake and my father a storm!
Both acts of God, both out of the norm!"
"I hated my life! It was lonely and sad!
You killed them both! You're a coward, a cad!"
God backed up a few steps, and with love in his voice,
Said "Acts of Me are necessary- it wasn't a choice!"
He moved a bit forward, and urgently muttered
"Hurry up and cross one off, or this room will get cluttered!"
I looked right behind me, and there was a line!
I started to laugh, it was all going to be fine.
I looked at the Lord, my eyes teared with mirth;
And with a final "Fuck You" to God, I crossed off my birth.
|
Even in death, life sucks. I've been in this line for three days, and I still have 136 people in front of me. I counted. I was bored.
As I got closer, it ran back through the line that St. Peter was forgiving one sin from people before he judges them.
Shit. What should I choose? There was that time in Georgia. That one stuck with me. Or, maybe my business trip to Thailand? It's not my fault that so many of the boys look like girls.
Oh. I know. The whole Dublin debacle. How could I have forgotten that one?
I knew I should have worked out a way to ask her for ID before I took her back to my motel room. I was in a rush. It had been so long. Yeah, that one.
I guess it's easy to get lost in your own thoughts here. By the time I came out of my internal monologue it was my turn.
St. Peter was lookjng at his ledger, as he asked me, "What one sin do you want removed before your fate is decided?"
"The time I botched the job and assassinated the wrong heretic in Dublin."
"Good choice. The holy assassin is free to enter Heaven."
|
Let me add: apologies for the cliché of judgement after death. I just want to see how you guys play this one out.
|
[WP] You have died. While waiting to be judged, you are offered the chance to clear one entry from your file before the decision is made.
|
"And you're sure I can only pick one?"
"Jᴜsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ."
"But there are so many, how could I ever possibly choose?"
"Yᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ʟᴜᴄᴋʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ--"
"Lucky?! I'm DEAD! How is that lucky?!"
"Yᴇs, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴs ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ's ɴᴏ ʟᴜᴄᴋ ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ. Jᴜsᴛ ᴍᴇ, ᴍᴏsᴛʟʏ."
"Dᴇᴀᴛʜ, has anyone ever told you that you can be kind of a pain in the ass?"
"I ᴜsᴜᴀʟʟʏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴘᴀʀᴛs ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴀɪɴ ɪɴ."
Exasperated, I turned to the task at hand. Here in this ethereal in-between were images as far as the eye, or whatever was responsible for sight here,could see. A record of all I'd done. Trying to focus on the worst of it, an oversized blur of images raced past me. All of them were worthy candidates, and each of them induced a wince as they brought vivid sensations of my greatest misgivings racing back. There was the time I'd lied about my grandmother dying to get out of going to two days of a job I didn't enjoy. There was the time I'd abandoned a childhood friend in a foreign country to escape the teasing of my other peers. There was the time I'd lied to my fiancee to go camping with an old flame. Each of them revolted me, but in trying to prioritize what one I could possibly erase, I pondered to myself whether a man with ten thousand misdeeds was really any worse than a man with nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine.
In that brief thought, I decided I would be here for an eternity (not that I was in any hurry) if I tried to single any one thing out, so I opted to let fate decide which of my many personal failings to erase from the record. It was the one that got me here in the first place, so perhaps it deserved as much. Haphazardly I reached out to clutch a random ethereal image racing by (kicking my best mate in the crotch). To my surprise, it stretched out towards me momentarily, only to whiz back into the blur of images from whence it came. I tried again (this time, faking an emergency to escape an unpleasant dinner date), only to have it snap back into place as if held by rubber bands.
It was then I noticed, that these memories WERE held in place by something. Each of them had twinkling threads of golden light streaming out of the back of them, connecting them with dozens, sometimes hundreds of other memories. When viewed as a whole, the threads formed an almost solid golden mesh that bound my life together. I couldn't tug at one memory without trying to bring along everything that experience was a result of or became responsible for. Waspishly, I turned back to Dᴇᴀᴛʜ
"How am I supposed to pick one if they're all stuck together in this wishy-washy golden muck?!"
"Hᴏᴡ Iɴᴅᴇᴇᴅ."
I couldn't say for certain. It was hard to tell with the hood and the skeletal features. But I couldn't shake the feeling that Dᴇᴀᴛʜ was grinning at me.
I resolved that if those memories were too important to remove without destroying some other portion of myself, that I would choose the biggest mistake I'd made that wasn't inextricably tied part and parcel with the sum of who I was. As if they could read my thoughts, the overwhelming barrage of images faded to just a single memory, greyish in hue, with naught but a few wispy, faded golden threads behind it. I pursed my lips and sighed heavy with understanding. I lazily reached up and tugged at the memory of a dreary April 28 many years ago, eating a cheese sandwich for lunch I wasn't particularly fond of. It leapt into my hand willingly and without any tug from the threads it was bound to. I turned and outstretched my hand to my companion.
"Yᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ?" I nodded solemnly.
"I remember wishing I'd gotten curry instead."
"Mᴍᴍ. Exᴄᴇʟʟᴇɴᴛ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ."
|
The harsh fluorescent lights flicker aimlessly overhead. All waiting rooms, even those in heaven, are the same. Some sort of Grand Design I assume, a sly nod to a higher power, staring us in the face every time we waited for something to happen.
A sickly mix of bleach and air freshener washes over the overcrowded benches, the man next to me shifts uncomfortably. The limp ticket in my hand sags further in the humid air, number 156.
No concept of how long I've been waiting. Not that time matters now, I've got all the time in the world. Well, strictly, I've had all my time in the world. Wasted most of it. Used some of it. You know, the usual: Loved, lost, fucked, cried, ate, drank, shit… jaywalked. Probably should't have done the last one, turns out it's bad for your health.
Now it's judgement day, report card time. Time to be judged by a man I don't even believe in. His name's Bob, works in accounting. He's a mid-level angel, pencil pusher, no wings, just an infinitely sharp nib and penchant for damnation.
The man beside me looks worried, he's got pedophile written all over him. Literally. The guys who sent him here etched it all over his face with box cutter. I don't rate his chances with Bob. He might stand a chance though, I hear you get one for the team, a sort of freebie on Him Up There. Erase one event from your life, it literally never happened.
The LEDs on the waiting board flicker. I'm up.
Bob's office is smaller than I expected, not even a corner office. I guess I was less important than I thought.
"Your Life" says Bob, handing me long dot matrix printed sheet. Heaven clearly hasn't upgraded to laser printers yet.
"Every major event, from Birth to Death. I see quite a few things you might want to reconsider. It's not been a particularly glorious story has it?"
The smug sneer on Bob's face, makes me want to slam his pudgy head into the desk. I don't, I'm probably in enough shit as it is.
"Take your time, have a read. You get to remove one thing before I pass this up to judgement. But I have to say it does't look good."
I offer a guilty shrug. It was what it was.
I scan the list. Lying, cheating, swearing, the day I poked Jenny in the eye when I was six, the time I drank so much I forgot how to speak, the abortion I forced Anna to have, it's all here. Every damned moment of my life.
What to remove… what to erase… What will the big guy take offence to most? What can I do to up the average?
Then I see it.
"Bob."
"Yes? Do you have your choice? Make it count."
I intend to.
"I'd like to remove that one, Bob."
"What Jaywalking?"
"Yeah that should just about do it."
|
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