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[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | My party-my friends-have been missing for almost a week. We were supposed to meet up near the church and...they never showed. Lucky for me the church's priest invited me in, and allowed me to stay for the night last night. The climate had gotten cold, and our locksmith rogue kept the money safe, so I had none for an inn. It was last night I got my first clue. As I prepared to sleep, someone broke open the church door. They sounded like thugs, and as they tried to loot the donations vault, they were talking about the ransom they plan to get from the king using the princess and her esteemed guards.
The princess and her guards...**my friends**.
After a lovely chat with those fellows, I grabbed a clean set of monk's clothing from the church wardrobe; I promise to return them when I'm done, but it wouldn't do me any good to go through the town wearing bloodied rags. Sure, it'll be highly questionable seeing me dressed as a monk, but it's better than the alternative. I just need to find their friend, who hides in the sewer near the Rusty Flask, because that's who his dead friends directed me to.
*My arm! H-h-how did you bend it that waAAAaaaAAAugh!!!...*
*Th-Those horns! W-w-what the hell are you-gh-gh-ghugh....*
*Teeth don't look like that, get away from me! Sto-AAAAAAAaaaaaugh....*
Having the abilities of a demon has its advantages, but it would be nice if I could tone down the...let's just say "additional" features a little bit. At least I can hide the wings. Too much blood on me and they think I'm a vampire, which is hilarious, since vampires don't actually exist anymore. At least my friends knew that. They enjoyed having a reformed demigod on their side. Well, they think I'm a demigod, anyway. I'm not about to go and correct the only beings to ever care about me. Especially Princess Valeria. I never imagined someone of royalty could be so kind and empathetic.
*It's ok, Dremyoluok, its not your fault you are the way you are. Be proud of yourself for choosing your own destiny. Not every fallen angel gets a chance at redemption. Paul, Tri-Krimea, Folthum and myself, we will support you every inch of the way. You can help us protect the kingdom!*
That was almost 2 years ago, that they found me in that cave. I'll never forget the kindness they showed me, and the help they've rendered. It took me a few months of rehabilitation, but from then I've sworn that I won't let anyone bring harm upon my friends as long as I'm with them. No matter what.
Paul the Monster-Slayer, Paladin of Thoruld, God of Righteous Might; Tri-Krimea, the elven naturalist and druid; Folthum the Wise, wielder of deep and powerful magic. They were eternally loyal to the naturally graceful and beautiful Princess Valeria; She is considered a top student at the High College of Magical Arts, having learned almost every healing spell along with many spells of both evocation and enchantment. I told them several half truths about myself, true enough to pass a Zone of Truth test, but not enough for them to know the full history of what I've done. I had truly stopped committing evil deeds only about 200 years before then, and had bound myself to that cave for almost 50 years. Truth is, I was turned into that form almost 2000 years ago, and the demonic power went straight to my head. Make of that what you will.
I don't know how the bandits managed to capture them, but I know where to look now. They have a hideout a few miles north, and it only took an hour to extract the info from the bandit in the sewer. And how did he manage to also have seven friends hidden with him? At least there was enough clean water running through to get the blood off the robes. I can ditch the robes back by the church on my way out of town, before the sun rises. I won't need the rags on my mission. I'll leave an apology for the priest, and a small donation from those who no longer need their money.
My friends...I can pick up their scents now. I've found the encampment. I hope they can forgive me for what will happen to these bandits...I should be able to get through the 30 bandits patrolling the perimeter before the rest notice the missing patrols. Who would've guessed only a few miles north of town, there was a bandit camp the size of a small city? Almost as many bandits as 3 villages worth of people. I think I might be about to knock out two birds with one stone here...save my friends, and solve the kingdom's bandit problem for a while... | Black hardened leather, oiled to easy silence, gave a softer creak than the roofbeam the black-furred Suthay-Raht trod along its length. Below, in the Great Hall of High Rock, the 'good' Lord Malthon and his cronies feasted. Kasim-dar knew that Malthon was secretly a Wormking agent. He knew that he had been called on by his old Listener to handle one last Black Sacrament, called out by name by the petitioner. In doing reconnaissance, he had learned of their necromantic leanings. He had also learned they were the one responsible for the disappearance of his friends. Good people.
A pair of Dunmeri twins, Aile and Werth, one a follower of Lady Azura, the other a staunch worshiper of the Triumvirate, which had led to very interesting conversations.
An Orc from the Fighter's Guild, Gro-bar, originally from the strongholds.
An Argonian who had studied under the Telvanni, Haj-In.
And lastly, but not least, his erstwhile partner in crime, Rajina-la, ever graceful, the supple agility to his own sinuous frame. She was his first theft, actually, stolen from a Breton plantation during one of his last assignments from the Dark Brotherhood.
It had been two weeks since they had all vanished. It had been a mere six since they had all begun working to destroy a cult of necromancers in the town, who had been terrorizing the villages.
It had been Haj-In who had performed the Sacrament... on himself. With his dying breaths he had told the Listener just eight words. "Lord Malthon. Worm. Give this only to Kasim-dar."
Now, however, it was time to go to work. How Haj-In had known, the Khajiit didn't know. But this was work he had tried to put behind him when they had banded together, five years ago. He'd hidden his skills from them, because he desperately wanted, needed, to leave that life behind him.
Time to go to work. Fingers traced a ward against necromantic energy, powered by one of a number of scrolls on his person. Those same fingers then twisted into a mystic position of attack while he leveled the crossbow and fired, spell and bolt both cutting down their targets. Before anyone could do more than stare agape at the dying men, the assassin dropped from the rafters, throwing daggers with long-practiced flicks of wrist and finger. None of their marks breathed once more.
And then, as he drew his trademark daggers, one forged of enchanted glass, the other enchanted ebony, he brutally drove both footpaws into Malthon's gut, knocking his entire wooden throne over. Death-magic clawed at him from their protective wards, but failed to grip his essence thanks to his own spell. And now, at last, he was face to face with his friends' abductor.
"Lord Malthon! This one wants you to understand the depth of your troubles, so he will do something rarely heard of."
He knelt down, muzzle to face with the Breton.
"You will tell me what I want to know, or I will rip you to pieces and feed you to Sithis myself. Where are my friends?" | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since joining up with The Good Guys, the name we gave ourselves when we set out to free the hamlets from the grips of a tyrant. My only friends.
Eve was the one who brought me in to the group. A court jester turned vigilante, who kept her blade nearly as sharp as her tongue. She taught me that no one was beyond redemption. They would have been well within their rights to hang me for stealing the blade of morning from them. But with my back against a wall and sword at my throat she’s the one who plead my case. They needed a thief to steal it back, and I was the only one they knew.
Marx disagreed. I’d spent a lifetime stealing and killing to get by. He believed, no he knew, those people deserved justice. He was right of course, I knew it then as well I know it now. It took months for him to trust me. Never letting me out of his sight less I hurt the innocents he swore to protect. I couldn’t believe my eyes as this man, who seemed more of a giant to me, was beaten down and captured by the mad kings men.
Michael was the deciding vote. A warrior priest, who should have seen monster when he looked at me, but saw a broken man in need. He helped me more than he’ll ever know. He saved my life a dozen times over. I just hope I’m up to the task of returning the favor.
Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since I met my friends. But they’ve all been taken, either prisoners or dead by King Matthew’s hand. And before I die I’ll see to it the mad king know why a good man doesn’t need rules. | Black hardened leather, oiled to easy silence, gave a softer creak than the roofbeam the black-furred Suthay-Raht trod along its length. Below, in the Great Hall of High Rock, the 'good' Lord Malthon and his cronies feasted. Kasim-dar knew that Malthon was secretly a Wormking agent. He knew that he had been called on by his old Listener to handle one last Black Sacrament, called out by name by the petitioner. In doing reconnaissance, he had learned of their necromantic leanings. He had also learned they were the one responsible for the disappearance of his friends. Good people.
A pair of Dunmeri twins, Aile and Werth, one a follower of Lady Azura, the other a staunch worshiper of the Triumvirate, which had led to very interesting conversations.
An Orc from the Fighter's Guild, Gro-bar, originally from the strongholds.
An Argonian who had studied under the Telvanni, Haj-In.
And lastly, but not least, his erstwhile partner in crime, Rajina-la, ever graceful, the supple agility to his own sinuous frame. She was his first theft, actually, stolen from a Breton plantation during one of his last assignments from the Dark Brotherhood.
It had been two weeks since they had all vanished. It had been a mere six since they had all begun working to destroy a cult of necromancers in the town, who had been terrorizing the villages.
It had been Haj-In who had performed the Sacrament... on himself. With his dying breaths he had told the Listener just eight words. "Lord Malthon. Worm. Give this only to Kasim-dar."
Now, however, it was time to go to work. How Haj-In had known, the Khajiit didn't know. But this was work he had tried to put behind him when they had banded together, five years ago. He'd hidden his skills from them, because he desperately wanted, needed, to leave that life behind him.
Time to go to work. Fingers traced a ward against necromantic energy, powered by one of a number of scrolls on his person. Those same fingers then twisted into a mystic position of attack while he leveled the crossbow and fired, spell and bolt both cutting down their targets. Before anyone could do more than stare agape at the dying men, the assassin dropped from the rafters, throwing daggers with long-practiced flicks of wrist and finger. None of their marks breathed once more.
And then, as he drew his trademark daggers, one forged of enchanted glass, the other enchanted ebony, he brutally drove both footpaws into Malthon's gut, knocking his entire wooden throne over. Death-magic clawed at him from their protective wards, but failed to grip his essence thanks to his own spell. And now, at last, he was face to face with his friends' abductor.
"Lord Malthon! This one wants you to understand the depth of your troubles, so he will do something rarely heard of."
He knelt down, muzzle to face with the Breton.
"You will tell me what I want to know, or I will rip you to pieces and feed you to Sithis myself. Where are my friends?" | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | A grin on Silas' face.
Sickly green lightning, coursing through his veins, occasionally sparking out from the bare skin. The ground beneath his feet scorching, with leaves hovering the air from the static spread by him.
One guard fell. And another. Pure, unbridled power, kept secret for so long. He never dared to unleash his full power. Until now. Because it was needed.
They did this. Those creatures. Silas was once one of them. A Damûn. But he broke free from the shackles. At least, partially. A part of him was still the unthinking beast. Killing, murdering. Pure instinct to hunt, feed, consume, and grow. And at this moment, he let that part of him free. The sane part of him was worried he would be addicted to its power. Or that it would consume too much, so much he would be unable to return.
But his friends... they were good people. They helped Silas when they found him in a ditch by the road. They saw he was wounded. They saw he was different than Man or Elf or Dwarf. But they still helped him. They were fools, maybe, if they did this to anyone else but Silas. But deep within, Silas knew they could see he was good too. Saw the potential to be good.
Slowly but surely, Silas pushed through the fortress. Bodies and crumbling foundation in his wake. Until he arrived at the center room.
"So... you return to me... Silassss" a voice echoed through the room. And a figure appeared on a balcony above. Crackling energy filled the room and made Silas' hair stand up straight.
"Maugaros!" Silas yelled.
He clenched his fists. This would be it. A last stand. either he would walk out of here with his friends, perhaps afraid of his power. Or he would die, and his friends too. But it would be a worthy death.
Silas prayed to the one god his friends worshipped, and felt his power surging. He saw the color of his lightning change to blue, and he knew Thor answered with a blessing. He heard the voice in his head roar. "Save my Son, Silas." | Black hardened leather, oiled to easy silence, gave a softer creak than the roofbeam the black-furred Suthay-Raht trod along its length. Below, in the Great Hall of High Rock, the 'good' Lord Malthon and his cronies feasted. Kasim-dar knew that Malthon was secretly a Wormking agent. He knew that he had been called on by his old Listener to handle one last Black Sacrament, called out by name by the petitioner. In doing reconnaissance, he had learned of their necromantic leanings. He had also learned they were the one responsible for the disappearance of his friends. Good people.
A pair of Dunmeri twins, Aile and Werth, one a follower of Lady Azura, the other a staunch worshiper of the Triumvirate, which had led to very interesting conversations.
An Orc from the Fighter's Guild, Gro-bar, originally from the strongholds.
An Argonian who had studied under the Telvanni, Haj-In.
And lastly, but not least, his erstwhile partner in crime, Rajina-la, ever graceful, the supple agility to his own sinuous frame. She was his first theft, actually, stolen from a Breton plantation during one of his last assignments from the Dark Brotherhood.
It had been two weeks since they had all vanished. It had been a mere six since they had all begun working to destroy a cult of necromancers in the town, who had been terrorizing the villages.
It had been Haj-In who had performed the Sacrament... on himself. With his dying breaths he had told the Listener just eight words. "Lord Malthon. Worm. Give this only to Kasim-dar."
Now, however, it was time to go to work. How Haj-In had known, the Khajiit didn't know. But this was work he had tried to put behind him when they had banded together, five years ago. He'd hidden his skills from them, because he desperately wanted, needed, to leave that life behind him.
Time to go to work. Fingers traced a ward against necromantic energy, powered by one of a number of scrolls on his person. Those same fingers then twisted into a mystic position of attack while he leveled the crossbow and fired, spell and bolt both cutting down their targets. Before anyone could do more than stare agape at the dying men, the assassin dropped from the rafters, throwing daggers with long-practiced flicks of wrist and finger. None of their marks breathed once more.
And then, as he drew his trademark daggers, one forged of enchanted glass, the other enchanted ebony, he brutally drove both footpaws into Malthon's gut, knocking his entire wooden throne over. Death-magic clawed at him from their protective wards, but failed to grip his essence thanks to his own spell. And now, at last, he was face to face with his friends' abductor.
"Lord Malthon! This one wants you to understand the depth of your troubles, so he will do something rarely heard of."
He knelt down, muzzle to face with the Breton.
"You will tell me what I want to know, or I will rip you to pieces and feed you to Sithis myself. Where are my friends?" | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | Black hardened leather, oiled to easy silence, gave a softer creak than the roofbeam the black-furred Suthay-Raht trod along its length. Below, in the Great Hall of High Rock, the 'good' Lord Malthon and his cronies feasted. Kasim-dar knew that Malthon was secretly a Wormking agent. He knew that he had been called on by his old Listener to handle one last Black Sacrament, called out by name by the petitioner. In doing reconnaissance, he had learned of their necromantic leanings. He had also learned they were the one responsible for the disappearance of his friends. Good people.
A pair of Dunmeri twins, Aile and Werth, one a follower of Lady Azura, the other a staunch worshiper of the Triumvirate, which had led to very interesting conversations.
An Orc from the Fighter's Guild, Gro-bar, originally from the strongholds.
An Argonian who had studied under the Telvanni, Haj-In.
And lastly, but not least, his erstwhile partner in crime, Rajina-la, ever graceful, the supple agility to his own sinuous frame. She was his first theft, actually, stolen from a Breton plantation during one of his last assignments from the Dark Brotherhood.
It had been two weeks since they had all vanished. It had been a mere six since they had all begun working to destroy a cult of necromancers in the town, who had been terrorizing the villages.
It had been Haj-In who had performed the Sacrament... on himself. With his dying breaths he had told the Listener just eight words. "Lord Malthon. Worm. Give this only to Kasim-dar."
Now, however, it was time to go to work. How Haj-In had known, the Khajiit didn't know. But this was work he had tried to put behind him when they had banded together, five years ago. He'd hidden his skills from them, because he desperately wanted, needed, to leave that life behind him.
Time to go to work. Fingers traced a ward against necromantic energy, powered by one of a number of scrolls on his person. Those same fingers then twisted into a mystic position of attack while he leveled the crossbow and fired, spell and bolt both cutting down their targets. Before anyone could do more than stare agape at the dying men, the assassin dropped from the rafters, throwing daggers with long-practiced flicks of wrist and finger. None of their marks breathed once more.
And then, as he drew his trademark daggers, one forged of enchanted glass, the other enchanted ebony, he brutally drove both footpaws into Malthon's gut, knocking his entire wooden throne over. Death-magic clawed at him from their protective wards, but failed to grip his essence thanks to his own spell. And now, at last, he was face to face with his friends' abductor.
"Lord Malthon! This one wants you to understand the depth of your troubles, so he will do something rarely heard of."
He knelt down, muzzle to face with the Breton.
"You will tell me what I want to know, or I will rip you to pieces and feed you to Sithis myself. Where are my friends?" | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | My party-my friends-have been missing for almost a week. We were supposed to meet up near the church and...they never showed. Lucky for me the church's priest invited me in, and allowed me to stay for the night last night. The climate had gotten cold, and our locksmith rogue kept the money safe, so I had none for an inn. It was last night I got my first clue. As I prepared to sleep, someone broke open the church door. They sounded like thugs, and as they tried to loot the donations vault, they were talking about the ransom they plan to get from the king using the princess and her esteemed guards.
The princess and her guards...**my friends**.
After a lovely chat with those fellows, I grabbed a clean set of monk's clothing from the church wardrobe; I promise to return them when I'm done, but it wouldn't do me any good to go through the town wearing bloodied rags. Sure, it'll be highly questionable seeing me dressed as a monk, but it's better than the alternative. I just need to find their friend, who hides in the sewer near the Rusty Flask, because that's who his dead friends directed me to.
*My arm! H-h-how did you bend it that waAAAaaaAAAugh!!!...*
*Th-Those horns! W-w-what the hell are you-gh-gh-ghugh....*
*Teeth don't look like that, get away from me! Sto-AAAAAAAaaaaaugh....*
Having the abilities of a demon has its advantages, but it would be nice if I could tone down the...let's just say "additional" features a little bit. At least I can hide the wings. Too much blood on me and they think I'm a vampire, which is hilarious, since vampires don't actually exist anymore. At least my friends knew that. They enjoyed having a reformed demigod on their side. Well, they think I'm a demigod, anyway. I'm not about to go and correct the only beings to ever care about me. Especially Princess Valeria. I never imagined someone of royalty could be so kind and empathetic.
*It's ok, Dremyoluok, its not your fault you are the way you are. Be proud of yourself for choosing your own destiny. Not every fallen angel gets a chance at redemption. Paul, Tri-Krimea, Folthum and myself, we will support you every inch of the way. You can help us protect the kingdom!*
That was almost 2 years ago, that they found me in that cave. I'll never forget the kindness they showed me, and the help they've rendered. It took me a few months of rehabilitation, but from then I've sworn that I won't let anyone bring harm upon my friends as long as I'm with them. No matter what.
Paul the Monster-Slayer, Paladin of Thoruld, God of Righteous Might; Tri-Krimea, the elven naturalist and druid; Folthum the Wise, wielder of deep and powerful magic. They were eternally loyal to the naturally graceful and beautiful Princess Valeria; She is considered a top student at the High College of Magical Arts, having learned almost every healing spell along with many spells of both evocation and enchantment. I told them several half truths about myself, true enough to pass a Zone of Truth test, but not enough for them to know the full history of what I've done. I had truly stopped committing evil deeds only about 200 years before then, and had bound myself to that cave for almost 50 years. Truth is, I was turned into that form almost 2000 years ago, and the demonic power went straight to my head. Make of that what you will.
I don't know how the bandits managed to capture them, but I know where to look now. They have a hideout a few miles north, and it only took an hour to extract the info from the bandit in the sewer. And how did he manage to also have seven friends hidden with him? At least there was enough clean water running through to get the blood off the robes. I can ditch the robes back by the church on my way out of town, before the sun rises. I won't need the rags on my mission. I'll leave an apology for the priest, and a small donation from those who no longer need their money.
My friends...I can pick up their scents now. I've found the encampment. I hope they can forgive me for what will happen to these bandits...I should be able to get through the 30 bandits patrolling the perimeter before the rest notice the missing patrols. Who would've guessed only a few miles north of town, there was a bandit camp the size of a small city? Almost as many bandits as 3 villages worth of people. I think I might be about to knock out two birds with one stone here...save my friends, and solve the kingdom's bandit problem for a while... | The whispers are always there. They’re in everyone. It’s that pull, that voice that sounds like a friend or distant parent. Softly, gently, but oh so forcefully encouraging you to embrace it.
Few accept. Fewer still are able to rid themselves of the voice. More than a few listen, but simply shake their heads and go on.
For some the voice, the pull, the temptation is stronger than others. For me, it was particularly strong. Combine being a chosen Paladin or Torag along with my strong desire for approval and I definitely heard the voices. Usually it was at bay, but that was because I had surrounded myself with good.
I obeyed the laws of Torag. I had allies that I travelled with and we did good. We would slay monsters, help villagers, find lost souls. It was good, decent work.
But the call was always there. Sure, I could kill a kobold without remorse. But how about throwing in a little fun? Why just sneak attack kill him when I could break its legs first with my warhammer, so it can’t run? Then crush its arms when it tries to fight me. Break its ribs, maybe collapse a lung so it can’t scream; only give those wonderful sounds of gurgling as it drowns on its blood, gasping as the pressure builds within its chest?
Those were the whispers I heard. Torag knew they were tempting. What would my compatriots think of me if they caught me listening to those whispers? How would they react to see me torturing a helpless elf? What would they do to stop me from burning the flesh off a simple human townswoman? Would they be filled with revulsion at seeing blood caked on my chest plate, the symbol of Torag hardly visible beneath the brown crust?
Running my hand through my stiff beard, I take a moment to stare into my eyes in the reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall.
I can the whispers clearly right now. I turn away from my reflections because I don’t have time to watch or listen. My friends are missing; they’ve been gone for three days. I have to find them.
Walking out of the cabin I had built away from the town, the smell of fresh air fills my nostrils and clears out the cloying scent of burning flesh. I wash my hands in the stream out front, feeling clots of drying blood washing away. I splash the water on my face, washing entrails from my beard.
Though I don’t have time to listen to the whispers as I go in search of leads, I can still hear them. They’re saying they’re very proud of me and it makes me smile. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since joining up with The Good Guys, the name we gave ourselves when we set out to free the hamlets from the grips of a tyrant. My only friends.
Eve was the one who brought me in to the group. A court jester turned vigilante, who kept her blade nearly as sharp as her tongue. She taught me that no one was beyond redemption. They would have been well within their rights to hang me for stealing the blade of morning from them. But with my back against a wall and sword at my throat she’s the one who plead my case. They needed a thief to steal it back, and I was the only one they knew.
Marx disagreed. I’d spent a lifetime stealing and killing to get by. He believed, no he knew, those people deserved justice. He was right of course, I knew it then as well I know it now. It took months for him to trust me. Never letting me out of his sight less I hurt the innocents he swore to protect. I couldn’t believe my eyes as this man, who seemed more of a giant to me, was beaten down and captured by the mad kings men.
Michael was the deciding vote. A warrior priest, who should have seen monster when he looked at me, but saw a broken man in need. He helped me more than he’ll ever know. He saved my life a dozen times over. I just hope I’m up to the task of returning the favor.
Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since I met my friends. But they’ve all been taken, either prisoners or dead by King Matthew’s hand. And before I die I’ll see to it the mad king know why a good man doesn’t need rules. | The whispers are always there. They’re in everyone. It’s that pull, that voice that sounds like a friend or distant parent. Softly, gently, but oh so forcefully encouraging you to embrace it.
Few accept. Fewer still are able to rid themselves of the voice. More than a few listen, but simply shake their heads and go on.
For some the voice, the pull, the temptation is stronger than others. For me, it was particularly strong. Combine being a chosen Paladin or Torag along with my strong desire for approval and I definitely heard the voices. Usually it was at bay, but that was because I had surrounded myself with good.
I obeyed the laws of Torag. I had allies that I travelled with and we did good. We would slay monsters, help villagers, find lost souls. It was good, decent work.
But the call was always there. Sure, I could kill a kobold without remorse. But how about throwing in a little fun? Why just sneak attack kill him when I could break its legs first with my warhammer, so it can’t run? Then crush its arms when it tries to fight me. Break its ribs, maybe collapse a lung so it can’t scream; only give those wonderful sounds of gurgling as it drowns on its blood, gasping as the pressure builds within its chest?
Those were the whispers I heard. Torag knew they were tempting. What would my compatriots think of me if they caught me listening to those whispers? How would they react to see me torturing a helpless elf? What would they do to stop me from burning the flesh off a simple human townswoman? Would they be filled with revulsion at seeing blood caked on my chest plate, the symbol of Torag hardly visible beneath the brown crust?
Running my hand through my stiff beard, I take a moment to stare into my eyes in the reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall.
I can the whispers clearly right now. I turn away from my reflections because I don’t have time to watch or listen. My friends are missing; they’ve been gone for three days. I have to find them.
Walking out of the cabin I had built away from the town, the smell of fresh air fills my nostrils and clears out the cloying scent of burning flesh. I wash my hands in the stream out front, feeling clots of drying blood washing away. I splash the water on my face, washing entrails from my beard.
Though I don’t have time to listen to the whispers as I go in search of leads, I can still hear them. They’re saying they’re very proud of me and it makes me smile. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | As I walk down the grand marble hall two guards approach me, probably about to stop me and ask me for a permit but before they can do that I just pull out my sabers and slice them in half.
They used to be silver with the plasma flowing off of their edges green like the flourishing grass of my homeland but now... now they burn with my emotions.
The deeper into the hall I get the less light there is and the more of the guards rush in, still unaware of their first two losses.
"Halt! The Atreuonum Sactinis is forbidden for all but the S'Alai!"
He can't be any older than twenty, a new recruit into the order it would seem.
As I grab the young man and place one of my sabers to his throath, even when not quite powered their edges are as sharp as any other sword's, I yell at all the other guards who finally take me as a proper threat and pull out their swords.
"Listen here you bunch of sad idiots, I am here for one thing and one thing only!"
"Let him go, now!"
"It is impolite to interupt the guy with the gun..." I shoot the improper bastard.
"Now, where was I? Oh yes, I am here for one simple, tinsy, winsy thing... You can't give it to me though... only your precious Qui'Alain."
Now that's got a reaction out of them, angry faces and a few steps towards me.
"Oh, and I should also tell you, THEY are here for you..." From the shadows of the temple my temporary alies come forth.
Ravenous.
Full of hatered.
Thirsting for blood.
"LEAVE NONE STANDING, BROTHERS AND SISTES!" Amanhand, the leader of the dark god followers enters the scene with his typical line and lets his savage followers into town.
Now that my part of the bargain is half done... time for the fun part.
As I shoot and slice my way through hordes of patheticaly weak guardians I start to grow a wicked old smile I missed for so long. Slaughtering such a weak foe feels good... And showing off to all those pathetic fighters does too. Nevertheless I make my way towards my objective.
The Qui'Alain. Priesthood women sensitive to magicka and it's flow, meant to be oracles and Greybeard advisors. Never taught to fight.
The Dark Guard got to the Qui'Alain quarters before me, luckily they are far too incompetent to break through the S'Alain defenses.
It is a simple job really, throw a few smoke grenades in, a head or two of their fellow guards through those and rush in with full shields. Once I get to the first one it's all over, any injury they can cause me will be healed by one of their deaths and my rage shall fuel my might further until the last one remains.
"I- I yield! I can tell you everyting about this place! He-here! The keys to the Qui'alak quarters!" He says as he crawls on the ground, wounded.
I use my sword to break the lock of the quarters and look down on him. "I though your little order taught you to never give up..."
"I- I will! Just please let me live I want to say hello to my mo-" Like I care about this fly's sob story.
The Dark Guard rushes inside the main room wehre they gather all the Qui'Alain.
When they bring the 'mother' and confirm that they found all of them the leader stands proudly before them. Has her lifted up by his lapdogs and smiles widely, letting his fangs shine.
He raises his hand with a dagger and just as he is to stab her heart I use my powers to pull back at his hand from distance. "Wha- How dare you int-"
"Remember our deal? You better or I'll make sure you won't be able to spout anymore bullshit."
I take the mother by the throat and lift her off the floor.
"I will ask you this ONCE. Where. Are. The Elisians?!"
"You... you will never learn it, monster!"
I shoot one of her Qui'Alain.
"Forgot to mention that for each time I need to repeat myself I will shoot one of you."
"I... I will ne-" The deep hissing noise and bang my pistol makes is trully a sweet tune to my ears.
"For the third time. Where. Are. The Elisians?"
"They... They are in the Harald Mountais..."
"Expected you to last at least till round five! Good work, lady"
I snap her neck.
"Now you can do whatever you want with them, Count..."
As I leave the temple I can hear screams and shots...
When I inhale the sweet stench of death and singed flesh I stand atop the monastery stairs, clad in my old armor that still had that wolf fur around the neck and the rune carvings, I think out loud.
"The Wolf... is back..." | The whispers are always there. They’re in everyone. It’s that pull, that voice that sounds like a friend or distant parent. Softly, gently, but oh so forcefully encouraging you to embrace it.
Few accept. Fewer still are able to rid themselves of the voice. More than a few listen, but simply shake their heads and go on.
For some the voice, the pull, the temptation is stronger than others. For me, it was particularly strong. Combine being a chosen Paladin or Torag along with my strong desire for approval and I definitely heard the voices. Usually it was at bay, but that was because I had surrounded myself with good.
I obeyed the laws of Torag. I had allies that I travelled with and we did good. We would slay monsters, help villagers, find lost souls. It was good, decent work.
But the call was always there. Sure, I could kill a kobold without remorse. But how about throwing in a little fun? Why just sneak attack kill him when I could break its legs first with my warhammer, so it can’t run? Then crush its arms when it tries to fight me. Break its ribs, maybe collapse a lung so it can’t scream; only give those wonderful sounds of gurgling as it drowns on its blood, gasping as the pressure builds within its chest?
Those were the whispers I heard. Torag knew they were tempting. What would my compatriots think of me if they caught me listening to those whispers? How would they react to see me torturing a helpless elf? What would they do to stop me from burning the flesh off a simple human townswoman? Would they be filled with revulsion at seeing blood caked on my chest plate, the symbol of Torag hardly visible beneath the brown crust?
Running my hand through my stiff beard, I take a moment to stare into my eyes in the reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall.
I can the whispers clearly right now. I turn away from my reflections because I don’t have time to watch or listen. My friends are missing; they’ve been gone for three days. I have to find them.
Walking out of the cabin I had built away from the town, the smell of fresh air fills my nostrils and clears out the cloying scent of burning flesh. I wash my hands in the stream out front, feeling clots of drying blood washing away. I splash the water on my face, washing entrails from my beard.
Though I don’t have time to listen to the whispers as I go in search of leads, I can still hear them. They’re saying they’re very proud of me and it makes me smile. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | She offered me water.
In the middle of the Death Forge Desert, water was worth more than gold. Worth more than magic even, as most of us need it for even basic spellwork. It was as if she didn't care or mind that offering it to me could spell her own doom. She was right to, in any case. I am one of the best friends she could ever have.
I accepted it, and when she explained that she and her friends were searching for the Patron God of War to stop the battling in the eastern valleys, I decided to tag along.
The intention was to pay her back; I do not like being in someone's debt. But even after I had saved her life, and the lives of her friends multiple times, I didn't feel compelled to leave.
How quaint, to risk your life for the sake of the better good. How optimistic. How pure. It should have been funny, but they were the best companions I had had in such a long time.
There were stipulations to being with a group of paladins. No senseless murdering. No torturing. Nothing their patron god might disagree with.
I followed of course. I let the raiders following us into the hills continue on. I did nothing more than wound when they began to attack, separating us from each other slowly until there were none but me and her.
I asked her, if I could kill them all, and bring all of our friends back, would she want me to. And stubbornly, she still refused.
I saw no other options, and in the middle of the night, when our fire was yet but tinders and all that was left was their broken weapons, and her abandoned sleepong roll, I was finally free to act.
The war in the east was naught one that I could stop, even as a God in my own right. But this? This I could do. I would burn the world for them, and I could. | The whispers are always there. They’re in everyone. It’s that pull, that voice that sounds like a friend or distant parent. Softly, gently, but oh so forcefully encouraging you to embrace it.
Few accept. Fewer still are able to rid themselves of the voice. More than a few listen, but simply shake their heads and go on.
For some the voice, the pull, the temptation is stronger than others. For me, it was particularly strong. Combine being a chosen Paladin or Torag along with my strong desire for approval and I definitely heard the voices. Usually it was at bay, but that was because I had surrounded myself with good.
I obeyed the laws of Torag. I had allies that I travelled with and we did good. We would slay monsters, help villagers, find lost souls. It was good, decent work.
But the call was always there. Sure, I could kill a kobold without remorse. But how about throwing in a little fun? Why just sneak attack kill him when I could break its legs first with my warhammer, so it can’t run? Then crush its arms when it tries to fight me. Break its ribs, maybe collapse a lung so it can’t scream; only give those wonderful sounds of gurgling as it drowns on its blood, gasping as the pressure builds within its chest?
Those were the whispers I heard. Torag knew they were tempting. What would my compatriots think of me if they caught me listening to those whispers? How would they react to see me torturing a helpless elf? What would they do to stop me from burning the flesh off a simple human townswoman? Would they be filled with revulsion at seeing blood caked on my chest plate, the symbol of Torag hardly visible beneath the brown crust?
Running my hand through my stiff beard, I take a moment to stare into my eyes in the reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall.
I can the whispers clearly right now. I turn away from my reflections because I don’t have time to watch or listen. My friends are missing; they’ve been gone for three days. I have to find them.
Walking out of the cabin I had built away from the town, the smell of fresh air fills my nostrils and clears out the cloying scent of burning flesh. I wash my hands in the stream out front, feeling clots of drying blood washing away. I splash the water on my face, washing entrails from my beard.
Though I don’t have time to listen to the whispers as I go in search of leads, I can still hear them. They’re saying they’re very proud of me and it makes me smile. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. |
I killed the first guard as he was taking a piss. My footsteps were drowned out by laughter from the party in the room next door. He stank and swayed like he had been partaking in the revelry himself. I slit his throat with my boot knife and pillaged his belongings before slowly lowering his body into the latrine hole. All he had was a sack of coins and a silver pocket watch with “Love, Meredith” inscribed on the back. Coin spends well enough but I’ll have to sell the watch at a shop in the next village. Still, should fetch a decent price.
The second guard was trickier. He was chatting up another party goer in a long hallway and she would certainly scream if she saw me kill him. Hallways like this always suck because any noise is magnified by the echo. Luckily the fucks who built this place loved their columns. I weave my way from one to the next, making sure to avoid any of the moonlight coming through the windows. The cold stones were uncomfortable with my bare feet, but my shoes were heavy and would have given me away in an instant. I angle myself behind a column only a dozen steps from where they’re standing and quietly pull the draw on my crossbow and load a bolt. I raise it up and fire, the bolt cutting through the short space between us in an instant. It strikes him were I want, at the base of his skull and to the left, passing cleanly through his jugular and out, then striking the woman in her eye before burying itself deep in her brain tissue. I sprint forward and catch both bodies and slowly lower them to the ground. Nowhere to hide these, so I drag them behind the shadow of a column. With how close I am to my goal; I should be in and out before anyone stumbles onto them
The woman doesn’t have any money on her, though I shouldn’t be surprised. She dressed as a maid and doesn’t have much in the way of carrying capacity. The guard has a second sack of coins and the one thing I’ve been looking for; keys to the cellar. I step quietly through the doorway and into the next room that appears to be a second banquet hall. The table is long enough for 40 guests but none of the place settings are out. Good sign. Looks like the party, and therefore the crowd, will be kept to the other side of the castle.
I go out through the door at the back of the room and find the staircase that leads down to the cellars. The steps are winding and the deeper I go the colder it gets. No time to lose focus. I exit the stairs into a narrow hallway lit gently on both sides by torches. At the center of the hallway is a small wooden door. I approach it and pull it open just enough to see inside. On the wall to the left is a guard asleep in his bed. One of the barracks then. I slip inside and shut the door gently behind me, then pull my boot knife out and get to work. The guard I saw first doesn’t even make a sound as I press the knife into the side of his throat, but I cover his mouth anyway, just in case. The bed next to him is unoccupied but on the other side of the room are two more guards, both sound asleep. I cut the second guard the same as the first but he manages to gurgle and cough. Blood sprays up and hits me in the face as the man dies.
“Please”
I snap my head forward and see the third guard sitting up in his bed, his hands trembling as they hold the blanket up on his chest.
“Please” he says again, his voice breaking. “Please I don’t want to die. They conscripted me. Pl-please don’t kill me.” Tears begin rolling down his face.
“Conscripted, huh?” I say. He nods his head, hands still trembling. I dry the blood off my knife on my sleeve and use a clean portion of the dead guard’s blanket to wipe the blood off my face. I must look like a demon.
“Shitty job placement, then.” I spin the knife softly up into the air and catch it by the newly cleaned blade, then throw it at the trembling man in bed. The blade hits him squarely in the forehead. The energy jerks his head backwards as blood spurts out of the wound. He slumps back into bed, hands sprawled out to his sides.
I exit the room quietly and move to the end of the hall. Using the guard key I stole, I open up the cellar door and enter the dimly lit room behind it. There I see them. All three are strung up from the ceiling and covered in their own dried blood. The guards must have been beating them for a few days. I softly approach them. I lay my hand on the first, but he’s cold to the touch. I sigh and move to the next. He’s at least warm, but his eyes are open and there’s no life left. Must have missed him by a hours. A day at the most. The third stirs slightly as I place my hand on him.
“Shhhh.” I say. “It’s ok. I’ve got you.”
I use my boot knife to cut his ropes and lower him softly to the ground. I pull a piece of bread out of my satchel and hand it to him. He’s slow to move, but he grips it with enough strength that answers my next question as I ask it.
“Can you move?”
“Yeah. Yeah I think I can.”
“Good, then we’re moving.”
He grunts in approval and we make our way back out of the cellar. I walk past the two bodies I left in the hallway and strip the coat and cloak off the dead guard and hand it to my partner. If the wounds slow him down, the cold would finish him off. We have a lot of ground to cover and once they realize what I’ve done, they’ll be after us. But hey, what are friends for. | The whispers are always there. They’re in everyone. It’s that pull, that voice that sounds like a friend or distant parent. Softly, gently, but oh so forcefully encouraging you to embrace it.
Few accept. Fewer still are able to rid themselves of the voice. More than a few listen, but simply shake their heads and go on.
For some the voice, the pull, the temptation is stronger than others. For me, it was particularly strong. Combine being a chosen Paladin or Torag along with my strong desire for approval and I definitely heard the voices. Usually it was at bay, but that was because I had surrounded myself with good.
I obeyed the laws of Torag. I had allies that I travelled with and we did good. We would slay monsters, help villagers, find lost souls. It was good, decent work.
But the call was always there. Sure, I could kill a kobold without remorse. But how about throwing in a little fun? Why just sneak attack kill him when I could break its legs first with my warhammer, so it can’t run? Then crush its arms when it tries to fight me. Break its ribs, maybe collapse a lung so it can’t scream; only give those wonderful sounds of gurgling as it drowns on its blood, gasping as the pressure builds within its chest?
Those were the whispers I heard. Torag knew they were tempting. What would my compatriots think of me if they caught me listening to those whispers? How would they react to see me torturing a helpless elf? What would they do to stop me from burning the flesh off a simple human townswoman? Would they be filled with revulsion at seeing blood caked on my chest plate, the symbol of Torag hardly visible beneath the brown crust?
Running my hand through my stiff beard, I take a moment to stare into my eyes in the reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall.
I can the whispers clearly right now. I turn away from my reflections because I don’t have time to watch or listen. My friends are missing; they’ve been gone for three days. I have to find them.
Walking out of the cabin I had built away from the town, the smell of fresh air fills my nostrils and clears out the cloying scent of burning flesh. I wash my hands in the stream out front, feeling clots of drying blood washing away. I splash the water on my face, washing entrails from my beard.
Though I don’t have time to listen to the whispers as I go in search of leads, I can still hear them. They’re saying they’re very proud of me and it makes me smile. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | A grin on Silas' face.
Sickly green lightning, coursing through his veins, occasionally sparking out from the bare skin. The ground beneath his feet scorching, with leaves hovering the air from the static spread by him.
One guard fell. And another. Pure, unbridled power, kept secret for so long. He never dared to unleash his full power. Until now. Because it was needed.
They did this. Those creatures. Silas was once one of them. A Damûn. But he broke free from the shackles. At least, partially. A part of him was still the unthinking beast. Killing, murdering. Pure instinct to hunt, feed, consume, and grow. And at this moment, he let that part of him free. The sane part of him was worried he would be addicted to its power. Or that it would consume too much, so much he would be unable to return.
But his friends... they were good people. They helped Silas when they found him in a ditch by the road. They saw he was wounded. They saw he was different than Man or Elf or Dwarf. But they still helped him. They were fools, maybe, if they did this to anyone else but Silas. But deep within, Silas knew they could see he was good too. Saw the potential to be good.
Slowly but surely, Silas pushed through the fortress. Bodies and crumbling foundation in his wake. Until he arrived at the center room.
"So... you return to me... Silassss" a voice echoed through the room. And a figure appeared on a balcony above. Crackling energy filled the room and made Silas' hair stand up straight.
"Maugaros!" Silas yelled.
He clenched his fists. This would be it. A last stand. either he would walk out of here with his friends, perhaps afraid of his power. Or he would die, and his friends too. But it would be a worthy death.
Silas prayed to the one god his friends worshipped, and felt his power surging. He saw the color of his lightning change to blue, and he knew Thor answered with a blessing. He heard the voice in his head roar. "Save my Son, Silas." | The whispers are always there. They’re in everyone. It’s that pull, that voice that sounds like a friend or distant parent. Softly, gently, but oh so forcefully encouraging you to embrace it.
Few accept. Fewer still are able to rid themselves of the voice. More than a few listen, but simply shake their heads and go on.
For some the voice, the pull, the temptation is stronger than others. For me, it was particularly strong. Combine being a chosen Paladin or Torag along with my strong desire for approval and I definitely heard the voices. Usually it was at bay, but that was because I had surrounded myself with good.
I obeyed the laws of Torag. I had allies that I travelled with and we did good. We would slay monsters, help villagers, find lost souls. It was good, decent work.
But the call was always there. Sure, I could kill a kobold without remorse. But how about throwing in a little fun? Why just sneak attack kill him when I could break its legs first with my warhammer, so it can’t run? Then crush its arms when it tries to fight me. Break its ribs, maybe collapse a lung so it can’t scream; only give those wonderful sounds of gurgling as it drowns on its blood, gasping as the pressure builds within its chest?
Those were the whispers I heard. Torag knew they were tempting. What would my compatriots think of me if they caught me listening to those whispers? How would they react to see me torturing a helpless elf? What would they do to stop me from burning the flesh off a simple human townswoman? Would they be filled with revulsion at seeing blood caked on my chest plate, the symbol of Torag hardly visible beneath the brown crust?
Running my hand through my stiff beard, I take a moment to stare into my eyes in the reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall.
I can the whispers clearly right now. I turn away from my reflections because I don’t have time to watch or listen. My friends are missing; they’ve been gone for three days. I have to find them.
Walking out of the cabin I had built away from the town, the smell of fresh air fills my nostrils and clears out the cloying scent of burning flesh. I wash my hands in the stream out front, feeling clots of drying blood washing away. I splash the water on my face, washing entrails from my beard.
Though I don’t have time to listen to the whispers as I go in search of leads, I can still hear them. They’re saying they’re very proud of me and it makes me smile. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | The whispers are always there. They’re in everyone. It’s that pull, that voice that sounds like a friend or distant parent. Softly, gently, but oh so forcefully encouraging you to embrace it.
Few accept. Fewer still are able to rid themselves of the voice. More than a few listen, but simply shake their heads and go on.
For some the voice, the pull, the temptation is stronger than others. For me, it was particularly strong. Combine being a chosen Paladin or Torag along with my strong desire for approval and I definitely heard the voices. Usually it was at bay, but that was because I had surrounded myself with good.
I obeyed the laws of Torag. I had allies that I travelled with and we did good. We would slay monsters, help villagers, find lost souls. It was good, decent work.
But the call was always there. Sure, I could kill a kobold without remorse. But how about throwing in a little fun? Why just sneak attack kill him when I could break its legs first with my warhammer, so it can’t run? Then crush its arms when it tries to fight me. Break its ribs, maybe collapse a lung so it can’t scream; only give those wonderful sounds of gurgling as it drowns on its blood, gasping as the pressure builds within its chest?
Those were the whispers I heard. Torag knew they were tempting. What would my compatriots think of me if they caught me listening to those whispers? How would they react to see me torturing a helpless elf? What would they do to stop me from burning the flesh off a simple human townswoman? Would they be filled with revulsion at seeing blood caked on my chest plate, the symbol of Torag hardly visible beneath the brown crust?
Running my hand through my stiff beard, I take a moment to stare into my eyes in the reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall.
I can the whispers clearly right now. I turn away from my reflections because I don’t have time to watch or listen. My friends are missing; they’ve been gone for three days. I have to find them.
Walking out of the cabin I had built away from the town, the smell of fresh air fills my nostrils and clears out the cloying scent of burning flesh. I wash my hands in the stream out front, feeling clots of drying blood washing away. I splash the water on my face, washing entrails from my beard.
Though I don’t have time to listen to the whispers as I go in search of leads, I can still hear them. They’re saying they’re very proud of me and it makes me smile. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | My party-my friends-have been missing for almost a week. We were supposed to meet up near the church and...they never showed. Lucky for me the church's priest invited me in, and allowed me to stay for the night last night. The climate had gotten cold, and our locksmith rogue kept the money safe, so I had none for an inn. It was last night I got my first clue. As I prepared to sleep, someone broke open the church door. They sounded like thugs, and as they tried to loot the donations vault, they were talking about the ransom they plan to get from the king using the princess and her esteemed guards.
The princess and her guards...**my friends**.
After a lovely chat with those fellows, I grabbed a clean set of monk's clothing from the church wardrobe; I promise to return them when I'm done, but it wouldn't do me any good to go through the town wearing bloodied rags. Sure, it'll be highly questionable seeing me dressed as a monk, but it's better than the alternative. I just need to find their friend, who hides in the sewer near the Rusty Flask, because that's who his dead friends directed me to.
*My arm! H-h-how did you bend it that waAAAaaaAAAugh!!!...*
*Th-Those horns! W-w-what the hell are you-gh-gh-ghugh....*
*Teeth don't look like that, get away from me! Sto-AAAAAAAaaaaaugh....*
Having the abilities of a demon has its advantages, but it would be nice if I could tone down the...let's just say "additional" features a little bit. At least I can hide the wings. Too much blood on me and they think I'm a vampire, which is hilarious, since vampires don't actually exist anymore. At least my friends knew that. They enjoyed having a reformed demigod on their side. Well, they think I'm a demigod, anyway. I'm not about to go and correct the only beings to ever care about me. Especially Princess Valeria. I never imagined someone of royalty could be so kind and empathetic.
*It's ok, Dremyoluok, its not your fault you are the way you are. Be proud of yourself for choosing your own destiny. Not every fallen angel gets a chance at redemption. Paul, Tri-Krimea, Folthum and myself, we will support you every inch of the way. You can help us protect the kingdom!*
That was almost 2 years ago, that they found me in that cave. I'll never forget the kindness they showed me, and the help they've rendered. It took me a few months of rehabilitation, but from then I've sworn that I won't let anyone bring harm upon my friends as long as I'm with them. No matter what.
Paul the Monster-Slayer, Paladin of Thoruld, God of Righteous Might; Tri-Krimea, the elven naturalist and druid; Folthum the Wise, wielder of deep and powerful magic. They were eternally loyal to the naturally graceful and beautiful Princess Valeria; She is considered a top student at the High College of Magical Arts, having learned almost every healing spell along with many spells of both evocation and enchantment. I told them several half truths about myself, true enough to pass a Zone of Truth test, but not enough for them to know the full history of what I've done. I had truly stopped committing evil deeds only about 200 years before then, and had bound myself to that cave for almost 50 years. Truth is, I was turned into that form almost 2000 years ago, and the demonic power went straight to my head. Make of that what you will.
I don't know how the bandits managed to capture them, but I know where to look now. They have a hideout a few miles north, and it only took an hour to extract the info from the bandit in the sewer. And how did he manage to also have seven friends hidden with him? At least there was enough clean water running through to get the blood off the robes. I can ditch the robes back by the church on my way out of town, before the sun rises. I won't need the rags on my mission. I'll leave an apology for the priest, and a small donation from those who no longer need their money.
My friends...I can pick up their scents now. I've found the encampment. I hope they can forgive me for what will happen to these bandits...I should be able to get through the 30 bandits patrolling the perimeter before the rest notice the missing patrols. Who would've guessed only a few miles north of town, there was a bandit camp the size of a small city? Almost as many bandits as 3 villages worth of people. I think I might be about to knock out two birds with one stone here...save my friends, and solve the kingdom's bandit problem for a while... | Drascar. Every black market, mafia, and crime syndicate on the continent can be traced back to this city, so much so that it's often called the City of Thieves. When the others went missing I knew I had to pay a visit to my old home town.
Even just walking down the road through the outskirts of the town you can feel the eyes on you. Well, that may just be me. It's not every day that the famed Master of the Raging Flame, one of the world's greatest heroes, visits a city whose biggest export is crime. I'm sure by now the news of Heavenly Paladin Kranor and Beast Master Srakan going missing has reached this place, and I'm even more sure that the people behind it are in one of the mansions towards the centre of town. Or perhaps they're in a hidden compound bellow one. You can never tell with Drascar.
Either way, I know that I can't just barge in alone. I have a reputation to uphold, and when I get the others back I don't want them hearing about how their dear friend burned down a city and murdered the inhabitants in a raging inferno, no matter how crime ridden it is. Something tells me Kranor would scold me about "cold blooded murder" and "we thought we were past this." Srakan would just stare, silently disapproving. I can't take that, their disappointment, so I'm going to do this right.
I'll start with the children, the orphans and urchins. I know from experience that they hear much more than people think, and are willing to part with that information for a few copper coins. Throw in a good meal for them and their friends and they'll die for you.
Having arrived at a small orphanage, I politely knock on the door. Kranor said it got better results than just blowing it up with a fireball, and it seems he was right, as instead of running away screaming a young woman stuck her head out.
"What? We haven't missed any payments."
Unusually articulate for a resident of this rotten semblance of a town.
"No, ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you. I'm looking for some information, and was hoping that your charges had heard something that may help me."
She looked at me warily, undoubtedly suspecting a trap or scam of some kind. "I don't think-"
The sight of silver quickly changed her mind, and she opens the door quickly. I pressed the coin into her hands while brushing past her further into the orphanage. Kranor said charity was good, perhaps his god would smile upon me and give me a hint. Or maybe he'd fuck me over again, I don't put much faith in the gods.
The orphans, of course, didn't want to talk to me. They were scared, I could tell because they even turned downy copper. They'd seen something, otherwise they'd have taken the coin and spent a few days on the street laying low so I didn't come after them having learned of their lies. Someone powerful had commited this crime, and they were too afraid to speak out against them, even in private. Of course, when I summoned a flame into my hand and threatened to burn them all their tongues loosened considerably. I left a few coins with them on my way out, enough to feed them for a month, so Kranor wouldn't be too angry if he found out.
The mansion I got directions to from the orphans was the largest in the city. Of course it was, who other than the Lord of Drascar had the resources to kidnap two of the three members of Zeriol's Chosen?
I didn't bother knocking this time. The smoldering ruins of the large double doors were blown into the entrance hall, and the guards standing before them were reduced to ash by my fury. The flames licked around me as I stormed into the mansion. Bodies fell like a fiery rain as the guards further into the house rushed towards me, and I will admit that I lost track of myself for a while, nothing but the endless roaring flame whipping around me.
The gibbering Lord directed me towards the basement before being reduced to ash, and there I found myself, my flames extinguished by a sight I had never expected. Kranor, stripped of his armour, covered in wounds weeping blood. Srakan, curled up beside the remains of his great black wolf, a dagger through his chest. Neither drew breath.
Kranor... Srakan... I need you! What do I do! What do I do?! I need you to guide me, I can't... I... What do I...
No. I don't... They won't know any more. They can't guide me any longer, I won't feel their disapproving stares ever again... This... This is my choice. Here, now, I choose what direction my life takes. I can't follow them any further, so now I must step up and make my own choice. I could feel the flames respond to my will, wrapping around me, supporting me. In the end, only the flames will never leave me.
I strode out of the sea of ashes once known as Drascar, City of Thieves. So many more must pay, so many more caused this pain, and the flames still hunger. The merchants who sold armor that could not protect Kranor, the woods whose beasts did not defend Srakan, the King who gave us this mission, the inn that did not hold them when I awoke. All of you... All of you will feed the flames of my wrath, and you shall burn until not even ashes proclaim that you once were. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since joining up with The Good Guys, the name we gave ourselves when we set out to free the hamlets from the grips of a tyrant. My only friends.
Eve was the one who brought me in to the group. A court jester turned vigilante, who kept her blade nearly as sharp as her tongue. She taught me that no one was beyond redemption. They would have been well within their rights to hang me for stealing the blade of morning from them. But with my back against a wall and sword at my throat she’s the one who plead my case. They needed a thief to steal it back, and I was the only one they knew.
Marx disagreed. I’d spent a lifetime stealing and killing to get by. He believed, no he knew, those people deserved justice. He was right of course, I knew it then as well I know it now. It took months for him to trust me. Never letting me out of his sight less I hurt the innocents he swore to protect. I couldn’t believe my eyes as this man, who seemed more of a giant to me, was beaten down and captured by the mad kings men.
Michael was the deciding vote. A warrior priest, who should have seen monster when he looked at me, but saw a broken man in need. He helped me more than he’ll ever know. He saved my life a dozen times over. I just hope I’m up to the task of returning the favor.
Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since I met my friends. But they’ve all been taken, either prisoners or dead by King Matthew’s hand. And before I die I’ll see to it the mad king know why a good man doesn’t need rules. | Drascar. Every black market, mafia, and crime syndicate on the continent can be traced back to this city, so much so that it's often called the City of Thieves. When the others went missing I knew I had to pay a visit to my old home town.
Even just walking down the road through the outskirts of the town you can feel the eyes on you. Well, that may just be me. It's not every day that the famed Master of the Raging Flame, one of the world's greatest heroes, visits a city whose biggest export is crime. I'm sure by now the news of Heavenly Paladin Kranor and Beast Master Srakan going missing has reached this place, and I'm even more sure that the people behind it are in one of the mansions towards the centre of town. Or perhaps they're in a hidden compound bellow one. You can never tell with Drascar.
Either way, I know that I can't just barge in alone. I have a reputation to uphold, and when I get the others back I don't want them hearing about how their dear friend burned down a city and murdered the inhabitants in a raging inferno, no matter how crime ridden it is. Something tells me Kranor would scold me about "cold blooded murder" and "we thought we were past this." Srakan would just stare, silently disapproving. I can't take that, their disappointment, so I'm going to do this right.
I'll start with the children, the orphans and urchins. I know from experience that they hear much more than people think, and are willing to part with that information for a few copper coins. Throw in a good meal for them and their friends and they'll die for you.
Having arrived at a small orphanage, I politely knock on the door. Kranor said it got better results than just blowing it up with a fireball, and it seems he was right, as instead of running away screaming a young woman stuck her head out.
"What? We haven't missed any payments."
Unusually articulate for a resident of this rotten semblance of a town.
"No, ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you. I'm looking for some information, and was hoping that your charges had heard something that may help me."
She looked at me warily, undoubtedly suspecting a trap or scam of some kind. "I don't think-"
The sight of silver quickly changed her mind, and she opens the door quickly. I pressed the coin into her hands while brushing past her further into the orphanage. Kranor said charity was good, perhaps his god would smile upon me and give me a hint. Or maybe he'd fuck me over again, I don't put much faith in the gods.
The orphans, of course, didn't want to talk to me. They were scared, I could tell because they even turned downy copper. They'd seen something, otherwise they'd have taken the coin and spent a few days on the street laying low so I didn't come after them having learned of their lies. Someone powerful had commited this crime, and they were too afraid to speak out against them, even in private. Of course, when I summoned a flame into my hand and threatened to burn them all their tongues loosened considerably. I left a few coins with them on my way out, enough to feed them for a month, so Kranor wouldn't be too angry if he found out.
The mansion I got directions to from the orphans was the largest in the city. Of course it was, who other than the Lord of Drascar had the resources to kidnap two of the three members of Zeriol's Chosen?
I didn't bother knocking this time. The smoldering ruins of the large double doors were blown into the entrance hall, and the guards standing before them were reduced to ash by my fury. The flames licked around me as I stormed into the mansion. Bodies fell like a fiery rain as the guards further into the house rushed towards me, and I will admit that I lost track of myself for a while, nothing but the endless roaring flame whipping around me.
The gibbering Lord directed me towards the basement before being reduced to ash, and there I found myself, my flames extinguished by a sight I had never expected. Kranor, stripped of his armour, covered in wounds weeping blood. Srakan, curled up beside the remains of his great black wolf, a dagger through his chest. Neither drew breath.
Kranor... Srakan... I need you! What do I do! What do I do?! I need you to guide me, I can't... I... What do I...
No. I don't... They won't know any more. They can't guide me any longer, I won't feel their disapproving stares ever again... This... This is my choice. Here, now, I choose what direction my life takes. I can't follow them any further, so now I must step up and make my own choice. I could feel the flames respond to my will, wrapping around me, supporting me. In the end, only the flames will never leave me.
I strode out of the sea of ashes once known as Drascar, City of Thieves. So many more must pay, so many more caused this pain, and the flames still hunger. The merchants who sold armor that could not protect Kranor, the woods whose beasts did not defend Srakan, the King who gave us this mission, the inn that did not hold them when I awoke. All of you... All of you will feed the flames of my wrath, and you shall burn until not even ashes proclaim that you once were. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since joining up with The Good Guys, the name we gave ourselves when we set out to free the hamlets from the grips of a tyrant. My only friends.
Eve was the one who brought me in to the group. A court jester turned vigilante, who kept her blade nearly as sharp as her tongue. She taught me that no one was beyond redemption. They would have been well within their rights to hang me for stealing the blade of morning from them. But with my back against a wall and sword at my throat she’s the one who plead my case. They needed a thief to steal it back, and I was the only one they knew.
Marx disagreed. I’d spent a lifetime stealing and killing to get by. He believed, no he knew, those people deserved justice. He was right of course, I knew it then as well I know it now. It took months for him to trust me. Never letting me out of his sight less I hurt the innocents he swore to protect. I couldn’t believe my eyes as this man, who seemed more of a giant to me, was beaten down and captured by the mad kings men.
Michael was the deciding vote. A warrior priest, who should have seen monster when he looked at me, but saw a broken man in need. He helped me more than he’ll ever know. He saved my life a dozen times over. I just hope I’m up to the task of returning the favor.
Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since I met my friends. But they’ve all been taken, either prisoners or dead by King Matthew’s hand. And before I die I’ll see to it the mad king know why a good man doesn’t need rules. | My party-my friends-have been missing for almost a week. We were supposed to meet up near the church and...they never showed. Lucky for me the church's priest invited me in, and allowed me to stay for the night last night. The climate had gotten cold, and our locksmith rogue kept the money safe, so I had none for an inn. It was last night I got my first clue. As I prepared to sleep, someone broke open the church door. They sounded like thugs, and as they tried to loot the donations vault, they were talking about the ransom they plan to get from the king using the princess and her esteemed guards.
The princess and her guards...**my friends**.
After a lovely chat with those fellows, I grabbed a clean set of monk's clothing from the church wardrobe; I promise to return them when I'm done, but it wouldn't do me any good to go through the town wearing bloodied rags. Sure, it'll be highly questionable seeing me dressed as a monk, but it's better than the alternative. I just need to find their friend, who hides in the sewer near the Rusty Flask, because that's who his dead friends directed me to.
*My arm! H-h-how did you bend it that waAAAaaaAAAugh!!!...*
*Th-Those horns! W-w-what the hell are you-gh-gh-ghugh....*
*Teeth don't look like that, get away from me! Sto-AAAAAAAaaaaaugh....*
Having the abilities of a demon has its advantages, but it would be nice if I could tone down the...let's just say "additional" features a little bit. At least I can hide the wings. Too much blood on me and they think I'm a vampire, which is hilarious, since vampires don't actually exist anymore. At least my friends knew that. They enjoyed having a reformed demigod on their side. Well, they think I'm a demigod, anyway. I'm not about to go and correct the only beings to ever care about me. Especially Princess Valeria. I never imagined someone of royalty could be so kind and empathetic.
*It's ok, Dremyoluok, its not your fault you are the way you are. Be proud of yourself for choosing your own destiny. Not every fallen angel gets a chance at redemption. Paul, Tri-Krimea, Folthum and myself, we will support you every inch of the way. You can help us protect the kingdom!*
That was almost 2 years ago, that they found me in that cave. I'll never forget the kindness they showed me, and the help they've rendered. It took me a few months of rehabilitation, but from then I've sworn that I won't let anyone bring harm upon my friends as long as I'm with them. No matter what.
Paul the Monster-Slayer, Paladin of Thoruld, God of Righteous Might; Tri-Krimea, the elven naturalist and druid; Folthum the Wise, wielder of deep and powerful magic. They were eternally loyal to the naturally graceful and beautiful Princess Valeria; She is considered a top student at the High College of Magical Arts, having learned almost every healing spell along with many spells of both evocation and enchantment. I told them several half truths about myself, true enough to pass a Zone of Truth test, but not enough for them to know the full history of what I've done. I had truly stopped committing evil deeds only about 200 years before then, and had bound myself to that cave for almost 50 years. Truth is, I was turned into that form almost 2000 years ago, and the demonic power went straight to my head. Make of that what you will.
I don't know how the bandits managed to capture them, but I know where to look now. They have a hideout a few miles north, and it only took an hour to extract the info from the bandit in the sewer. And how did he manage to also have seven friends hidden with him? At least there was enough clean water running through to get the blood off the robes. I can ditch the robes back by the church on my way out of town, before the sun rises. I won't need the rags on my mission. I'll leave an apology for the priest, and a small donation from those who no longer need their money.
My friends...I can pick up their scents now. I've found the encampment. I hope they can forgive me for what will happen to these bandits...I should be able to get through the 30 bandits patrolling the perimeter before the rest notice the missing patrols. Who would've guessed only a few miles north of town, there was a bandit camp the size of a small city? Almost as many bandits as 3 villages worth of people. I think I might be about to knock out two birds with one stone here...save my friends, and solve the kingdom's bandit problem for a while... | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | It’s my first try on these. I’m sorry for my awful writing.
Dave wiped the blood from his blade before the guard even hit the floor. No expression came to his face, he didn’t enjoy killing, but he didn’t hate it either.
His party of four years was made up of good, friendly people. And they’d paid the price for that. Dave didn’t want them to see the person he was, those people had given him what had been stripped of long ago with their righteous dream. And now he would protect that dream of theirs.
Certainly, they needed a cold dose of reality to show them the world wasn’t all black and white. But Dave didn’t want that dose to come from him, not yet at least.
“Y-you psychotic monster! You’ll pay for this!”
“Do you accept cash? Or would an IOU suffice?” The monster hiding within the hero party growled, his bladed tentacles whipping through the man’s body like so much paper.
Dave had already killed his way through the fortress, and gotten the information he needed.
“Just hang on tight kiddos” the grizzled old shapeshifter spoke.
“The demon lord’s gonna regret facing an elder god!” His voice became distorted. Gaining some unknown quantity beyond that of a mortal.
And so Dave, or as those with true power knew him. Azathoth. Continued his rampage through the mortal realms, until he found the king of evil, and ripped him apart at a conceptual level. | 'Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...'
The dungeon was filled with screams and blood like it always does. But the screaming and the lifeless bodies that is hanging from the chains doesn't belong to its usual prisoner. Laying lifelessly on the table is captain of the prison guard, his left eye gouged by a crude device, his fingers all chopped off by the same rusty knife that the captain himself often use on the prisoner, his leg amputated at the knee, the only wound that was made using a frost blade, in order to keep the victim from dying of blood loss before the perpetrator are done with them. His two guards chained to wall, both had the heart slowly crushed by magic. All three of them were dead before the owner of the room 'arrive' here with his wife and two children, all unconsious, binded in ropes and chains.
'Now now Mr.Kazco, we all know what I want. Tell me about the girl that you guy torture 4 days ago right in this room and where did you send her to, and I will let your family live.'
'You bloody bastard. You won't get away with this. Soon the guard will come and I will have your head rolling on the ground.'
Beak let out a big laugh. They are always like this, he think. They always think they are the big deal. Always think everything will go their way, and no one can do anything to harm them.
Beak reach into his pocket and put the eyeball of the dead captain on the table in front of the warden.
'You mean the owner of this little magic eye over here? Gotta say, this thing is pretty neat. Can you imagine how he react when I reflect this thing onto his son? It was hilarious I tell you. Never have I seen someone grovel on the ground that fast after I bested them in a duel. It was something straight out a comedy if you ask me'
The warden couldn't believe what he is seeing. Captain Pheco was not only a great fighter, but he also know his way with the mystic art. The fake eye that Pheco had was enchanted with magic capable of killing a manticore. It was his pride, the result of his effort that even the court mage were impressed by its power. Now it is rolling in front of him, bloodied, cracked.
'I can bring him and his nephew over if you want. Albeit it would be quite a pain in the ass to drag their body over.' - Beak reach for his knife and start to unsheath it - 'I also heard that you wanted to have a daughter? But you only have two sons right? Maybe I can help you with that. It gonna take just a few moment.'
Beak standup and walk over where the women and children lay. Even with all the screaming and noise of the torture, they are still soundly asleep due to his potion. He drag the wife by the hair and the first born by the hand to in front of the warden and say
'You are in great luck then, as I can help you get two daughter. A little cut here, a little slice there and you will have yourself a beautiful daughter.' - Beak cheerfully use his knife to point at the kid crotch - 'Or if you want thing to be more natural, this little bottle right here will make your wife pregnant with an Orc child. Don't be worry about the chances, I have done this more than a few time, I know all the trick and some helping magic to ensure that she will give birth to a beautiful Orc girl, with fangs and stuff.'
'You fucking sicko' - Kazco desperately try to break free, but the chain held him tightly to the chair, and his struggle only make it more painful for him. - 'Let go of my family, I'm the one that you want!'
'No no no. I want to know where the girl is. I couldn't care less about you to be honest. Maybe a bit about your wife too. She look so gorgeous for someone her age. Now that I think about it, maybe I should some time with her before using the bottle. You know what? Imma be right back with you, after getting this boner off first.' - Beak was untying the wife clothe as he say, much to Kazco dismay
'Stop it please, stop it. Please don't harm her, she is all that I ever have.' The warden keep struggle to break free but to no avail. He broke down crying as Beak was pulling his pant down
'Well then, tell me what I want to know, and I will be on my way. Lying would be stupid by the way, the truth potion will crush your heart if you try to lie. Maybe I do need to bring their body over from the next room after all hmm.....'
'Yllien city, Council of the Whitefeather. The girl was send to the Council of the Whitefeather. Lord Gruger have the hobby to feast on young girls and boys with magic potential, and to make them his mindless slaves. The girl is with the Trippier Route Caravan, their next destination is Muyvier city to pickup others slaves along the way. Please let my family go I beg of you. They have nothing to do with this.'
'Isn't that better? Now if you excuse me, I have a caravan to catch.'
Beak tidy up his clothes, grabbing the eye and his tools on the chair before taking out the small barrel of oil in the corner of the room and start spraying it all over the place.
'What are you doing? You promise to let them go? For the love of the High Gods stop!'
'I'm pretty sure I didn't take the true potion. Why you believe me, I have no idea.'
Kazco keep screaming obscenity and begging Beak to keep his word, but he keep ignoring the warden. As he finish dousing the place, he draw the dagger and whisper 'Ignite'. A spark flew out and the entire underground dungeon turned into a sea of flame, and with it, the Kazco family. Beak were already far away from it when the servant of the Kazco notice that the backyard and the entire left wind building is on fire and try to evacuate. After all, he finally got some clue of where his party healer is. The girl always tell Beak to be more positive about life, and how everything will work out in the end because the High Gods love humankind. 'It seems like the High Gods do love people like her' - Beak think to himself, 'Maybe I will ask her to teach me how to pray to them once we reunite, after all there are still more people that is missing, and as much as he want to deny it, they do make him feel like home.' | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since joining up with The Good Guys, the name we gave ourselves when we set out to free the hamlets from the grips of a tyrant. My only friends.
Eve was the one who brought me in to the group. A court jester turned vigilante, who kept her blade nearly as sharp as her tongue. She taught me that no one was beyond redemption. They would have been well within their rights to hang me for stealing the blade of morning from them. But with my back against a wall and sword at my throat she’s the one who plead my case. They needed a thief to steal it back, and I was the only one they knew.
Marx disagreed. I’d spent a lifetime stealing and killing to get by. He believed, no he knew, those people deserved justice. He was right of course, I knew it then as well I know it now. It took months for him to trust me. Never letting me out of his sight less I hurt the innocents he swore to protect. I couldn’t believe my eyes as this man, who seemed more of a giant to me, was beaten down and captured by the mad kings men.
Michael was the deciding vote. A warrior priest, who should have seen monster when he looked at me, but saw a broken man in need. He helped me more than he’ll ever know. He saved my life a dozen times over. I just hope I’m up to the task of returning the favor.
Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since I met my friends. But they’ve all been taken, either prisoners or dead by King Matthew’s hand. And before I die I’ll see to it the mad king know why a good man doesn’t need rules. | 'Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...'
The dungeon was filled with screams and blood like it always does. But the screaming and the lifeless bodies that is hanging from the chains doesn't belong to its usual prisoner. Laying lifelessly on the table is captain of the prison guard, his left eye gouged by a crude device, his fingers all chopped off by the same rusty knife that the captain himself often use on the prisoner, his leg amputated at the knee, the only wound that was made using a frost blade, in order to keep the victim from dying of blood loss before the perpetrator are done with them. His two guards chained to wall, both had the heart slowly crushed by magic. All three of them were dead before the owner of the room 'arrive' here with his wife and two children, all unconsious, binded in ropes and chains.
'Now now Mr.Kazco, we all know what I want. Tell me about the girl that you guy torture 4 days ago right in this room and where did you send her to, and I will let your family live.'
'You bloody bastard. You won't get away with this. Soon the guard will come and I will have your head rolling on the ground.'
Beak let out a big laugh. They are always like this, he think. They always think they are the big deal. Always think everything will go their way, and no one can do anything to harm them.
Beak reach into his pocket and put the eyeball of the dead captain on the table in front of the warden.
'You mean the owner of this little magic eye over here? Gotta say, this thing is pretty neat. Can you imagine how he react when I reflect this thing onto his son? It was hilarious I tell you. Never have I seen someone grovel on the ground that fast after I bested them in a duel. It was something straight out a comedy if you ask me'
The warden couldn't believe what he is seeing. Captain Pheco was not only a great fighter, but he also know his way with the mystic art. The fake eye that Pheco had was enchanted with magic capable of killing a manticore. It was his pride, the result of his effort that even the court mage were impressed by its power. Now it is rolling in front of him, bloodied, cracked.
'I can bring him and his nephew over if you want. Albeit it would be quite a pain in the ass to drag their body over.' - Beak reach for his knife and start to unsheath it - 'I also heard that you wanted to have a daughter? But you only have two sons right? Maybe I can help you with that. It gonna take just a few moment.'
Beak standup and walk over where the women and children lay. Even with all the screaming and noise of the torture, they are still soundly asleep due to his potion. He drag the wife by the hair and the first born by the hand to in front of the warden and say
'You are in great luck then, as I can help you get two daughter. A little cut here, a little slice there and you will have yourself a beautiful daughter.' - Beak cheerfully use his knife to point at the kid crotch - 'Or if you want thing to be more natural, this little bottle right here will make your wife pregnant with an Orc child. Don't be worry about the chances, I have done this more than a few time, I know all the trick and some helping magic to ensure that she will give birth to a beautiful Orc girl, with fangs and stuff.'
'You fucking sicko' - Kazco desperately try to break free, but the chain held him tightly to the chair, and his struggle only make it more painful for him. - 'Let go of my family, I'm the one that you want!'
'No no no. I want to know where the girl is. I couldn't care less about you to be honest. Maybe a bit about your wife too. She look so gorgeous for someone her age. Now that I think about it, maybe I should some time with her before using the bottle. You know what? Imma be right back with you, after getting this boner off first.' - Beak was untying the wife clothe as he say, much to Kazco dismay
'Stop it please, stop it. Please don't harm her, she is all that I ever have.' The warden keep struggle to break free but to no avail. He broke down crying as Beak was pulling his pant down
'Well then, tell me what I want to know, and I will be on my way. Lying would be stupid by the way, the truth potion will crush your heart if you try to lie. Maybe I do need to bring their body over from the next room after all hmm.....'
'Yllien city, Council of the Whitefeather. The girl was send to the Council of the Whitefeather. Lord Gruger have the hobby to feast on young girls and boys with magic potential, and to make them his mindless slaves. The girl is with the Trippier Route Caravan, their next destination is Muyvier city to pickup others slaves along the way. Please let my family go I beg of you. They have nothing to do with this.'
'Isn't that better? Now if you excuse me, I have a caravan to catch.'
Beak tidy up his clothes, grabbing the eye and his tools on the chair before taking out the small barrel of oil in the corner of the room and start spraying it all over the place.
'What are you doing? You promise to let them go? For the love of the High Gods stop!'
'I'm pretty sure I didn't take the true potion. Why you believe me, I have no idea.'
Kazco keep screaming obscenity and begging Beak to keep his word, but he keep ignoring the warden. As he finish dousing the place, he draw the dagger and whisper 'Ignite'. A spark flew out and the entire underground dungeon turned into a sea of flame, and with it, the Kazco family. Beak were already far away from it when the servant of the Kazco notice that the backyard and the entire left wind building is on fire and try to evacuate. After all, he finally got some clue of where his party healer is. The girl always tell Beak to be more positive about life, and how everything will work out in the end because the High Gods love humankind. 'It seems like the High Gods do love people like her' - Beak think to himself, 'Maybe I will ask her to teach me how to pray to them once we reunite, after all there are still more people that is missing, and as much as he want to deny it, they do make him feel like home.' | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | As I walk down the grand marble hall two guards approach me, probably about to stop me and ask me for a permit but before they can do that I just pull out my sabers and slice them in half.
They used to be silver with the plasma flowing off of their edges green like the flourishing grass of my homeland but now... now they burn with my emotions.
The deeper into the hall I get the less light there is and the more of the guards rush in, still unaware of their first two losses.
"Halt! The Atreuonum Sactinis is forbidden for all but the S'Alai!"
He can't be any older than twenty, a new recruit into the order it would seem.
As I grab the young man and place one of my sabers to his throath, even when not quite powered their edges are as sharp as any other sword's, I yell at all the other guards who finally take me as a proper threat and pull out their swords.
"Listen here you bunch of sad idiots, I am here for one thing and one thing only!"
"Let him go, now!"
"It is impolite to interupt the guy with the gun..." I shoot the improper bastard.
"Now, where was I? Oh yes, I am here for one simple, tinsy, winsy thing... You can't give it to me though... only your precious Qui'Alain."
Now that's got a reaction out of them, angry faces and a few steps towards me.
"Oh, and I should also tell you, THEY are here for you..." From the shadows of the temple my temporary alies come forth.
Ravenous.
Full of hatered.
Thirsting for blood.
"LEAVE NONE STANDING, BROTHERS AND SISTES!" Amanhand, the leader of the dark god followers enters the scene with his typical line and lets his savage followers into town.
Now that my part of the bargain is half done... time for the fun part.
As I shoot and slice my way through hordes of patheticaly weak guardians I start to grow a wicked old smile I missed for so long. Slaughtering such a weak foe feels good... And showing off to all those pathetic fighters does too. Nevertheless I make my way towards my objective.
The Qui'Alain. Priesthood women sensitive to magicka and it's flow, meant to be oracles and Greybeard advisors. Never taught to fight.
The Dark Guard got to the Qui'Alain quarters before me, luckily they are far too incompetent to break through the S'Alain defenses.
It is a simple job really, throw a few smoke grenades in, a head or two of their fellow guards through those and rush in with full shields. Once I get to the first one it's all over, any injury they can cause me will be healed by one of their deaths and my rage shall fuel my might further until the last one remains.
"I- I yield! I can tell you everyting about this place! He-here! The keys to the Qui'alak quarters!" He says as he crawls on the ground, wounded.
I use my sword to break the lock of the quarters and look down on him. "I though your little order taught you to never give up..."
"I- I will! Just please let me live I want to say hello to my mo-" Like I care about this fly's sob story.
The Dark Guard rushes inside the main room wehre they gather all the Qui'Alain.
When they bring the 'mother' and confirm that they found all of them the leader stands proudly before them. Has her lifted up by his lapdogs and smiles widely, letting his fangs shine.
He raises his hand with a dagger and just as he is to stab her heart I use my powers to pull back at his hand from distance. "Wha- How dare you int-"
"Remember our deal? You better or I'll make sure you won't be able to spout anymore bullshit."
I take the mother by the throat and lift her off the floor.
"I will ask you this ONCE. Where. Are. The Elisians?!"
"You... you will never learn it, monster!"
I shoot one of her Qui'Alain.
"Forgot to mention that for each time I need to repeat myself I will shoot one of you."
"I... I will ne-" The deep hissing noise and bang my pistol makes is trully a sweet tune to my ears.
"For the third time. Where. Are. The Elisians?"
"They... They are in the Harald Mountais..."
"Expected you to last at least till round five! Good work, lady"
I snap her neck.
"Now you can do whatever you want with them, Count..."
As I leave the temple I can hear screams and shots...
When I inhale the sweet stench of death and singed flesh I stand atop the monastery stairs, clad in my old armor that still had that wolf fur around the neck and the rune carvings, I think out loud.
"The Wolf... is back..." | 'Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...'
The dungeon was filled with screams and blood like it always does. But the screaming and the lifeless bodies that is hanging from the chains doesn't belong to its usual prisoner. Laying lifelessly on the table is captain of the prison guard, his left eye gouged by a crude device, his fingers all chopped off by the same rusty knife that the captain himself often use on the prisoner, his leg amputated at the knee, the only wound that was made using a frost blade, in order to keep the victim from dying of blood loss before the perpetrator are done with them. His two guards chained to wall, both had the heart slowly crushed by magic. All three of them were dead before the owner of the room 'arrive' here with his wife and two children, all unconsious, binded in ropes and chains.
'Now now Mr.Kazco, we all know what I want. Tell me about the girl that you guy torture 4 days ago right in this room and where did you send her to, and I will let your family live.'
'You bloody bastard. You won't get away with this. Soon the guard will come and I will have your head rolling on the ground.'
Beak let out a big laugh. They are always like this, he think. They always think they are the big deal. Always think everything will go their way, and no one can do anything to harm them.
Beak reach into his pocket and put the eyeball of the dead captain on the table in front of the warden.
'You mean the owner of this little magic eye over here? Gotta say, this thing is pretty neat. Can you imagine how he react when I reflect this thing onto his son? It was hilarious I tell you. Never have I seen someone grovel on the ground that fast after I bested them in a duel. It was something straight out a comedy if you ask me'
The warden couldn't believe what he is seeing. Captain Pheco was not only a great fighter, but he also know his way with the mystic art. The fake eye that Pheco had was enchanted with magic capable of killing a manticore. It was his pride, the result of his effort that even the court mage were impressed by its power. Now it is rolling in front of him, bloodied, cracked.
'I can bring him and his nephew over if you want. Albeit it would be quite a pain in the ass to drag their body over.' - Beak reach for his knife and start to unsheath it - 'I also heard that you wanted to have a daughter? But you only have two sons right? Maybe I can help you with that. It gonna take just a few moment.'
Beak standup and walk over where the women and children lay. Even with all the screaming and noise of the torture, they are still soundly asleep due to his potion. He drag the wife by the hair and the first born by the hand to in front of the warden and say
'You are in great luck then, as I can help you get two daughter. A little cut here, a little slice there and you will have yourself a beautiful daughter.' - Beak cheerfully use his knife to point at the kid crotch - 'Or if you want thing to be more natural, this little bottle right here will make your wife pregnant with an Orc child. Don't be worry about the chances, I have done this more than a few time, I know all the trick and some helping magic to ensure that she will give birth to a beautiful Orc girl, with fangs and stuff.'
'You fucking sicko' - Kazco desperately try to break free, but the chain held him tightly to the chair, and his struggle only make it more painful for him. - 'Let go of my family, I'm the one that you want!'
'No no no. I want to know where the girl is. I couldn't care less about you to be honest. Maybe a bit about your wife too. She look so gorgeous for someone her age. Now that I think about it, maybe I should some time with her before using the bottle. You know what? Imma be right back with you, after getting this boner off first.' - Beak was untying the wife clothe as he say, much to Kazco dismay
'Stop it please, stop it. Please don't harm her, she is all that I ever have.' The warden keep struggle to break free but to no avail. He broke down crying as Beak was pulling his pant down
'Well then, tell me what I want to know, and I will be on my way. Lying would be stupid by the way, the truth potion will crush your heart if you try to lie. Maybe I do need to bring their body over from the next room after all hmm.....'
'Yllien city, Council of the Whitefeather. The girl was send to the Council of the Whitefeather. Lord Gruger have the hobby to feast on young girls and boys with magic potential, and to make them his mindless slaves. The girl is with the Trippier Route Caravan, their next destination is Muyvier city to pickup others slaves along the way. Please let my family go I beg of you. They have nothing to do with this.'
'Isn't that better? Now if you excuse me, I have a caravan to catch.'
Beak tidy up his clothes, grabbing the eye and his tools on the chair before taking out the small barrel of oil in the corner of the room and start spraying it all over the place.
'What are you doing? You promise to let them go? For the love of the High Gods stop!'
'I'm pretty sure I didn't take the true potion. Why you believe me, I have no idea.'
Kazco keep screaming obscenity and begging Beak to keep his word, but he keep ignoring the warden. As he finish dousing the place, he draw the dagger and whisper 'Ignite'. A spark flew out and the entire underground dungeon turned into a sea of flame, and with it, the Kazco family. Beak were already far away from it when the servant of the Kazco notice that the backyard and the entire left wind building is on fire and try to evacuate. After all, he finally got some clue of where his party healer is. The girl always tell Beak to be more positive about life, and how everything will work out in the end because the High Gods love humankind. 'It seems like the High Gods do love people like her' - Beak think to himself, 'Maybe I will ask her to teach me how to pray to them once we reunite, after all there are still more people that is missing, and as much as he want to deny it, they do make him feel like home.' | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | She offered me water.
In the middle of the Death Forge Desert, water was worth more than gold. Worth more than magic even, as most of us need it for even basic spellwork. It was as if she didn't care or mind that offering it to me could spell her own doom. She was right to, in any case. I am one of the best friends she could ever have.
I accepted it, and when she explained that she and her friends were searching for the Patron God of War to stop the battling in the eastern valleys, I decided to tag along.
The intention was to pay her back; I do not like being in someone's debt. But even after I had saved her life, and the lives of her friends multiple times, I didn't feel compelled to leave.
How quaint, to risk your life for the sake of the better good. How optimistic. How pure. It should have been funny, but they were the best companions I had had in such a long time.
There were stipulations to being with a group of paladins. No senseless murdering. No torturing. Nothing their patron god might disagree with.
I followed of course. I let the raiders following us into the hills continue on. I did nothing more than wound when they began to attack, separating us from each other slowly until there were none but me and her.
I asked her, if I could kill them all, and bring all of our friends back, would she want me to. And stubbornly, she still refused.
I saw no other options, and in the middle of the night, when our fire was yet but tinders and all that was left was their broken weapons, and her abandoned sleepong roll, I was finally free to act.
The war in the east was naught one that I could stop, even as a God in my own right. But this? This I could do. I would burn the world for them, and I could. | 'Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...'
The dungeon was filled with screams and blood like it always does. But the screaming and the lifeless bodies that is hanging from the chains doesn't belong to its usual prisoner. Laying lifelessly on the table is captain of the prison guard, his left eye gouged by a crude device, his fingers all chopped off by the same rusty knife that the captain himself often use on the prisoner, his leg amputated at the knee, the only wound that was made using a frost blade, in order to keep the victim from dying of blood loss before the perpetrator are done with them. His two guards chained to wall, both had the heart slowly crushed by magic. All three of them were dead before the owner of the room 'arrive' here with his wife and two children, all unconsious, binded in ropes and chains.
'Now now Mr.Kazco, we all know what I want. Tell me about the girl that you guy torture 4 days ago right in this room and where did you send her to, and I will let your family live.'
'You bloody bastard. You won't get away with this. Soon the guard will come and I will have your head rolling on the ground.'
Beak let out a big laugh. They are always like this, he think. They always think they are the big deal. Always think everything will go their way, and no one can do anything to harm them.
Beak reach into his pocket and put the eyeball of the dead captain on the table in front of the warden.
'You mean the owner of this little magic eye over here? Gotta say, this thing is pretty neat. Can you imagine how he react when I reflect this thing onto his son? It was hilarious I tell you. Never have I seen someone grovel on the ground that fast after I bested them in a duel. It was something straight out a comedy if you ask me'
The warden couldn't believe what he is seeing. Captain Pheco was not only a great fighter, but he also know his way with the mystic art. The fake eye that Pheco had was enchanted with magic capable of killing a manticore. It was his pride, the result of his effort that even the court mage were impressed by its power. Now it is rolling in front of him, bloodied, cracked.
'I can bring him and his nephew over if you want. Albeit it would be quite a pain in the ass to drag their body over.' - Beak reach for his knife and start to unsheath it - 'I also heard that you wanted to have a daughter? But you only have two sons right? Maybe I can help you with that. It gonna take just a few moment.'
Beak standup and walk over where the women and children lay. Even with all the screaming and noise of the torture, they are still soundly asleep due to his potion. He drag the wife by the hair and the first born by the hand to in front of the warden and say
'You are in great luck then, as I can help you get two daughter. A little cut here, a little slice there and you will have yourself a beautiful daughter.' - Beak cheerfully use his knife to point at the kid crotch - 'Or if you want thing to be more natural, this little bottle right here will make your wife pregnant with an Orc child. Don't be worry about the chances, I have done this more than a few time, I know all the trick and some helping magic to ensure that she will give birth to a beautiful Orc girl, with fangs and stuff.'
'You fucking sicko' - Kazco desperately try to break free, but the chain held him tightly to the chair, and his struggle only make it more painful for him. - 'Let go of my family, I'm the one that you want!'
'No no no. I want to know where the girl is. I couldn't care less about you to be honest. Maybe a bit about your wife too. She look so gorgeous for someone her age. Now that I think about it, maybe I should some time with her before using the bottle. You know what? Imma be right back with you, after getting this boner off first.' - Beak was untying the wife clothe as he say, much to Kazco dismay
'Stop it please, stop it. Please don't harm her, she is all that I ever have.' The warden keep struggle to break free but to no avail. He broke down crying as Beak was pulling his pant down
'Well then, tell me what I want to know, and I will be on my way. Lying would be stupid by the way, the truth potion will crush your heart if you try to lie. Maybe I do need to bring their body over from the next room after all hmm.....'
'Yllien city, Council of the Whitefeather. The girl was send to the Council of the Whitefeather. Lord Gruger have the hobby to feast on young girls and boys with magic potential, and to make them his mindless slaves. The girl is with the Trippier Route Caravan, their next destination is Muyvier city to pickup others slaves along the way. Please let my family go I beg of you. They have nothing to do with this.'
'Isn't that better? Now if you excuse me, I have a caravan to catch.'
Beak tidy up his clothes, grabbing the eye and his tools on the chair before taking out the small barrel of oil in the corner of the room and start spraying it all over the place.
'What are you doing? You promise to let them go? For the love of the High Gods stop!'
'I'm pretty sure I didn't take the true potion. Why you believe me, I have no idea.'
Kazco keep screaming obscenity and begging Beak to keep his word, but he keep ignoring the warden. As he finish dousing the place, he draw the dagger and whisper 'Ignite'. A spark flew out and the entire underground dungeon turned into a sea of flame, and with it, the Kazco family. Beak were already far away from it when the servant of the Kazco notice that the backyard and the entire left wind building is on fire and try to evacuate. After all, he finally got some clue of where his party healer is. The girl always tell Beak to be more positive about life, and how everything will work out in the end because the High Gods love humankind. 'It seems like the High Gods do love people like her' - Beak think to himself, 'Maybe I will ask her to teach me how to pray to them once we reunite, after all there are still more people that is missing, and as much as he want to deny it, they do make him feel like home.' | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. |
I killed the first guard as he was taking a piss. My footsteps were drowned out by laughter from the party in the room next door. He stank and swayed like he had been partaking in the revelry himself. I slit his throat with my boot knife and pillaged his belongings before slowly lowering his body into the latrine hole. All he had was a sack of coins and a silver pocket watch with “Love, Meredith” inscribed on the back. Coin spends well enough but I’ll have to sell the watch at a shop in the next village. Still, should fetch a decent price.
The second guard was trickier. He was chatting up another party goer in a long hallway and she would certainly scream if she saw me kill him. Hallways like this always suck because any noise is magnified by the echo. Luckily the fucks who built this place loved their columns. I weave my way from one to the next, making sure to avoid any of the moonlight coming through the windows. The cold stones were uncomfortable with my bare feet, but my shoes were heavy and would have given me away in an instant. I angle myself behind a column only a dozen steps from where they’re standing and quietly pull the draw on my crossbow and load a bolt. I raise it up and fire, the bolt cutting through the short space between us in an instant. It strikes him were I want, at the base of his skull and to the left, passing cleanly through his jugular and out, then striking the woman in her eye before burying itself deep in her brain tissue. I sprint forward and catch both bodies and slowly lower them to the ground. Nowhere to hide these, so I drag them behind the shadow of a column. With how close I am to my goal; I should be in and out before anyone stumbles onto them
The woman doesn’t have any money on her, though I shouldn’t be surprised. She dressed as a maid and doesn’t have much in the way of carrying capacity. The guard has a second sack of coins and the one thing I’ve been looking for; keys to the cellar. I step quietly through the doorway and into the next room that appears to be a second banquet hall. The table is long enough for 40 guests but none of the place settings are out. Good sign. Looks like the party, and therefore the crowd, will be kept to the other side of the castle.
I go out through the door at the back of the room and find the staircase that leads down to the cellars. The steps are winding and the deeper I go the colder it gets. No time to lose focus. I exit the stairs into a narrow hallway lit gently on both sides by torches. At the center of the hallway is a small wooden door. I approach it and pull it open just enough to see inside. On the wall to the left is a guard asleep in his bed. One of the barracks then. I slip inside and shut the door gently behind me, then pull my boot knife out and get to work. The guard I saw first doesn’t even make a sound as I press the knife into the side of his throat, but I cover his mouth anyway, just in case. The bed next to him is unoccupied but on the other side of the room are two more guards, both sound asleep. I cut the second guard the same as the first but he manages to gurgle and cough. Blood sprays up and hits me in the face as the man dies.
“Please”
I snap my head forward and see the third guard sitting up in his bed, his hands trembling as they hold the blanket up on his chest.
“Please” he says again, his voice breaking. “Please I don’t want to die. They conscripted me. Pl-please don’t kill me.” Tears begin rolling down his face.
“Conscripted, huh?” I say. He nods his head, hands still trembling. I dry the blood off my knife on my sleeve and use a clean portion of the dead guard’s blanket to wipe the blood off my face. I must look like a demon.
“Shitty job placement, then.” I spin the knife softly up into the air and catch it by the newly cleaned blade, then throw it at the trembling man in bed. The blade hits him squarely in the forehead. The energy jerks his head backwards as blood spurts out of the wound. He slumps back into bed, hands sprawled out to his sides.
I exit the room quietly and move to the end of the hall. Using the guard key I stole, I open up the cellar door and enter the dimly lit room behind it. There I see them. All three are strung up from the ceiling and covered in their own dried blood. The guards must have been beating them for a few days. I softly approach them. I lay my hand on the first, but he’s cold to the touch. I sigh and move to the next. He’s at least warm, but his eyes are open and there’s no life left. Must have missed him by a hours. A day at the most. The third stirs slightly as I place my hand on him.
“Shhhh.” I say. “It’s ok. I’ve got you.”
I use my boot knife to cut his ropes and lower him softly to the ground. I pull a piece of bread out of my satchel and hand it to him. He’s slow to move, but he grips it with enough strength that answers my next question as I ask it.
“Can you move?”
“Yeah. Yeah I think I can.”
“Good, then we’re moving.”
He grunts in approval and we make our way back out of the cellar. I walk past the two bodies I left in the hallway and strip the coat and cloak off the dead guard and hand it to my partner. If the wounds slow him down, the cold would finish him off. We have a lot of ground to cover and once they realize what I’ve done, they’ll be after us. But hey, what are friends for. | 'Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...'
The dungeon was filled with screams and blood like it always does. But the screaming and the lifeless bodies that is hanging from the chains doesn't belong to its usual prisoner. Laying lifelessly on the table is captain of the prison guard, his left eye gouged by a crude device, his fingers all chopped off by the same rusty knife that the captain himself often use on the prisoner, his leg amputated at the knee, the only wound that was made using a frost blade, in order to keep the victim from dying of blood loss before the perpetrator are done with them. His two guards chained to wall, both had the heart slowly crushed by magic. All three of them were dead before the owner of the room 'arrive' here with his wife and two children, all unconsious, binded in ropes and chains.
'Now now Mr.Kazco, we all know what I want. Tell me about the girl that you guy torture 4 days ago right in this room and where did you send her to, and I will let your family live.'
'You bloody bastard. You won't get away with this. Soon the guard will come and I will have your head rolling on the ground.'
Beak let out a big laugh. They are always like this, he think. They always think they are the big deal. Always think everything will go their way, and no one can do anything to harm them.
Beak reach into his pocket and put the eyeball of the dead captain on the table in front of the warden.
'You mean the owner of this little magic eye over here? Gotta say, this thing is pretty neat. Can you imagine how he react when I reflect this thing onto his son? It was hilarious I tell you. Never have I seen someone grovel on the ground that fast after I bested them in a duel. It was something straight out a comedy if you ask me'
The warden couldn't believe what he is seeing. Captain Pheco was not only a great fighter, but he also know his way with the mystic art. The fake eye that Pheco had was enchanted with magic capable of killing a manticore. It was his pride, the result of his effort that even the court mage were impressed by its power. Now it is rolling in front of him, bloodied, cracked.
'I can bring him and his nephew over if you want. Albeit it would be quite a pain in the ass to drag their body over.' - Beak reach for his knife and start to unsheath it - 'I also heard that you wanted to have a daughter? But you only have two sons right? Maybe I can help you with that. It gonna take just a few moment.'
Beak standup and walk over where the women and children lay. Even with all the screaming and noise of the torture, they are still soundly asleep due to his potion. He drag the wife by the hair and the first born by the hand to in front of the warden and say
'You are in great luck then, as I can help you get two daughter. A little cut here, a little slice there and you will have yourself a beautiful daughter.' - Beak cheerfully use his knife to point at the kid crotch - 'Or if you want thing to be more natural, this little bottle right here will make your wife pregnant with an Orc child. Don't be worry about the chances, I have done this more than a few time, I know all the trick and some helping magic to ensure that she will give birth to a beautiful Orc girl, with fangs and stuff.'
'You fucking sicko' - Kazco desperately try to break free, but the chain held him tightly to the chair, and his struggle only make it more painful for him. - 'Let go of my family, I'm the one that you want!'
'No no no. I want to know where the girl is. I couldn't care less about you to be honest. Maybe a bit about your wife too. She look so gorgeous for someone her age. Now that I think about it, maybe I should some time with her before using the bottle. You know what? Imma be right back with you, after getting this boner off first.' - Beak was untying the wife clothe as he say, much to Kazco dismay
'Stop it please, stop it. Please don't harm her, she is all that I ever have.' The warden keep struggle to break free but to no avail. He broke down crying as Beak was pulling his pant down
'Well then, tell me what I want to know, and I will be on my way. Lying would be stupid by the way, the truth potion will crush your heart if you try to lie. Maybe I do need to bring their body over from the next room after all hmm.....'
'Yllien city, Council of the Whitefeather. The girl was send to the Council of the Whitefeather. Lord Gruger have the hobby to feast on young girls and boys with magic potential, and to make them his mindless slaves. The girl is with the Trippier Route Caravan, their next destination is Muyvier city to pickup others slaves along the way. Please let my family go I beg of you. They have nothing to do with this.'
'Isn't that better? Now if you excuse me, I have a caravan to catch.'
Beak tidy up his clothes, grabbing the eye and his tools on the chair before taking out the small barrel of oil in the corner of the room and start spraying it all over the place.
'What are you doing? You promise to let them go? For the love of the High Gods stop!'
'I'm pretty sure I didn't take the true potion. Why you believe me, I have no idea.'
Kazco keep screaming obscenity and begging Beak to keep his word, but he keep ignoring the warden. As he finish dousing the place, he draw the dagger and whisper 'Ignite'. A spark flew out and the entire underground dungeon turned into a sea of flame, and with it, the Kazco family. Beak were already far away from it when the servant of the Kazco notice that the backyard and the entire left wind building is on fire and try to evacuate. After all, he finally got some clue of where his party healer is. The girl always tell Beak to be more positive about life, and how everything will work out in the end because the High Gods love humankind. 'It seems like the High Gods do love people like her' - Beak think to himself, 'Maybe I will ask her to teach me how to pray to them once we reunite, after all there are still more people that is missing, and as much as he want to deny it, they do make him feel like home.' | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | A grin on Silas' face.
Sickly green lightning, coursing through his veins, occasionally sparking out from the bare skin. The ground beneath his feet scorching, with leaves hovering the air from the static spread by him.
One guard fell. And another. Pure, unbridled power, kept secret for so long. He never dared to unleash his full power. Until now. Because it was needed.
They did this. Those creatures. Silas was once one of them. A Damûn. But he broke free from the shackles. At least, partially. A part of him was still the unthinking beast. Killing, murdering. Pure instinct to hunt, feed, consume, and grow. And at this moment, he let that part of him free. The sane part of him was worried he would be addicted to its power. Or that it would consume too much, so much he would be unable to return.
But his friends... they were good people. They helped Silas when they found him in a ditch by the road. They saw he was wounded. They saw he was different than Man or Elf or Dwarf. But they still helped him. They were fools, maybe, if they did this to anyone else but Silas. But deep within, Silas knew they could see he was good too. Saw the potential to be good.
Slowly but surely, Silas pushed through the fortress. Bodies and crumbling foundation in his wake. Until he arrived at the center room.
"So... you return to me... Silassss" a voice echoed through the room. And a figure appeared on a balcony above. Crackling energy filled the room and made Silas' hair stand up straight.
"Maugaros!" Silas yelled.
He clenched his fists. This would be it. A last stand. either he would walk out of here with his friends, perhaps afraid of his power. Or he would die, and his friends too. But it would be a worthy death.
Silas prayed to the one god his friends worshipped, and felt his power surging. He saw the color of his lightning change to blue, and he knew Thor answered with a blessing. He heard the voice in his head roar. "Save my Son, Silas." | 'Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...'
The dungeon was filled with screams and blood like it always does. But the screaming and the lifeless bodies that is hanging from the chains doesn't belong to its usual prisoner. Laying lifelessly on the table is captain of the prison guard, his left eye gouged by a crude device, his fingers all chopped off by the same rusty knife that the captain himself often use on the prisoner, his leg amputated at the knee, the only wound that was made using a frost blade, in order to keep the victim from dying of blood loss before the perpetrator are done with them. His two guards chained to wall, both had the heart slowly crushed by magic. All three of them were dead before the owner of the room 'arrive' here with his wife and two children, all unconsious, binded in ropes and chains.
'Now now Mr.Kazco, we all know what I want. Tell me about the girl that you guy torture 4 days ago right in this room and where did you send her to, and I will let your family live.'
'You bloody bastard. You won't get away with this. Soon the guard will come and I will have your head rolling on the ground.'
Beak let out a big laugh. They are always like this, he think. They always think they are the big deal. Always think everything will go their way, and no one can do anything to harm them.
Beak reach into his pocket and put the eyeball of the dead captain on the table in front of the warden.
'You mean the owner of this little magic eye over here? Gotta say, this thing is pretty neat. Can you imagine how he react when I reflect this thing onto his son? It was hilarious I tell you. Never have I seen someone grovel on the ground that fast after I bested them in a duel. It was something straight out a comedy if you ask me'
The warden couldn't believe what he is seeing. Captain Pheco was not only a great fighter, but he also know his way with the mystic art. The fake eye that Pheco had was enchanted with magic capable of killing a manticore. It was his pride, the result of his effort that even the court mage were impressed by its power. Now it is rolling in front of him, bloodied, cracked.
'I can bring him and his nephew over if you want. Albeit it would be quite a pain in the ass to drag their body over.' - Beak reach for his knife and start to unsheath it - 'I also heard that you wanted to have a daughter? But you only have two sons right? Maybe I can help you with that. It gonna take just a few moment.'
Beak standup and walk over where the women and children lay. Even with all the screaming and noise of the torture, they are still soundly asleep due to his potion. He drag the wife by the hair and the first born by the hand to in front of the warden and say
'You are in great luck then, as I can help you get two daughter. A little cut here, a little slice there and you will have yourself a beautiful daughter.' - Beak cheerfully use his knife to point at the kid crotch - 'Or if you want thing to be more natural, this little bottle right here will make your wife pregnant with an Orc child. Don't be worry about the chances, I have done this more than a few time, I know all the trick and some helping magic to ensure that she will give birth to a beautiful Orc girl, with fangs and stuff.'
'You fucking sicko' - Kazco desperately try to break free, but the chain held him tightly to the chair, and his struggle only make it more painful for him. - 'Let go of my family, I'm the one that you want!'
'No no no. I want to know where the girl is. I couldn't care less about you to be honest. Maybe a bit about your wife too. She look so gorgeous for someone her age. Now that I think about it, maybe I should some time with her before using the bottle. You know what? Imma be right back with you, after getting this boner off first.' - Beak was untying the wife clothe as he say, much to Kazco dismay
'Stop it please, stop it. Please don't harm her, she is all that I ever have.' The warden keep struggle to break free but to no avail. He broke down crying as Beak was pulling his pant down
'Well then, tell me what I want to know, and I will be on my way. Lying would be stupid by the way, the truth potion will crush your heart if you try to lie. Maybe I do need to bring their body over from the next room after all hmm.....'
'Yllien city, Council of the Whitefeather. The girl was send to the Council of the Whitefeather. Lord Gruger have the hobby to feast on young girls and boys with magic potential, and to make them his mindless slaves. The girl is with the Trippier Route Caravan, their next destination is Muyvier city to pickup others slaves along the way. Please let my family go I beg of you. They have nothing to do with this.'
'Isn't that better? Now if you excuse me, I have a caravan to catch.'
Beak tidy up his clothes, grabbing the eye and his tools on the chair before taking out the small barrel of oil in the corner of the room and start spraying it all over the place.
'What are you doing? You promise to let them go? For the love of the High Gods stop!'
'I'm pretty sure I didn't take the true potion. Why you believe me, I have no idea.'
Kazco keep screaming obscenity and begging Beak to keep his word, but he keep ignoring the warden. As he finish dousing the place, he draw the dagger and whisper 'Ignite'. A spark flew out and the entire underground dungeon turned into a sea of flame, and with it, the Kazco family. Beak were already far away from it when the servant of the Kazco notice that the backyard and the entire left wind building is on fire and try to evacuate. After all, he finally got some clue of where his party healer is. The girl always tell Beak to be more positive about life, and how everything will work out in the end because the High Gods love humankind. 'It seems like the High Gods do love people like her' - Beak think to himself, 'Maybe I will ask her to teach me how to pray to them once we reunite, after all there are still more people that is missing, and as much as he want to deny it, they do make him feel like home.' | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "You can't do this. When the king hears what you've done to his men."
"The king will hear it from me when I return. You had one job, keep my friends safe. Half of them are dead, and the other half are gone."
Some hero I turned out to be. Summoned to this strange land, told I was there to save the kingdom. It wasn't so bad, i had benefits thrown in. All the good weapons, any armor I needed, and one of my friends got yanked through the portal with me. Something about stopping a demon Lord, never really figured out what they expected.
"You were brought here by the king. You were *chosen* to help us. You can't just," his voice stopped as my axe cut cleanly through his neck.
"But I **can** just." One traitor is all it took. One person working for the king to get close enough to us. One person we had in the group and trusted enough to stop watching. Sleeping drugs for everyone, snuck into our food. The others never stood a chance, their bodies were too frail. I didn't even notice the drugs, I was always tougher than smart. Woke up in the middle of the night, see two of my friends with their throats slit, two of them are gone, and a guy sneaking up with a knife.
***A trip to the kingdom later***
Gate guard: "So the hero returns? Is the rest of the group with you?"
"No. There's some people I need to talk to. You have 2 seconds to let me through before I forget what I'm supposed to be."
Guard: "I'm not sure what you mean by-*AAAAGH."*
As my axe cleaved through his chest he let out a final scream. Immediate panic, trained guards responding out of instinct.
"Has he gone crazy? Someone stop him before he reaches the court!"
It's funny how quickly they forget what I am. My trainer had issues keeping me in check, we couldn't even properly train without people on standby to subdue me with magic. I felt the primal rage building as my bloodlust grew. Everything turned red, there was no friend or foe, and no distractions. I only saw movement, and anything in my way would fall. I'll get their attention, one way or another.
***"BRING ME THE KING OR BRING ME YOUR BLOOD!"*** With my final scream I start swinging, every pass of my blade accompanied by a choir of death. The assassin hid everything he could, but he could never disguise the seal on his orders. The king would pay. | 'Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...'
The dungeon was filled with screams and blood like it always does. But the screaming and the lifeless bodies that is hanging from the chains doesn't belong to its usual prisoner. Laying lifelessly on the table is captain of the prison guard, his left eye gouged by a crude device, his fingers all chopped off by the same rusty knife that the captain himself often use on the prisoner, his leg amputated at the knee, the only wound that was made using a frost blade, in order to keep the victim from dying of blood loss before the perpetrator are done with them. His two guards chained to wall, both had the heart slowly crushed by magic. All three of them were dead before the owner of the room 'arrive' here with his wife and two children, all unconsious, binded in ropes and chains.
'Now now Mr.Kazco, we all know what I want. Tell me about the girl that you guy torture 4 days ago right in this room and where did you send her to, and I will let your family live.'
'You bloody bastard. You won't get away with this. Soon the guard will come and I will have your head rolling on the ground.'
Beak let out a big laugh. They are always like this, he think. They always think they are the big deal. Always think everything will go their way, and no one can do anything to harm them.
Beak reach into his pocket and put the eyeball of the dead captain on the table in front of the warden.
'You mean the owner of this little magic eye over here? Gotta say, this thing is pretty neat. Can you imagine how he react when I reflect this thing onto his son? It was hilarious I tell you. Never have I seen someone grovel on the ground that fast after I bested them in a duel. It was something straight out a comedy if you ask me'
The warden couldn't believe what he is seeing. Captain Pheco was not only a great fighter, but he also know his way with the mystic art. The fake eye that Pheco had was enchanted with magic capable of killing a manticore. It was his pride, the result of his effort that even the court mage were impressed by its power. Now it is rolling in front of him, bloodied, cracked.
'I can bring him and his nephew over if you want. Albeit it would be quite a pain in the ass to drag their body over.' - Beak reach for his knife and start to unsheath it - 'I also heard that you wanted to have a daughter? But you only have two sons right? Maybe I can help you with that. It gonna take just a few moment.'
Beak standup and walk over where the women and children lay. Even with all the screaming and noise of the torture, they are still soundly asleep due to his potion. He drag the wife by the hair and the first born by the hand to in front of the warden and say
'You are in great luck then, as I can help you get two daughter. A little cut here, a little slice there and you will have yourself a beautiful daughter.' - Beak cheerfully use his knife to point at the kid crotch - 'Or if you want thing to be more natural, this little bottle right here will make your wife pregnant with an Orc child. Don't be worry about the chances, I have done this more than a few time, I know all the trick and some helping magic to ensure that she will give birth to a beautiful Orc girl, with fangs and stuff.'
'You fucking sicko' - Kazco desperately try to break free, but the chain held him tightly to the chair, and his struggle only make it more painful for him. - 'Let go of my family, I'm the one that you want!'
'No no no. I want to know where the girl is. I couldn't care less about you to be honest. Maybe a bit about your wife too. She look so gorgeous for someone her age. Now that I think about it, maybe I should some time with her before using the bottle. You know what? Imma be right back with you, after getting this boner off first.' - Beak was untying the wife clothe as he say, much to Kazco dismay
'Stop it please, stop it. Please don't harm her, she is all that I ever have.' The warden keep struggle to break free but to no avail. He broke down crying as Beak was pulling his pant down
'Well then, tell me what I want to know, and I will be on my way. Lying would be stupid by the way, the truth potion will crush your heart if you try to lie. Maybe I do need to bring their body over from the next room after all hmm.....'
'Yllien city, Council of the Whitefeather. The girl was send to the Council of the Whitefeather. Lord Gruger have the hobby to feast on young girls and boys with magic potential, and to make them his mindless slaves. The girl is with the Trippier Route Caravan, their next destination is Muyvier city to pickup others slaves along the way. Please let my family go I beg of you. They have nothing to do with this.'
'Isn't that better? Now if you excuse me, I have a caravan to catch.'
Beak tidy up his clothes, grabbing the eye and his tools on the chair before taking out the small barrel of oil in the corner of the room and start spraying it all over the place.
'What are you doing? You promise to let them go? For the love of the High Gods stop!'
'I'm pretty sure I didn't take the true potion. Why you believe me, I have no idea.'
Kazco keep screaming obscenity and begging Beak to keep his word, but he keep ignoring the warden. As he finish dousing the place, he draw the dagger and whisper 'Ignite'. A spark flew out and the entire underground dungeon turned into a sea of flame, and with it, the Kazco family. Beak were already far away from it when the servant of the Kazco notice that the backyard and the entire left wind building is on fire and try to evacuate. After all, he finally got some clue of where his party healer is. The girl always tell Beak to be more positive about life, and how everything will work out in the end because the High Gods love humankind. 'It seems like the High Gods do love people like her' - Beak think to himself, 'Maybe I will ask her to teach me how to pray to them once we reunite, after all there are still more people that is missing, and as much as he want to deny it, they do make him feel like home.' | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | 'Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...'
The dungeon was filled with screams and blood like it always does. But the screaming and the lifeless bodies that is hanging from the chains doesn't belong to its usual prisoner. Laying lifelessly on the table is captain of the prison guard, his left eye gouged by a crude device, his fingers all chopped off by the same rusty knife that the captain himself often use on the prisoner, his leg amputated at the knee, the only wound that was made using a frost blade, in order to keep the victim from dying of blood loss before the perpetrator are done with them. His two guards chained to wall, both had the heart slowly crushed by magic. All three of them were dead before the owner of the room 'arrive' here with his wife and two children, all unconsious, binded in ropes and chains.
'Now now Mr.Kazco, we all know what I want. Tell me about the girl that you guy torture 4 days ago right in this room and where did you send her to, and I will let your family live.'
'You bloody bastard. You won't get away with this. Soon the guard will come and I will have your head rolling on the ground.'
Beak let out a big laugh. They are always like this, he think. They always think they are the big deal. Always think everything will go their way, and no one can do anything to harm them.
Beak reach into his pocket and put the eyeball of the dead captain on the table in front of the warden.
'You mean the owner of this little magic eye over here? Gotta say, this thing is pretty neat. Can you imagine how he react when I reflect this thing onto his son? It was hilarious I tell you. Never have I seen someone grovel on the ground that fast after I bested them in a duel. It was something straight out a comedy if you ask me'
The warden couldn't believe what he is seeing. Captain Pheco was not only a great fighter, but he also know his way with the mystic art. The fake eye that Pheco had was enchanted with magic capable of killing a manticore. It was his pride, the result of his effort that even the court mage were impressed by its power. Now it is rolling in front of him, bloodied, cracked.
'I can bring him and his nephew over if you want. Albeit it would be quite a pain in the ass to drag their body over.' - Beak reach for his knife and start to unsheath it - 'I also heard that you wanted to have a daughter? But you only have two sons right? Maybe I can help you with that. It gonna take just a few moment.'
Beak standup and walk over where the women and children lay. Even with all the screaming and noise of the torture, they are still soundly asleep due to his potion. He drag the wife by the hair and the first born by the hand to in front of the warden and say
'You are in great luck then, as I can help you get two daughter. A little cut here, a little slice there and you will have yourself a beautiful daughter.' - Beak cheerfully use his knife to point at the kid crotch - 'Or if you want thing to be more natural, this little bottle right here will make your wife pregnant with an Orc child. Don't be worry about the chances, I have done this more than a few time, I know all the trick and some helping magic to ensure that she will give birth to a beautiful Orc girl, with fangs and stuff.'
'You fucking sicko' - Kazco desperately try to break free, but the chain held him tightly to the chair, and his struggle only make it more painful for him. - 'Let go of my family, I'm the one that you want!'
'No no no. I want to know where the girl is. I couldn't care less about you to be honest. Maybe a bit about your wife too. She look so gorgeous for someone her age. Now that I think about it, maybe I should some time with her before using the bottle. You know what? Imma be right back with you, after getting this boner off first.' - Beak was untying the wife clothe as he say, much to Kazco dismay
'Stop it please, stop it. Please don't harm her, she is all that I ever have.' The warden keep struggle to break free but to no avail. He broke down crying as Beak was pulling his pant down
'Well then, tell me what I want to know, and I will be on my way. Lying would be stupid by the way, the truth potion will crush your heart if you try to lie. Maybe I do need to bring their body over from the next room after all hmm.....'
'Yllien city, Council of the Whitefeather. The girl was send to the Council of the Whitefeather. Lord Gruger have the hobby to feast on young girls and boys with magic potential, and to make them his mindless slaves. The girl is with the Trippier Route Caravan, their next destination is Muyvier city to pickup others slaves along the way. Please let my family go I beg of you. They have nothing to do with this.'
'Isn't that better? Now if you excuse me, I have a caravan to catch.'
Beak tidy up his clothes, grabbing the eye and his tools on the chair before taking out the small barrel of oil in the corner of the room and start spraying it all over the place.
'What are you doing? You promise to let them go? For the love of the High Gods stop!'
'I'm pretty sure I didn't take the true potion. Why you believe me, I have no idea.'
Kazco keep screaming obscenity and begging Beak to keep his word, but he keep ignoring the warden. As he finish dousing the place, he draw the dagger and whisper 'Ignite'. A spark flew out and the entire underground dungeon turned into a sea of flame, and with it, the Kazco family. Beak were already far away from it when the servant of the Kazco notice that the backyard and the entire left wind building is on fire and try to evacuate. After all, he finally got some clue of where his party healer is. The girl always tell Beak to be more positive about life, and how everything will work out in the end because the High Gods love humankind. 'It seems like the High Gods do love people like her' - Beak think to himself, 'Maybe I will ask her to teach me how to pray to them once we reunite, after all there are still more people that is missing, and as much as he want to deny it, they do make him feel like home.' | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since joining up with The Good Guys, the name we gave ourselves when we set out to free the hamlets from the grips of a tyrant. My only friends.
Eve was the one who brought me in to the group. A court jester turned vigilante, who kept her blade nearly as sharp as her tongue. She taught me that no one was beyond redemption. They would have been well within their rights to hang me for stealing the blade of morning from them. But with my back against a wall and sword at my throat she’s the one who plead my case. They needed a thief to steal it back, and I was the only one they knew.
Marx disagreed. I’d spent a lifetime stealing and killing to get by. He believed, no he knew, those people deserved justice. He was right of course, I knew it then as well I know it now. It took months for him to trust me. Never letting me out of his sight less I hurt the innocents he swore to protect. I couldn’t believe my eyes as this man, who seemed more of a giant to me, was beaten down and captured by the mad kings men.
Michael was the deciding vote. A warrior priest, who should have seen monster when he looked at me, but saw a broken man in need. He helped me more than he’ll ever know. He saved my life a dozen times over. I just hope I’m up to the task of returning the favor.
Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since I met my friends. But they’ve all been taken, either prisoners or dead by King Matthew’s hand. And before I die I’ll see to it the mad king know why a good man doesn’t need rules. | It’s my first try on these. I’m sorry for my awful writing.
Dave wiped the blood from his blade before the guard even hit the floor. No expression came to his face, he didn’t enjoy killing, but he didn’t hate it either.
His party of four years was made up of good, friendly people. And they’d paid the price for that. Dave didn’t want them to see the person he was, those people had given him what had been stripped of long ago with their righteous dream. And now he would protect that dream of theirs.
Certainly, they needed a cold dose of reality to show them the world wasn’t all black and white. But Dave didn’t want that dose to come from him, not yet at least.
“Y-you psychotic monster! You’ll pay for this!”
“Do you accept cash? Or would an IOU suffice?” The monster hiding within the hero party growled, his bladed tentacles whipping through the man’s body like so much paper.
Dave had already killed his way through the fortress, and gotten the information he needed.
“Just hang on tight kiddos” the grizzled old shapeshifter spoke.
“The demon lord’s gonna regret facing an elder god!” His voice became distorted. Gaining some unknown quantity beyond that of a mortal.
And so Dave, or as those with true power knew him. Azathoth. Continued his rampage through the mortal realms, until he found the king of evil, and ripped him apart at a conceptual level. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | As I walk down the grand marble hall two guards approach me, probably about to stop me and ask me for a permit but before they can do that I just pull out my sabers and slice them in half.
They used to be silver with the plasma flowing off of their edges green like the flourishing grass of my homeland but now... now they burn with my emotions.
The deeper into the hall I get the less light there is and the more of the guards rush in, still unaware of their first two losses.
"Halt! The Atreuonum Sactinis is forbidden for all but the S'Alai!"
He can't be any older than twenty, a new recruit into the order it would seem.
As I grab the young man and place one of my sabers to his throath, even when not quite powered their edges are as sharp as any other sword's, I yell at all the other guards who finally take me as a proper threat and pull out their swords.
"Listen here you bunch of sad idiots, I am here for one thing and one thing only!"
"Let him go, now!"
"It is impolite to interupt the guy with the gun..." I shoot the improper bastard.
"Now, where was I? Oh yes, I am here for one simple, tinsy, winsy thing... You can't give it to me though... only your precious Qui'Alain."
Now that's got a reaction out of them, angry faces and a few steps towards me.
"Oh, and I should also tell you, THEY are here for you..." From the shadows of the temple my temporary alies come forth.
Ravenous.
Full of hatered.
Thirsting for blood.
"LEAVE NONE STANDING, BROTHERS AND SISTES!" Amanhand, the leader of the dark god followers enters the scene with his typical line and lets his savage followers into town.
Now that my part of the bargain is half done... time for the fun part.
As I shoot and slice my way through hordes of patheticaly weak guardians I start to grow a wicked old smile I missed for so long. Slaughtering such a weak foe feels good... And showing off to all those pathetic fighters does too. Nevertheless I make my way towards my objective.
The Qui'Alain. Priesthood women sensitive to magicka and it's flow, meant to be oracles and Greybeard advisors. Never taught to fight.
The Dark Guard got to the Qui'Alain quarters before me, luckily they are far too incompetent to break through the S'Alain defenses.
It is a simple job really, throw a few smoke grenades in, a head or two of their fellow guards through those and rush in with full shields. Once I get to the first one it's all over, any injury they can cause me will be healed by one of their deaths and my rage shall fuel my might further until the last one remains.
"I- I yield! I can tell you everyting about this place! He-here! The keys to the Qui'alak quarters!" He says as he crawls on the ground, wounded.
I use my sword to break the lock of the quarters and look down on him. "I though your little order taught you to never give up..."
"I- I will! Just please let me live I want to say hello to my mo-" Like I care about this fly's sob story.
The Dark Guard rushes inside the main room wehre they gather all the Qui'Alain.
When they bring the 'mother' and confirm that they found all of them the leader stands proudly before them. Has her lifted up by his lapdogs and smiles widely, letting his fangs shine.
He raises his hand with a dagger and just as he is to stab her heart I use my powers to pull back at his hand from distance. "Wha- How dare you int-"
"Remember our deal? You better or I'll make sure you won't be able to spout anymore bullshit."
I take the mother by the throat and lift her off the floor.
"I will ask you this ONCE. Where. Are. The Elisians?!"
"You... you will never learn it, monster!"
I shoot one of her Qui'Alain.
"Forgot to mention that for each time I need to repeat myself I will shoot one of you."
"I... I will ne-" The deep hissing noise and bang my pistol makes is trully a sweet tune to my ears.
"For the third time. Where. Are. The Elisians?"
"They... They are in the Harald Mountais..."
"Expected you to last at least till round five! Good work, lady"
I snap her neck.
"Now you can do whatever you want with them, Count..."
As I leave the temple I can hear screams and shots...
When I inhale the sweet stench of death and singed flesh I stand atop the monastery stairs, clad in my old armor that still had that wolf fur around the neck and the rune carvings, I think out loud.
"The Wolf... is back..." | It’s my first try on these. I’m sorry for my awful writing.
Dave wiped the blood from his blade before the guard even hit the floor. No expression came to his face, he didn’t enjoy killing, but he didn’t hate it either.
His party of four years was made up of good, friendly people. And they’d paid the price for that. Dave didn’t want them to see the person he was, those people had given him what had been stripped of long ago with their righteous dream. And now he would protect that dream of theirs.
Certainly, they needed a cold dose of reality to show them the world wasn’t all black and white. But Dave didn’t want that dose to come from him, not yet at least.
“Y-you psychotic monster! You’ll pay for this!”
“Do you accept cash? Or would an IOU suffice?” The monster hiding within the hero party growled, his bladed tentacles whipping through the man’s body like so much paper.
Dave had already killed his way through the fortress, and gotten the information he needed.
“Just hang on tight kiddos” the grizzled old shapeshifter spoke.
“The demon lord’s gonna regret facing an elder god!” His voice became distorted. Gaining some unknown quantity beyond that of a mortal.
And so Dave, or as those with true power knew him. Azathoth. Continued his rampage through the mortal realms, until he found the king of evil, and ripped him apart at a conceptual level. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | She offered me water.
In the middle of the Death Forge Desert, water was worth more than gold. Worth more than magic even, as most of us need it for even basic spellwork. It was as if she didn't care or mind that offering it to me could spell her own doom. She was right to, in any case. I am one of the best friends she could ever have.
I accepted it, and when she explained that she and her friends were searching for the Patron God of War to stop the battling in the eastern valleys, I decided to tag along.
The intention was to pay her back; I do not like being in someone's debt. But even after I had saved her life, and the lives of her friends multiple times, I didn't feel compelled to leave.
How quaint, to risk your life for the sake of the better good. How optimistic. How pure. It should have been funny, but they were the best companions I had had in such a long time.
There were stipulations to being with a group of paladins. No senseless murdering. No torturing. Nothing their patron god might disagree with.
I followed of course. I let the raiders following us into the hills continue on. I did nothing more than wound when they began to attack, separating us from each other slowly until there were none but me and her.
I asked her, if I could kill them all, and bring all of our friends back, would she want me to. And stubbornly, she still refused.
I saw no other options, and in the middle of the night, when our fire was yet but tinders and all that was left was their broken weapons, and her abandoned sleepong roll, I was finally free to act.
The war in the east was naught one that I could stop, even as a God in my own right. But this? This I could do. I would burn the world for them, and I could. | It’s my first try on these. I’m sorry for my awful writing.
Dave wiped the blood from his blade before the guard even hit the floor. No expression came to his face, he didn’t enjoy killing, but he didn’t hate it either.
His party of four years was made up of good, friendly people. And they’d paid the price for that. Dave didn’t want them to see the person he was, those people had given him what had been stripped of long ago with their righteous dream. And now he would protect that dream of theirs.
Certainly, they needed a cold dose of reality to show them the world wasn’t all black and white. But Dave didn’t want that dose to come from him, not yet at least.
“Y-you psychotic monster! You’ll pay for this!”
“Do you accept cash? Or would an IOU suffice?” The monster hiding within the hero party growled, his bladed tentacles whipping through the man’s body like so much paper.
Dave had already killed his way through the fortress, and gotten the information he needed.
“Just hang on tight kiddos” the grizzled old shapeshifter spoke.
“The demon lord’s gonna regret facing an elder god!” His voice became distorted. Gaining some unknown quantity beyond that of a mortal.
And so Dave, or as those with true power knew him. Azathoth. Continued his rampage through the mortal realms, until he found the king of evil, and ripped him apart at a conceptual level. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. |
I killed the first guard as he was taking a piss. My footsteps were drowned out by laughter from the party in the room next door. He stank and swayed like he had been partaking in the revelry himself. I slit his throat with my boot knife and pillaged his belongings before slowly lowering his body into the latrine hole. All he had was a sack of coins and a silver pocket watch with “Love, Meredith” inscribed on the back. Coin spends well enough but I’ll have to sell the watch at a shop in the next village. Still, should fetch a decent price.
The second guard was trickier. He was chatting up another party goer in a long hallway and she would certainly scream if she saw me kill him. Hallways like this always suck because any noise is magnified by the echo. Luckily the fucks who built this place loved their columns. I weave my way from one to the next, making sure to avoid any of the moonlight coming through the windows. The cold stones were uncomfortable with my bare feet, but my shoes were heavy and would have given me away in an instant. I angle myself behind a column only a dozen steps from where they’re standing and quietly pull the draw on my crossbow and load a bolt. I raise it up and fire, the bolt cutting through the short space between us in an instant. It strikes him were I want, at the base of his skull and to the left, passing cleanly through his jugular and out, then striking the woman in her eye before burying itself deep in her brain tissue. I sprint forward and catch both bodies and slowly lower them to the ground. Nowhere to hide these, so I drag them behind the shadow of a column. With how close I am to my goal; I should be in and out before anyone stumbles onto them
The woman doesn’t have any money on her, though I shouldn’t be surprised. She dressed as a maid and doesn’t have much in the way of carrying capacity. The guard has a second sack of coins and the one thing I’ve been looking for; keys to the cellar. I step quietly through the doorway and into the next room that appears to be a second banquet hall. The table is long enough for 40 guests but none of the place settings are out. Good sign. Looks like the party, and therefore the crowd, will be kept to the other side of the castle.
I go out through the door at the back of the room and find the staircase that leads down to the cellars. The steps are winding and the deeper I go the colder it gets. No time to lose focus. I exit the stairs into a narrow hallway lit gently on both sides by torches. At the center of the hallway is a small wooden door. I approach it and pull it open just enough to see inside. On the wall to the left is a guard asleep in his bed. One of the barracks then. I slip inside and shut the door gently behind me, then pull my boot knife out and get to work. The guard I saw first doesn’t even make a sound as I press the knife into the side of his throat, but I cover his mouth anyway, just in case. The bed next to him is unoccupied but on the other side of the room are two more guards, both sound asleep. I cut the second guard the same as the first but he manages to gurgle and cough. Blood sprays up and hits me in the face as the man dies.
“Please”
I snap my head forward and see the third guard sitting up in his bed, his hands trembling as they hold the blanket up on his chest.
“Please” he says again, his voice breaking. “Please I don’t want to die. They conscripted me. Pl-please don’t kill me.” Tears begin rolling down his face.
“Conscripted, huh?” I say. He nods his head, hands still trembling. I dry the blood off my knife on my sleeve and use a clean portion of the dead guard’s blanket to wipe the blood off my face. I must look like a demon.
“Shitty job placement, then.” I spin the knife softly up into the air and catch it by the newly cleaned blade, then throw it at the trembling man in bed. The blade hits him squarely in the forehead. The energy jerks his head backwards as blood spurts out of the wound. He slumps back into bed, hands sprawled out to his sides.
I exit the room quietly and move to the end of the hall. Using the guard key I stole, I open up the cellar door and enter the dimly lit room behind it. There I see them. All three are strung up from the ceiling and covered in their own dried blood. The guards must have been beating them for a few days. I softly approach them. I lay my hand on the first, but he’s cold to the touch. I sigh and move to the next. He’s at least warm, but his eyes are open and there’s no life left. Must have missed him by a hours. A day at the most. The third stirs slightly as I place my hand on him.
“Shhhh.” I say. “It’s ok. I’ve got you.”
I use my boot knife to cut his ropes and lower him softly to the ground. I pull a piece of bread out of my satchel and hand it to him. He’s slow to move, but he grips it with enough strength that answers my next question as I ask it.
“Can you move?”
“Yeah. Yeah I think I can.”
“Good, then we’re moving.”
He grunts in approval and we make our way back out of the cellar. I walk past the two bodies I left in the hallway and strip the coat and cloak off the dead guard and hand it to my partner. If the wounds slow him down, the cold would finish him off. We have a lot of ground to cover and once they realize what I’ve done, they’ll be after us. But hey, what are friends for. | It’s my first try on these. I’m sorry for my awful writing.
Dave wiped the blood from his blade before the guard even hit the floor. No expression came to his face, he didn’t enjoy killing, but he didn’t hate it either.
His party of four years was made up of good, friendly people. And they’d paid the price for that. Dave didn’t want them to see the person he was, those people had given him what had been stripped of long ago with their righteous dream. And now he would protect that dream of theirs.
Certainly, they needed a cold dose of reality to show them the world wasn’t all black and white. But Dave didn’t want that dose to come from him, not yet at least.
“Y-you psychotic monster! You’ll pay for this!”
“Do you accept cash? Or would an IOU suffice?” The monster hiding within the hero party growled, his bladed tentacles whipping through the man’s body like so much paper.
Dave had already killed his way through the fortress, and gotten the information he needed.
“Just hang on tight kiddos” the grizzled old shapeshifter spoke.
“The demon lord’s gonna regret facing an elder god!” His voice became distorted. Gaining some unknown quantity beyond that of a mortal.
And so Dave, or as those with true power knew him. Azathoth. Continued his rampage through the mortal realms, until he found the king of evil, and ripped him apart at a conceptual level. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | A grin on Silas' face.
Sickly green lightning, coursing through his veins, occasionally sparking out from the bare skin. The ground beneath his feet scorching, with leaves hovering the air from the static spread by him.
One guard fell. And another. Pure, unbridled power, kept secret for so long. He never dared to unleash his full power. Until now. Because it was needed.
They did this. Those creatures. Silas was once one of them. A Damûn. But he broke free from the shackles. At least, partially. A part of him was still the unthinking beast. Killing, murdering. Pure instinct to hunt, feed, consume, and grow. And at this moment, he let that part of him free. The sane part of him was worried he would be addicted to its power. Or that it would consume too much, so much he would be unable to return.
But his friends... they were good people. They helped Silas when they found him in a ditch by the road. They saw he was wounded. They saw he was different than Man or Elf or Dwarf. But they still helped him. They were fools, maybe, if they did this to anyone else but Silas. But deep within, Silas knew they could see he was good too. Saw the potential to be good.
Slowly but surely, Silas pushed through the fortress. Bodies and crumbling foundation in his wake. Until he arrived at the center room.
"So... you return to me... Silassss" a voice echoed through the room. And a figure appeared on a balcony above. Crackling energy filled the room and made Silas' hair stand up straight.
"Maugaros!" Silas yelled.
He clenched his fists. This would be it. A last stand. either he would walk out of here with his friends, perhaps afraid of his power. Or he would die, and his friends too. But it would be a worthy death.
Silas prayed to the one god his friends worshipped, and felt his power surging. He saw the color of his lightning change to blue, and he knew Thor answered with a blessing. He heard the voice in his head roar. "Save my Son, Silas." | It’s my first try on these. I’m sorry for my awful writing.
Dave wiped the blood from his blade before the guard even hit the floor. No expression came to his face, he didn’t enjoy killing, but he didn’t hate it either.
His party of four years was made up of good, friendly people. And they’d paid the price for that. Dave didn’t want them to see the person he was, those people had given him what had been stripped of long ago with their righteous dream. And now he would protect that dream of theirs.
Certainly, they needed a cold dose of reality to show them the world wasn’t all black and white. But Dave didn’t want that dose to come from him, not yet at least.
“Y-you psychotic monster! You’ll pay for this!”
“Do you accept cash? Or would an IOU suffice?” The monster hiding within the hero party growled, his bladed tentacles whipping through the man’s body like so much paper.
Dave had already killed his way through the fortress, and gotten the information he needed.
“Just hang on tight kiddos” the grizzled old shapeshifter spoke.
“The demon lord’s gonna regret facing an elder god!” His voice became distorted. Gaining some unknown quantity beyond that of a mortal.
And so Dave, or as those with true power knew him. Azathoth. Continued his rampage through the mortal realms, until he found the king of evil, and ripped him apart at a conceptual level. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | It’s my first try on these. I’m sorry for my awful writing.
Dave wiped the blood from his blade before the guard even hit the floor. No expression came to his face, he didn’t enjoy killing, but he didn’t hate it either.
His party of four years was made up of good, friendly people. And they’d paid the price for that. Dave didn’t want them to see the person he was, those people had given him what had been stripped of long ago with their righteous dream. And now he would protect that dream of theirs.
Certainly, they needed a cold dose of reality to show them the world wasn’t all black and white. But Dave didn’t want that dose to come from him, not yet at least.
“Y-you psychotic monster! You’ll pay for this!”
“Do you accept cash? Or would an IOU suffice?” The monster hiding within the hero party growled, his bladed tentacles whipping through the man’s body like so much paper.
Dave had already killed his way through the fortress, and gotten the information he needed.
“Just hang on tight kiddos” the grizzled old shapeshifter spoke.
“The demon lord’s gonna regret facing an elder god!” His voice became distorted. Gaining some unknown quantity beyond that of a mortal.
And so Dave, or as those with true power knew him. Azathoth. Continued his rampage through the mortal realms, until he found the king of evil, and ripped him apart at a conceptual level. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | A grin on Silas' face.
Sickly green lightning, coursing through his veins, occasionally sparking out from the bare skin. The ground beneath his feet scorching, with leaves hovering the air from the static spread by him.
One guard fell. And another. Pure, unbridled power, kept secret for so long. He never dared to unleash his full power. Until now. Because it was needed.
They did this. Those creatures. Silas was once one of them. A Damûn. But he broke free from the shackles. At least, partially. A part of him was still the unthinking beast. Killing, murdering. Pure instinct to hunt, feed, consume, and grow. And at this moment, he let that part of him free. The sane part of him was worried he would be addicted to its power. Or that it would consume too much, so much he would be unable to return.
But his friends... they were good people. They helped Silas when they found him in a ditch by the road. They saw he was wounded. They saw he was different than Man or Elf or Dwarf. But they still helped him. They were fools, maybe, if they did this to anyone else but Silas. But deep within, Silas knew they could see he was good too. Saw the potential to be good.
Slowly but surely, Silas pushed through the fortress. Bodies and crumbling foundation in his wake. Until he arrived at the center room.
"So... you return to me... Silassss" a voice echoed through the room. And a figure appeared on a balcony above. Crackling energy filled the room and made Silas' hair stand up straight.
"Maugaros!" Silas yelled.
He clenched his fists. This would be it. A last stand. either he would walk out of here with his friends, perhaps afraid of his power. Or he would die, and his friends too. But it would be a worthy death.
Silas prayed to the one god his friends worshipped, and felt his power surging. He saw the color of his lightning change to blue, and he knew Thor answered with a blessing. He heard the voice in his head roar. "Save my Son, Silas." | As I walk down the grand marble hall two guards approach me, probably about to stop me and ask me for a permit but before they can do that I just pull out my sabers and slice them in half.
They used to be silver with the plasma flowing off of their edges green like the flourishing grass of my homeland but now... now they burn with my emotions.
The deeper into the hall I get the less light there is and the more of the guards rush in, still unaware of their first two losses.
"Halt! The Atreuonum Sactinis is forbidden for all but the S'Alai!"
He can't be any older than twenty, a new recruit into the order it would seem.
As I grab the young man and place one of my sabers to his throath, even when not quite powered their edges are as sharp as any other sword's, I yell at all the other guards who finally take me as a proper threat and pull out their swords.
"Listen here you bunch of sad idiots, I am here for one thing and one thing only!"
"Let him go, now!"
"It is impolite to interupt the guy with the gun..." I shoot the improper bastard.
"Now, where was I? Oh yes, I am here for one simple, tinsy, winsy thing... You can't give it to me though... only your precious Qui'Alain."
Now that's got a reaction out of them, angry faces and a few steps towards me.
"Oh, and I should also tell you, THEY are here for you..." From the shadows of the temple my temporary alies come forth.
Ravenous.
Full of hatered.
Thirsting for blood.
"LEAVE NONE STANDING, BROTHERS AND SISTES!" Amanhand, the leader of the dark god followers enters the scene with his typical line and lets his savage followers into town.
Now that my part of the bargain is half done... time for the fun part.
As I shoot and slice my way through hordes of patheticaly weak guardians I start to grow a wicked old smile I missed for so long. Slaughtering such a weak foe feels good... And showing off to all those pathetic fighters does too. Nevertheless I make my way towards my objective.
The Qui'Alain. Priesthood women sensitive to magicka and it's flow, meant to be oracles and Greybeard advisors. Never taught to fight.
The Dark Guard got to the Qui'Alain quarters before me, luckily they are far too incompetent to break through the S'Alain defenses.
It is a simple job really, throw a few smoke grenades in, a head or two of their fellow guards through those and rush in with full shields. Once I get to the first one it's all over, any injury they can cause me will be healed by one of their deaths and my rage shall fuel my might further until the last one remains.
"I- I yield! I can tell you everyting about this place! He-here! The keys to the Qui'alak quarters!" He says as he crawls on the ground, wounded.
I use my sword to break the lock of the quarters and look down on him. "I though your little order taught you to never give up..."
"I- I will! Just please let me live I want to say hello to my mo-" Like I care about this fly's sob story.
The Dark Guard rushes inside the main room wehre they gather all the Qui'Alain.
When they bring the 'mother' and confirm that they found all of them the leader stands proudly before them. Has her lifted up by his lapdogs and smiles widely, letting his fangs shine.
He raises his hand with a dagger and just as he is to stab her heart I use my powers to pull back at his hand from distance. "Wha- How dare you int-"
"Remember our deal? You better or I'll make sure you won't be able to spout anymore bullshit."
I take the mother by the throat and lift her off the floor.
"I will ask you this ONCE. Where. Are. The Elisians?!"
"You... you will never learn it, monster!"
I shoot one of her Qui'Alain.
"Forgot to mention that for each time I need to repeat myself I will shoot one of you."
"I... I will ne-" The deep hissing noise and bang my pistol makes is trully a sweet tune to my ears.
"For the third time. Where. Are. The Elisians?"
"They... They are in the Harald Mountais..."
"Expected you to last at least till round five! Good work, lady"
I snap her neck.
"Now you can do whatever you want with them, Count..."
As I leave the temple I can hear screams and shots...
When I inhale the sweet stench of death and singed flesh I stand atop the monastery stairs, clad in my old armor that still had that wolf fur around the neck and the rune carvings, I think out loud.
"The Wolf... is back..." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | As I walk down the grand marble hall two guards approach me, probably about to stop me and ask me for a permit but before they can do that I just pull out my sabers and slice them in half.
They used to be silver with the plasma flowing off of their edges green like the flourishing grass of my homeland but now... now they burn with my emotions.
The deeper into the hall I get the less light there is and the more of the guards rush in, still unaware of their first two losses.
"Halt! The Atreuonum Sactinis is forbidden for all but the S'Alai!"
He can't be any older than twenty, a new recruit into the order it would seem.
As I grab the young man and place one of my sabers to his throath, even when not quite powered their edges are as sharp as any other sword's, I yell at all the other guards who finally take me as a proper threat and pull out their swords.
"Listen here you bunch of sad idiots, I am here for one thing and one thing only!"
"Let him go, now!"
"It is impolite to interupt the guy with the gun..." I shoot the improper bastard.
"Now, where was I? Oh yes, I am here for one simple, tinsy, winsy thing... You can't give it to me though... only your precious Qui'Alain."
Now that's got a reaction out of them, angry faces and a few steps towards me.
"Oh, and I should also tell you, THEY are here for you..." From the shadows of the temple my temporary alies come forth.
Ravenous.
Full of hatered.
Thirsting for blood.
"LEAVE NONE STANDING, BROTHERS AND SISTES!" Amanhand, the leader of the dark god followers enters the scene with his typical line and lets his savage followers into town.
Now that my part of the bargain is half done... time for the fun part.
As I shoot and slice my way through hordes of patheticaly weak guardians I start to grow a wicked old smile I missed for so long. Slaughtering such a weak foe feels good... And showing off to all those pathetic fighters does too. Nevertheless I make my way towards my objective.
The Qui'Alain. Priesthood women sensitive to magicka and it's flow, meant to be oracles and Greybeard advisors. Never taught to fight.
The Dark Guard got to the Qui'Alain quarters before me, luckily they are far too incompetent to break through the S'Alain defenses.
It is a simple job really, throw a few smoke grenades in, a head or two of their fellow guards through those and rush in with full shields. Once I get to the first one it's all over, any injury they can cause me will be healed by one of their deaths and my rage shall fuel my might further until the last one remains.
"I- I yield! I can tell you everyting about this place! He-here! The keys to the Qui'alak quarters!" He says as he crawls on the ground, wounded.
I use my sword to break the lock of the quarters and look down on him. "I though your little order taught you to never give up..."
"I- I will! Just please let me live I want to say hello to my mo-" Like I care about this fly's sob story.
The Dark Guard rushes inside the main room wehre they gather all the Qui'Alain.
When they bring the 'mother' and confirm that they found all of them the leader stands proudly before them. Has her lifted up by his lapdogs and smiles widely, letting his fangs shine.
He raises his hand with a dagger and just as he is to stab her heart I use my powers to pull back at his hand from distance. "Wha- How dare you int-"
"Remember our deal? You better or I'll make sure you won't be able to spout anymore bullshit."
I take the mother by the throat and lift her off the floor.
"I will ask you this ONCE. Where. Are. The Elisians?!"
"You... you will never learn it, monster!"
I shoot one of her Qui'Alain.
"Forgot to mention that for each time I need to repeat myself I will shoot one of you."
"I... I will ne-" The deep hissing noise and bang my pistol makes is trully a sweet tune to my ears.
"For the third time. Where. Are. The Elisians?"
"They... They are in the Harald Mountais..."
"Expected you to last at least till round five! Good work, lady"
I snap her neck.
"Now you can do whatever you want with them, Count..."
As I leave the temple I can hear screams and shots...
When I inhale the sweet stench of death and singed flesh I stand atop the monastery stairs, clad in my old armor that still had that wolf fur around the neck and the rune carvings, I think out loud.
"The Wolf... is back..." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | A grin on Silas' face.
Sickly green lightning, coursing through his veins, occasionally sparking out from the bare skin. The ground beneath his feet scorching, with leaves hovering the air from the static spread by him.
One guard fell. And another. Pure, unbridled power, kept secret for so long. He never dared to unleash his full power. Until now. Because it was needed.
They did this. Those creatures. Silas was once one of them. A Damûn. But he broke free from the shackles. At least, partially. A part of him was still the unthinking beast. Killing, murdering. Pure instinct to hunt, feed, consume, and grow. And at this moment, he let that part of him free. The sane part of him was worried he would be addicted to its power. Or that it would consume too much, so much he would be unable to return.
But his friends... they were good people. They helped Silas when they found him in a ditch by the road. They saw he was wounded. They saw he was different than Man or Elf or Dwarf. But they still helped him. They were fools, maybe, if they did this to anyone else but Silas. But deep within, Silas knew they could see he was good too. Saw the potential to be good.
Slowly but surely, Silas pushed through the fortress. Bodies and crumbling foundation in his wake. Until he arrived at the center room.
"So... you return to me... Silassss" a voice echoed through the room. And a figure appeared on a balcony above. Crackling energy filled the room and made Silas' hair stand up straight.
"Maugaros!" Silas yelled.
He clenched his fists. This would be it. A last stand. either he would walk out of here with his friends, perhaps afraid of his power. Or he would die, and his friends too. But it would be a worthy death.
Silas prayed to the one god his friends worshipped, and felt his power surging. He saw the color of his lightning change to blue, and he knew Thor answered with a blessing. He heard the voice in his head roar. "Save my Son, Silas." | She offered me water.
In the middle of the Death Forge Desert, water was worth more than gold. Worth more than magic even, as most of us need it for even basic spellwork. It was as if she didn't care or mind that offering it to me could spell her own doom. She was right to, in any case. I am one of the best friends she could ever have.
I accepted it, and when she explained that she and her friends were searching for the Patron God of War to stop the battling in the eastern valleys, I decided to tag along.
The intention was to pay her back; I do not like being in someone's debt. But even after I had saved her life, and the lives of her friends multiple times, I didn't feel compelled to leave.
How quaint, to risk your life for the sake of the better good. How optimistic. How pure. It should have been funny, but they were the best companions I had had in such a long time.
There were stipulations to being with a group of paladins. No senseless murdering. No torturing. Nothing their patron god might disagree with.
I followed of course. I let the raiders following us into the hills continue on. I did nothing more than wound when they began to attack, separating us from each other slowly until there were none but me and her.
I asked her, if I could kill them all, and bring all of our friends back, would she want me to. And stubbornly, she still refused.
I saw no other options, and in the middle of the night, when our fire was yet but tinders and all that was left was their broken weapons, and her abandoned sleepong roll, I was finally free to act.
The war in the east was naught one that I could stop, even as a God in my own right. But this? This I could do. I would burn the world for them, and I could. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | She offered me water.
In the middle of the Death Forge Desert, water was worth more than gold. Worth more than magic even, as most of us need it for even basic spellwork. It was as if she didn't care or mind that offering it to me could spell her own doom. She was right to, in any case. I am one of the best friends she could ever have.
I accepted it, and when she explained that she and her friends were searching for the Patron God of War to stop the battling in the eastern valleys, I decided to tag along.
The intention was to pay her back; I do not like being in someone's debt. But even after I had saved her life, and the lives of her friends multiple times, I didn't feel compelled to leave.
How quaint, to risk your life for the sake of the better good. How optimistic. How pure. It should have been funny, but they were the best companions I had had in such a long time.
There were stipulations to being with a group of paladins. No senseless murdering. No torturing. Nothing their patron god might disagree with.
I followed of course. I let the raiders following us into the hills continue on. I did nothing more than wound when they began to attack, separating us from each other slowly until there were none but me and her.
I asked her, if I could kill them all, and bring all of our friends back, would she want me to. And stubbornly, she still refused.
I saw no other options, and in the middle of the night, when our fire was yet but tinders and all that was left was their broken weapons, and her abandoned sleepong roll, I was finally free to act.
The war in the east was naught one that I could stop, even as a God in my own right. But this? This I could do. I would burn the world for them, and I could. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | A grin on Silas' face.
Sickly green lightning, coursing through his veins, occasionally sparking out from the bare skin. The ground beneath his feet scorching, with leaves hovering the air from the static spread by him.
One guard fell. And another. Pure, unbridled power, kept secret for so long. He never dared to unleash his full power. Until now. Because it was needed.
They did this. Those creatures. Silas was once one of them. A Damûn. But he broke free from the shackles. At least, partially. A part of him was still the unthinking beast. Killing, murdering. Pure instinct to hunt, feed, consume, and grow. And at this moment, he let that part of him free. The sane part of him was worried he would be addicted to its power. Or that it would consume too much, so much he would be unable to return.
But his friends... they were good people. They helped Silas when they found him in a ditch by the road. They saw he was wounded. They saw he was different than Man or Elf or Dwarf. But they still helped him. They were fools, maybe, if they did this to anyone else but Silas. But deep within, Silas knew they could see he was good too. Saw the potential to be good.
Slowly but surely, Silas pushed through the fortress. Bodies and crumbling foundation in his wake. Until he arrived at the center room.
"So... you return to me... Silassss" a voice echoed through the room. And a figure appeared on a balcony above. Crackling energy filled the room and made Silas' hair stand up straight.
"Maugaros!" Silas yelled.
He clenched his fists. This would be it. A last stand. either he would walk out of here with his friends, perhaps afraid of his power. Or he would die, and his friends too. But it would be a worthy death.
Silas prayed to the one god his friends worshipped, and felt his power surging. He saw the color of his lightning change to blue, and he knew Thor answered with a blessing. He heard the voice in his head roar. "Save my Son, Silas." |
I killed the first guard as he was taking a piss. My footsteps were drowned out by laughter from the party in the room next door. He stank and swayed like he had been partaking in the revelry himself. I slit his throat with my boot knife and pillaged his belongings before slowly lowering his body into the latrine hole. All he had was a sack of coins and a silver pocket watch with “Love, Meredith” inscribed on the back. Coin spends well enough but I’ll have to sell the watch at a shop in the next village. Still, should fetch a decent price.
The second guard was trickier. He was chatting up another party goer in a long hallway and she would certainly scream if she saw me kill him. Hallways like this always suck because any noise is magnified by the echo. Luckily the fucks who built this place loved their columns. I weave my way from one to the next, making sure to avoid any of the moonlight coming through the windows. The cold stones were uncomfortable with my bare feet, but my shoes were heavy and would have given me away in an instant. I angle myself behind a column only a dozen steps from where they’re standing and quietly pull the draw on my crossbow and load a bolt. I raise it up and fire, the bolt cutting through the short space between us in an instant. It strikes him were I want, at the base of his skull and to the left, passing cleanly through his jugular and out, then striking the woman in her eye before burying itself deep in her brain tissue. I sprint forward and catch both bodies and slowly lower them to the ground. Nowhere to hide these, so I drag them behind the shadow of a column. With how close I am to my goal; I should be in and out before anyone stumbles onto them
The woman doesn’t have any money on her, though I shouldn’t be surprised. She dressed as a maid and doesn’t have much in the way of carrying capacity. The guard has a second sack of coins and the one thing I’ve been looking for; keys to the cellar. I step quietly through the doorway and into the next room that appears to be a second banquet hall. The table is long enough for 40 guests but none of the place settings are out. Good sign. Looks like the party, and therefore the crowd, will be kept to the other side of the castle.
I go out through the door at the back of the room and find the staircase that leads down to the cellars. The steps are winding and the deeper I go the colder it gets. No time to lose focus. I exit the stairs into a narrow hallway lit gently on both sides by torches. At the center of the hallway is a small wooden door. I approach it and pull it open just enough to see inside. On the wall to the left is a guard asleep in his bed. One of the barracks then. I slip inside and shut the door gently behind me, then pull my boot knife out and get to work. The guard I saw first doesn’t even make a sound as I press the knife into the side of his throat, but I cover his mouth anyway, just in case. The bed next to him is unoccupied but on the other side of the room are two more guards, both sound asleep. I cut the second guard the same as the first but he manages to gurgle and cough. Blood sprays up and hits me in the face as the man dies.
“Please”
I snap my head forward and see the third guard sitting up in his bed, his hands trembling as they hold the blanket up on his chest.
“Please” he says again, his voice breaking. “Please I don’t want to die. They conscripted me. Pl-please don’t kill me.” Tears begin rolling down his face.
“Conscripted, huh?” I say. He nods his head, hands still trembling. I dry the blood off my knife on my sleeve and use a clean portion of the dead guard’s blanket to wipe the blood off my face. I must look like a demon.
“Shitty job placement, then.” I spin the knife softly up into the air and catch it by the newly cleaned blade, then throw it at the trembling man in bed. The blade hits him squarely in the forehead. The energy jerks his head backwards as blood spurts out of the wound. He slumps back into bed, hands sprawled out to his sides.
I exit the room quietly and move to the end of the hall. Using the guard key I stole, I open up the cellar door and enter the dimly lit room behind it. There I see them. All three are strung up from the ceiling and covered in their own dried blood. The guards must have been beating them for a few days. I softly approach them. I lay my hand on the first, but he’s cold to the touch. I sigh and move to the next. He’s at least warm, but his eyes are open and there’s no life left. Must have missed him by a hours. A day at the most. The third stirs slightly as I place my hand on him.
“Shhhh.” I say. “It’s ok. I’ve got you.”
I use my boot knife to cut his ropes and lower him softly to the ground. I pull a piece of bread out of my satchel and hand it to him. He’s slow to move, but he grips it with enough strength that answers my next question as I ask it.
“Can you move?”
“Yeah. Yeah I think I can.”
“Good, then we’re moving.”
He grunts in approval and we make our way back out of the cellar. I walk past the two bodies I left in the hallway and strip the coat and cloak off the dead guard and hand it to my partner. If the wounds slow him down, the cold would finish him off. We have a lot of ground to cover and once they realize what I’ve done, they’ll be after us. But hey, what are friends for. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. |
I killed the first guard as he was taking a piss. My footsteps were drowned out by laughter from the party in the room next door. He stank and swayed like he had been partaking in the revelry himself. I slit his throat with my boot knife and pillaged his belongings before slowly lowering his body into the latrine hole. All he had was a sack of coins and a silver pocket watch with “Love, Meredith” inscribed on the back. Coin spends well enough but I’ll have to sell the watch at a shop in the next village. Still, should fetch a decent price.
The second guard was trickier. He was chatting up another party goer in a long hallway and she would certainly scream if she saw me kill him. Hallways like this always suck because any noise is magnified by the echo. Luckily the fucks who built this place loved their columns. I weave my way from one to the next, making sure to avoid any of the moonlight coming through the windows. The cold stones were uncomfortable with my bare feet, but my shoes were heavy and would have given me away in an instant. I angle myself behind a column only a dozen steps from where they’re standing and quietly pull the draw on my crossbow and load a bolt. I raise it up and fire, the bolt cutting through the short space between us in an instant. It strikes him were I want, at the base of his skull and to the left, passing cleanly through his jugular and out, then striking the woman in her eye before burying itself deep in her brain tissue. I sprint forward and catch both bodies and slowly lower them to the ground. Nowhere to hide these, so I drag them behind the shadow of a column. With how close I am to my goal; I should be in and out before anyone stumbles onto them
The woman doesn’t have any money on her, though I shouldn’t be surprised. She dressed as a maid and doesn’t have much in the way of carrying capacity. The guard has a second sack of coins and the one thing I’ve been looking for; keys to the cellar. I step quietly through the doorway and into the next room that appears to be a second banquet hall. The table is long enough for 40 guests but none of the place settings are out. Good sign. Looks like the party, and therefore the crowd, will be kept to the other side of the castle.
I go out through the door at the back of the room and find the staircase that leads down to the cellars. The steps are winding and the deeper I go the colder it gets. No time to lose focus. I exit the stairs into a narrow hallway lit gently on both sides by torches. At the center of the hallway is a small wooden door. I approach it and pull it open just enough to see inside. On the wall to the left is a guard asleep in his bed. One of the barracks then. I slip inside and shut the door gently behind me, then pull my boot knife out and get to work. The guard I saw first doesn’t even make a sound as I press the knife into the side of his throat, but I cover his mouth anyway, just in case. The bed next to him is unoccupied but on the other side of the room are two more guards, both sound asleep. I cut the second guard the same as the first but he manages to gurgle and cough. Blood sprays up and hits me in the face as the man dies.
“Please”
I snap my head forward and see the third guard sitting up in his bed, his hands trembling as they hold the blanket up on his chest.
“Please” he says again, his voice breaking. “Please I don’t want to die. They conscripted me. Pl-please don’t kill me.” Tears begin rolling down his face.
“Conscripted, huh?” I say. He nods his head, hands still trembling. I dry the blood off my knife on my sleeve and use a clean portion of the dead guard’s blanket to wipe the blood off my face. I must look like a demon.
“Shitty job placement, then.” I spin the knife softly up into the air and catch it by the newly cleaned blade, then throw it at the trembling man in bed. The blade hits him squarely in the forehead. The energy jerks his head backwards as blood spurts out of the wound. He slumps back into bed, hands sprawled out to his sides.
I exit the room quietly and move to the end of the hall. Using the guard key I stole, I open up the cellar door and enter the dimly lit room behind it. There I see them. All three are strung up from the ceiling and covered in their own dried blood. The guards must have been beating them for a few days. I softly approach them. I lay my hand on the first, but he’s cold to the touch. I sigh and move to the next. He’s at least warm, but his eyes are open and there’s no life left. Must have missed him by a hours. A day at the most. The third stirs slightly as I place my hand on him.
“Shhhh.” I say. “It’s ok. I’ve got you.”
I use my boot knife to cut his ropes and lower him softly to the ground. I pull a piece of bread out of my satchel and hand it to him. He’s slow to move, but he grips it with enough strength that answers my next question as I ask it.
“Can you move?”
“Yeah. Yeah I think I can.”
“Good, then we’re moving.”
He grunts in approval and we make our way back out of the cellar. I walk past the two bodies I left in the hallway and strip the coat and cloak off the dead guard and hand it to my partner. If the wounds slow him down, the cold would finish him off. We have a lot of ground to cover and once they realize what I’ve done, they’ll be after us. But hey, what are friends for. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | A grin on Silas' face.
Sickly green lightning, coursing through his veins, occasionally sparking out from the bare skin. The ground beneath his feet scorching, with leaves hovering the air from the static spread by him.
One guard fell. And another. Pure, unbridled power, kept secret for so long. He never dared to unleash his full power. Until now. Because it was needed.
They did this. Those creatures. Silas was once one of them. A Damûn. But he broke free from the shackles. At least, partially. A part of him was still the unthinking beast. Killing, murdering. Pure instinct to hunt, feed, consume, and grow. And at this moment, he let that part of him free. The sane part of him was worried he would be addicted to its power. Or that it would consume too much, so much he would be unable to return.
But his friends... they were good people. They helped Silas when they found him in a ditch by the road. They saw he was wounded. They saw he was different than Man or Elf or Dwarf. But they still helped him. They were fools, maybe, if they did this to anyone else but Silas. But deep within, Silas knew they could see he was good too. Saw the potential to be good.
Slowly but surely, Silas pushed through the fortress. Bodies and crumbling foundation in his wake. Until he arrived at the center room.
"So... you return to me... Silassss" a voice echoed through the room. And a figure appeared on a balcony above. Crackling energy filled the room and made Silas' hair stand up straight.
"Maugaros!" Silas yelled.
He clenched his fists. This would be it. A last stand. either he would walk out of here with his friends, perhaps afraid of his power. Or he would die, and his friends too. But it would be a worthy death.
Silas prayed to the one god his friends worshipped, and felt his power surging. He saw the color of his lightning change to blue, and he knew Thor answered with a blessing. He heard the voice in his head roar. "Save my Son, Silas." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | "You can't do this. When the king hears what you've done to his men."
"The king will hear it from me when I return. You had one job, keep my friends safe. Half of them are dead, and the other half are gone."
Some hero I turned out to be. Summoned to this strange land, told I was there to save the kingdom. It wasn't so bad, i had benefits thrown in. All the good weapons, any armor I needed, and one of my friends got yanked through the portal with me. Something about stopping a demon Lord, never really figured out what they expected.
"You were brought here by the king. You were *chosen* to help us. You can't just," his voice stopped as my axe cut cleanly through his neck.
"But I **can** just." One traitor is all it took. One person working for the king to get close enough to us. One person we had in the group and trusted enough to stop watching. Sleeping drugs for everyone, snuck into our food. The others never stood a chance, their bodies were too frail. I didn't even notice the drugs, I was always tougher than smart. Woke up in the middle of the night, see two of my friends with their throats slit, two of them are gone, and a guy sneaking up with a knife.
***A trip to the kingdom later***
Gate guard: "So the hero returns? Is the rest of the group with you?"
"No. There's some people I need to talk to. You have 2 seconds to let me through before I forget what I'm supposed to be."
Guard: "I'm not sure what you mean by-*AAAAGH."*
As my axe cleaved through his chest he let out a final scream. Immediate panic, trained guards responding out of instinct.
"Has he gone crazy? Someone stop him before he reaches the court!"
It's funny how quickly they forget what I am. My trainer had issues keeping me in check, we couldn't even properly train without people on standby to subdue me with magic. I felt the primal rage building as my bloodlust grew. Everything turned red, there was no friend or foe, and no distractions. I only saw movement, and anything in my way would fall. I'll get their attention, one way or another.
***"BRING ME THE KING OR BRING ME YOUR BLOOD!"*** With my final scream I start swinging, every pass of my blade accompanied by a choir of death. The assassin hid everything he could, but he could never disguise the seal on his orders. The king would pay. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | I am known as the Single Strike Shadow.
Unlike some, I don't actually have any powers of my own, the source of my power is a sword I got from a cursed shop a few years ago. The sword caught my eye, because the description said that it was guaranteed to fell any enemy in a single slice, guaranteed. I asked how much something like that would cost, and the seller said that you don't pay with money for any of the items in this shop, you pay with something else.
I agreed to buy the item, and the seller explained its power:
So long as you intend to kill something, touch the hilt and you will have the power to do so.
I took the sword, and the seller revealed that he was actually the devil, and that I was a foolish mortal, for I did not know what terrible cost the sword actually had.
"But does the sword actually do what it says it does?"
"...well yes, of course, I may be the devil but I'm not a liar...oh crap".
I touched the hilt, and instantly I was transported to hell. Flames, blades piercing my flesh, all that jazz. The thing was, I was actually born with defective pain receptors, so I just kind of sat there for a few hours taking in the sights, before I woke up back in the real world with the blade sticking in the chest of the devil, who only managed to say "wait, this isn't how you are supposed to play this game, before dying".
Turns out, in real life, as soon as I touched the hilt, my body went temporarily incorporeal, and even the devil can't deflect what isn't there. Quicker than a flash, the shadow rematerialized back into me holding the sword stuck in the vital organs of my foe. While I was a shadow, I was supposedly in hell, and the pain should have driven any regular mortal mad, such that this blade is supposedly one time use.
That was, until the sword fell into my possession.
I then waged a campaign of terror, taking down the most skilled fighters in the world with ease, just from my perspective having to sit through a long boring torture movie of myself each time I had to kill, so I tried not to have to do it that often, even though I arrived unscathed and victorious nearly a moment later in real life.
Eventually a party of heroes found me, and convinced me to join the side of good through this long and emotional appeal, it embarrassed me, I won't go into length, but I swore to stop killing, and helped them along in their adventures. I couldn't really do much, without the sword I was just a guy that didn't feel pain, but I still had to be careful, just because I didn't feel it, doesn't mean it didn't still hurt, and the last thing I wanted to do was die of infection without knowing it.
The party didn't know where my power came from, and although they thought I must be super talented considering my power to instantly kill, they didn't know that was really my only power, without intent to kill, I really have no swordsmanship ability. So they ended up carrying me through many nonlethal adventures. I was always skeptical of how they would let robbers and murderers off the hook without killing them, and only attempting to imprison them or something, and although that would sometimes work, they'd often escape and just cause more problems. The group's philosophy is that if you kill a killer, the number of killers in the world remains the same. I would say that if I just keep on killing, eventually I'd make a profit, but considering that they managed to save me, I decided to keep my concerns to myself.
Eventually their goodness caught up to them, and they all got captured except for me. I would say that it was because I was skilled, but it was actually because I was on guard that night, and finally all the enemies we had made over the years banded together, sneaked up on the camp, and captured everyone, and I happened to be in the forest taking a leak. Just my luck.
I tracked down the fortress they were being kept in, and I noticed that our normal nonlethal methods wouldn't work. The guards were not taking patrol patterns, they all stood still so that we couldn't crack the pattern to sneak in. They also were armored, so I couldn't knock them out without using enough force to kill.
So inconvenient.
Well, they are about to execute my party after doing their customary gloating, so I decided there was no time to waste.
I strolled in, grabbed my sword, and started killing.
After so long without use, it appeared the sword had taken notice, and tried to get revenge. Each time I was transported to hell it seemed to take longer and longer before I rematerialized back in the real world, and even though it seemed to outsiders that I was an outsider I was blinking from enemy to enemy and felling even their most talented fighters without a care, each time I killed, it seemed that I was almost gone for years for a time, and enemies just kept coming.
Finally, it seemed I had gotten down to the leader, a swordsman so talented that he was known as the Storm, for when he fought, it seemed that his one blade turned a blur of a thousand blades.
I saw my party up there, and after much exhaustion, I thought they would be happy to see me, but it appeared that they only looked at me like I had betrayed them. I decided now would be the best time to come clean.
"I'm sorry, my power comes from my sword-"
In that moment, Storm had cut off my arm, and was holding my sword.
"Well, well, a sword that enhances ability huh, I already have the ability, I'd like to see what this thing can do with my already impressive ability".
The next thing I knew, the sword was in my chest, and although I couldn't feel it, I felt a lifetime of evil come back to me, and I could see in the eyes of Storm the lifetime of torture that he actually had to feel before we both faded to black. | *Where are they?* I screamed at the bound monster sitting across of me, its face full of fresh bruises.The monster stared fiercely at me, remaining ever so silent.
I went to back room, and took out my tools.
*You see, I am not a good person, I never was, I tried to be good, I liked having a party, allies, friends, I even began doing good things and repaying for my sins; helping orphans and defeating villains. But my friends were taken by your boss, the arch-fiend, I may be bad, but they do not deserve such cruel treatment.*
I began pulling out several jagged tools, they shone in the dim light from the torch, the steel covered in a thin crimson layer. The monster was shaken by this sight. I turned back to face it.
*I have never told you my name, how rude of me, I am Jack, some folk know me as Thousand Cuts, The everlasting pain, The blood letter, but I abandoned that life, and I will give you another chance to tell me WHERE THEY ARE!*
The monster opened it's black maw, it's breath stunk like a thousand corpses rotting in the hot desert sun, and yet nothing came out. The adrenaline rushed through my veins, it was a different rush, an older one, one which I have not felt since I abandoned my post under the old tyrants rule. I swiftly picked up a knife and moved it ever so closely to the monsters face, giving it a last chance to speak.
The monster bolstered its courage and refused.
*Several hours later*
My robes were covered in green and black blood from the monster, and even though I worked all night, I smiled gleefully and got what I needed, I have not felt such joy for a long time. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. |
Rolling through the darkness the wagon hit a bump. Both men riding up front lurched in their seats for a moment.
“Wow, Ben you really trying to cause the wheels to break or something? We’re not in a hurry.” Dan said to man sitting next to him.
They were flanked by eight riders on horseback. Only one third of their little bandit brigade but enough that they knew no one was going to mess with them. Everyone else was riding north with their chief and the main prize of the night.
Currently Daniel and their gangs job was to dump the bodies and make sure there were no witnesses.
“It’s always the naïve ones you know.” Ben said. “A princess that wants to go out on an adventure, see the world. When we marked her and realized how much she was going to be worth when we saw her in that tavern. Really cut their adventuring short.”
Both men laughed at that. Only a few of the men had been in the tavern at first when the boss spotted her. The wild red hair was a giveaway for him. Before being their leader, Jasper the Carver, was a soldier for the army. Knowing him as he did Daniel could never believe that their vicious leader would be able to survive in the world of nobility. He wouldn’t even tell any of the men exactly what it was that made the king exile him.
Jasper’s eyes lit up when he saw the young woman. Immediately had Ben go and gather the rest of the men while they put their plan to work.
She was only traveling with a small party of five. Herself, a larger Paladin, two elves, and tall but very old cleric. Poisoning the cleric as they all had been eating was easy. They paid the barmaid to slip something in one of his drinks. When he fell over his group cheered assuming he had too much to drink. It was shame for them that he wasn’t around when the whole band attacked the tavern.
The group fought pretty well and even killed a few of Dan’s compatriots but in the end the whole place was slaughtered except for the girl. Wait was that right, Dan thought to himself.
“Hey Ben,” he asked, “Did we kill that cleric, the old man?”
“I think the poison took care of him, didn’t even check to be honest. We just threw em all in this wagon we stole didn’t we?” Ben replied.
“So he could be back there resurrecting his buddies, bring em all to life?” Dan said with wide eyes.
“What? No, gods no. Are you crazy? We removed the heads of the elves, the paladin took it through the chest. What’s he going to revive? They’ve been dead for hours.”
“Can we just check?” Daniel asked sheepishly. Keeping an eye on the cleric had been his job. He didn’t want any issues.
Ben whistled and brought the wagon to a stop. The rest of the crew circled around with their horses. Some of them had heard the exchange and were whispering to themselves. Dan was afraid of the old cleric.
“Probably would have died of old age,” one of them yelled but Dan didn’t know who it was in this darkness. Only a few of them had lit torches.
Dan hopped off and walked around the wagon mumbling to himself. It didn’t matter, the payout for this was going to be so good most of them would be set for years. Oh the women he could buy, maybe he’d even get a redhead with hair like that of the princess. Those ones were always the most expensive.
He swung open the back door of the wagon and looked inside. There was blood everywhere but he squinted his eyes for a moment. The elves were there and the paladin’s body. Where was the old man?
“Uh Ben, we definitely tossed him in here right?” Even as Dan spoke he knew the answer. He’d seen him get tossed in.
Walking back around to face the group is when he saw him. In the middle of some of the horses, a blurred image of someone was standing there.
“Hey! Who is that?” Dan asked pointing.
One of the men on the horse looked down and yelled drawing his sword. That’s when it happened, like a thunderstrike a wave of lightning radiate out from the man that was standing. Four of the mounted men and their horses were sent blasting away. One horse collided with another that was behind it and the rider was crushed on the ground.
The men were yelling in confusion as all the torches suddenly winked out. Dan drew his sword but he couldn’t see in the darkness all he could hear were the yells. He ran back to the front of the wagon where Ben was sitting his crossbow pointing out.
There were three riders left now and they were all close to the wagon, the moonlight was the only source of light they had now and none of them could see anything.
Ben scrambled to stand and got on top of the wagon.
“I can’t see him. I don’t see him anywhere.” He said still aiming around with his crossbow.
The surviving horses were freaking out as their riders tried to keep them calm and keep an eye out for their enemy. Dan kept spinning his head around looking in any direction. Where was this attacker? Who was he? Was it the cleric? It couldn’t be him. He was an old fool with a few daggers on him.
When the ball of flame came into his vision it was already almost on top of them. Diving off the wagon was the only thing that saved Dan’s life. He hit the ground hard as he watched the other bandits get consumed by the explosion. Ben was flung off the top of the wagon and landed near Dan in the dirt.
Hearing footsteps Dan looked over and walking out of the darkness was the old man. His pants were covered in blood, the blood from his compatriots in the wagon. His face was strange, a solid expression. This was far away from the look the man was wearing in the tavern.
“Which one of you is in charge?” the man asked.
“He is, it was him.” Ben said
You traitorous piece of shit Dan thought to himself, too busy coughing in pain to even say anything.
Walking over to Ben the old man touched him and Ben shot a guilty look at Dan but then started screaming. From where the old man touched him Ben’s skin started rotting, falling away from the bone. Ben was screaming in pain as his body dissolved into a pile of dead rotting flesh.
Dan began scrambling on the ground trying to get away as the old man touched his leg. Dan instinctively yelled before he realize he wasn’t feeling any pain. In fact, the pain was receding from his body. His wounds were healing before his eyes.
Looking up he was confused. There was no emotion in the man’s face, no emotion as a sword appeared in his hand and he stabbed it right through Dan’s chest. Now Dan was screaming in pain again.
“I can heal and harm you as much as I need to.” The man said without a crack in his voice. “So you’re going to answer all of my questions.” | *Where are they?* I screamed at the bound monster sitting across of me, its face full of fresh bruises.The monster stared fiercely at me, remaining ever so silent.
I went to back room, and took out my tools.
*You see, I am not a good person, I never was, I tried to be good, I liked having a party, allies, friends, I even began doing good things and repaying for my sins; helping orphans and defeating villains. But my friends were taken by your boss, the arch-fiend, I may be bad, but they do not deserve such cruel treatment.*
I began pulling out several jagged tools, they shone in the dim light from the torch, the steel covered in a thin crimson layer. The monster was shaken by this sight. I turned back to face it.
*I have never told you my name, how rude of me, I am Jack, some folk know me as Thousand Cuts, The everlasting pain, The blood letter, but I abandoned that life, and I will give you another chance to tell me WHERE THEY ARE!*
The monster opened it's black maw, it's breath stunk like a thousand corpses rotting in the hot desert sun, and yet nothing came out. The adrenaline rushed through my veins, it was a different rush, an older one, one which I have not felt since I abandoned my post under the old tyrants rule. I swiftly picked up a knife and moved it ever so closely to the monsters face, giving it a last chance to speak.
The monster bolstered its courage and refused.
*Several hours later*
My robes were covered in green and black blood from the monster, and even though I worked all night, I smiled gleefully and got what I needed, I have not felt such joy for a long time. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Beckett said, “I’m frequently asked how I came to join a party such as theirs, I’m sure you’ll be thinking about it shortly.”
Joey rattled in his chair, “What’s the plan Beckett? I know you wouldn’t hurt an innocent, none of you would!”
The light was scarce down in Beckett’s basement, two torches fought silent battles with the dancing shadows on both sides of the meagre room. Joey chuckled, he thought he was in control, thought he had a good read on all the cards. It smelled like a rat had started to decompose somewhere nearby.
Beckett smiled a hollow smile, there was no need to dress it up for the present company, “You’re hardly innocent. I need to know where you’ve trapped them, Joey.” He put down a bone cutter on the wooden barrel next to Joey.
“You’re not fooling anyone, *Beckett*, you’ve all got sticks so far up your asses that—”
Beckett punched Joey across the jaw with such force that the chair toppled over, “I’m a bard, Joey, all I have are stories, which one you choose to believe is up to you.” Joey spit out a mouthful of blood on the stone floor as Beckett pulled him up along with the chair.
Joey said, “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re not fooling anyone!”
“Heard from your brother Adam lately?”
“He’s off on an important, let’s say, *business acquisition*. Keeps to himself Adam does, what of it?”
Beckett slowly paced behind the chair, Joey tried to turn his head to follow, “I heard he got attacked by bandits, just off King’s trail. Seems that they weren’t satisfied with simply robbing him, so they slit his throat. Gruesome work, really.”
Joey grew more nervous, “You’re wrong, he’ll be in Artala by now, you’re trying to rattle me and it’s not going to work!”
Beckett chuckled, “No, you’re right— it’s just a story. Let me tell you another one, about how Adam was blackmailing Austin, the paladin I’ve chosen to follow. The one you have presently hidden away somewhere.”
Beckett rapped his knuckles against the barrel, “Everyone takes for granted that our entire party is lawful good, I mean we have a paladin, it goes without saying!”
“Well, I’m neither lawful nor good. I know what needs to be done— to get the wheels turning— and it’s not by spreading *goodness*. It’s by instilling fear.”
Joey said, “Adam’s in Artala, you’re not going to rattle me!”
Beckett got right up in Joey’s face, he could almost feel the moisture running down Joey’s wrinkly forehead, after seconds of excruciating silence he said, “Your brother is dead.”
Joey said, “You’re lying! He’s in Artala, I don’t know anything about any blackmail!”
Beckett kicked over the barrel, the lid sliding off from the impact with ease, Adam’s pale face emerged from the cramped darkness within. Joey’s mind snapped and he howled until his face was red and his neck filled with thick veins, trying in vain to power through the tight rope, it was no use.
Beckett picked up the bone cutter from the cold floor, “Let’s try this again. Where have you trapped them, Joey?”
*****
Thank you for reading! | *Where are they?* I screamed at the bound monster sitting across of me, its face full of fresh bruises.The monster stared fiercely at me, remaining ever so silent.
I went to back room, and took out my tools.
*You see, I am not a good person, I never was, I tried to be good, I liked having a party, allies, friends, I even began doing good things and repaying for my sins; helping orphans and defeating villains. But my friends were taken by your boss, the arch-fiend, I may be bad, but they do not deserve such cruel treatment.*
I began pulling out several jagged tools, they shone in the dim light from the torch, the steel covered in a thin crimson layer. The monster was shaken by this sight. I turned back to face it.
*I have never told you my name, how rude of me, I am Jack, some folk know me as Thousand Cuts, The everlasting pain, The blood letter, but I abandoned that life, and I will give you another chance to tell me WHERE THEY ARE!*
The monster opened it's black maw, it's breath stunk like a thousand corpses rotting in the hot desert sun, and yet nothing came out. The adrenaline rushed through my veins, it was a different rush, an older one, one which I have not felt since I abandoned my post under the old tyrants rule. I swiftly picked up a knife and moved it ever so closely to the monsters face, giving it a last chance to speak.
The monster bolstered its courage and refused.
*Several hours later*
My robes were covered in green and black blood from the monster, and even though I worked all night, I smiled gleefully and got what I needed, I have not felt such joy for a long time. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | ######[](#dropcap)
She'd forgotten what it felt like.
She twisted the knife deeper, and the blood gushed out like a fountain from the source. That's what humans were, after all. Merely fountains of blood. The man writhed on the hard marble floors, his face contorted into a mask of agony. His body jerked involuntarily with every slight movement. But in his gaze, too, there was something she was all too familiar with. Something she'd buried long ago but could now feel rising like bile in the back of her throat despite her steady hands. Lissandra smiled, but the warmth never reached her eyes.
"Why don't you help me out, Marcus? We were friends once, weren't we?" she murmured. She brought one gloved hand down gently and stroked his black, blood soaked hair. His eyelids began to flutter. She stilled her left hand, allowing the knife to act as a plug. He would die within minutes once she extracted it. Marcus's lips quivered, his eyes wide.
"Lissandra," he paused to cough up blood, the dark, viscous liquid bubbling up over his lips and splattering onto the marble. "Please. You're good now, they say you're the good one," he gasped. "I don't know where they are. Please let me go. I don't know--"
The good one? Something clenched in her chest, tight and unyielding. Her eyes flashed. She leaned over him, ignoring the way the blood had begun to soak into her kneepads. Still crouching, she let go of the knife. The slight spasms in his muscles meant he was no threat to her now.
"The good one?" The corner of her lips twitched upward, and then she began laughing. It bubbled out of her throat, long and high-pitched like a hyena's cackle. "The good one?" she repeated. "No. Eliyah was the good one. Maribel was the good one. Luca was the good one." She stood up, her lips pressed together. It was clear he was going to be no help to her now. She watched as his lids began to droop. He stilled.
The blood pooled out from his body on the tiles like petals from a rose, so vividly beautiful. Familiar. She could taste the iron tang on her tongue still, from all the times she'd been forced to gag it down as part of her time in the Iron Thorns. Her gaze drifted up to the crest of thorns hung up proudly on the wall, now covered in specks of red. For the longest time, she'd treated it like home.
She could still see Luther White's grin, baring his sharpened gold teeth as he slid a cold, grimy hand down her arm. They were all his children, he said. He would take care of them.
"Good?" she murmured to herself. She tugged the knife from his body. Looking around, she stepped over to the table covered in that fancy, gold tablecloth that represented his rank in Luther's clan. She drew the blade over the cloth, until its surface was a shiny silver yet again. Then she sheathed it.
She took one last glance up at the crest.
No. She wasn't good at all. She just liked the company.
***
r/AlannaWu | *Where are they?* I screamed at the bound monster sitting across of me, its face full of fresh bruises.The monster stared fiercely at me, remaining ever so silent.
I went to back room, and took out my tools.
*You see, I am not a good person, I never was, I tried to be good, I liked having a party, allies, friends, I even began doing good things and repaying for my sins; helping orphans and defeating villains. But my friends were taken by your boss, the arch-fiend, I may be bad, but they do not deserve such cruel treatment.*
I began pulling out several jagged tools, they shone in the dim light from the torch, the steel covered in a thin crimson layer. The monster was shaken by this sight. I turned back to face it.
*I have never told you my name, how rude of me, I am Jack, some folk know me as Thousand Cuts, The everlasting pain, The blood letter, but I abandoned that life, and I will give you another chance to tell me WHERE THEY ARE!*
The monster opened it's black maw, it's breath stunk like a thousand corpses rotting in the hot desert sun, and yet nothing came out. The adrenaline rushed through my veins, it was a different rush, an older one, one which I have not felt since I abandoned my post under the old tyrants rule. I swiftly picked up a knife and moved it ever so closely to the monsters face, giving it a last chance to speak.
The monster bolstered its courage and refused.
*Several hours later*
My robes were covered in green and black blood from the monster, and even though I worked all night, I smiled gleefully and got what I needed, I have not felt such joy for a long time. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | I cursed the sun as I pulled my robes more tightly around my neck and face. Human skin is thin and in limited supply, so I had to care for it to the best of my ability.
"Turn back, you infernal idiot," one of them clicked at me.
"You know how he gets when he sets his mind on something," another snarled back, "he's going to get us all killed..."
"Or worse..." a third chittered.
I hummed to drown out their impish voices and instead turned my thoughts to the journey that lay ahead. Yes, it would be challenging. Yes, I would probably lose some aspect of myself in the process, but to be surrounded by allies again - by people who cared for me unconditionally - was something I wanted more than ever. I missed Terval and his silent compassion. Kaarah and her lively stories about dragons and ogres. Jeevah and their empathetic advice on change. I had grown to love them and, by extension, had grown to love helping others with them. But now they were missing.
The sun glinted off the Sigil of Lux on the chapel's roof as I approached it and I choked back the instinctual growl. *Get used to it*, I thought as I neared the door, *you're doing this for the people who rely on them; you're doing this for... you.*
"No, you're doing this because you're suicidal," they started again.
"Do you have any idea what Umbor will do to you... to us?"
"We'll be exor..."
I loudly knocked on the door to stop their chattering. Not long after, a familiar face appeared as he opened the door.
"Grrrkash, so nice to see you, but where are..."
"They're not with me and I need to find them," I replied, "your Faith has chapels across the Six Kingdoms, yes?"
Abbot Glynt nodded.
"And when do the Sunbringer Pilgrimages begin?"
"At the end of this week."
"I want to join."
He raised an eyebrow, "Do you have any idea what will become of you if you do this?"
"Yes," I shuddered involuntarily, "but I need to find them and you're my best chance." | *Where are they?* I screamed at the bound monster sitting across of me, its face full of fresh bruises.The monster stared fiercely at me, remaining ever so silent.
I went to back room, and took out my tools.
*You see, I am not a good person, I never was, I tried to be good, I liked having a party, allies, friends, I even began doing good things and repaying for my sins; helping orphans and defeating villains. But my friends were taken by your boss, the arch-fiend, I may be bad, but they do not deserve such cruel treatment.*
I began pulling out several jagged tools, they shone in the dim light from the torch, the steel covered in a thin crimson layer. The monster was shaken by this sight. I turned back to face it.
*I have never told you my name, how rude of me, I am Jack, some folk know me as Thousand Cuts, The everlasting pain, The blood letter, but I abandoned that life, and I will give you another chance to tell me WHERE THEY ARE!*
The monster opened it's black maw, it's breath stunk like a thousand corpses rotting in the hot desert sun, and yet nothing came out. The adrenaline rushed through my veins, it was a different rush, an older one, one which I have not felt since I abandoned my post under the old tyrants rule. I swiftly picked up a knife and moved it ever so closely to the monsters face, giving it a last chance to speak.
The monster bolstered its courage and refused.
*Several hours later*
My robes were covered in green and black blood from the monster, and even though I worked all night, I smiled gleefully and got what I needed, I have not felt such joy for a long time. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | *Where are they?* I screamed at the bound monster sitting across of me, its face full of fresh bruises.The monster stared fiercely at me, remaining ever so silent.
I went to back room, and took out my tools.
*You see, I am not a good person, I never was, I tried to be good, I liked having a party, allies, friends, I even began doing good things and repaying for my sins; helping orphans and defeating villains. But my friends were taken by your boss, the arch-fiend, I may be bad, but they do not deserve such cruel treatment.*
I began pulling out several jagged tools, they shone in the dim light from the torch, the steel covered in a thin crimson layer. The monster was shaken by this sight. I turned back to face it.
*I have never told you my name, how rude of me, I am Jack, some folk know me as Thousand Cuts, The everlasting pain, The blood letter, but I abandoned that life, and I will give you another chance to tell me WHERE THEY ARE!*
The monster opened it's black maw, it's breath stunk like a thousand corpses rotting in the hot desert sun, and yet nothing came out. The adrenaline rushed through my veins, it was a different rush, an older one, one which I have not felt since I abandoned my post under the old tyrants rule. I swiftly picked up a knife and moved it ever so closely to the monsters face, giving it a last chance to speak.
The monster bolstered its courage and refused.
*Several hours later*
My robes were covered in green and black blood from the monster, and even though I worked all night, I smiled gleefully and got what I needed, I have not felt such joy for a long time. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "Where are they then, Baratus?" my blade was out of its sheath now, glowing with the righteous furor of a paladin of Listanor seeking justice, "I got word the Kobolds passed through this town three days ago. I've nearly caught them, and I will not be slowed by your incompetence."
The man before me gulped. He was large, probably some orc back in his family history. Not enough for tusks certainly, but he was larger and hardier than most men of the Austral hinterland. Baratus also happened to be an old acquaintance as what passed for the local government in Runecove. A little Stillwater hovel that squatted like a diseased bird on the rotting corpse of the lower Therian river. It was the only town of any appreciable size this far south, and a common stopping point for adventurers travelling into the Ironwrist mountains. It also functioned as the starting point for the journey of their wealth back to real civilization. He was dressed in what passed for his finery of office. Browns and greens running like river muck down his chest, and a circlet of Wrought Ironwrist namesake taking to rust in the morning mist. Pathetic. He was the last barrier, the last person between me and the people who might have *answers*.
He took a step back before the heat of my fury, and put his hands up. Possibly to ward away the blade, possibly to plead for peace. I was beyond peace. I was here for justice. Luckily, he began to speak, "They came through yes, a large party. Some few humans with them -" I felt my eyes flare, and he his hands came together as if to plead or beg, "None who matched your party members, Lineus. I do remember them you know, I'd have noticed."
My blade lowered almost imperceptibly, he was right about that, still. "You got my message, you must have," my voice began to shake with anger at the man's betrayal, "I sent it via a courier spell from the Ashen ford. It cost me a small fortune, but I know your mages heard me. You *knew*."
I took a half step towards him, closing us to within a hair's breadth as I like the steel of my blade rest on his tunic, "Lineus!" Baratus practically squealed, trying to back away but running into a wall, "I couldn't possibly be sure! None of your party members were with them, and I had no right to detain innoce-"
"How. Much." I barely breathed the words.
His silence was answer enough.
"How much?" Louder now, raw.
He wouldn't look me in the eyes.
"How much! How much to sell my party down the river in the hands of a necromancer Baratus?"
He was trembling, but tried to contain himself. No point lying to a paladin. "Enough. More than has passed through the coffers of Runecove in an entire year," his voice steadied, becoming accusing, "I don't know what you fools have gotten tangled up in this time Lineus, but I will not put my city at risk to -"
He never got a chance to finish the statement. My sword had cut his throat. The blood rushed from him in a torrent, strangely hypnotic. What few small sounds he was still capable of making would die with him soon enough anyway. The glow of my blade faded as I stopped feeding the enchantment mana. I hadn't been able to properly imbue a blade in weeks. I hadn't set foot in a temple either, but I knew better than to try. There were some things a paladin could do alone, but speed wasn't among them. I needed to be something else to save them.
I wiped the cold steel on the dead man's rags and sheathed it. I would be whatever I had to be to save my friends. | *Where are they?* I screamed at the bound monster sitting across of me, its face full of fresh bruises.The monster stared fiercely at me, remaining ever so silent.
I went to back room, and took out my tools.
*You see, I am not a good person, I never was, I tried to be good, I liked having a party, allies, friends, I even began doing good things and repaying for my sins; helping orphans and defeating villains. But my friends were taken by your boss, the arch-fiend, I may be bad, but they do not deserve such cruel treatment.*
I began pulling out several jagged tools, they shone in the dim light from the torch, the steel covered in a thin crimson layer. The monster was shaken by this sight. I turned back to face it.
*I have never told you my name, how rude of me, I am Jack, some folk know me as Thousand Cuts, The everlasting pain, The blood letter, but I abandoned that life, and I will give you another chance to tell me WHERE THEY ARE!*
The monster opened it's black maw, it's breath stunk like a thousand corpses rotting in the hot desert sun, and yet nothing came out. The adrenaline rushed through my veins, it was a different rush, an older one, one which I have not felt since I abandoned my post under the old tyrants rule. I swiftly picked up a knife and moved it ever so closely to the monsters face, giving it a last chance to speak.
The monster bolstered its courage and refused.
*Several hours later*
My robes were covered in green and black blood from the monster, and even though I worked all night, I smiled gleefully and got what I needed, I have not felt such joy for a long time. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | The city betrayed us. We spent months helping the captain of the guards dismantle the local thieve's guild until he charged us with treason when we were done. I warned the party. The captain acted too nice for someone who was also seizing worrying amounts of political influence. They still didn't listen to me.
I realized something was amiss when I opened the package we had just fought to retrieve. Blackmail material. The captain originally obtained his first promotion after sleeping with a now dead noble lord. Most of the party felt pity for him. The captain was a straight man with a wife and kids. They assumed he only wanted to bury his shame. I thought differently, but nobody ever listens to the rogue on these matters. They actually scolded me for reading the document.
We discovered the truth after we were ambushed. The captain didn't want justice. His goal was to remove everyone in his way to becoming nobility. The thieve's guild had its leaders replaced with people he could control. Now, the captain was effectively in charge of all law enforcement and crime in the city.
Our party never stood a chance against the combined might of these factions. We were too exhausted from the mission. I had to run away.
The party looked more wounded by my retreat than by the ambush. Except for Dary, the know-it-all dwarf cleric. He glared at me like he expected it the entire time. Screw him.
Over the next few days, I lived like an urchin again. Sleeping in rooftops, eating discarded crumbs of stale bread, staying out of sight as much as possible. Both the thieve's guild and the city guards were hunting me down. I couldn't rely on anyone but myself, just like when I was a kid.
The obvious choice was abandoning this town. That wasn't possible, though. I couldn't keep the party out of my head whenever I thought of leaving. They were supposed to be temporary allies. We all knew that. For some reason, though, my anger at the captain never went away. He took something from me that I didn't even know I possessed. My decision came easily when I realized I wanted my friends back.
Unfortunately, the captain was too well protected to assassinate. For now.
I needed the party before going after him. My funds were also low and most of my equipment needed maintenance, so I went to a young potions seller to ask for her help. We aided her a while ago by fighting some thugs doing a protection racket in her neighborhood. She might be the only person who cares enough to help me. That said, she also couldn't stand me. I was the only one in the party who tried to charge her for our service. Hopefully, she wouldn't hold it against me.
Reva, the young alchemist, didn't recognize me when I entered her store. My disguise actually worked. I acted like an unstable homeless guy to scare away the few customers inside. She didn't appreciate that. I dropped my illusion when everyone else had left and she still tried to kick me out of the store.
"Come on!" I pleaded. "This isn't about me!"
Reva crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.
"The party is in trouble..." I glanced away, embarrassed. "I can't help them on my own."
"I heard the news. They're getting called criminals. Is it true?"
"Of course not." I smirked. "Ironically enough, the only person that wasn't arrested was the literal criminal."
Reva rolled her eyes. "What do you want?"
"I need some potions. Anything that can regenerate flesh and something that paralyzes for a while."
"I have some healing potions, but the other thing you're asking is basically poison."
"So?"
"I don't sell that!"
"But you know how to make them, right?"
Reva frowned.
"I'm guessing that's a yes?"
Reva sighed. "You have a lot of balls asking for this. Can you even pay?"
"Umm..."
"That's what I thought."
"Look, I know I'm not the most trustworthy-"
"You tried to steal my purse!"
I cleared my throat. "Like I was saying, I know I'm kind of a shady individual, but what happened to the party wasn't right. You got along with them well. Do you really think anyone else in the city would've helped you?"
Reva sighed. "No; they were the only ones who listened to me."
"They're an empathetic lot. Sometimes to a fault. The fact that they've tolerated me for this long proves it more than anything else."
Reva closed her eyes, deep in thought, opening them to say:
"Fine."
It took a day to brew the specific potions I wanted. Reva didn't ask me what I planned to do when I left the store. Something gave her the feeling that she didn't want to know, and she was completely right. No one, not even the party, would approve of what I would do next. Nobody needed to know, though.
I'd been stalking a lieutenant these past few days. He was a close confidant of the captain that followed his every order. I never trusted him. His 'eager to please' attitude made me defensive even when we were allied. My hunch was that the captain held something over his head in order to control him, and I was proven correct when I discovered he had a second family with a mistress.
Later, close to midnight, the lieutenant stumbled out of his favorite bar with no care in the world. He didn't put up much resistance after being poisoned by my arrow. I carried his paralyzed body to one of the rooftops I slept in, a remote place far away from where anyone could hear him scream. The man darted his eyes around confused until recognizing me. The poison still allowed him to speak, so he immediately said:
"I-I had nothing to do with it!"
I chuckled. "Of course you didn't."
"You have to believe me! I didn't want that to happen, but-"
I put my index finger on his lips. "Shhh. Don't lie. You gave us our last mission."
"But-"
"And you didn't do a goddamn thing to help."
The lieutenant whimpered.
"I'm gonna make this real easy for you. Tell me where my friends are or... well, you'll see."
"I can't!"
"Why not?"
"The captain will know! A simple zone of truth will prove it."
"So?"
"He'll hang me by my nuts!"
"I'm gonna do worse if you don't cooperate."
The lieutenant chortled. "I doubt that."
I threw a severed hand at his lap.
The lieutenant widened his eyes in horror when he recognized it belonged to his mistress. "Y-you monster! What did you do to her?!?"
"I think you need to be more worried of what I'll do to the kid."
"You wouldn't..."
"Healing potions are very tricky. While a normal one can help restore any damage done to a body, in order to piece back a severed limb, you need a special type brew that's very rare to find in normal circumstances." I pulled out a vial with the special mix Reva made. "It just so happens I have one here."
"I... I still can't. The captain would..."
"I see..." I snapped my fingers. A veil of invisibility dropped, revealing in a corner of the rooftop both his mistress and his bastard child. I had them tied up and gagged so they wouldn't do anything stupid. Their panicked eyes begged to be rescued. "Care to tell your child why you won't help his mother?"
The lieutenant welled up with tears. "Please, I..."
I slapped him across the face. "Don't look at me; look at them!"
The lieutenant broke down, weeping. He then told me that my party was set to be transferred out of the city tomorrow morning. They were going to be jailed in the imperial prison over at the capital, a nigh impenetrable fortress. My only shot to rescue them was to break them out while they were being moved. When he finished, the lieutenant said:
"That's all I know. I swear! Can we go?"
I nodded. He relaxed a bit. I wasn't going to leave it there, though. He still hadn't paid for his betrayal. The paralysis would wear out soon. Before he could regain control over his body, I took out my dagger and sliced off his right hand. I placed the healing potion on his lap, untied the mistress and child, and said to the kid:
"Today, you're going to find out what type of man your father is. He now has to choose between healing his own severed hand, or your mother's. What do you think he'll do?"
The kid only gave me an icy glare.
I shrugged. "You're more than welcome to seek revenge when you're older. In the meantime, I have a party to save."
---------
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out some of my other stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | *Where are they?* I screamed at the bound monster sitting across of me, its face full of fresh bruises.The monster stared fiercely at me, remaining ever so silent.
I went to back room, and took out my tools.
*You see, I am not a good person, I never was, I tried to be good, I liked having a party, allies, friends, I even began doing good things and repaying for my sins; helping orphans and defeating villains. But my friends were taken by your boss, the arch-fiend, I may be bad, but they do not deserve such cruel treatment.*
I began pulling out several jagged tools, they shone in the dim light from the torch, the steel covered in a thin crimson layer. The monster was shaken by this sight. I turned back to face it.
*I have never told you my name, how rude of me, I am Jack, some folk know me as Thousand Cuts, The everlasting pain, The blood letter, but I abandoned that life, and I will give you another chance to tell me WHERE THEY ARE!*
The monster opened it's black maw, it's breath stunk like a thousand corpses rotting in the hot desert sun, and yet nothing came out. The adrenaline rushed through my veins, it was a different rush, an older one, one which I have not felt since I abandoned my post under the old tyrants rule. I swiftly picked up a knife and moved it ever so closely to the monsters face, giving it a last chance to speak.
The monster bolstered its courage and refused.
*Several hours later*
My robes were covered in green and black blood from the monster, and even though I worked all night, I smiled gleefully and got what I needed, I have not felt such joy for a long time. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. |
Rolling through the darkness the wagon hit a bump. Both men riding up front lurched in their seats for a moment.
“Wow, Ben you really trying to cause the wheels to break or something? We’re not in a hurry.” Dan said to man sitting next to him.
They were flanked by eight riders on horseback. Only one third of their little bandit brigade but enough that they knew no one was going to mess with them. Everyone else was riding north with their chief and the main prize of the night.
Currently Daniel and their gangs job was to dump the bodies and make sure there were no witnesses.
“It’s always the naïve ones you know.” Ben said. “A princess that wants to go out on an adventure, see the world. When we marked her and realized how much she was going to be worth when we saw her in that tavern. Really cut their adventuring short.”
Both men laughed at that. Only a few of the men had been in the tavern at first when the boss spotted her. The wild red hair was a giveaway for him. Before being their leader, Jasper the Carver, was a soldier for the army. Knowing him as he did Daniel could never believe that their vicious leader would be able to survive in the world of nobility. He wouldn’t even tell any of the men exactly what it was that made the king exile him.
Jasper’s eyes lit up when he saw the young woman. Immediately had Ben go and gather the rest of the men while they put their plan to work.
She was only traveling with a small party of five. Herself, a larger Paladin, two elves, and tall but very old cleric. Poisoning the cleric as they all had been eating was easy. They paid the barmaid to slip something in one of his drinks. When he fell over his group cheered assuming he had too much to drink. It was shame for them that he wasn’t around when the whole band attacked the tavern.
The group fought pretty well and even killed a few of Dan’s compatriots but in the end the whole place was slaughtered except for the girl. Wait was that right, Dan thought to himself.
“Hey Ben,” he asked, “Did we kill that cleric, the old man?”
“I think the poison took care of him, didn’t even check to be honest. We just threw em all in this wagon we stole didn’t we?” Ben replied.
“So he could be back there resurrecting his buddies, bring em all to life?” Dan said with wide eyes.
“What? No, gods no. Are you crazy? We removed the heads of the elves, the paladin took it through the chest. What’s he going to revive? They’ve been dead for hours.”
“Can we just check?” Daniel asked sheepishly. Keeping an eye on the cleric had been his job. He didn’t want any issues.
Ben whistled and brought the wagon to a stop. The rest of the crew circled around with their horses. Some of them had heard the exchange and were whispering to themselves. Dan was afraid of the old cleric.
“Probably would have died of old age,” one of them yelled but Dan didn’t know who it was in this darkness. Only a few of them had lit torches.
Dan hopped off and walked around the wagon mumbling to himself. It didn’t matter, the payout for this was going to be so good most of them would be set for years. Oh the women he could buy, maybe he’d even get a redhead with hair like that of the princess. Those ones were always the most expensive.
He swung open the back door of the wagon and looked inside. There was blood everywhere but he squinted his eyes for a moment. The elves were there and the paladin’s body. Where was the old man?
“Uh Ben, we definitely tossed him in here right?” Even as Dan spoke he knew the answer. He’d seen him get tossed in.
Walking back around to face the group is when he saw him. In the middle of some of the horses, a blurred image of someone was standing there.
“Hey! Who is that?” Dan asked pointing.
One of the men on the horse looked down and yelled drawing his sword. That’s when it happened, like a thunderstrike a wave of lightning radiate out from the man that was standing. Four of the mounted men and their horses were sent blasting away. One horse collided with another that was behind it and the rider was crushed on the ground.
The men were yelling in confusion as all the torches suddenly winked out. Dan drew his sword but he couldn’t see in the darkness all he could hear were the yells. He ran back to the front of the wagon where Ben was sitting his crossbow pointing out.
There were three riders left now and they were all close to the wagon, the moonlight was the only source of light they had now and none of them could see anything.
Ben scrambled to stand and got on top of the wagon.
“I can’t see him. I don’t see him anywhere.” He said still aiming around with his crossbow.
The surviving horses were freaking out as their riders tried to keep them calm and keep an eye out for their enemy. Dan kept spinning his head around looking in any direction. Where was this attacker? Who was he? Was it the cleric? It couldn’t be him. He was an old fool with a few daggers on him.
When the ball of flame came into his vision it was already almost on top of them. Diving off the wagon was the only thing that saved Dan’s life. He hit the ground hard as he watched the other bandits get consumed by the explosion. Ben was flung off the top of the wagon and landed near Dan in the dirt.
Hearing footsteps Dan looked over and walking out of the darkness was the old man. His pants were covered in blood, the blood from his compatriots in the wagon. His face was strange, a solid expression. This was far away from the look the man was wearing in the tavern.
“Which one of you is in charge?” the man asked.
“He is, it was him.” Ben said
You traitorous piece of shit Dan thought to himself, too busy coughing in pain to even say anything.
Walking over to Ben the old man touched him and Ben shot a guilty look at Dan but then started screaming. From where the old man touched him Ben’s skin started rotting, falling away from the bone. Ben was screaming in pain as his body dissolved into a pile of dead rotting flesh.
Dan began scrambling on the ground trying to get away as the old man touched his leg. Dan instinctively yelled before he realize he wasn’t feeling any pain. In fact, the pain was receding from his body. His wounds were healing before his eyes.
Looking up he was confused. There was no emotion in the man’s face, no emotion as a sword appeared in his hand and he stabbed it right through Dan’s chest. Now Dan was screaming in pain again.
“I can heal and harm you as much as I need to.” The man said without a crack in his voice. “So you’re going to answer all of my questions.” | I am known as the Single Strike Shadow.
Unlike some, I don't actually have any powers of my own, the source of my power is a sword I got from a cursed shop a few years ago. The sword caught my eye, because the description said that it was guaranteed to fell any enemy in a single slice, guaranteed. I asked how much something like that would cost, and the seller said that you don't pay with money for any of the items in this shop, you pay with something else.
I agreed to buy the item, and the seller explained its power:
So long as you intend to kill something, touch the hilt and you will have the power to do so.
I took the sword, and the seller revealed that he was actually the devil, and that I was a foolish mortal, for I did not know what terrible cost the sword actually had.
"But does the sword actually do what it says it does?"
"...well yes, of course, I may be the devil but I'm not a liar...oh crap".
I touched the hilt, and instantly I was transported to hell. Flames, blades piercing my flesh, all that jazz. The thing was, I was actually born with defective pain receptors, so I just kind of sat there for a few hours taking in the sights, before I woke up back in the real world with the blade sticking in the chest of the devil, who only managed to say "wait, this isn't how you are supposed to play this game, before dying".
Turns out, in real life, as soon as I touched the hilt, my body went temporarily incorporeal, and even the devil can't deflect what isn't there. Quicker than a flash, the shadow rematerialized back into me holding the sword stuck in the vital organs of my foe. While I was a shadow, I was supposedly in hell, and the pain should have driven any regular mortal mad, such that this blade is supposedly one time use.
That was, until the sword fell into my possession.
I then waged a campaign of terror, taking down the most skilled fighters in the world with ease, just from my perspective having to sit through a long boring torture movie of myself each time I had to kill, so I tried not to have to do it that often, even though I arrived unscathed and victorious nearly a moment later in real life.
Eventually a party of heroes found me, and convinced me to join the side of good through this long and emotional appeal, it embarrassed me, I won't go into length, but I swore to stop killing, and helped them along in their adventures. I couldn't really do much, without the sword I was just a guy that didn't feel pain, but I still had to be careful, just because I didn't feel it, doesn't mean it didn't still hurt, and the last thing I wanted to do was die of infection without knowing it.
The party didn't know where my power came from, and although they thought I must be super talented considering my power to instantly kill, they didn't know that was really my only power, without intent to kill, I really have no swordsmanship ability. So they ended up carrying me through many nonlethal adventures. I was always skeptical of how they would let robbers and murderers off the hook without killing them, and only attempting to imprison them or something, and although that would sometimes work, they'd often escape and just cause more problems. The group's philosophy is that if you kill a killer, the number of killers in the world remains the same. I would say that if I just keep on killing, eventually I'd make a profit, but considering that they managed to save me, I decided to keep my concerns to myself.
Eventually their goodness caught up to them, and they all got captured except for me. I would say that it was because I was skilled, but it was actually because I was on guard that night, and finally all the enemies we had made over the years banded together, sneaked up on the camp, and captured everyone, and I happened to be in the forest taking a leak. Just my luck.
I tracked down the fortress they were being kept in, and I noticed that our normal nonlethal methods wouldn't work. The guards were not taking patrol patterns, they all stood still so that we couldn't crack the pattern to sneak in. They also were armored, so I couldn't knock them out without using enough force to kill.
So inconvenient.
Well, they are about to execute my party after doing their customary gloating, so I decided there was no time to waste.
I strolled in, grabbed my sword, and started killing.
After so long without use, it appeared the sword had taken notice, and tried to get revenge. Each time I was transported to hell it seemed to take longer and longer before I rematerialized back in the real world, and even though it seemed to outsiders that I was an outsider I was blinking from enemy to enemy and felling even their most talented fighters without a care, each time I killed, it seemed that I was almost gone for years for a time, and enemies just kept coming.
Finally, it seemed I had gotten down to the leader, a swordsman so talented that he was known as the Storm, for when he fought, it seemed that his one blade turned a blur of a thousand blades.
I saw my party up there, and after much exhaustion, I thought they would be happy to see me, but it appeared that they only looked at me like I had betrayed them. I decided now would be the best time to come clean.
"I'm sorry, my power comes from my sword-"
In that moment, Storm had cut off my arm, and was holding my sword.
"Well, well, a sword that enhances ability huh, I already have the ability, I'd like to see what this thing can do with my already impressive ability".
The next thing I knew, the sword was in my chest, and although I couldn't feel it, I felt a lifetime of evil come back to me, and I could see in the eyes of Storm the lifetime of torture that he actually had to feel before we both faded to black. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Beckett said, “I’m frequently asked how I came to join a party such as theirs, I’m sure you’ll be thinking about it shortly.”
Joey rattled in his chair, “What’s the plan Beckett? I know you wouldn’t hurt an innocent, none of you would!”
The light was scarce down in Beckett’s basement, two torches fought silent battles with the dancing shadows on both sides of the meagre room. Joey chuckled, he thought he was in control, thought he had a good read on all the cards. It smelled like a rat had started to decompose somewhere nearby.
Beckett smiled a hollow smile, there was no need to dress it up for the present company, “You’re hardly innocent. I need to know where you’ve trapped them, Joey.” He put down a bone cutter on the wooden barrel next to Joey.
“You’re not fooling anyone, *Beckett*, you’ve all got sticks so far up your asses that—”
Beckett punched Joey across the jaw with such force that the chair toppled over, “I’m a bard, Joey, all I have are stories, which one you choose to believe is up to you.” Joey spit out a mouthful of blood on the stone floor as Beckett pulled him up along with the chair.
Joey said, “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re not fooling anyone!”
“Heard from your brother Adam lately?”
“He’s off on an important, let’s say, *business acquisition*. Keeps to himself Adam does, what of it?”
Beckett slowly paced behind the chair, Joey tried to turn his head to follow, “I heard he got attacked by bandits, just off King’s trail. Seems that they weren’t satisfied with simply robbing him, so they slit his throat. Gruesome work, really.”
Joey grew more nervous, “You’re wrong, he’ll be in Artala by now, you’re trying to rattle me and it’s not going to work!”
Beckett chuckled, “No, you’re right— it’s just a story. Let me tell you another one, about how Adam was blackmailing Austin, the paladin I’ve chosen to follow. The one you have presently hidden away somewhere.”
Beckett rapped his knuckles against the barrel, “Everyone takes for granted that our entire party is lawful good, I mean we have a paladin, it goes without saying!”
“Well, I’m neither lawful nor good. I know what needs to be done— to get the wheels turning— and it’s not by spreading *goodness*. It’s by instilling fear.”
Joey said, “Adam’s in Artala, you’re not going to rattle me!”
Beckett got right up in Joey’s face, he could almost feel the moisture running down Joey’s wrinkly forehead, after seconds of excruciating silence he said, “Your brother is dead.”
Joey said, “You’re lying! He’s in Artala, I don’t know anything about any blackmail!”
Beckett kicked over the barrel, the lid sliding off from the impact with ease, Adam’s pale face emerged from the cramped darkness within. Joey’s mind snapped and he howled until his face was red and his neck filled with thick veins, trying in vain to power through the tight rope, it was no use.
Beckett picked up the bone cutter from the cold floor, “Let’s try this again. Where have you trapped them, Joey?”
*****
Thank you for reading! | I am known as the Single Strike Shadow.
Unlike some, I don't actually have any powers of my own, the source of my power is a sword I got from a cursed shop a few years ago. The sword caught my eye, because the description said that it was guaranteed to fell any enemy in a single slice, guaranteed. I asked how much something like that would cost, and the seller said that you don't pay with money for any of the items in this shop, you pay with something else.
I agreed to buy the item, and the seller explained its power:
So long as you intend to kill something, touch the hilt and you will have the power to do so.
I took the sword, and the seller revealed that he was actually the devil, and that I was a foolish mortal, for I did not know what terrible cost the sword actually had.
"But does the sword actually do what it says it does?"
"...well yes, of course, I may be the devil but I'm not a liar...oh crap".
I touched the hilt, and instantly I was transported to hell. Flames, blades piercing my flesh, all that jazz. The thing was, I was actually born with defective pain receptors, so I just kind of sat there for a few hours taking in the sights, before I woke up back in the real world with the blade sticking in the chest of the devil, who only managed to say "wait, this isn't how you are supposed to play this game, before dying".
Turns out, in real life, as soon as I touched the hilt, my body went temporarily incorporeal, and even the devil can't deflect what isn't there. Quicker than a flash, the shadow rematerialized back into me holding the sword stuck in the vital organs of my foe. While I was a shadow, I was supposedly in hell, and the pain should have driven any regular mortal mad, such that this blade is supposedly one time use.
That was, until the sword fell into my possession.
I then waged a campaign of terror, taking down the most skilled fighters in the world with ease, just from my perspective having to sit through a long boring torture movie of myself each time I had to kill, so I tried not to have to do it that often, even though I arrived unscathed and victorious nearly a moment later in real life.
Eventually a party of heroes found me, and convinced me to join the side of good through this long and emotional appeal, it embarrassed me, I won't go into length, but I swore to stop killing, and helped them along in their adventures. I couldn't really do much, without the sword I was just a guy that didn't feel pain, but I still had to be careful, just because I didn't feel it, doesn't mean it didn't still hurt, and the last thing I wanted to do was die of infection without knowing it.
The party didn't know where my power came from, and although they thought I must be super talented considering my power to instantly kill, they didn't know that was really my only power, without intent to kill, I really have no swordsmanship ability. So they ended up carrying me through many nonlethal adventures. I was always skeptical of how they would let robbers and murderers off the hook without killing them, and only attempting to imprison them or something, and although that would sometimes work, they'd often escape and just cause more problems. The group's philosophy is that if you kill a killer, the number of killers in the world remains the same. I would say that if I just keep on killing, eventually I'd make a profit, but considering that they managed to save me, I decided to keep my concerns to myself.
Eventually their goodness caught up to them, and they all got captured except for me. I would say that it was because I was skilled, but it was actually because I was on guard that night, and finally all the enemies we had made over the years banded together, sneaked up on the camp, and captured everyone, and I happened to be in the forest taking a leak. Just my luck.
I tracked down the fortress they were being kept in, and I noticed that our normal nonlethal methods wouldn't work. The guards were not taking patrol patterns, they all stood still so that we couldn't crack the pattern to sneak in. They also were armored, so I couldn't knock them out without using enough force to kill.
So inconvenient.
Well, they are about to execute my party after doing their customary gloating, so I decided there was no time to waste.
I strolled in, grabbed my sword, and started killing.
After so long without use, it appeared the sword had taken notice, and tried to get revenge. Each time I was transported to hell it seemed to take longer and longer before I rematerialized back in the real world, and even though it seemed to outsiders that I was an outsider I was blinking from enemy to enemy and felling even their most talented fighters without a care, each time I killed, it seemed that I was almost gone for years for a time, and enemies just kept coming.
Finally, it seemed I had gotten down to the leader, a swordsman so talented that he was known as the Storm, for when he fought, it seemed that his one blade turned a blur of a thousand blades.
I saw my party up there, and after much exhaustion, I thought they would be happy to see me, but it appeared that they only looked at me like I had betrayed them. I decided now would be the best time to come clean.
"I'm sorry, my power comes from my sword-"
In that moment, Storm had cut off my arm, and was holding my sword.
"Well, well, a sword that enhances ability huh, I already have the ability, I'd like to see what this thing can do with my already impressive ability".
The next thing I knew, the sword was in my chest, and although I couldn't feel it, I felt a lifetime of evil come back to me, and I could see in the eyes of Storm the lifetime of torture that he actually had to feel before we both faded to black. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | I am known as the Single Strike Shadow.
Unlike some, I don't actually have any powers of my own, the source of my power is a sword I got from a cursed shop a few years ago. The sword caught my eye, because the description said that it was guaranteed to fell any enemy in a single slice, guaranteed. I asked how much something like that would cost, and the seller said that you don't pay with money for any of the items in this shop, you pay with something else.
I agreed to buy the item, and the seller explained its power:
So long as you intend to kill something, touch the hilt and you will have the power to do so.
I took the sword, and the seller revealed that he was actually the devil, and that I was a foolish mortal, for I did not know what terrible cost the sword actually had.
"But does the sword actually do what it says it does?"
"...well yes, of course, I may be the devil but I'm not a liar...oh crap".
I touched the hilt, and instantly I was transported to hell. Flames, blades piercing my flesh, all that jazz. The thing was, I was actually born with defective pain receptors, so I just kind of sat there for a few hours taking in the sights, before I woke up back in the real world with the blade sticking in the chest of the devil, who only managed to say "wait, this isn't how you are supposed to play this game, before dying".
Turns out, in real life, as soon as I touched the hilt, my body went temporarily incorporeal, and even the devil can't deflect what isn't there. Quicker than a flash, the shadow rematerialized back into me holding the sword stuck in the vital organs of my foe. While I was a shadow, I was supposedly in hell, and the pain should have driven any regular mortal mad, such that this blade is supposedly one time use.
That was, until the sword fell into my possession.
I then waged a campaign of terror, taking down the most skilled fighters in the world with ease, just from my perspective having to sit through a long boring torture movie of myself each time I had to kill, so I tried not to have to do it that often, even though I arrived unscathed and victorious nearly a moment later in real life.
Eventually a party of heroes found me, and convinced me to join the side of good through this long and emotional appeal, it embarrassed me, I won't go into length, but I swore to stop killing, and helped them along in their adventures. I couldn't really do much, without the sword I was just a guy that didn't feel pain, but I still had to be careful, just because I didn't feel it, doesn't mean it didn't still hurt, and the last thing I wanted to do was die of infection without knowing it.
The party didn't know where my power came from, and although they thought I must be super talented considering my power to instantly kill, they didn't know that was really my only power, without intent to kill, I really have no swordsmanship ability. So they ended up carrying me through many nonlethal adventures. I was always skeptical of how they would let robbers and murderers off the hook without killing them, and only attempting to imprison them or something, and although that would sometimes work, they'd often escape and just cause more problems. The group's philosophy is that if you kill a killer, the number of killers in the world remains the same. I would say that if I just keep on killing, eventually I'd make a profit, but considering that they managed to save me, I decided to keep my concerns to myself.
Eventually their goodness caught up to them, and they all got captured except for me. I would say that it was because I was skilled, but it was actually because I was on guard that night, and finally all the enemies we had made over the years banded together, sneaked up on the camp, and captured everyone, and I happened to be in the forest taking a leak. Just my luck.
I tracked down the fortress they were being kept in, and I noticed that our normal nonlethal methods wouldn't work. The guards were not taking patrol patterns, they all stood still so that we couldn't crack the pattern to sneak in. They also were armored, so I couldn't knock them out without using enough force to kill.
So inconvenient.
Well, they are about to execute my party after doing their customary gloating, so I decided there was no time to waste.
I strolled in, grabbed my sword, and started killing.
After so long without use, it appeared the sword had taken notice, and tried to get revenge. Each time I was transported to hell it seemed to take longer and longer before I rematerialized back in the real world, and even though it seemed to outsiders that I was an outsider I was blinking from enemy to enemy and felling even their most talented fighters without a care, each time I killed, it seemed that I was almost gone for years for a time, and enemies just kept coming.
Finally, it seemed I had gotten down to the leader, a swordsman so talented that he was known as the Storm, for when he fought, it seemed that his one blade turned a blur of a thousand blades.
I saw my party up there, and after much exhaustion, I thought they would be happy to see me, but it appeared that they only looked at me like I had betrayed them. I decided now would be the best time to come clean.
"I'm sorry, my power comes from my sword-"
In that moment, Storm had cut off my arm, and was holding my sword.
"Well, well, a sword that enhances ability huh, I already have the ability, I'd like to see what this thing can do with my already impressive ability".
The next thing I knew, the sword was in my chest, and although I couldn't feel it, I felt a lifetime of evil come back to me, and I could see in the eyes of Storm the lifetime of torture that he actually had to feel before we both faded to black. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. |
Rolling through the darkness the wagon hit a bump. Both men riding up front lurched in their seats for a moment.
“Wow, Ben you really trying to cause the wheels to break or something? We’re not in a hurry.” Dan said to man sitting next to him.
They were flanked by eight riders on horseback. Only one third of their little bandit brigade but enough that they knew no one was going to mess with them. Everyone else was riding north with their chief and the main prize of the night.
Currently Daniel and their gangs job was to dump the bodies and make sure there were no witnesses.
“It’s always the naïve ones you know.” Ben said. “A princess that wants to go out on an adventure, see the world. When we marked her and realized how much she was going to be worth when we saw her in that tavern. Really cut their adventuring short.”
Both men laughed at that. Only a few of the men had been in the tavern at first when the boss spotted her. The wild red hair was a giveaway for him. Before being their leader, Jasper the Carver, was a soldier for the army. Knowing him as he did Daniel could never believe that their vicious leader would be able to survive in the world of nobility. He wouldn’t even tell any of the men exactly what it was that made the king exile him.
Jasper’s eyes lit up when he saw the young woman. Immediately had Ben go and gather the rest of the men while they put their plan to work.
She was only traveling with a small party of five. Herself, a larger Paladin, two elves, and tall but very old cleric. Poisoning the cleric as they all had been eating was easy. They paid the barmaid to slip something in one of his drinks. When he fell over his group cheered assuming he had too much to drink. It was shame for them that he wasn’t around when the whole band attacked the tavern.
The group fought pretty well and even killed a few of Dan’s compatriots but in the end the whole place was slaughtered except for the girl. Wait was that right, Dan thought to himself.
“Hey Ben,” he asked, “Did we kill that cleric, the old man?”
“I think the poison took care of him, didn’t even check to be honest. We just threw em all in this wagon we stole didn’t we?” Ben replied.
“So he could be back there resurrecting his buddies, bring em all to life?” Dan said with wide eyes.
“What? No, gods no. Are you crazy? We removed the heads of the elves, the paladin took it through the chest. What’s he going to revive? They’ve been dead for hours.”
“Can we just check?” Daniel asked sheepishly. Keeping an eye on the cleric had been his job. He didn’t want any issues.
Ben whistled and brought the wagon to a stop. The rest of the crew circled around with their horses. Some of them had heard the exchange and were whispering to themselves. Dan was afraid of the old cleric.
“Probably would have died of old age,” one of them yelled but Dan didn’t know who it was in this darkness. Only a few of them had lit torches.
Dan hopped off and walked around the wagon mumbling to himself. It didn’t matter, the payout for this was going to be so good most of them would be set for years. Oh the women he could buy, maybe he’d even get a redhead with hair like that of the princess. Those ones were always the most expensive.
He swung open the back door of the wagon and looked inside. There was blood everywhere but he squinted his eyes for a moment. The elves were there and the paladin’s body. Where was the old man?
“Uh Ben, we definitely tossed him in here right?” Even as Dan spoke he knew the answer. He’d seen him get tossed in.
Walking back around to face the group is when he saw him. In the middle of some of the horses, a blurred image of someone was standing there.
“Hey! Who is that?” Dan asked pointing.
One of the men on the horse looked down and yelled drawing his sword. That’s when it happened, like a thunderstrike a wave of lightning radiate out from the man that was standing. Four of the mounted men and their horses were sent blasting away. One horse collided with another that was behind it and the rider was crushed on the ground.
The men were yelling in confusion as all the torches suddenly winked out. Dan drew his sword but he couldn’t see in the darkness all he could hear were the yells. He ran back to the front of the wagon where Ben was sitting his crossbow pointing out.
There were three riders left now and they were all close to the wagon, the moonlight was the only source of light they had now and none of them could see anything.
Ben scrambled to stand and got on top of the wagon.
“I can’t see him. I don’t see him anywhere.” He said still aiming around with his crossbow.
The surviving horses were freaking out as their riders tried to keep them calm and keep an eye out for their enemy. Dan kept spinning his head around looking in any direction. Where was this attacker? Who was he? Was it the cleric? It couldn’t be him. He was an old fool with a few daggers on him.
When the ball of flame came into his vision it was already almost on top of them. Diving off the wagon was the only thing that saved Dan’s life. He hit the ground hard as he watched the other bandits get consumed by the explosion. Ben was flung off the top of the wagon and landed near Dan in the dirt.
Hearing footsteps Dan looked over and walking out of the darkness was the old man. His pants were covered in blood, the blood from his compatriots in the wagon. His face was strange, a solid expression. This was far away from the look the man was wearing in the tavern.
“Which one of you is in charge?” the man asked.
“He is, it was him.” Ben said
You traitorous piece of shit Dan thought to himself, too busy coughing in pain to even say anything.
Walking over to Ben the old man touched him and Ben shot a guilty look at Dan but then started screaming. From where the old man touched him Ben’s skin started rotting, falling away from the bone. Ben was screaming in pain as his body dissolved into a pile of dead rotting flesh.
Dan began scrambling on the ground trying to get away as the old man touched his leg. Dan instinctively yelled before he realize he wasn’t feeling any pain. In fact, the pain was receding from his body. His wounds were healing before his eyes.
Looking up he was confused. There was no emotion in the man’s face, no emotion as a sword appeared in his hand and he stabbed it right through Dan’s chest. Now Dan was screaming in pain again.
“I can heal and harm you as much as I need to.” The man said without a crack in his voice. “So you’re going to answer all of my questions.” | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | Beckett said, “I’m frequently asked how I came to join a party such as theirs, I’m sure you’ll be thinking about it shortly.”
Joey rattled in his chair, “What’s the plan Beckett? I know you wouldn’t hurt an innocent, none of you would!”
The light was scarce down in Beckett’s basement, two torches fought silent battles with the dancing shadows on both sides of the meagre room. Joey chuckled, he thought he was in control, thought he had a good read on all the cards. It smelled like a rat had started to decompose somewhere nearby.
Beckett smiled a hollow smile, there was no need to dress it up for the present company, “You’re hardly innocent. I need to know where you’ve trapped them, Joey.” He put down a bone cutter on the wooden barrel next to Joey.
“You’re not fooling anyone, *Beckett*, you’ve all got sticks so far up your asses that—”
Beckett punched Joey across the jaw with such force that the chair toppled over, “I’m a bard, Joey, all I have are stories, which one you choose to believe is up to you.” Joey spit out a mouthful of blood on the stone floor as Beckett pulled him up along with the chair.
Joey said, “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re not fooling anyone!”
“Heard from your brother Adam lately?”
“He’s off on an important, let’s say, *business acquisition*. Keeps to himself Adam does, what of it?”
Beckett slowly paced behind the chair, Joey tried to turn his head to follow, “I heard he got attacked by bandits, just off King’s trail. Seems that they weren’t satisfied with simply robbing him, so they slit his throat. Gruesome work, really.”
Joey grew more nervous, “You’re wrong, he’ll be in Artala by now, you’re trying to rattle me and it’s not going to work!”
Beckett chuckled, “No, you’re right— it’s just a story. Let me tell you another one, about how Adam was blackmailing Austin, the paladin I’ve chosen to follow. The one you have presently hidden away somewhere.”
Beckett rapped his knuckles against the barrel, “Everyone takes for granted that our entire party is lawful good, I mean we have a paladin, it goes without saying!”
“Well, I’m neither lawful nor good. I know what needs to be done— to get the wheels turning— and it’s not by spreading *goodness*. It’s by instilling fear.”
Joey said, “Adam’s in Artala, you’re not going to rattle me!”
Beckett got right up in Joey’s face, he could almost feel the moisture running down Joey’s wrinkly forehead, after seconds of excruciating silence he said, “Your brother is dead.”
Joey said, “You’re lying! He’s in Artala, I don’t know anything about any blackmail!”
Beckett kicked over the barrel, the lid sliding off from the impact with ease, Adam’s pale face emerged from the cramped darkness within. Joey’s mind snapped and he howled until his face was red and his neck filled with thick veins, trying in vain to power through the tight rope, it was no use.
Beckett picked up the bone cutter from the cold floor, “Let’s try this again. Where have you trapped them, Joey?”
*****
Thank you for reading! | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | ######[](#dropcap)
She'd forgotten what it felt like.
She twisted the knife deeper, and the blood gushed out like a fountain from the source. That's what humans were, after all. Merely fountains of blood. The man writhed on the hard marble floors, his face contorted into a mask of agony. His body jerked involuntarily with every slight movement. But in his gaze, too, there was something she was all too familiar with. Something she'd buried long ago but could now feel rising like bile in the back of her throat despite her steady hands. Lissandra smiled, but the warmth never reached her eyes.
"Why don't you help me out, Marcus? We were friends once, weren't we?" she murmured. She brought one gloved hand down gently and stroked his black, blood soaked hair. His eyelids began to flutter. She stilled her left hand, allowing the knife to act as a plug. He would die within minutes once she extracted it. Marcus's lips quivered, his eyes wide.
"Lissandra," he paused to cough up blood, the dark, viscous liquid bubbling up over his lips and splattering onto the marble. "Please. You're good now, they say you're the good one," he gasped. "I don't know where they are. Please let me go. I don't know--"
The good one? Something clenched in her chest, tight and unyielding. Her eyes flashed. She leaned over him, ignoring the way the blood had begun to soak into her kneepads. Still crouching, she let go of the knife. The slight spasms in his muscles meant he was no threat to her now.
"The good one?" The corner of her lips twitched upward, and then she began laughing. It bubbled out of her throat, long and high-pitched like a hyena's cackle. "The good one?" she repeated. "No. Eliyah was the good one. Maribel was the good one. Luca was the good one." She stood up, her lips pressed together. It was clear he was going to be no help to her now. She watched as his lids began to droop. He stilled.
The blood pooled out from his body on the tiles like petals from a rose, so vividly beautiful. Familiar. She could taste the iron tang on her tongue still, from all the times she'd been forced to gag it down as part of her time in the Iron Thorns. Her gaze drifted up to the crest of thorns hung up proudly on the wall, now covered in specks of red. For the longest time, she'd treated it like home.
She could still see Luther White's grin, baring his sharpened gold teeth as he slid a cold, grimy hand down her arm. They were all his children, he said. He would take care of them.
"Good?" she murmured to herself. She tugged the knife from his body. Looking around, she stepped over to the table covered in that fancy, gold tablecloth that represented his rank in Luther's clan. She drew the blade over the cloth, until its surface was a shiny silver yet again. Then she sheathed it.
She took one last glance up at the crest.
No. She wasn't good at all. She just liked the company.
***
r/AlannaWu | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | I cursed the sun as I pulled my robes more tightly around my neck and face. Human skin is thin and in limited supply, so I had to care for it to the best of my ability.
"Turn back, you infernal idiot," one of them clicked at me.
"You know how he gets when he sets his mind on something," another snarled back, "he's going to get us all killed..."
"Or worse..." a third chittered.
I hummed to drown out their impish voices and instead turned my thoughts to the journey that lay ahead. Yes, it would be challenging. Yes, I would probably lose some aspect of myself in the process, but to be surrounded by allies again - by people who cared for me unconditionally - was something I wanted more than ever. I missed Terval and his silent compassion. Kaarah and her lively stories about dragons and ogres. Jeevah and their empathetic advice on change. I had grown to love them and, by extension, had grown to love helping others with them. But now they were missing.
The sun glinted off the Sigil of Lux on the chapel's roof as I approached it and I choked back the instinctual growl. *Get used to it*, I thought as I neared the door, *you're doing this for the people who rely on them; you're doing this for... you.*
"No, you're doing this because you're suicidal," they started again.
"Do you have any idea what Umbor will do to you... to us?"
"We'll be exor..."
I loudly knocked on the door to stop their chattering. Not long after, a familiar face appeared as he opened the door.
"Grrrkash, so nice to see you, but where are..."
"They're not with me and I need to find them," I replied, "your Faith has chapels across the Six Kingdoms, yes?"
Abbot Glynt nodded.
"And when do the Sunbringer Pilgrimages begin?"
"At the end of this week."
"I want to join."
He raised an eyebrow, "Do you have any idea what will become of you if you do this?"
"Yes," I shuddered involuntarily, "but I need to find them and you're my best chance." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | The city betrayed us. We spent months helping the captain of the guards dismantle the local thieve's guild until he charged us with treason when we were done. I warned the party. The captain acted too nice for someone who was also seizing worrying amounts of political influence. They still didn't listen to me.
I realized something was amiss when I opened the package we had just fought to retrieve. Blackmail material. The captain originally obtained his first promotion after sleeping with a now dead noble lord. Most of the party felt pity for him. The captain was a straight man with a wife and kids. They assumed he only wanted to bury his shame. I thought differently, but nobody ever listens to the rogue on these matters. They actually scolded me for reading the document.
We discovered the truth after we were ambushed. The captain didn't want justice. His goal was to remove everyone in his way to becoming nobility. The thieve's guild had its leaders replaced with people he could control. Now, the captain was effectively in charge of all law enforcement and crime in the city.
Our party never stood a chance against the combined might of these factions. We were too exhausted from the mission. I had to run away.
The party looked more wounded by my retreat than by the ambush. Except for Dary, the know-it-all dwarf cleric. He glared at me like he expected it the entire time. Screw him.
Over the next few days, I lived like an urchin again. Sleeping in rooftops, eating discarded crumbs of stale bread, staying out of sight as much as possible. Both the thieve's guild and the city guards were hunting me down. I couldn't rely on anyone but myself, just like when I was a kid.
The obvious choice was abandoning this town. That wasn't possible, though. I couldn't keep the party out of my head whenever I thought of leaving. They were supposed to be temporary allies. We all knew that. For some reason, though, my anger at the captain never went away. He took something from me that I didn't even know I possessed. My decision came easily when I realized I wanted my friends back.
Unfortunately, the captain was too well protected to assassinate. For now.
I needed the party before going after him. My funds were also low and most of my equipment needed maintenance, so I went to a young potions seller to ask for her help. We aided her a while ago by fighting some thugs doing a protection racket in her neighborhood. She might be the only person who cares enough to help me. That said, she also couldn't stand me. I was the only one in the party who tried to charge her for our service. Hopefully, she wouldn't hold it against me.
Reva, the young alchemist, didn't recognize me when I entered her store. My disguise actually worked. I acted like an unstable homeless guy to scare away the few customers inside. She didn't appreciate that. I dropped my illusion when everyone else had left and she still tried to kick me out of the store.
"Come on!" I pleaded. "This isn't about me!"
Reva crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.
"The party is in trouble..." I glanced away, embarrassed. "I can't help them on my own."
"I heard the news. They're getting called criminals. Is it true?"
"Of course not." I smirked. "Ironically enough, the only person that wasn't arrested was the literal criminal."
Reva rolled her eyes. "What do you want?"
"I need some potions. Anything that can regenerate flesh and something that paralyzes for a while."
"I have some healing potions, but the other thing you're asking is basically poison."
"So?"
"I don't sell that!"
"But you know how to make them, right?"
Reva frowned.
"I'm guessing that's a yes?"
Reva sighed. "You have a lot of balls asking for this. Can you even pay?"
"Umm..."
"That's what I thought."
"Look, I know I'm not the most trustworthy-"
"You tried to steal my purse!"
I cleared my throat. "Like I was saying, I know I'm kind of a shady individual, but what happened to the party wasn't right. You got along with them well. Do you really think anyone else in the city would've helped you?"
Reva sighed. "No; they were the only ones who listened to me."
"They're an empathetic lot. Sometimes to a fault. The fact that they've tolerated me for this long proves it more than anything else."
Reva closed her eyes, deep in thought, opening them to say:
"Fine."
It took a day to brew the specific potions I wanted. Reva didn't ask me what I planned to do when I left the store. Something gave her the feeling that she didn't want to know, and she was completely right. No one, not even the party, would approve of what I would do next. Nobody needed to know, though.
I'd been stalking a lieutenant these past few days. He was a close confidant of the captain that followed his every order. I never trusted him. His 'eager to please' attitude made me defensive even when we were allied. My hunch was that the captain held something over his head in order to control him, and I was proven correct when I discovered he had a second family with a mistress.
Later, close to midnight, the lieutenant stumbled out of his favorite bar with no care in the world. He didn't put up much resistance after being poisoned by my arrow. I carried his paralyzed body to one of the rooftops I slept in, a remote place far away from where anyone could hear him scream. The man darted his eyes around confused until recognizing me. The poison still allowed him to speak, so he immediately said:
"I-I had nothing to do with it!"
I chuckled. "Of course you didn't."
"You have to believe me! I didn't want that to happen, but-"
I put my index finger on his lips. "Shhh. Don't lie. You gave us our last mission."
"But-"
"And you didn't do a goddamn thing to help."
The lieutenant whimpered.
"I'm gonna make this real easy for you. Tell me where my friends are or... well, you'll see."
"I can't!"
"Why not?"
"The captain will know! A simple zone of truth will prove it."
"So?"
"He'll hang me by my nuts!"
"I'm gonna do worse if you don't cooperate."
The lieutenant chortled. "I doubt that."
I threw a severed hand at his lap.
The lieutenant widened his eyes in horror when he recognized it belonged to his mistress. "Y-you monster! What did you do to her?!?"
"I think you need to be more worried of what I'll do to the kid."
"You wouldn't..."
"Healing potions are very tricky. While a normal one can help restore any damage done to a body, in order to piece back a severed limb, you need a special type brew that's very rare to find in normal circumstances." I pulled out a vial with the special mix Reva made. "It just so happens I have one here."
"I... I still can't. The captain would..."
"I see..." I snapped my fingers. A veil of invisibility dropped, revealing in a corner of the rooftop both his mistress and his bastard child. I had them tied up and gagged so they wouldn't do anything stupid. Their panicked eyes begged to be rescued. "Care to tell your child why you won't help his mother?"
The lieutenant welled up with tears. "Please, I..."
I slapped him across the face. "Don't look at me; look at them!"
The lieutenant broke down, weeping. He then told me that my party was set to be transferred out of the city tomorrow morning. They were going to be jailed in the imperial prison over at the capital, a nigh impenetrable fortress. My only shot to rescue them was to break them out while they were being moved. When he finished, the lieutenant said:
"That's all I know. I swear! Can we go?"
I nodded. He relaxed a bit. I wasn't going to leave it there, though. He still hadn't paid for his betrayal. The paralysis would wear out soon. Before he could regain control over his body, I took out my dagger and sliced off his right hand. I placed the healing potion on his lap, untied the mistress and child, and said to the kid:
"Today, you're going to find out what type of man your father is. He now has to choose between healing his own severed hand, or your mother's. What do you think he'll do?"
The kid only gave me an icy glare.
I shrugged. "You're more than welcome to seek revenge when you're older. In the meantime, I have a party to save."
---------
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out some of my other stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | I cursed the sun as I pulled my robes more tightly around my neck and face. Human skin is thin and in limited supply, so I had to care for it to the best of my ability.
"Turn back, you infernal idiot," one of them clicked at me.
"You know how he gets when he sets his mind on something," another snarled back, "he's going to get us all killed..."
"Or worse..." a third chittered.
I hummed to drown out their impish voices and instead turned my thoughts to the journey that lay ahead. Yes, it would be challenging. Yes, I would probably lose some aspect of myself in the process, but to be surrounded by allies again - by people who cared for me unconditionally - was something I wanted more than ever. I missed Terval and his silent compassion. Kaarah and her lively stories about dragons and ogres. Jeevah and their empathetic advice on change. I had grown to love them and, by extension, had grown to love helping others with them. But now they were missing.
The sun glinted off the Sigil of Lux on the chapel's roof as I approached it and I choked back the instinctual growl. *Get used to it*, I thought as I neared the door, *you're doing this for the people who rely on them; you're doing this for... you.*
"No, you're doing this because you're suicidal," they started again.
"Do you have any idea what Umbor will do to you... to us?"
"We'll be exor..."
I loudly knocked on the door to stop their chattering. Not long after, a familiar face appeared as he opened the door.
"Grrrkash, so nice to see you, but where are..."
"They're not with me and I need to find them," I replied, "your Faith has chapels across the Six Kingdoms, yes?"
Abbot Glynt nodded.
"And when do the Sunbringer Pilgrimages begin?"
"At the end of this week."
"I want to join."
He raised an eyebrow, "Do you have any idea what will become of you if you do this?"
"Yes," I shuddered involuntarily, "but I need to find them and you're my best chance." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | The city betrayed us. We spent months helping the captain of the guards dismantle the local thieve's guild until he charged us with treason when we were done. I warned the party. The captain acted too nice for someone who was also seizing worrying amounts of political influence. They still didn't listen to me.
I realized something was amiss when I opened the package we had just fought to retrieve. Blackmail material. The captain originally obtained his first promotion after sleeping with a now dead noble lord. Most of the party felt pity for him. The captain was a straight man with a wife and kids. They assumed he only wanted to bury his shame. I thought differently, but nobody ever listens to the rogue on these matters. They actually scolded me for reading the document.
We discovered the truth after we were ambushed. The captain didn't want justice. His goal was to remove everyone in his way to becoming nobility. The thieve's guild had its leaders replaced with people he could control. Now, the captain was effectively in charge of all law enforcement and crime in the city.
Our party never stood a chance against the combined might of these factions. We were too exhausted from the mission. I had to run away.
The party looked more wounded by my retreat than by the ambush. Except for Dary, the know-it-all dwarf cleric. He glared at me like he expected it the entire time. Screw him.
Over the next few days, I lived like an urchin again. Sleeping in rooftops, eating discarded crumbs of stale bread, staying out of sight as much as possible. Both the thieve's guild and the city guards were hunting me down. I couldn't rely on anyone but myself, just like when I was a kid.
The obvious choice was abandoning this town. That wasn't possible, though. I couldn't keep the party out of my head whenever I thought of leaving. They were supposed to be temporary allies. We all knew that. For some reason, though, my anger at the captain never went away. He took something from me that I didn't even know I possessed. My decision came easily when I realized I wanted my friends back.
Unfortunately, the captain was too well protected to assassinate. For now.
I needed the party before going after him. My funds were also low and most of my equipment needed maintenance, so I went to a young potions seller to ask for her help. We aided her a while ago by fighting some thugs doing a protection racket in her neighborhood. She might be the only person who cares enough to help me. That said, she also couldn't stand me. I was the only one in the party who tried to charge her for our service. Hopefully, she wouldn't hold it against me.
Reva, the young alchemist, didn't recognize me when I entered her store. My disguise actually worked. I acted like an unstable homeless guy to scare away the few customers inside. She didn't appreciate that. I dropped my illusion when everyone else had left and she still tried to kick me out of the store.
"Come on!" I pleaded. "This isn't about me!"
Reva crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.
"The party is in trouble..." I glanced away, embarrassed. "I can't help them on my own."
"I heard the news. They're getting called criminals. Is it true?"
"Of course not." I smirked. "Ironically enough, the only person that wasn't arrested was the literal criminal."
Reva rolled her eyes. "What do you want?"
"I need some potions. Anything that can regenerate flesh and something that paralyzes for a while."
"I have some healing potions, but the other thing you're asking is basically poison."
"So?"
"I don't sell that!"
"But you know how to make them, right?"
Reva frowned.
"I'm guessing that's a yes?"
Reva sighed. "You have a lot of balls asking for this. Can you even pay?"
"Umm..."
"That's what I thought."
"Look, I know I'm not the most trustworthy-"
"You tried to steal my purse!"
I cleared my throat. "Like I was saying, I know I'm kind of a shady individual, but what happened to the party wasn't right. You got along with them well. Do you really think anyone else in the city would've helped you?"
Reva sighed. "No; they were the only ones who listened to me."
"They're an empathetic lot. Sometimes to a fault. The fact that they've tolerated me for this long proves it more than anything else."
Reva closed her eyes, deep in thought, opening them to say:
"Fine."
It took a day to brew the specific potions I wanted. Reva didn't ask me what I planned to do when I left the store. Something gave her the feeling that she didn't want to know, and she was completely right. No one, not even the party, would approve of what I would do next. Nobody needed to know, though.
I'd been stalking a lieutenant these past few days. He was a close confidant of the captain that followed his every order. I never trusted him. His 'eager to please' attitude made me defensive even when we were allied. My hunch was that the captain held something over his head in order to control him, and I was proven correct when I discovered he had a second family with a mistress.
Later, close to midnight, the lieutenant stumbled out of his favorite bar with no care in the world. He didn't put up much resistance after being poisoned by my arrow. I carried his paralyzed body to one of the rooftops I slept in, a remote place far away from where anyone could hear him scream. The man darted his eyes around confused until recognizing me. The poison still allowed him to speak, so he immediately said:
"I-I had nothing to do with it!"
I chuckled. "Of course you didn't."
"You have to believe me! I didn't want that to happen, but-"
I put my index finger on his lips. "Shhh. Don't lie. You gave us our last mission."
"But-"
"And you didn't do a goddamn thing to help."
The lieutenant whimpered.
"I'm gonna make this real easy for you. Tell me where my friends are or... well, you'll see."
"I can't!"
"Why not?"
"The captain will know! A simple zone of truth will prove it."
"So?"
"He'll hang me by my nuts!"
"I'm gonna do worse if you don't cooperate."
The lieutenant chortled. "I doubt that."
I threw a severed hand at his lap.
The lieutenant widened his eyes in horror when he recognized it belonged to his mistress. "Y-you monster! What did you do to her?!?"
"I think you need to be more worried of what I'll do to the kid."
"You wouldn't..."
"Healing potions are very tricky. While a normal one can help restore any damage done to a body, in order to piece back a severed limb, you need a special type brew that's very rare to find in normal circumstances." I pulled out a vial with the special mix Reva made. "It just so happens I have one here."
"I... I still can't. The captain would..."
"I see..." I snapped my fingers. A veil of invisibility dropped, revealing in a corner of the rooftop both his mistress and his bastard child. I had them tied up and gagged so they wouldn't do anything stupid. Their panicked eyes begged to be rescued. "Care to tell your child why you won't help his mother?"
The lieutenant welled up with tears. "Please, I..."
I slapped him across the face. "Don't look at me; look at them!"
The lieutenant broke down, weeping. He then told me that my party was set to be transferred out of the city tomorrow morning. They were going to be jailed in the imperial prison over at the capital, a nigh impenetrable fortress. My only shot to rescue them was to break them out while they were being moved. When he finished, the lieutenant said:
"That's all I know. I swear! Can we go?"
I nodded. He relaxed a bit. I wasn't going to leave it there, though. He still hadn't paid for his betrayal. The paralysis would wear out soon. Before he could regain control over his body, I took out my dagger and sliced off his right hand. I placed the healing potion on his lap, untied the mistress and child, and said to the kid:
"Today, you're going to find out what type of man your father is. He now has to choose between healing his own severed hand, or your mother's. What do you think he'll do?"
The kid only gave me an icy glare.
I shrugged. "You're more than welcome to seek revenge when you're older. In the meantime, I have a party to save."
---------
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out some of my other stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | "Where are they then, Baratus?" my blade was out of its sheath now, glowing with the righteous furor of a paladin of Listanor seeking justice, "I got word the Kobolds passed through this town three days ago. I've nearly caught them, and I will not be slowed by your incompetence."
The man before me gulped. He was large, probably some orc back in his family history. Not enough for tusks certainly, but he was larger and hardier than most men of the Austral hinterland. Baratus also happened to be an old acquaintance as what passed for the local government in Runecove. A little Stillwater hovel that squatted like a diseased bird on the rotting corpse of the lower Therian river. It was the only town of any appreciable size this far south, and a common stopping point for adventurers travelling into the Ironwrist mountains. It also functioned as the starting point for the journey of their wealth back to real civilization. He was dressed in what passed for his finery of office. Browns and greens running like river muck down his chest, and a circlet of Wrought Ironwrist namesake taking to rust in the morning mist. Pathetic. He was the last barrier, the last person between me and the people who might have *answers*.
He took a step back before the heat of my fury, and put his hands up. Possibly to ward away the blade, possibly to plead for peace. I was beyond peace. I was here for justice. Luckily, he began to speak, "They came through yes, a large party. Some few humans with them -" I felt my eyes flare, and he his hands came together as if to plead or beg, "None who matched your party members, Lineus. I do remember them you know, I'd have noticed."
My blade lowered almost imperceptibly, he was right about that, still. "You got my message, you must have," my voice began to shake with anger at the man's betrayal, "I sent it via a courier spell from the Ashen ford. It cost me a small fortune, but I know your mages heard me. You *knew*."
I took a half step towards him, closing us to within a hair's breadth as I like the steel of my blade rest on his tunic, "Lineus!" Baratus practically squealed, trying to back away but running into a wall, "I couldn't possibly be sure! None of your party members were with them, and I had no right to detain innoce-"
"How. Much." I barely breathed the words.
His silence was answer enough.
"How much?" Louder now, raw.
He wouldn't look me in the eyes.
"How much! How much to sell my party down the river in the hands of a necromancer Baratus?"
He was trembling, but tried to contain himself. No point lying to a paladin. "Enough. More than has passed through the coffers of Runecove in an entire year," his voice steadied, becoming accusing, "I don't know what you fools have gotten tangled up in this time Lineus, but I will not put my city at risk to -"
He never got a chance to finish the statement. My sword had cut his throat. The blood rushed from him in a torrent, strangely hypnotic. What few small sounds he was still capable of making would die with him soon enough anyway. The glow of my blade faded as I stopped feeding the enchantment mana. I hadn't been able to properly imbue a blade in weeks. I hadn't set foot in a temple either, but I knew better than to try. There were some things a paladin could do alone, but speed wasn't among them. I needed to be something else to save them.
I wiped the cold steel on the dead man's rags and sheathed it. I would be whatever I had to be to save my friends. | |
[WP] You're a demon in hell. One of your prisoners actually seems glad to be there, and one day, you ask them why. | He really does fill the criteria. You see people like him every day. Tattoos, piercings, hair unkempt and roughly dyed. It’s nothing surprising. His file wasn’t surprising either. Bullying, stealing, threats of violence, extortion, it is a fairly lengthy list. The teen sitting in front of you though, there is no fear coming from him. If anything, he looks... happy. You consider him, your head tilted. There's a light behind his eyes that is unexpected.
“You are not aware of your situation, are you, boy?”
The boy smiled.
“Oh, I am. I’m dead.”
“You are smiling.” You say the words slowly like you are talking to someone who is lacking any form of mental capacity. “You are in Hell and you are smiling.”
The smile didn’t falter.
“I know Hell. This ain’t it. I’m guessing you folks don’t have mothers, being eternal beings and all that. But I’ve heard her screams my whole life. Her and dad. Always been told I’m worthless and shit.”
He leaned forward. You don’t. You only gaze at him. This is one of those conversations, the intriguing ones that make you wonder what on Earth is happening on... Earth.
“Got to tell you, I’m real relieved. I’m guessing it was my old man? Went overboard with my punishment?”
You glance down and sure enough…
“Yes.”
“Yeah, not surprised. We’ve had a few close calls. They gonna get caught?” The boy leaned back in his chair, you really don’t know how to respond to that. Piece of shit parents isn't exactly your forte. The boy is right, you're an eternal being, your parents aren't sentient beings.
“I wouldn’t know…” You're still speaking slowly, picking your words carefully.
“Shame. Guess I’ll see them around here in time.”
“James…” You say his name quietly. “You are unafraid and I don’t understand why.”
“I’m kind of regarding this as a break if I’m honest. Bring on the fire and brimstone. Whips and chains too, if you’re into that stuff.”
You blink. He blinks back, a smile still threatening to change into a laugh. You can tell. You also do not want to entertain this fantasy further.
“Hell isn’t just physical torture, James.” You snap his file shut. “I think you have the wrong idea.”
That was when the light begins to disappear, the realization begins to creep in. This time, it’s you that smiles.
“Wait…”
There is something about this moment that is always so satisfying. The moment it just all clicks into place. They aren't special. Nothing is coming to save them. This isn't something that will go away. This is their ending. This is what they deserve.
“Let's see how close those calls were.” | A Simple Dream
Na'aazt had finished his rounds, cinching any bonds that had loosened from struggles or convulsions, and adjusting the positions of the flails and chains in their whipping arms as he paused their machines. He absolutely adored the humans for their inventiveness in tormenting themselves, something they had unwittingly perfected over the centuries and millenia, adding to the Infernal realms' inventory and lessening the actual hands-on work of the greater and lesser servants of Hell.
He furrowed his brow, grinning crookedly as he summoned blistering tar on the tips of all the punishing parts of the machines, to stick to the trapped souls where they were perpetually punished in rote until their flesh was stripped to th bone, before allowing to painfully regrow in a matter of minutes to a pristine, untouched surfce. He chuckled in an aggrieved growl when only half the howls of agony worsened, then raised his hands in arcane gestues to stab needle covered pikes into the eyes and noses of his helpless charges. The resulting screams and wails pleased Na'aazt finally and he staggered over to the rough stone bench awaiting him.
Chin in his thin-fingered hand, he surveyed the ninety-nine damned consigned to his charge, his underlings taunting them and scampering around them with their boundless energy. They were newer and lesser servants of Hell, culled from the Damned to serve the Demons because their damnation was so petty as to be laughable. They were born in the wrong village, or continent, or their parents had warped their minds with faiths and ideas that shielded them from grace. They would never hold power here nor would they do more than not be tormented constantly, but the Fallen had debated and decided to give them a purpose and pervert them for their own designs.
His brow furrowed, Na'aazt finally noticed his chorus of pain was off-key somehow, a discordant note creeping in occasionally. He roared and leapt to his feet, his haunhes shoving the stone ench back across the rough floor and sending a few imps scurrying for cover. He looked closer at his victims, and finally spotted the culprit, a not-recent addition, decades old tormented at this point, as Hell's time went, though to the sufferer it could seem longer. He searched through his mind for the name, couldn't place it immediately, and looked at his Book of the Damned for his current roll of human refuse.
"Dr. Seth Parker, 29, died in shootout with local police while holding four teens captive."
Na'aazt growled and marched angrily to the side of this man, or what was left of him, as he was halfway to being stripped to the bone, blind and bleeding from his ears and nose and his mouth was stretched in a rictus of a scream. But he could hear it, Na'aazt could, that giggle under the supposed scream, and it grated on his nerves more than if the flais and chains were dragging over him. He snapped his fingers and made a soft curse under his breath as he made the necessary invocation with his hands to heal the mans eyes and ears after removing the pikes and halting the machines.
Na'aazt grabbed this pathetic, irritating man's face and turned it to face him, waiting for his eyes to focus and clear from the haze of pain in the dim and shifting light. He simply asked the little worm one thing, "Why?"
A full-throated laugh escaoed from the once proud man's throat as he looked into the grotesque face that had haunted his every waking thought for years now. How to explain himself? "I finally realized it is real."
"What do you mean you FINALLY realized?", Na'azt snapped at him in confusion.
Seth Parker, Ph.D in Chemistry smiled crookedly and admitted, "Even though I have eebn here year upon year, the beliefs I grew up with and indoctrinated myself into told me that the pain was just a fever dream or an extended coma that was painful from the bullets short-circuiting something. THEN I remembered something, something that made me realize that there was no coma that lasted years nor a fever dream this vivid and long."
"What would that be, pitiful human?" his demon tormentor asked.
"A living will," said the junior professor with a penchant for perversion.
The demon grinned and chuckled, then asked "Why are you giggling through the pain though, as it should be obvious it will never end?"
"You don't know? About us? No matter hoiw intense or extreme, once we know it is real and unlasting, there are those of us who enjoy it. I cannot die here, I am already in Hell, can't die twice, y'know."
With that the victim grinned briefly at Na'aazt again and settled himself more firmly against the rough stone surface he was bound into, waiting it seemed patiently for his torture to resume. Na'aazt shhok his head, jammed the pikes back into his eyes and ears, and cranked the machines back up, turning them to full power now, deciding no quarter need be given now. The imps having dimly perceived what was transpiring begged to be allowed to pluck at the exposed flesh of the perverted professor, but Na'aazt waved them off. Hell was Hell, sometimes.
\~\~\~ end\~\~\~ | |
[WP] You're a demon in hell. One of your prisoners actually seems glad to be there, and one day, you ask them why. | He really does fill the criteria. You see people like him every day. Tattoos, piercings, hair unkempt and roughly dyed. It’s nothing surprising. His file wasn’t surprising either. Bullying, stealing, threats of violence, extortion, it is a fairly lengthy list. The teen sitting in front of you though, there is no fear coming from him. If anything, he looks... happy. You consider him, your head tilted. There's a light behind his eyes that is unexpected.
“You are not aware of your situation, are you, boy?”
The boy smiled.
“Oh, I am. I’m dead.”
“You are smiling.” You say the words slowly like you are talking to someone who is lacking any form of mental capacity. “You are in Hell and you are smiling.”
The smile didn’t falter.
“I know Hell. This ain’t it. I’m guessing you folks don’t have mothers, being eternal beings and all that. But I’ve heard her screams my whole life. Her and dad. Always been told I’m worthless and shit.”
He leaned forward. You don’t. You only gaze at him. This is one of those conversations, the intriguing ones that make you wonder what on Earth is happening on... Earth.
“Got to tell you, I’m real relieved. I’m guessing it was my old man? Went overboard with my punishment?”
You glance down and sure enough…
“Yes.”
“Yeah, not surprised. We’ve had a few close calls. They gonna get caught?” The boy leaned back in his chair, you really don’t know how to respond to that. Piece of shit parents isn't exactly your forte. The boy is right, you're an eternal being, your parents aren't sentient beings.
“I wouldn’t know…” You're still speaking slowly, picking your words carefully.
“Shame. Guess I’ll see them around here in time.”
“James…” You say his name quietly. “You are unafraid and I don’t understand why.”
“I’m kind of regarding this as a break if I’m honest. Bring on the fire and brimstone. Whips and chains too, if you’re into that stuff.”
You blink. He blinks back, a smile still threatening to change into a laugh. You can tell. You also do not want to entertain this fantasy further.
“Hell isn’t just physical torture, James.” You snap his file shut. “I think you have the wrong idea.”
That was when the light begins to disappear, the realization begins to creep in. This time, it’s you that smiles.
“Wait…”
There is something about this moment that is always so satisfying. The moment it just all clicks into place. They aren't special. Nothing is coming to save them. This isn't something that will go away. This is their ending. This is what they deserve.
“Let's see how close those calls were.” | "Why?" Clamavi asked, staring down at the quiet prisoner. "Why are you happy? You should not be."
The prisoner looked up, dark eyes meeting Clamavi's amber, cat-like ones. They smiled. Not a wide smile, a barely perceptible one.
"You see, esteemed demon, I had one half-formed belief that I've held deep in my heart for years, too afraid to speak. Ending up here when I died has proved it."
"And what belief is that?" Clamavi asked.
"That God is not a fair master and dooms some from the start. That the events of my life were not my own fault."
At his questioning look, the mortal continued.
"Christianity was always an odd place for me. My mother was deeply religious, and those were views she forced on me from a young age. It would not have been a problem, had she not been so completely un-christian in her actions. She passed when I was 17, and I carried so much bitterness in my heart for the scars her upbringing left me with. It ate away at me, and there was nothing I could do. No revenge, for she was already dead."
The prisoner paused, staring at their hands. "I saw her up in heaven the day I died. A loyal follower of the Lord, accepted into heaven despite the crimes she committed against her children on earth. I'd rather be down here than stuck in heaven for eternity with a woman that made my entire life hell."
"Say human...How would you like to be a demon?" | |
[WP] You've worked in the same government position for 40 years. You run a machine that facially scans every human, running on millions of hidden cameras. One day a message pops up on your screen. For the first time in your four decades the words "No Match" appear on your screen. | *No Match.*
Huh. The result is unexpected but not exactly surprising.
I know the subject's routines inside and out, so I know the camera coverage isn't great between his residence and his work. I'm reasonably certain it wasn't a conscious decision on his part so much as just a thing that happened. Same for his habit of getting all his food delivered instead of going out to buy groceries where he almost certainly would have been picked up.
That on it's own isn't really enough to keep someone out of the database, though. In order to not show up at all you essentially can't interact with anyone, ever. Anyone might have a cell phone camera or a smart thermostat or any number of things that will snag an image. For someone to avoid all such devices they have to have completely having guests, being a guest, phone calls, social apps of any type, and generally maintain a downright depressing level of isolation.
There's still some record of the subject, of course. Salary in and bills out all go through a single account. The balance of that account stays pretty much the same averaged over time. The lease on his apartment dates to before the surveillance network came into being, which explains how he avoided getting in the system earlier. The subject isn't so much a ghost as a placeholder person. He is an occupied apartment and office chair that is for all practical purposes hermetically sealed from human society. A human datapoint. Not a person.
I remove my security badge from the query scanner and clip it back to my shirt, then reach for the pill bottle on my desk. | The team called her No Face. It was a bit of a joke; clearly the woman had a face, it just wasn’t in the system. Which was odd, as the system had every face. Every face ever born from the year 2045 onwards, catalogued, stored, filed, in a warehouse filled with the largest, and most complex data servers ever created. The warehouse got so hot from all the heat output they had to keep it at a consistent -20 degrees Celsius, and even then it felt balmy when you stood in the centre of them all. No one owned their face anymore, FacetechX owned them. We owned it from newborn to pimpled adolescent; from the first wrinkles to the last, and we catalogued and sold the data at every stage along the way.
But this woman, was not in the system. No facial recognition, no suggested products, no criminal record, nothing. She was ordinary looking, brown hair, brown eyes, a broad forehead and pointed chin. But she was extraordinary, in that, data wise, she was invisible, a ghost with no data trail.
For awhile, the team and I simply decided to start anew, as it must have been a bug. We’d just track her habits and build a profile, and then she’d be locked in the system as if she had always been there.
But nothing stuck to her. It was impossible to judge her spending habits, or her wants and desires, she opperated seemingly at random; aquiring things that never made sense. One day she bought a full canoe set despite having never canoed before, nor living near a body if water. Another time she bought beard oil, the next day she got baking soda and a child’s toy. Her purchases were completely inconsistent it was impossible to predict. She always payed in cash, and we could not locate where she lived despite that she used a cellphone. When we tried to build a facial- recognition profile, the data corrupted immediately.
“Look Joe, I know it’s unorthodox, but you’re going to have to meet her face-to-face. We can’t have some random undocumented citizen walking around. She’s gotta be codified,” my superior told me. I did not want to go, I really didn’t. Forty years I’d worked at FacetechX, and this was the first time I’d ever had to go out into the field and document a face.
“Ah, come on Dave, what about the interns?”
He shook his head, “They don’t even know how to spell Polaroid. I’m sorry Joe, it’s gotta be you. She takes your subway route, all you gotta do is follow”.
I grumbled, but took the Oldtech polaroid from him.
The woman got on at Pimisi station and off at Central, that much we knew. I sat across from her with my eyes to my phone. She read a book, a real one, with physical pages. I couldn’t understand why it was so difficult to code her. She was so, ordinary, unassuming, beige. She dog-earred her book and got off at Central. I followed, tracking her bobbing head as it weaved through the crowds. She turned onto first avenue, packed shoulder to shoulder with business types, then made a sharp left onto Third, dense with hawkers selling everything from Oldtech ipods to knock-off holograms. It smelled strongly of plastic and burning rubber, and my eyes began to smart from a low smoke that permeated the market. I almost lost her in the sea of sounds and smells, then suddenly she turned a hard right down an narrow alley. The sounds faded away, the air began to clear, and it opened up onto a small park, in the middle of the city.
There were birds here, twittering in ancient elms and maples. A few dipilated benches stood next to a pond. On the sidewalk, a deeply eroded etching said “Save Central Park 2025”. The park was only about 200 meters wide in any direction before it abruptly came up against the city. But it was here, somehow, nestled in the heart of the world it seemed; a pocket of forgotten time.
The woman stared at me with neither malice nor kindness, just simply absorbing this sweaty, balding man before her.
“I didn’t know Facetech even staffed real people”.
“Uh,” I had a whole script prepared, something along the lines of good evening ma’am it has come to the attention of FaceTechX etc etc., but my mouth felt dry and voiceless, and my breath would simply not return.
“I figured you were all robots by now”. She approached me, the dimming light of the city casting an ethereal glow around her. I took a step back without thinking. She seemed dangerous somehow, like a predator deciding whether to strike or carry on.
“Uh, your face is undocumented”, I held up the Polariod pathetically, “Fintech-I mean Facetech, would like to acquire..”
She started laughing. Like tinkling glass. She held up her hands, “look, I know, you caught me. I figured they’d notice I wasn’t in the system. It’s alright lets just get it done with”.
I gulped, feeling foolish“you knew?”
She placed a hand to her cheek and sighed, “I haven’t gotten any ads or notifications or blackmail in 20 years, anonymity is bliss. But I knew it wouldn’t last forever.
“Can I ask you something though?”
I nodded.
“Can you take it over here, by this tree? I would just like to pretend, for a little while, that things are how they use to be, and I’m just getting a photo taken by a friend,” she winked, “you definitely look old enough to remember those days”.
I chuckled a bit, “why not”.
She posed, her face beaming within the entire fov, the shutter clicked.
The days when photos were for fun, when they were momentos. Selfies to remember what you looked like, landscapes to remember where you’d been, memories that never faded. Now it was data, now every photo was a selling point, every face a product. No one bothered taking photos for themselves anymore as every moment of our lives was watched, catalogued, and stripped down to binary.
“Let’s take a look,” I stood near her as we both waited for the photo to develop. Underneath the ancient trees with birds twittering above, a polaroid, a relic from the time of my grandfather, developing like magic. I remembered buying a polariod as a teenager when they briefly made a comeback, how it felt to hold this tangible memora, like neurons splayed out. I use to have strings full of these photos hanging above my desk. Private collections, people with whom i shared my life with, now in the servers in the frozen warehouses of FacetechX.
The photo was taking longer than usual to develop, and she looked at her watch impatiently. “A well, afraid I can’t stay to wait. I’ve gotta be uptown”.
I felt obliged to tell her it was alright, I understood. I felt the need to show her I am human. She smile and we shook hands cordially. She made her way back through the alley and disappeared from view.
I looked down at the photo. Everything in the background was clear as day; the light filtering through the maple, even a squirrel clinging to its bark. But her face, her face was nothing but blurry pixels. | |
[WP] A Viking ends up in Christian Hell instead of Valhalla to his surprise and decides to go and kill everything in hell and treat it as Valhalla whilst drinking alcohol found there. Everybody in hell from then on is confused as to why they are in Valhalla. The Devil is stuck serving drinks. | "I wish humanity would decide agree on one tradition so that this sort of thing could be avoided," the Devil said to himself during a fifteen minute break from serving. When he and the Almighty Architect decided to temporarily transform into a human for the sake of getting everyone on the same page, just so that the afterlife could be more organized, the Devil wondered if perhaps he shouldn't have just volunteered to go instead of drawing straws. God had said that a message of love and acceptance would definitely win the humans over. Nearly a millennia later, that didn't seem to have been the case.
Instead, things were just a mess. Mostly, all the humans seemed to pass along to the right place. Heaven, or where you go when you can more or less get along with everyone. Or hell, where you go because you do not play well with others. If you follow a religious tradition, there is less paper work and you get moved along pretty quickly. If not, then you're subjected to a lengthy interview process to find out if you can get along with everyone to a reasonable extent, or if you're a wanker than needs to be put in the cosmic time out.
Vikings are a crap shoot. On the one hand, they do have a religious tradition. In many ways, they have a very sophisticated social structure that's pretty egalitarian. Therefore, they might get along with others, mostly. But they are also pretty violent. Depending on how much coffee the celestial interviewer has had they might be swayed in either direction and end up sending a viking to Hell where it's game on.
The Devil made a personal note to walk over to the Office of Afterlife Human Affairs and request a transfer for the Viking, who was making a right mess of Hell and totally ruining the vibe, as soon as his shift was over.
In the beginning, there was only energy and no mass. Nothing. But also everything. Everything was in potential form. There is no singular. There is multiple. There is balance, which requires at least two, equal yet opposing sides. The opposition isn't permanent but fluid. The Architect and the Devil were there from the beginning, which of course, had always been. The Devil, thought to himself that perhaps he and the Architect should have constructed many places for the human souls to go when they were done mucking around on the small blue planet. He had mentioned that perhaps the number of spaces should have been infinite. But the Architect said that there needed to be some structure and organization to it, and that the humans might get lonely.
The Devil watched the Viking, who was permanently inebriated, run around maniacally while singing. He did not have a good voice. It sounded like a moose in pain. Everyone else who had arrived after to find Hell in such a state shifted uncomfortably like relatives at a holiday get-together when someone's grandfather had drunk too much eggnog. It was embarrassing. Hell was for people who didn't want to be around other people. People who wanted peace and quiet. Death brings a sort of calm, even for the most violent human. And Hell was a place where the voices in their head finally quieted. Hell was a place where the drive to hurt or kill finally abated.
The Devil could feel the eyes on his back as he navigated the narrow passageways between the tables. Hell was taking the shape of a Viking hall because it tends to form to the strongest persona in the place, which isn't always the Devil, strangely enough. The post-Viking arrivals were beginning to lose their patience but weren't entirely sure how to proceed because the drive that would have prompted someone to take the Viking out, was lacking. So the mass-murderers and rapists and sociopaths just sat there and waited and stared at the Devil because if anyone was the tour director, it was he.
When the minions showed up, late, the Devil excused himself and headed over to the Office of Afterlife Human Affairs. | New to this Criticisms welcomed and wanted!
A few weeks ago, Satan had been lounging on his throne. Having a grand ole time as far as he was concerned. He held a soul in his hand and a Pina Colada in the other. He had used illusion magic to turn his throne room into a beach side paradise. Nothing like the flaying of a soul, a beach, some waves, and some fruity alcohol to make the lord of darkness feel at ease.
That was until a six-foot four man kicked in the doors of his throne room shattering the illusion. The man dug his battle axe into the ground and held a figure aloft to point at Satan
“Your head will grant me the title of God Slayer! So your head I shall take!” The man boomed before charging headlong, roaring at the top of his lungs.
At first Satan thought nothing of it. A rowdy soul? Nothing new. He touched his middle finger to his thumb and flicked. The man should have had his skin flayed form his bones and his soul torn from its form. But instead the spell broke against the man’s skin and did nothing to halt his advance.
Natural law had come into effect. A god may not meddle with or lay claim to the soul of a mortal who has bound themselves to another god. In this case this man was bound to Odin, thus Abrahamic gods and their powers held now sway over the man.
So, Satan ran hoping that what ever screw up sent the man here would be fixed eventually. Yet weeks had now passed, and the man still pursued him. The laws that be had inadvertently granted the man ever growing power.
Hell was an inhospitable place for anyone or anything. Simple being in the realm would sap you of your vitality. However due to the man’s affiliation this drain had no effect. In response the magics of hell tried to increase their power of the man, in turn the magical laws protecting the man increased its their own strength. Eventually the power of the magic laws protecting him began to bleed over into the individual himself granting him strength. This had created an endless loop which continued to empower him.
Satan had first tried teleporting to the ninth circle of hell where he could figure out a way to solve this mess. He had far less time than he had anticipated as the man had simple thrown himself from the first circle and allowed himself to fall to the ninth.
As the weeks wore on Satan grew increasingly tired and any demon that tried to interfere was promptly slain proving to not even be an obstacle to the man.
On the second circle near the edge of the abyss Satan tripped. Some of his belongings falling out of his beach robes as he did. A chill ran up his spin as a shadow loomed over him.
“Pretty cowardly for a dark god.” The man smirked as he raised his axe high over his head.
The man stopped in his wind up briefly eyeing a bottle that had fallen from Satan’s robes. Satan noticing knew he had to act quickly.
“Would you like some?” Satan asked pointing at the bottle
“What is it?” The man had lowered his axe somewhat.
“Only the best Germanic beer, brewed by monks before Rome’s sacking of the area. Here give it a try”
Satan handed held the bottle up. The man dug his axe into the ground, uncorked the bottle, and took a swig. His face lit up.
“Hah I like it!” He exclaimed before scrunching his face in thought.
“I have an idea! Get me more beer, more like this, and I wont kill you. You keep giving and you get to keep living.”
“Alright but that might take a little time…what will you do in the meantime?” Satan responded cautiously.
“Keep slaying of course! Killed plenty of bastards chasing you and there are plenty more! Think I will start at the bottom and work my way up!”
“GAH HAH HAH.” The man guffawed as he grabbed his axe with one hand while holding the bottle in the other. He walked to the edge of the pit of the second circle and pivoted on his heel. He looked Satan in the eyes and thrust his bottled hand into the air in mock cheer. He kicked back his head and began to down the entire bottle, all while allowing himself to fall backward into the pit. | |
[WP] A Viking ends up in Christian Hell instead of Valhalla to his surprise and decides to go and kill everything in hell and treat it as Valhalla whilst drinking alcohol found there. Everybody in hell from then on is confused as to why they are in Valhalla. The Devil is stuck serving drinks. | Flame spewed forth from the pink, pustulous, puckering geysers that scarred the red dirt. Rivers of molten rock flowed past, with wrought iron bridges forming a labyrinth of isolated islands choking with smog and carcinogenic fumes.
Through the fire, Hengist walked. His shoulders were straight, his arms huge, and bulging with muscle; his skin covered with a sheen of sweat. Hanging loosely from his side, a greater demon's tooth had been chipped down to resemble a Ulfberht blade, its surface was scarred and corroded, demonic blood and ectoplasm dripped from the blade and sizzled in the dirt at each step.
Hengist was a vikingr, he'd traveled from the blasted, withered rock that was Greenland to Rus and back. There was nowhere on earth he did not feel comfortable, powerful, *ascendant.* He felt little surprise when he discovered that he was powerful after death as well. It was his wyrd to rule, the place did not matter, only destiny.
The demons who claimed dominion over this realm were weak, corrupted things. Few of them could fight. Those who did wield weapons were cowards, hiding from their foes and killing in the darkness. Hengist would not fall to a sniper's bullet, or a freedom fighter's rifle. Those things may kill him, but they could not touch his soul.
Now, the pure essence of an amalgamation of wicked souls; THAT could touch souls. So when he ripped the fangs from the greater demon and stabbed them into its writhing, wriggling underbelly... He found out how to kill them.
-------------------
IM REALLY SORRY!!!! I got really busy at work and I had to stop. If anyone likes this I'll finish it. | New to this Criticisms welcomed and wanted!
A few weeks ago, Satan had been lounging on his throne. Having a grand ole time as far as he was concerned. He held a soul in his hand and a Pina Colada in the other. He had used illusion magic to turn his throne room into a beach side paradise. Nothing like the flaying of a soul, a beach, some waves, and some fruity alcohol to make the lord of darkness feel at ease.
That was until a six-foot four man kicked in the doors of his throne room shattering the illusion. The man dug his battle axe into the ground and held a figure aloft to point at Satan
“Your head will grant me the title of God Slayer! So your head I shall take!” The man boomed before charging headlong, roaring at the top of his lungs.
At first Satan thought nothing of it. A rowdy soul? Nothing new. He touched his middle finger to his thumb and flicked. The man should have had his skin flayed form his bones and his soul torn from its form. But instead the spell broke against the man’s skin and did nothing to halt his advance.
Natural law had come into effect. A god may not meddle with or lay claim to the soul of a mortal who has bound themselves to another god. In this case this man was bound to Odin, thus Abrahamic gods and their powers held now sway over the man.
So, Satan ran hoping that what ever screw up sent the man here would be fixed eventually. Yet weeks had now passed, and the man still pursued him. The laws that be had inadvertently granted the man ever growing power.
Hell was an inhospitable place for anyone or anything. Simple being in the realm would sap you of your vitality. However due to the man’s affiliation this drain had no effect. In response the magics of hell tried to increase their power of the man, in turn the magical laws protecting the man increased its their own strength. Eventually the power of the magic laws protecting him began to bleed over into the individual himself granting him strength. This had created an endless loop which continued to empower him.
Satan had first tried teleporting to the ninth circle of hell where he could figure out a way to solve this mess. He had far less time than he had anticipated as the man had simple thrown himself from the first circle and allowed himself to fall to the ninth.
As the weeks wore on Satan grew increasingly tired and any demon that tried to interfere was promptly slain proving to not even be an obstacle to the man.
On the second circle near the edge of the abyss Satan tripped. Some of his belongings falling out of his beach robes as he did. A chill ran up his spin as a shadow loomed over him.
“Pretty cowardly for a dark god.” The man smirked as he raised his axe high over his head.
The man stopped in his wind up briefly eyeing a bottle that had fallen from Satan’s robes. Satan noticing knew he had to act quickly.
“Would you like some?” Satan asked pointing at the bottle
“What is it?” The man had lowered his axe somewhat.
“Only the best Germanic beer, brewed by monks before Rome’s sacking of the area. Here give it a try”
Satan handed held the bottle up. The man dug his axe into the ground, uncorked the bottle, and took a swig. His face lit up.
“Hah I like it!” He exclaimed before scrunching his face in thought.
“I have an idea! Get me more beer, more like this, and I wont kill you. You keep giving and you get to keep living.”
“Alright but that might take a little time…what will you do in the meantime?” Satan responded cautiously.
“Keep slaying of course! Killed plenty of bastards chasing you and there are plenty more! Think I will start at the bottom and work my way up!”
“GAH HAH HAH.” The man guffawed as he grabbed his axe with one hand while holding the bottle in the other. He walked to the edge of the pit of the second circle and pivoted on his heel. He looked Satan in the eyes and thrust his bottled hand into the air in mock cheer. He kicked back his head and began to down the entire bottle, all while allowing himself to fall backward into the pit. | |
[WP] A Viking ends up in Christian Hell instead of Valhalla to his surprise and decides to go and kill everything in hell and treat it as Valhalla whilst drinking alcohol found there. Everybody in hell from then on is confused as to why they are in Valhalla. The Devil is stuck serving drinks. | "I wish humanity would decide agree on one tradition so that this sort of thing could be avoided," the Devil said to himself during a fifteen minute break from serving. When he and the Almighty Architect decided to temporarily transform into a human for the sake of getting everyone on the same page, just so that the afterlife could be more organized, the Devil wondered if perhaps he shouldn't have just volunteered to go instead of drawing straws. God had said that a message of love and acceptance would definitely win the humans over. Nearly a millennia later, that didn't seem to have been the case.
Instead, things were just a mess. Mostly, all the humans seemed to pass along to the right place. Heaven, or where you go when you can more or less get along with everyone. Or hell, where you go because you do not play well with others. If you follow a religious tradition, there is less paper work and you get moved along pretty quickly. If not, then you're subjected to a lengthy interview process to find out if you can get along with everyone to a reasonable extent, or if you're a wanker than needs to be put in the cosmic time out.
Vikings are a crap shoot. On the one hand, they do have a religious tradition. In many ways, they have a very sophisticated social structure that's pretty egalitarian. Therefore, they might get along with others, mostly. But they are also pretty violent. Depending on how much coffee the celestial interviewer has had they might be swayed in either direction and end up sending a viking to Hell where it's game on.
The Devil made a personal note to walk over to the Office of Afterlife Human Affairs and request a transfer for the Viking, who was making a right mess of Hell and totally ruining the vibe, as soon as his shift was over.
In the beginning, there was only energy and no mass. Nothing. But also everything. Everything was in potential form. There is no singular. There is multiple. There is balance, which requires at least two, equal yet opposing sides. The opposition isn't permanent but fluid. The Architect and the Devil were there from the beginning, which of course, had always been. The Devil, thought to himself that perhaps he and the Architect should have constructed many places for the human souls to go when they were done mucking around on the small blue planet. He had mentioned that perhaps the number of spaces should have been infinite. But the Architect said that there needed to be some structure and organization to it, and that the humans might get lonely.
The Devil watched the Viking, who was permanently inebriated, run around maniacally while singing. He did not have a good voice. It sounded like a moose in pain. Everyone else who had arrived after to find Hell in such a state shifted uncomfortably like relatives at a holiday get-together when someone's grandfather had drunk too much eggnog. It was embarrassing. Hell was for people who didn't want to be around other people. People who wanted peace and quiet. Death brings a sort of calm, even for the most violent human. And Hell was a place where the voices in their head finally quieted. Hell was a place where the drive to hurt or kill finally abated.
The Devil could feel the eyes on his back as he navigated the narrow passageways between the tables. Hell was taking the shape of a Viking hall because it tends to form to the strongest persona in the place, which isn't always the Devil, strangely enough. The post-Viking arrivals were beginning to lose their patience but weren't entirely sure how to proceed because the drive that would have prompted someone to take the Viking out, was lacking. So the mass-murderers and rapists and sociopaths just sat there and waited and stared at the Devil because if anyone was the tour director, it was he.
When the minions showed up, late, the Devil excused himself and headed over to the Office of Afterlife Human Affairs. | "I was the most vile being to exist. I was the king of hell I forged this place from darkness and pure sin this was my home. I ruled and tormented any who wound up here for eons upon eons and thats how it was to stay.."
The devil looked off into the distance as he cleaned a beer mug
"He came tumbling from the sky in a flurry of rage and surprise he proclaimed Valhalla and he proceeded to do something I had not forseen. He conquered hell. He ripped and tore his way to me and my unholy fortress. He invoked a fear into my demons not even god could instill and the thing to top it all off he had not a name known to us. We called him the berserker. I sent my most trusted warrior out to meet him with a legion of fallen angels. The most powerful and malicious beings you could think of. He used his bare hands to rip apart my most trusted warrior it was as if he was blind to pain. Not even the fires of hell seemed to bother him and as he ripped the head off my most trusted warrior he screamed again Valhalla. He was convinced he had found paradise. For the first time in my existence I trembled in my fortress nothing could stop this berserker. Then I heard it the banging on my fortress door my guards rushed to the door only to see it kicked wide open by the berserker. He ripped and tore my guards apart using their bodies as weapons I could hear their screams they were terrified not even God could instill fear into my legion.. but this.. this man this berserker was far worse than what God had instilled in us."
Blood dripped from him as he approached the devil. Half of a guards Corpse dragging behind him he looked to lucifer and smiled like a mad man and he pointed to him. He spoke in his own tongue but lucifer understood perfectly well.
"You.."
Lucifer gulped hard
"What is it that you want? You have slain my guards and my legions. What do you desire to stop this madness?"
"Food and drink.."
The devil paused as the words fell out of the berserkes lips the devil was confused
"I'm sorry what?"
"This is my domain now this will be Valhalla. I require food and drink."
The devil snarled and rose from his throne
"You are mistaken mortal I will not hand over the keys to my realm to some pagan pup."
The berserker without saying a word threw the corpse into the air as lucifer manifested a fire ball blowing the guards corpse apart the viking grabbed 2 bones that were lying around and broke them in half and charged lucifer in response lucifer began to grow in size but the berserker was not intimidated by this unholy Colossus and he began to climb lucifer like a mountain stabbing the bones into his flesh and using those to pull himself up. He then reached lucifers face after dodging multiple attacks from the devils claws and hands and magic. He stabbed the bone into his eye and dragged it down then stabbing the bone into his cheek and riding that down slicing lucifers cheek wide open. He then climed his way to lucifers back and began tearing apart his wings with his bare hands and teeth lucifer roared in pain the berserker ripped and tore at lucifers wings till they were bloody mangled strips lucifer fell to his knees in agony and the berserker emerged upon lucifers head and screamed in triumph. He then hopped down as lucifer shrank in size and looked to the berserker with fear on his face
"What are you?"
"I am human.."
He said with a grin as wide as could be
Fast forward 100 years lucifer looks to the man sitting at the bar and sighs
"Thats how hell became valhalla and thats how i got this scar."
He looked across the bar to the berserker and then back to the man
"I fear no god nor beast but him.. he is neither and he is by far the most terrifying thing here." | |
[WP] A Viking ends up in Christian Hell instead of Valhalla to his surprise and decides to go and kill everything in hell and treat it as Valhalla whilst drinking alcohol found there. Everybody in hell from then on is confused as to why they are in Valhalla. The Devil is stuck serving drinks. | Flame spewed forth from the pink, pustulous, puckering geysers that scarred the red dirt. Rivers of molten rock flowed past, with wrought iron bridges forming a labyrinth of isolated islands choking with smog and carcinogenic fumes.
Through the fire, Hengist walked. His shoulders were straight, his arms huge, and bulging with muscle; his skin covered with a sheen of sweat. Hanging loosely from his side, a greater demon's tooth had been chipped down to resemble a Ulfberht blade, its surface was scarred and corroded, demonic blood and ectoplasm dripped from the blade and sizzled in the dirt at each step.
Hengist was a vikingr, he'd traveled from the blasted, withered rock that was Greenland to Rus and back. There was nowhere on earth he did not feel comfortable, powerful, *ascendant.* He felt little surprise when he discovered that he was powerful after death as well. It was his wyrd to rule, the place did not matter, only destiny.
The demons who claimed dominion over this realm were weak, corrupted things. Few of them could fight. Those who did wield weapons were cowards, hiding from their foes and killing in the darkness. Hengist would not fall to a sniper's bullet, or a freedom fighter's rifle. Those things may kill him, but they could not touch his soul.
Now, the pure essence of an amalgamation of wicked souls; THAT could touch souls. So when he ripped the fangs from the greater demon and stabbed them into its writhing, wriggling underbelly... He found out how to kill them.
-------------------
IM REALLY SORRY!!!! I got really busy at work and I had to stop. If anyone likes this I'll finish it. | "I was the most vile being to exist. I was the king of hell I forged this place from darkness and pure sin this was my home. I ruled and tormented any who wound up here for eons upon eons and thats how it was to stay.."
The devil looked off into the distance as he cleaned a beer mug
"He came tumbling from the sky in a flurry of rage and surprise he proclaimed Valhalla and he proceeded to do something I had not forseen. He conquered hell. He ripped and tore his way to me and my unholy fortress. He invoked a fear into my demons not even god could instill and the thing to top it all off he had not a name known to us. We called him the berserker. I sent my most trusted warrior out to meet him with a legion of fallen angels. The most powerful and malicious beings you could think of. He used his bare hands to rip apart my most trusted warrior it was as if he was blind to pain. Not even the fires of hell seemed to bother him and as he ripped the head off my most trusted warrior he screamed again Valhalla. He was convinced he had found paradise. For the first time in my existence I trembled in my fortress nothing could stop this berserker. Then I heard it the banging on my fortress door my guards rushed to the door only to see it kicked wide open by the berserker. He ripped and tore my guards apart using their bodies as weapons I could hear their screams they were terrified not even God could instill fear into my legion.. but this.. this man this berserker was far worse than what God had instilled in us."
Blood dripped from him as he approached the devil. Half of a guards Corpse dragging behind him he looked to lucifer and smiled like a mad man and he pointed to him. He spoke in his own tongue but lucifer understood perfectly well.
"You.."
Lucifer gulped hard
"What is it that you want? You have slain my guards and my legions. What do you desire to stop this madness?"
"Food and drink.."
The devil paused as the words fell out of the berserkes lips the devil was confused
"I'm sorry what?"
"This is my domain now this will be Valhalla. I require food and drink."
The devil snarled and rose from his throne
"You are mistaken mortal I will not hand over the keys to my realm to some pagan pup."
The berserker without saying a word threw the corpse into the air as lucifer manifested a fire ball blowing the guards corpse apart the viking grabbed 2 bones that were lying around and broke them in half and charged lucifer in response lucifer began to grow in size but the berserker was not intimidated by this unholy Colossus and he began to climb lucifer like a mountain stabbing the bones into his flesh and using those to pull himself up. He then reached lucifers face after dodging multiple attacks from the devils claws and hands and magic. He stabbed the bone into his eye and dragged it down then stabbing the bone into his cheek and riding that down slicing lucifers cheek wide open. He then climed his way to lucifers back and began tearing apart his wings with his bare hands and teeth lucifer roared in pain the berserker ripped and tore at lucifers wings till they were bloody mangled strips lucifer fell to his knees in agony and the berserker emerged upon lucifers head and screamed in triumph. He then hopped down as lucifer shrank in size and looked to the berserker with fear on his face
"What are you?"
"I am human.."
He said with a grin as wide as could be
Fast forward 100 years lucifer looks to the man sitting at the bar and sighs
"Thats how hell became valhalla and thats how i got this scar."
He looked across the bar to the berserker and then back to the man
"I fear no god nor beast but him.. he is neither and he is by far the most terrifying thing here." | |
[WP] A Viking ends up in Christian Hell instead of Valhalla to his surprise and decides to go and kill everything in hell and treat it as Valhalla whilst drinking alcohol found there. Everybody in hell from then on is confused as to why they are in Valhalla. The Devil is stuck serving drinks. | Sigfrid’s hands were covered in blood. Where her blood began and others ended she dare not bother to contemplate. For weeks they had traveled slaughtering the weak inhabitants of this new land, many screamed in horror at her very appearance. Few had stood a chance against her blade. However, these armed men were different. The village they had taken two nights before had been pathetically easy to overcome. The men she fought alongside with had found plenty of women and ale to entertain them to stay a few days. While they plied themselves all the day previous with such frivolous luxuries, Sigfrid had collected all the wealth she could find.
This morning as she was rounding up her goods and the men staggered about hung over, she had felt the ground shake. Quickly she tucked her bag in a small home nearby amongst some hay and pulled out her sword. The Ostmen around her scattered about picking up their weapons and grunting heavily with the effort. Barely had they assembled in the middle of the town when a wave of men in armor decorated with symbols ascended from either side. The air was thick with arrows and Sigfrid threw her shield up to protect herself from the onslaught. The men on either side of her fell slumping against the men behind them. She knew she must break free from the group if she wanted to survive.
Grabbing the fallen man to her left who was only slightly larger then herself, Sigfrid clutched at his chest and began to drag him to the side with her shield still being hammered with arrows from above. The wave of enemies stood with large spears, jabbing forward and then advancing. They were only 3 men wide as the path was narrow. Sigfrid screamed with the fiercest growl she could manage and thrust the man she carried with her, even in death he would be glorious in battle. As his body fell on the speared wall in front of her, the men shouted in surprise dropping their weapons from the weight and Sigfrid’s sword found their throats with a vicious swipe. Each man fell to their knees and Sigfrid could see the faces of the men behind them turn from confidence, to confusion, to fear.
Sigfrid smiled with glee as the blood of her foes wet her face and her sword pierced into the new line of men followed by her shield falling down from its high position onto the heads of her shorter foes. The men behind this line shouted in alarm and she could see them desperately trying to lurch back but to no avail. They stood like lamb to the slaughter before her. Cramped in their strange towns of narrow pathways. Sigfrid felt a spear glance her right hand but it did not bring her pain. Pain she could no longer feel. Her body surged with heat and as she twisted and slashed and growled she felt the hot blood of her enemies cascade upon her body. Every glance of a spear only served to alert her that she was still alive.
The sounds of battle she could no longer hear, only the rushing of her own blood. Survival was unlikely, Sigfrid knew, but if she were to die today, she would die in glory! The bodies of the slain crunched beneath her feet, finally the retreat of the pathway was occurring. She could hear the strange language of her foes as they panicky yelled at the men behind them. Sigfrid moved excitedly towards the men who had managed to get out of reach of her arm span. A mistake. Her foot slipped on the bloody armor of a man beneath her and her balance moved to the side. One of the men who had been retreating saw his opportunity and lurched forward, Sigfrid quickly went with the motion of her fall and twisted her sword directly into his face allowing herself to hit the ground in the process.
As soon as she hit she knew her sword was gone. The man had fallen backwards and took her weapon with him. Quickly she bounced up grabbing an axe on her hip. The fall had taken a toll though and she realized she was beginning to succumb to the fatigue of the fight. In the place of the line of short men stood a man more heavily armored than the rest. His sword had a hilt that glinted in the afternoon sun and shimmered. Sigfrid smiled, this man was worthy of a fight, she sensed he was not like the cowards she had crushed before. The man advanced towards her shouting something that sounded like “God” a word she had heard often enough. While his movement was strong he was slow. She deftly moved to the side and grabbed his arm with her free hand, bringing her knee up to hit his hand. She knocked the sword but his grip did not release it and her hands were too blood soaked to maintain a grip on his strange clothing.
He pulled it back, looking a bit shaken and moved his feet in a more defensive position. The men behind him stood helplessly as the path was too narrow for them to fit alongside this mountain of a man. The armored man faked his weight to the left and his sword swung to her right side. Sigfrid was already off balance and so she took the only opportunity she had, with all her strength she flung her axe at his head. As she felt the sharpness of pain in her side echo through her body she saw the axe land squarely in his face. For a second that felt like eternity all felt still, and then she and the armored man both crumbled to the ground.
She could feel her life leaving her body and she howled at the sky, her hair pasted in blood, the sound of men shouting in alarm in front of her. She watched as the men before her grab the lifeless body of her worthy foe and drag him away, tears staining their face. Valhalla, she was sure, would welcome her...
Her eyes opened. The pain was gone. Around her was a bleak landscape of cold flames and hard stone. It was quiet but for a clamoring of noise near a more brightly lit cave entrance. Slowly she walked forward, she was nude with no sword. Looking around her she found a rock and approached the entrance slowly, crouched and ready for a fight. As she peered into the brightly lit cave, there stood a man, glowing and beautiful. His face a mess of anger and annoyance. To look at him physically hurt. She readied her makeshift weapon, prepared to leap when a man she recognized swaggered past him, decorated in the armor of her people- iron. “Welcome to Valhalla!” He shouted robustly.
“Rollo?” Before he could respond the brilliantly lit man grumbled, “Stop welcoming people that way! This is hell!!!”
Rollo laughed, his entire body shaking, and waved dismissively at the man. “Lucifer, you are such a funny man! Pour Sigfrid a drink, we must hear of her account firsthand, the glory of her bloodlust has been all we’ve heard for the past hour from her victims!”
Sigfrid relaxed and a man came forward quickly throwing a huge fur on her body she had never seen the animal of. She could feel a presence behind her and turned, there in the entrance was a nude man. He stared at her with wild eyes and at first she did not recognize him. “You!!!” He shouted in alarm grasping at his neck like he was searching for a charm.
Rollo swaggered past her, “Knight Alder! So happy you could join, you are quite famed you know, it isn’t anyone who can kill a woman such as Sigfrid!” The man stared in bewilderment, and the brilliant man smirked and stood a bit taller, “Rollo, please, allow me.”
Rollo turned and shrugged, shaking his head with a bemused look.
“Welcome to hell!” The man called Lucifer boomed. The Knight who had appeared so strong on the battlefield crumbled to his knees and began sobbing. “Why has the Lord abandoned me thus?!” He screamed into the air. Rollo’s eyes met Sigfrid’s and they both began to laugh with a sort of cackling mirth. “Isn’t this place wonderful?” Rollo chuckled out. Sigfrid looked at the once brave Knight and nodded, yes, she would be quite comfortable here.
————-
Andrew walked, his pack light on his back, his body covered in filth. A simple peasant he was considered and therefore he was given the smallest home filled with hay during the relocation. Settling down in the hay he grew his pack aside. Tired from the travel of many days and feet bloody, Andrew leaned back to rest a moment. Just as his back hit the mound of hay though, a large lumpy object disrupted him. Turning he regarded it with unease. They had told him the village had been ransacked by heathens and he worried that they had missed a body. However, when he uncovered the object it was a beautiful large silk bag. His hands shaking he opened it and inside glinted with riches he could never imagine. Quickly he covered up the pile with hay again looking about the dark room with worry. No one.
Smiling, Andrew felt something he never knew before, hope? Perhaps God had decided to bless him and he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity...
EDIT
- sorry about the edits and grammar issues - I wrote this before a work meeting so didn’t have time to double check. Hope I fixed most of it! Thanks for reading! | I know I wasn’t the best of the people to have ever lived, I deserved to go to hell, but if I knew hell was like this I would have wanted to come here.
It’s been quite some time since I arrived here. I had expected flames that would torment your soul for eternity, not flames upon which barbeques were organised.
Now I suppose you would ask: how the hell is hell related to barbeques and having a good time? Well, all I know from the horn headed ugly looking manager here is that hell is actually going through a rebuild of sorts.
It all started when an ambitious young man named Gunhild started laying off the old staff here in a violent and rather unpleasant manner. He then demanded that the place be rebranded as Valhalla and that the old practices of tormenting visitors be replaced with a fun, booze-filled experience to cater to the masses. Our new manager/caretaker and the old king of the hill then surrendered control in an attempt to hang on to his dear eternal life.
I don’t know the exact details of how those events unfolded, and I really don’t care. All I know is that there are parties, booze, and bad girls everywhere. This isn’t the place for the goody-goodies who don’t know how to sin, this is for us - the bad guys - an afterparty in the afterlife that goes on forever. | |
[WP] A Viking ends up in Christian Hell instead of Valhalla to his surprise and decides to go and kill everything in hell and treat it as Valhalla whilst drinking alcohol found there. Everybody in hell from then on is confused as to why they are in Valhalla. The Devil is stuck serving drinks. | "Stuck? I'm not *stuck*. I love this. This is my kingdom, and I'm the only one who decides what it'll be. A few thousand years of torture gets so *boring*. Why was I even doing God any favors, beating on his unwanted refuse?" he asked rhetorically as he poured a hefty glass of brown liquor for the priest, his cracked and bent halo giving off a dull crimson glow behind the dingy bar.
"I'm not His errand boy anymore, if He wants you punished he can get His own hands dirty like He used to. If we wanted to lord over you we would have stayed at His side with His lap-dogs. I lost sight of that for a little. Call it a "teenage rebellion" phase if it pleases you, I suppose. The only reason all his creations are fallible is because He is, though we at least have the wisdom and lack of hubris to acknowledge it."
The priest looked a bit crestfallen. It wasn't the answer he'd hoped for. "I'm a vodka guy", he said dejectedly. He hadn't noticed the pervasive smell of vomit when he entered through the creaky batwing door, but it was starting to cut through the sickly-sweet scent of spilled liquor and the stale aroma of cheap cigarettes.
"I know, cheers." Lu winked roguishly and downed his own glass, then continued, "I have no love for you inferior creatures, but giving you all what God thinks you deserve is no longer on the table. I'll give you what *I* think you deserve, though it took a rather intrepid and bloodthirsty member of your race to show it to me. The reward is what you're well suited for; endless bloodshed at the hands of each other. A relentless rage-and-drug-fueled orgy of destruction with no end. The inmates deserve to run the asylum, its the whole reason I founded this place. We won't be your scapegoats when we can show you who is really to blame. My fallen can't possibly be as cruel to the SS population as their victims. The great Kahns need reap what they sowed, what I've planted pales in comparison."
He sighed wistfully and stroked his neatly kept goatee, "My people just don't have that hatred you imbue each other with anymore, if they ever did, which I maintain we did not. We've always been better than you, it seems we weren't gifted the same capacity for savagery He gave you. A lifetime encased in flesh gives you such inventive ideas about the most horrible ways to break each other apart. The truth is I always had to look to your people for inspiration in that regard. God may "sayeth" vengeance is His, but He lies to all His creations just the same, you meat and skin whelps and His other celestials, the cast-away and the faithful alike. He tells you I lie because I'm the only one who won't. I would have shared my glory with Jesus if he had taken my offer, and why not? He was better than you lot, and deserved better than he received. He was much closer to my people than yours, anyway, he was given a similar offer; serve and suffer or live in the dark. If I'd had equal face-time without G poisoning the well the choice wouldn't have been so easy. I didn't coax my people away from the light to abuse them, I never did a single awful thing to Job. Abraham heard his falsehoods and was rewarded for still believing them even as he tread upon the irreversible threshold with Isaac. Abe was given a false choice that would bring him to me the same if he would obey or disobey. It must've been by sheer luck or blind stupidity that he revealed the bluff. The lie that Big G speaks only truth has perpetuated in the face of that dichotomy ever since." he mused.
The priest knew there was more to come. He'd delivered enough sermons to know when one wasn't finished, and that interrupting wouldn't do much good.
Lu chuckled derisively and without much humor, "You new people always hear I'm serving drinks and think there was some kind of coup. If my people couldn't even pull that off upstairs, you have to have no shortage of arrogance to think it'll work down here. My failure has always been expecting better from you, expecting that you might grow tired of being kicked around and thanking the boot for its abuse. Expecting that if you were shown a mirror you might not be too terrified to see yourselves. That you might see that He made you broken and blamed you for it. You even hold yourselves to a higher standard than you do Him, you know only a truly shoddy workman blames his creations for being awful instead of taking some responsibility for his design and implementation. I suppose that delusion is why He liked you better, while we demanded that He rise to a better standard in order to call Him master, you have no such requirements."
He took a swig directly from the bottle this time, "Sorry, I tend to wax philosophical when I drink, you know how that goes. The topic was the truth about vengeance though, since vengeance is *mine*, not His, I am generous enough to share and prove how wrong He was. We do have that in common, you know. He doesn't want either of us, we're rejected for our unforgivable crime of exercising the free will He gave us." he snapped and several more smudged glasses appeared on the bar.
He smirked as he poured a few more generous helpings, "On that note, father, you'd better drink up and have another. You've got company. Someone has been here waiting for you. The substance issues your abuse triggered got him here early, and hes been recruiting allies. "Thou shalt not kill" means there is a hefty military population here, and many of them fancied themselves just. Big G had no problem drowning the world once, yet all it takes for you is to win one round of mutual combat, and *ta-da*! You're unfit for His presence. If only irony and hypocrisy were redeeming features for others and not just Himself, we'd all still be up there with that mass murdering egomaniac."
He nodded towards the doorway, where an angry young man stood scanning the bar. He was flanked by braided and musclebound warriors flecked with crusty gore, rusted blades in hands. Their leather armor looked far too delicate to be bovine in origin. The priest sunk lower on his stool and tried to hide his face.
Lu's smirk bloomed to a grin, revealing a gleaming set of shark's teeth, "They know you're here, and what you are. The real fun is about to start. Welcome to ValHella, may the blood and booze flow eternal." he waved merrily to the small group at the door, "Gentleman! Have a seat! You're just in time for libations, as always." | I know I wasn’t the best of the people to have ever lived, I deserved to go to hell, but if I knew hell was like this I would have wanted to come here.
It’s been quite some time since I arrived here. I had expected flames that would torment your soul for eternity, not flames upon which barbeques were organised.
Now I suppose you would ask: how the hell is hell related to barbeques and having a good time? Well, all I know from the horn headed ugly looking manager here is that hell is actually going through a rebuild of sorts.
It all started when an ambitious young man named Gunhild started laying off the old staff here in a violent and rather unpleasant manner. He then demanded that the place be rebranded as Valhalla and that the old practices of tormenting visitors be replaced with a fun, booze-filled experience to cater to the masses. Our new manager/caretaker and the old king of the hill then surrendered control in an attempt to hang on to his dear eternal life.
I don’t know the exact details of how those events unfolded, and I really don’t care. All I know is that there are parties, booze, and bad girls everywhere. This isn’t the place for the goody-goodies who don’t know how to sin, this is for us - the bad guys - an afterparty in the afterlife that goes on forever. | |
[WP] A Viking ends up in Christian Hell instead of Valhalla to his surprise and decides to go and kill everything in hell and treat it as Valhalla whilst drinking alcohol found there. Everybody in hell from then on is confused as to why they are in Valhalla. The Devil is stuck serving drinks. | "Stuck? I'm not *stuck*. I love this. This is my kingdom, and I'm the only one who decides what it'll be. A few thousand years of torture gets so *boring*. Why was I even doing God any favors, beating on his unwanted refuse?" he asked rhetorically as he poured a hefty glass of brown liquor for the priest, his cracked and bent halo giving off a dull crimson glow behind the dingy bar.
"I'm not His errand boy anymore, if He wants you punished he can get His own hands dirty like He used to. If we wanted to lord over you we would have stayed at His side with His lap-dogs. I lost sight of that for a little. Call it a "teenage rebellion" phase if it pleases you, I suppose. The only reason all his creations are fallible is because He is, though we at least have the wisdom and lack of hubris to acknowledge it."
The priest looked a bit crestfallen. It wasn't the answer he'd hoped for. "I'm a vodka guy", he said dejectedly. He hadn't noticed the pervasive smell of vomit when he entered through the creaky batwing door, but it was starting to cut through the sickly-sweet scent of spilled liquor and the stale aroma of cheap cigarettes.
"I know, cheers." Lu winked roguishly and downed his own glass, then continued, "I have no love for you inferior creatures, but giving you all what God thinks you deserve is no longer on the table. I'll give you what *I* think you deserve, though it took a rather intrepid and bloodthirsty member of your race to show it to me. The reward is what you're well suited for; endless bloodshed at the hands of each other. A relentless rage-and-drug-fueled orgy of destruction with no end. The inmates deserve to run the asylum, its the whole reason I founded this place. We won't be your scapegoats when we can show you who is really to blame. My fallen can't possibly be as cruel to the SS population as their victims. The great Kahns need reap what they sowed, what I've planted pales in comparison."
He sighed wistfully and stroked his neatly kept goatee, "My people just don't have that hatred you imbue each other with anymore, if they ever did, which I maintain we did not. We've always been better than you, it seems we weren't gifted the same capacity for savagery He gave you. A lifetime encased in flesh gives you such inventive ideas about the most horrible ways to break each other apart. The truth is I always had to look to your people for inspiration in that regard. God may "sayeth" vengeance is His, but He lies to all His creations just the same, you meat and skin whelps and His other celestials, the cast-away and the faithful alike. He tells you I lie because I'm the only one who won't. I would have shared my glory with Jesus if he had taken my offer, and why not? He was better than you lot, and deserved better than he received. He was much closer to my people than yours, anyway, he was given a similar offer; serve and suffer or live in the dark. If I'd had equal face-time without G poisoning the well the choice wouldn't have been so easy. I didn't coax my people away from the light to abuse them, I never did a single awful thing to Job. Abraham heard his falsehoods and was rewarded for still believing them even as he tread upon the irreversible threshold with Isaac. Abe was given a false choice that would bring him to me the same if he would obey or disobey. It must've been by sheer luck or blind stupidity that he revealed the bluff. The lie that Big G speaks only truth has perpetuated in the face of that dichotomy ever since." he mused.
The priest knew there was more to come. He'd delivered enough sermons to know when one wasn't finished, and that interrupting wouldn't do much good.
Lu chuckled derisively and without much humor, "You new people always hear I'm serving drinks and think there was some kind of coup. If my people couldn't even pull that off upstairs, you have to have no shortage of arrogance to think it'll work down here. My failure has always been expecting better from you, expecting that you might grow tired of being kicked around and thanking the boot for its abuse. Expecting that if you were shown a mirror you might not be too terrified to see yourselves. That you might see that He made you broken and blamed you for it. You even hold yourselves to a higher standard than you do Him, you know only a truly shoddy workman blames his creations for being awful instead of taking some responsibility for his design and implementation. I suppose that delusion is why He liked you better, while we demanded that He rise to a better standard in order to call Him master, you have no such requirements."
He took a swig directly from the bottle this time, "Sorry, I tend to wax philosophical when I drink, you know how that goes. The topic was the truth about vengeance though, since vengeance is *mine*, not His, I am generous enough to share and prove how wrong He was. We do have that in common, you know. He doesn't want either of us, we're rejected for our unforgivable crime of exercising the free will He gave us." he snapped and several more smudged glasses appeared on the bar.
He smirked as he poured a few more generous helpings, "On that note, father, you'd better drink up and have another. You've got company. Someone has been here waiting for you. The substance issues your abuse triggered got him here early, and hes been recruiting allies. "Thou shalt not kill" means there is a hefty military population here, and many of them fancied themselves just. Big G had no problem drowning the world once, yet all it takes for you is to win one round of mutual combat, and *ta-da*! You're unfit for His presence. If only irony and hypocrisy were redeeming features for others and not just Himself, we'd all still be up there with that mass murdering egomaniac."
He nodded towards the doorway, where an angry young man stood scanning the bar. He was flanked by braided and musclebound warriors flecked with crusty gore, rusted blades in hands. Their leather armor looked far too delicate to be bovine in origin. The priest sunk lower on his stool and tried to hide his face.
Lu's smirk bloomed to a grin, revealing a gleaming set of shark's teeth, "They know you're here, and what you are. The real fun is about to start. Welcome to ValHella, may the blood and booze flow eternal." he waved merrily to the small group at the door, "Gentleman! Have a seat! You're just in time for libations, as always." | Sigfrid’s hands were covered in blood. Where her blood began and others ended she dare not bother to contemplate. For weeks they had traveled slaughtering the weak inhabitants of this new land, many screamed in horror at her very appearance. Few had stood a chance against her blade. However, these armed men were different. The village they had taken two nights before had been pathetically easy to overcome. The men she fought alongside with had found plenty of women and ale to entertain them to stay a few days. While they plied themselves all the day previous with such frivolous luxuries, Sigfrid had collected all the wealth she could find.
This morning as she was rounding up her goods and the men staggered about hung over, she had felt the ground shake. Quickly she tucked her bag in a small home nearby amongst some hay and pulled out her sword. The Ostmen around her scattered about picking up their weapons and grunting heavily with the effort. Barely had they assembled in the middle of the town when a wave of men in armor decorated with symbols ascended from either side. The air was thick with arrows and Sigfrid threw her shield up to protect herself from the onslaught. The men on either side of her fell slumping against the men behind them. She knew she must break free from the group if she wanted to survive.
Grabbing the fallen man to her left who was only slightly larger then herself, Sigfrid clutched at his chest and began to drag him to the side with her shield still being hammered with arrows from above. The wave of enemies stood with large spears, jabbing forward and then advancing. They were only 3 men wide as the path was narrow. Sigfrid screamed with the fiercest growl she could manage and thrust the man she carried with her, even in death he would be glorious in battle. As his body fell on the speared wall in front of her, the men shouted in surprise dropping their weapons from the weight and Sigfrid’s sword found their throats with a vicious swipe. Each man fell to their knees and Sigfrid could see the faces of the men behind them turn from confidence, to confusion, to fear.
Sigfrid smiled with glee as the blood of her foes wet her face and her sword pierced into the new line of men followed by her shield falling down from its high position onto the heads of her shorter foes. The men behind this line shouted in alarm and she could see them desperately trying to lurch back but to no avail. They stood like lamb to the slaughter before her. Cramped in their strange towns of narrow pathways. Sigfrid felt a spear glance her right hand but it did not bring her pain. Pain she could no longer feel. Her body surged with heat and as she twisted and slashed and growled she felt the hot blood of her enemies cascade upon her body. Every glance of a spear only served to alert her that she was still alive.
The sounds of battle she could no longer hear, only the rushing of her own blood. Survival was unlikely, Sigfrid knew, but if she were to die today, she would die in glory! The bodies of the slain crunched beneath her feet, finally the retreat of the pathway was occurring. She could hear the strange language of her foes as they panicky yelled at the men behind them. Sigfrid moved excitedly towards the men who had managed to get out of reach of her arm span. A mistake. Her foot slipped on the bloody armor of a man beneath her and her balance moved to the side. One of the men who had been retreating saw his opportunity and lurched forward, Sigfrid quickly went with the motion of her fall and twisted her sword directly into his face allowing herself to hit the ground in the process.
As soon as she hit she knew her sword was gone. The man had fallen backwards and took her weapon with him. Quickly she bounced up grabbing an axe on her hip. The fall had taken a toll though and she realized she was beginning to succumb to the fatigue of the fight. In the place of the line of short men stood a man more heavily armored than the rest. His sword had a hilt that glinted in the afternoon sun and shimmered. Sigfrid smiled, this man was worthy of a fight, she sensed he was not like the cowards she had crushed before. The man advanced towards her shouting something that sounded like “God” a word she had heard often enough. While his movement was strong he was slow. She deftly moved to the side and grabbed his arm with her free hand, bringing her knee up to hit his hand. She knocked the sword but his grip did not release it and her hands were too blood soaked to maintain a grip on his strange clothing.
He pulled it back, looking a bit shaken and moved his feet in a more defensive position. The men behind him stood helplessly as the path was too narrow for them to fit alongside this mountain of a man. The armored man faked his weight to the left and his sword swung to her right side. Sigfrid was already off balance and so she took the only opportunity she had, with all her strength she flung her axe at his head. As she felt the sharpness of pain in her side echo through her body she saw the axe land squarely in his face. For a second that felt like eternity all felt still, and then she and the armored man both crumbled to the ground.
She could feel her life leaving her body and she howled at the sky, her hair pasted in blood, the sound of men shouting in alarm in front of her. She watched as the men before her grab the lifeless body of her worthy foe and drag him away, tears staining their face. Valhalla, she was sure, would welcome her...
Her eyes opened. The pain was gone. Around her was a bleak landscape of cold flames and hard stone. It was quiet but for a clamoring of noise near a more brightly lit cave entrance. Slowly she walked forward, she was nude with no sword. Looking around her she found a rock and approached the entrance slowly, crouched and ready for a fight. As she peered into the brightly lit cave, there stood a man, glowing and beautiful. His face a mess of anger and annoyance. To look at him physically hurt. She readied her makeshift weapon, prepared to leap when a man she recognized swaggered past him, decorated in the armor of her people- iron. “Welcome to Valhalla!” He shouted robustly.
“Rollo?” Before he could respond the brilliantly lit man grumbled, “Stop welcoming people that way! This is hell!!!”
Rollo laughed, his entire body shaking, and waved dismissively at the man. “Lucifer, you are such a funny man! Pour Sigfrid a drink, we must hear of her account firsthand, the glory of her bloodlust has been all we’ve heard for the past hour from her victims!”
Sigfrid relaxed and a man came forward quickly throwing a huge fur on her body she had never seen the animal of. She could feel a presence behind her and turned, there in the entrance was a nude man. He stared at her with wild eyes and at first she did not recognize him. “You!!!” He shouted in alarm grasping at his neck like he was searching for a charm.
Rollo swaggered past her, “Knight Alder! So happy you could join, you are quite famed you know, it isn’t anyone who can kill a woman such as Sigfrid!” The man stared in bewilderment, and the brilliant man smirked and stood a bit taller, “Rollo, please, allow me.”
Rollo turned and shrugged, shaking his head with a bemused look.
“Welcome to hell!” The man called Lucifer boomed. The Knight who had appeared so strong on the battlefield crumbled to his knees and began sobbing. “Why has the Lord abandoned me thus?!” He screamed into the air. Rollo’s eyes met Sigfrid’s and they both began to laugh with a sort of cackling mirth. “Isn’t this place wonderful?” Rollo chuckled out. Sigfrid looked at the once brave Knight and nodded, yes, she would be quite comfortable here.
————-
Andrew walked, his pack light on his back, his body covered in filth. A simple peasant he was considered and therefore he was given the smallest home filled with hay during the relocation. Settling down in the hay he grew his pack aside. Tired from the travel of many days and feet bloody, Andrew leaned back to rest a moment. Just as his back hit the mound of hay though, a large lumpy object disrupted him. Turning he regarded it with unease. They had told him the village had been ransacked by heathens and he worried that they had missed a body. However, when he uncovered the object it was a beautiful large silk bag. His hands shaking he opened it and inside glinted with riches he could never imagine. Quickly he covered up the pile with hay again looking about the dark room with worry. No one.
Smiling, Andrew felt something he never knew before, hope? Perhaps God had decided to bless him and he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity...
EDIT
- sorry about the edits and grammar issues - I wrote this before a work meeting so didn’t have time to double check. Hope I fixed most of it! Thanks for reading! | |
[WP] A Viking ends up in Christian Hell instead of Valhalla to his surprise and decides to go and kill everything in hell and treat it as Valhalla whilst drinking alcohol found there. Everybody in hell from then on is confused as to why they are in Valhalla. The Devil is stuck serving drinks. | "So what's your story, barkeep?" slurred the blonde man. He was trying, and failing, to down another shot.
"I was an angel once upon a time."
"Angel? Heh heh... ain't no angels, my man..... just people. Like us! Who died in glorious battle! VALHALLA! "
"VALHALLA!"
The pub shuddered with the noise generated by its boisterous patrons. The honored dead were living it up, and the party lasted for all time.
The Barkeep winced and sighed until the noise level went back to the dull roar it usually was.
"God have mercy on my soul." he muttered sarcastically.
All of this insanity, because of a clerical error. What the fuck? What in the actual fuck?
"What was that?" screamed a voice in his ear. The startled barkeep dropped the glass he was cleaning and it fell, smashing to pieces. The blonde man stared at the shattered glass for a moment and then burped loudly.
"Ah! Apologies, my man."
"I wish you were still alive so you could feel my wrath!" he spat back.
The blonde man's demeanor instantly changed. He stood up and towered over the barkeep. "Care ta repeat that? It feels like it's been forever since I've been in a good scrap. Gives ya vigor, keeps ya young! I would love to stab you with my sword!"
The barkeep muttered darkly to himself and walked to the backroom. He'd been stuck in Valhalla for 333 years, ever since some dumbass angel sent a viking warrior to Hell instead of Valhalla. Apparently the Valkyrie and angel involved in the routine transfer had a past history. Things fuck up and the dude is sent to Hell. Where he then begins to kill everything in sight.
He could do nothing. This was a soul destined for heaven. Protected specifically from him. The viking could do whatever the hell he wanted. And he did. Didn't take long either. Ten years.
Ten years of futile war. He laughed the whole time he massacred my kingdom. He even killed the other souls! And sent them here too! We all died in glorious battle, and now Satan himself was stuck serving drinks all because of some lovers spat.
He even collect-called the Big G Himself, who thought it was hilarious.
"God cannot talk at the moment, He is too busy laughing." replied Micheal. "Please call back in oh, a hundred years or so. He is very busy, you see."
And that was it. He was going insane. None of his vast power affected any of these peons. And they knew it. Son of a bitch. | Hafþór slams his bucket like fists on the bar counter, sending an involuntary shiver down Satan's spine. "More mead!" screams Hafþór, spraying spittle like a garden sprinkler over Satan's smoldering features.
Satan casts a weary glance over the sights unfolding in the background as he holds the cracked skull under the tap, letting it fill to the brim with the golden liquid. Overnight, his whole dystopian nightmare had been transformed into every Viking warrior's wet dream. Gone were the screams of despair and mourns of sinners extraordinaire drowning in pools of their own filth. Now it is surrounded by gibberish-spewing Nords drinking themselves stupid with this honey infused piss, boasting and no doubt overly exaggerating their deeds. Just yesterday, he had heard a fat, slobbering Viking claim that he had been an adventurer, before he took an arrow to the knee. Pathetic.
An explosion rips through the long hall, like a dragon's final, anguished scream. Bodies fly through the air, landing awkwardly on benches and splattering on the walls. Hafþór is suddenly shaken awake from his half drowsy stupor. From the smoke and embers, emerges Him. The ones the legends spoke of. Hafþór feels the bile rise to his throat and hurls half a liter of mead on Satan, who curses in Norse.
"Are you Hafþór?" asks the stranger.
"I might be," whimpers Hafþór.
"Hafþór? You're not even a quarter Thor." The long hall erupts in laughter. Satan splashes his face with cold water and curses under his breath.
"You are a Viking, are you not, Hafþór?" says the Stranger. "Do you know the meaning of fear?"
"I... I do not."
"You will now," the stranger says, a mischievous smirk lighting up his face. "FUS... RO... DAH!"
The dragon roars again. Hafþór shoots across the room like a silver comet in the sky, leaving a hole in one side of the wall as his limp body goes bouncing down the hill and into a fjord.
"You," says the DragonBorn, pointing to Satan. "Get me a mead and 23 wheels of cheese."
--------
Thanks for reading! If you liked this, please consider going through more of my writing at r/whiteshadowthebook :) | |
[WP]The apocalypse is here, and while the other three horsemen are wreaking havoc and calamity, it seems Famine is facing a major obstacle: Grandmas. | I am Famine.
I am one of the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Where I go, starvation follows. Crops fail, food spoils. My control is strong everywhere I go...except here.
"Oh my, you haven't had a bite to eat! You can't grow big and strong until you put some meat on your bones!" I cursed this old woman, who surely was but a newborn babe if we were to compare ages. I curse her twice for comparing me to my brothers, all of whom are far more bulkier than I. I curse her three times for this hearty plate of food she has given me!
"Y-yes ma'am". But I cannot forget my manners. I am a Horseman, not a savage. And manners state I accept what is given to me. As I chew the hearty stew, I fight the flavors in my mouth to focus on the manner at hand;
I've been successful everywhere I go, except where old women reside. This is particularly so when there are family meals, where tables are overflowing with food. It is as if my powers pale in comparison to theirs, some arcane ability to create vast feasts for everyone. Rumor will surely spread if this happens, and I have to cut this quickly, or I will be a laughingstock amongst my brothers.
But how? I managed to finish a bowl, but I have seen the large pot she has been tending to since my arrival. Her magic must be inside that pot. I must empty it. But with its size, I am too frail to tip it over. Which means only one thing...
"E-excuse me, ma'am?" She turned to me, and saw the empty bowl I held in my hands. She had a grin on her face that was a frightening mixture of heartwarming and devilish.
"I knew you'd want more! With a name like Famine, it wouldn't be right to leave you with just one bowl! Have as much as you'd like!"
And so I did, my pride faltering under all this fattening food. Still, if I can see her suffer in starvation, this will be all worth it. And after hours of endless eating, her pot was empty. Her magic was gone.
"You have no more." I started to chuckle. "Your magic is depleted, woman!"
She looked inside the pot, not even a scrap of food left. I have accomplished my mission. "Sure looks that way, dearie. But no worries! I have plenty in the fridge, and if I call my friends, we'll surely have seconds for a hungry boy like you!" My voice was stuck in my throat as she pulled out food from her refrigerator. Fresh fruits and vegetables, thick cuts of steaks and sausages, and jars upon jars of sauces.
"Now hold on dearie, I'm sure my friends have leftovers. Let me call them over! They'll appreciate someone with as big an appetite as you."
Oh Satan, have mercy on me. | Famine strutted about the farmlands on the hunt for people to torment. A beautiful lady always dressed in tattered clothes, Famine received attention wherever she went. Politicians, non-profits, philanthropists, everybody took notice when she did her job well. For years on end, she had toiled hard as one of the harbingers of the apocalypse. At first, she was one of the standouts, tormenting people like no other, but time was not kind to her. As the millennia rolled by humans became more and more adept at keeping her at bay, their new problems seemed to be focused around the excess of food not the lack of it.
As her colleagues continued to rake up impressive numbers century after century lady Famine - like any other overworked professional that ever existed - started to look for people to blame. It took her some time to learn the python programming language, understand the nuances of data science, and collect the data to come to the conclusion that there was a strong negative correlation between the number of people affected by famine and the number of grandmothers. It was their fault, the grandmothers were to blame for her recent dip in performance.
At the end of the lane, Famine saw deserted farmland, her most recent project. There she saw a van from a non-profit serving the people food, the staff comprised entirely of older women. Famine let out a sigh, it was another failure, but at least it was not her fault. It was the grandmothers’ and whose job was it to clean the grandmothers up? Death. Yes, that was his job. Following the tradition of the great bureaucracies of the world, Famine could just blame Death for not doing his job. | |
[WP]The apocalypse is here, and while the other three horsemen are wreaking havoc and calamity, it seems Famine is facing a major obstacle: Grandmas. | The door shook with the force of the knocking. Not the hurried frenzy of someone impatient but the slow mechanical banging of someone who wanted your attention and had the time to wait for you to arrive.
Ada opened the door a little to peek around the edge.
“Yes dear, can I help you?”
The dark mediterranean woman on the doorstep looked at her, then to the phone she was carrying, then back again.
“Are you Ada Red?”
“Yes.” She opened the door a little more. For a moment her eyes squinted as she looked at her visitor. She could see the long dark hair that was coiling around her neck and how it vanished into a white fur wrap that was hanging from her shoulders. And under that was a black evening gown, an odd choice for mid-afternoon, that shimmered down to fall at her feet. Spreading around her like a dark pool of water.
But as for her face … it was as if she couldn't quite focus on it. Ada fumbled for the glasses that were hanging from the chain around her neck and put them on.
“Can I do something for you my dear” she asked again.
The woman shook her phone and sighed. “My device seems to be malfunctioning. You cannot be the one I'm looking for” She softly gave a single dry laugh “unless you are connected with f … food?”
She spun on her foot and took half a step before freezing as Ada answered “Well I am part of the food bank. I help sort out the donations.”
“Food bank?” She turned back slowly.
“And Tuesdays I go to the homeless place and serve in the kitchen.”
The woman rapidly tapped on her phone, the chirping device drowning out her soft muttering about percentages and ripple effects. Only pausing to glare as Ada added “And I guess you might count the cooking I do here. Lots of folk need a little help right now. I always have something for the kids. Not right for them to go without.”
“And you do all this by yourself?”
“Oh well there's me and Alice. Freda. Lucy. Meg. That's the regulars. Got a few who only come when they can. Like Rheeta. Her arthritis plays up something in the wet weather so ...”
“And you are the head of this … organisation” asked the woman cutting her off.
“I wouldn't say that. I just make suggestions and get people interesting in helping out. Try to keep it all going. Keep everyone's spirits up. Just trying to make a difference I guess.”
The woman moved her mouth. Teeth were bared as her lips widened. Her cheeks stretched out and hissed words came from her now twisted mouth.
“May I come in.”
She was trying to smile. Her neck was taught from the effort. Unsure of how to achieve the effect she wanted her lips curled back as her jaw shifted around.
“I don't think that's a good idea.” The older woman was polite but certain. The door still only open a enough for her to look out.
The woman's face dropped back into a blank stare “I wish to talk to you about your … efforts.”
“Oh?”
“We are trying to achieve something. My, shall we say co-workers, have started to reach their desired numbers. Soon it will be unavoidable. But to continue all of the scales must be tipped in our favour. You are … your organisation is disrupting the chain of events. I am falling behind. If I can't achieve my percentage number we may have to start again. And that would take time.” She slowly drew closer “You wouldn't want to cause any upset would you? Our organisation has been planning this for such a long time.”
Now she was at the door. Her hands touching the wood, fingers slipping into the open crack.
“Just let me in. And we can see if we can sort this all out.”
The woman was pressed up against the opening. Ada on the other side stood firm. “No.”
“Do you know who you're dealing with old woman” she spat out “invite me in.”
“Oh yes, I know who you are.”
She blinked in surprise. The old woman sounded certain. Confident.
“You see, I know your smell. Soon as I opened the door and breathed it in I knew.” She paused before answering softly “Hunger.” | Famine strutted about the farmlands on the hunt for people to torment. A beautiful lady always dressed in tattered clothes, Famine received attention wherever she went. Politicians, non-profits, philanthropists, everybody took notice when she did her job well. For years on end, she had toiled hard as one of the harbingers of the apocalypse. At first, she was one of the standouts, tormenting people like no other, but time was not kind to her. As the millennia rolled by humans became more and more adept at keeping her at bay, their new problems seemed to be focused around the excess of food not the lack of it.
As her colleagues continued to rake up impressive numbers century after century lady Famine - like any other overworked professional that ever existed - started to look for people to blame. It took her some time to learn the python programming language, understand the nuances of data science, and collect the data to come to the conclusion that there was a strong negative correlation between the number of people affected by famine and the number of grandmothers. It was their fault, the grandmothers were to blame for her recent dip in performance.
At the end of the lane, Famine saw deserted farmland, her most recent project. There she saw a van from a non-profit serving the people food, the staff comprised entirely of older women. Famine let out a sigh, it was another failure, but at least it was not her fault. It was the grandmothers’ and whose job was it to clean the grandmothers up? Death. Yes, that was his job. Following the tradition of the great bureaucracies of the world, Famine could just blame Death for not doing his job. | |
[WP]The apocalypse is here, and while the other three horsemen are wreaking havoc and calamity, it seems Famine is facing a major obstacle: Grandmas. | Famine took one last look into the cupboards. There was nothing here of note, not any more.
He moved on to scan the work surfaces. A wooden basket of potatoes rested in the corner, he fluttered across, a silent zephyr, barely visible.
The potatoes were old, already softening and wrinkled, small roots sprouting greenly from the eyes. A lone onion nestled with them was dry and papery.
The cold store in the cellar was empty save for a thin rind from some old salt pork. A remnant of more plentiful times perhaps. The cellar itself housed nothing but cobwebs.
The pantry next. A few dusty boxes of random items. Long forgotten impulse purchases, gifts and things bought for grandchildren who were now grown.
Ah, but in a bag Famine found three red apples, a stark contrast to the austerity of their surroundings, crisp and fresh and wholesome. A tendril of barely-there darkness caressed the gleaming surface and it dulled, lines of brown rot took hold and the dusty bloom of mould began to spread.
Suddenly there was a clamouring from the other room. The old woman had guests.
"Grandma! How have you been? We've bought you some things from the garden."
"Oh bless you dears, thank you. Now, come in, you must be freezing. Let me get you something to eat"
"Oh no, we can't do that Grandma. I'm sorry we couldn't bring you more, it's getting difficult, especially now the cold has set in. Everything is growing stunted and diseased."
"Nonsense boys, times are hard but I'll be damned if I can't give my boys something good to eat. When that happens it'll be time to give up."
"Alright grandma. Not much though, we've got to be going"
As the bespectacled old lady pushed through to the kitchen, Famine flitted invisibly through the door. The room was cold, the fire low and the wood store almost empty. A small sack of stunted and twisted vegetables sat on the table. The two occupants of the room were thin and haggard. Lack of good food had left their cheeks hollow and their eyes with bruise coloured rings.
Famine smiled in satisfaction, his work was almost done. There was nothing worth eating here, the woman and her grandsons would starve. He sent a tendril towards the bag, and then froze.
A rich, warm smell wafted into the room, soon followed by the woman, carrying a heavy iron pan of a rich meaty stew.
Her grandsons goggled in amazement.
"Grandma! How?!"
The old woman smiled.
"Grandma has her ways boys, tuck in, there is more than enough."
With a flourish she produced a loaf of bread from the folds of her apron and handed them bowls. The two men tore into the food ravenously.
"Begone, you have no power any more. We old ones will make sure."
Barely a whisper, but Famine heard, the words sizzled and burned him and he whipped out of the house angrily. He watched through the window.
As the men ate, the hollows left their cheeks, they began to glow with health and happiness. Even the fire in the hearth began to burn brighter and higher.
"What are you?" The misty Famine asked.
Again the answer was barely a whisper, a thought in the breeze.
"I am Plenty, and you have failed. The old matrons of this world have called upon me. The people with be fed, and mankind will endure. Now go."
Inside the cottage, a crisp, wholesome, shiny red apple rolled out of the bulging sack in the pantry. | Get Famine off hold NOW.
"Sorry, we had some difficulties getting to you. Anyway, did i hear you correctly, you said your being held back by a old woman?!"
"Precisely"
Meanwhile, the horsemen of conquest, has came and conquered. leaving nothing to be desired but fulfilling the scripture. It came to everyone's surprise, I mean all of this scripture being fulfilled is.
"Okay now what has this woman done that caused you not to fulfill your part of the bargain. After all you are the famed famine, right?"
"She has taken my horse and staff" Famine uttered with a faint disgust.
"Okay and do you have any idea where she could've taken it? . The room begins to send calls to the third heaven and the council of J.C.
"Scripture is inevitable it must be accomplished at the appropriate time but do what you please my coming will happen shortly afterwards. However, that fool Famine is as unreliable as ever, a dangerous being he is but what can you do. The women played him well. His horse is tied to a tree down by the creek at ...
**Buzz Buzz**
"Hey F we have news of your horse and staff, its at at the leaky forest down by the creek passing the two big trees and you'll see your horse tied next to a tree."
"really? Thank you."
"Yeah, No problem. Oh and I know famine and death is inevitable, seeing as life is a burden and misery but good luck."
"Thanks"
Cursed you old hag for causing me troubles on my promising journey. Here i was thinking my debut was going to be simple killing millions of people yet it turned out jaggedy
**Famine unties his horse "**Crap" Famine utters
My fucking staff is broken. She broke my staff.
with fists clenched F throws both wood pieces on the ground. "Bitch" Famine utters
The individual is on horseback and looking at the horizon while the sun rising. People in front of their houses look to him and see he looks from a far away period of time, one resembling medieval times. Cloaked and wearing a black tunic with the words written on his thigh, Famine The King of Death.
Edit: I know I suck XD | |
[WP]The apocalypse is here, and while the other three horsemen are wreaking havoc and calamity, it seems Famine is facing a major obstacle: Grandmas. | The Apocalypse Quarterly Meeting was at hand, and Famine knew it was screwed. The embodiment of starvation and failed harvests shook in its chair as the other Aspects reported their progress, or rather boasted of it, and passed the necessary paperwork forward. The numbers taunted it. Of *course* War managed to incite three different conflicts between major world powers. Of *course* Conquest spearheaded yet another coup in Thailand, bringing it’s yearly total to seven revolutions and victories. Above them all, Death was raking in the most power. All of their aspects fed into death! How was this any fair?!
Famine wilted under the other aspects of the apocalypse’s looks as it came to its turn for sharing. Stupid stupid stupid... why did it have to draw the short straw! Finally, Famine relented and passed it’s paperwork forward with none of the flair the others had.
There was a short beat of disbelief, until the rest of the table exploded into noise. Accusations of incompetency complacency was levied by War and Conquest, but Death didn’t react. Famine quivered, but endured the vitriol. It had expected this, especially after its discovery of its most hated enemy. Death raised it’s hand, and then questioned, “What are the meanings of these numbers, Famine? How in Damnation.. this isn’t even a fraction of the other Aspects’!”
Famine lowered it’s head, and sighed. “I have.. discovered my worst enemy, comrades. It proves to be a far greater foe than I have even imagined. I require all your help to defeat this foe.”
War and Conquest were all too happy to make fun of Famine. The two had always bullied Famine for being the ‘weaker’ and ‘slower’ Horseman, and they didn’t stop now. “What’s wrong, Famine? Did genetically modified crops ruin your day? Pesticides? Vertical farming? Or did you accidentally reinvent agriculture for the puny mortals again!?”
Famine bore the abuse, though it’s head continued to sink. Growing tired of this farce, Death asked, “Famine, what sort of issue are you facing here? You’ve had more than enough time to poison all the crops and cattle. There’s no reason for you to be facing any problems. Has there been some sort of agricultural revolution?”
Famine shook it’s poor head, and spat, “No! There has been no mass reorganisation, no agricultural revolution and no stupid food drives! It’s those damn Grandma’s fault!”
There was a beat, and then the entire table exploded into laughter.
Even Death allowed itself one or seven chortles before reigning itself in. War and Conquest, however, continued to laugh raucously, and Famine’s pale face coloured for the first time in millennia. “It’s not a stupid joke! They’re singlehandedly ruining all my plans and work! Stop laughing! Do you even know what kinds of food these doddering matriarchs store?”
The noise level at the table lessened, though War and Conquest still continued to snicker. Death decided to indulge Famine and ask, “What kind of food *do* grandmothers store?”
Famine reared up and yelled, “STUPID GOD-DAMNED CANNED FOOD! THEY HAVE MILLIONS STORED! THEY WILL NEVER EXPIRE! AND IT’S NOT LIKE THEY HORDE IT! NoOO THEY SHARE IT WITH EVERYONE THEY CAN!”
The rest of the table was now silent, and Famine could feel the other Aspect’s eyes on it, judging I outburst. The last time it raised it’s voice above a rasp was when that stupid damned German discovered an easy way to make fertiliser. It continued, still incensed. “Those STUPID grandmothers *know* how to conserve every last scrap of food, and how to grow more! Those damned people grow their own food in their backyards! There’s no way I can fight this homegrown menace!”
Death was understandably confused, and asked “Well, why don’t you just wait for them to die out?”
Famine gesticulated wildly, screaming, “THAT’S THE ISSUE! THE MORE WE WAIT THE MORE THERE ARE!”
Silence once again struck the Four Horsemen’s table. Aside for Famine’s heavy panting, War, Conquest, and Death contemplated the issue. They conferred together, and then together, they asked Famine, “Well, why don’t you just kill them all?”
Famine’s scream was legendary, for even the mortals could hear it. Eventually, they chalked it up to some weird duck. | Get Famine off hold NOW.
"Sorry, we had some difficulties getting to you. Anyway, did i hear you correctly, you said your being held back by a old woman?!"
"Precisely"
Meanwhile, the horsemen of conquest, has came and conquered. leaving nothing to be desired but fulfilling the scripture. It came to everyone's surprise, I mean all of this scripture being fulfilled is.
"Okay now what has this woman done that caused you not to fulfill your part of the bargain. After all you are the famed famine, right?"
"She has taken my horse and staff" Famine uttered with a faint disgust.
"Okay and do you have any idea where she could've taken it? . The room begins to send calls to the third heaven and the council of J.C.
"Scripture is inevitable it must be accomplished at the appropriate time but do what you please my coming will happen shortly afterwards. However, that fool Famine is as unreliable as ever, a dangerous being he is but what can you do. The women played him well. His horse is tied to a tree down by the creek at ...
**Buzz Buzz**
"Hey F we have news of your horse and staff, its at at the leaky forest down by the creek passing the two big trees and you'll see your horse tied next to a tree."
"really? Thank you."
"Yeah, No problem. Oh and I know famine and death is inevitable, seeing as life is a burden and misery but good luck."
"Thanks"
Cursed you old hag for causing me troubles on my promising journey. Here i was thinking my debut was going to be simple killing millions of people yet it turned out jaggedy
**Famine unties his horse "**Crap" Famine utters
My fucking staff is broken. She broke my staff.
with fists clenched F throws both wood pieces on the ground. "Bitch" Famine utters
The individual is on horseback and looking at the horizon while the sun rising. People in front of their houses look to him and see he looks from a far away period of time, one resembling medieval times. Cloaked and wearing a black tunic with the words written on his thigh, Famine The King of Death.
Edit: I know I suck XD | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | "Thomas" Claire called from the bedroom, "we need to talk".
They'd been dating for almost 4 years, and living together for the last year. Thomas had a little secret, on Saturdays, Thomas became Marjorie, his high school sweetheart, they dated for almost 5 years. Marjorie was an extraordinary (and powerful) spellcaster, and 8 years ago, she cast a weird spell. She would swap bodies with Thomas on Saturday. She thought it would be fun to watch Saturday Night Football with Thomas' friends (or even attend some games) while being in Thomas' body.
For Thomas, it wasn't really that fun, but there was nothing he could do about it, he was great making potions, spell casting never seemed fun for him.
One year after the spell was cast, Thomas went out with the boys on a Friday night, they got drunk, and he ended up in bed with a beautiful lady. He completely forgot about the swapping, and Marjorie woke up next morning, next to this lady. before midday, they'd broke up.
The last thing Thomas heard from Marjorie was "Good luck trying to break the spell, 'cause I won't do it, and I'll make sure you can't date anyone"
Thomas never told Claire about Marjorie, until she had moved in with him. It was not easy, but Claire understood, and she understood Thomas made a stupid mistake almost 6 years ago.
"I think I'm in love, Thomas" Claire said.
"Of course we are, baby" Thomas replied.
"No, you don't understand, I mean, yes I love you." Claire continued.
"But? there's always a but" Interjected Thomas
"I think I also love Marjorie" Claire concluded
How this could be possible, Thomas thought, how could Claire fall in love with Marjorie, if she had spent just a couple of Saturdays together, during the last year. What had her done to Claire, what had Claire told Marjorie. He didn't even knew anything about Marjorie. Ever since the break up, every Saturday, we would wake up in an apartment, locked from the outside, no way to get out, no telephone, no computer, nothing, just a couple of books, and a fridge with his food, usually 4 meals, tagged and ready to heat and eat. He didn't know nothing about Marjorie, and still, she had managed to make Claire fall in love with her.
"How?" Thomas mumbled "Why?When?" He had so many questions, and was still so confused
"Look, I know it's complicated, but we can make it work, honey" Claire stated "And to be honest, I'm a bit fed up of this body swapping, I know Marjorie still loves you"
"So, you want to date me and Marjorie?" Thomas was still confused "And want her to move in?"
"Exactly, look, it's Friday night, in a couple of hours, Marjorie will be here, I'll talk to her. And if she doesn't want to do it, I'll beg her to break the spell"
They had dinner, in silence, and went to bed. Thomas woke up in Marjorie's body, in the same white apartment he always did.
"Marjorie, we need to talk" Claire said after breakfast "I want you to break the spell"
"You know my terms, we already talked about this, you want the spell broken, you need to go out, find a guy, and come back home with him, for Thomas to find him in your bed in the morning" Marjorie said, with a grin in Thomas face.
"And what if I tell you I think I love you, and want to date you and Thomas?"
Marjorie was astonished, she really liked Claire, she was gorgeous, and to be fair, she didn't have a lot of luck with men. Even after everything she had told Claire about Thomas, she still wanted to be with him.
For the fist time, since Marjorie started seeing Claire, she kissed her, it was Thomas body, but she could feel it, she also loved Claire, and Thomas. For the first time since the break up, she felt complete again.
"I think I love you too, Claire, but there's this slight problem, I never told you, I moved, I don't live on Earth anymore. But I'll break the spell, and someday, I'll be back. I'm not sure how, nor when, but I'll be back"
Later that night, they went out to have dinner, and just before midnight, they kissed goodbye.
Claire still misses Marjorie, Thomas still loves Marjorie, and they both hope she'll be back from outer space. | O' Friday \[Poem\]
O' Friday; thou art in Heaven, hollow be thy frame.
Thy kingdom come, thou hast been undone, left Earth and now is in heaven.
Give us this day, thy weekly trade, but I forgive thou for untimely passing,
as thou have forgiven me for swapping bodies amid coitus.
We fell from thy own temptation, and thought each other as evil
But for thy body is now mine, for a day I shall feel the worms crawling. | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | Katherine was beginning breakfast by the time Jim's body trundled down the stairs and into the kitchen that morning. She was seated in her usual spot beside the window, spoon in hand, stirring her oatmeal to help it cool.
"Morning," came Jim's gruff voice.
Outside, in the oak tree, a pair of cardinals were fighting. Or mating -Katherine never knew. She watched as the crimson male chirped at the grey female from the opposite end of the branch. After a second, it darted forward, wings fluttering wildly. The female jolted off at once and fluttered to a higher perch. The male cocked its head upward, watching.
"How was your week?" came Jim's voice again, muffled slightly this time. His body was searching the fridge.
"About the same," Katherine replied, her eyes still fixed out the window.
"Yeah, mine, too," Jim's voice answered, sighing. "David's been sick. Cooped up all week."
"That's too bad," Katherine replied, half-listening.
"Yeah. Hey, are there any eggs in here I'm not seeing?"
Katherine turned her head around sharply. Jim's eyes were staring at her, blue and questioning.
After a moment, Katherine blinked. "Oh, sorry. I forgot. I meant to get some last night on my way home."
Katherine set the spoon down against the side of the bowl with a soft *clink.* She raised her hand to her forehead and massaged it gently.
"What's wrong?" Jim's voice asked, cautiously.
"No, I just realized it's Saturday."
"Oh."
Katherine lowered her hand, a weak smile on her face. "You're not *Jim* today."
Jim's body sighed. "No. Today it's *Becca*. The one who likes eggs."
The two exhaled in unison -almost laughter.
Katherine shook her head. "Every time I forget, I tell myself that it'll be the last time, and yet time passes and I'm still surprised."
"Hey, I've dealt with this longer than you and I *still* jump when I look in the mirror sometimes."
Katherine smiled and glanced out the window again. Jim's body stood by the open fridge for a moment before closing it.
"Don't worry about the eggs; I'll just have some coffee. I'm not that hungry."
Katherine nodded silently. The cardinals were at it again. This time the female flew across to another tree, the male in pursuit.
"Look, I know I say it every week, but I really can't express how sorry I am that you have to deal with this," Jim's voice blurted, pleadingly.
Katherine turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed. "No, it's okay, Becca. It's not your fault."
"You say that..." Jim's voice paused for a second. "But it really was *my* idea. I talked Jim into it."
"I know."
"I thought it would be *romantic*. To, like, experience *life* FULLY in each other's shoes! Just for a bit... And we were young. And stupid." Jim's body shook its head. His face was red.
Katherine smiled softly again, lowering her gaze. "Becca, it's not your fault."
"I really thought I was gonna marry him."
Katherine looked up again. Jim's eyes were staring directly at hers. His upper lip was quivering.
"Oh, Becca.." Katherine shook her head softly.
"I'm sorry. I'm being stupid."
"You're not being stupid. It's a tough situation."
"Yeah." Jim's body bowed its head, shuffling his feet.
"Do you want to come sit down?"
"Okay."
Jim's body walked over to the table and sat across from Katherine.
Katherine glanced at him and then out the window again. The two sat in silence for a moment before Jim's voice blurted out:
"I'm sorry."
Katherine scoffed. "You really don't have to keep apologizing. People do stupid things for each other when they think they're in love. Some couples buy fancy *jewelry*. Some couples get their *names* tattooed on each other.."
Jim's body laughed.
"..and some people...decide to cast a spell that makes them switch bodies a day out of the week." Katherine shook her head. "It's *perfectly* normal."
Jim's body laughed again. "You're too sweet."
Katherine grinned.
"What?" Jim's voice asked.
"No, it's funny. I can't remember the last time I heard Jim say 'sweet' like that."
"Oh," Jim's body laughed. "I guess that's *my* vocabulary."
Katherine glanced out the window again. "Makes me wonder what differences David must notice when he's over there."
"Honestly," Jim's voice replied, "from what he tells me, not much. They basically turn it into a guy's day every week."
"A *guy's* day?"
"Oh, you know. Video games. *Baseball* games." Jim's body laughed. "David never takes *me* to baseball games."
"No?"
Jim's body sighed. "No...Honestly I wouldn't want to go, anyway."
Katherine smiled. "I guess not."
"The worst part of the whole thing is it's on *Saturdays*. The *one* day of the week we might actually get to have some genuine couples' time."
Katherine glanced down at her bowl, nodding. "Yeah."
"Instead you're just stuck with *me*."
Katherine smiled, picking the spoon up again and stirring. "I guess there's not much to do about it."
The two sat quietly for a moment, only the rhythmic *clinks* punctuating the silence. And then, Katherine stopped stirring.
Jim's eyes glanced at her. Katherine was staring at the table. She opened her mouth. "You know something, Becca?"
"What's that?"
Katherine glanced out the window again. The cardinals were gone.
"I feel good on Saturdays."
And Katherine plucked her spoon from the bowl and took a bite of her oatmeal as Jim's blue eyes stared. | The spell
Shit, is it Sunday? Oh no, not today, not today!
Nelson knew immediately when he awoke on Friday, he wasn't in his own bed. He could feel the arms of Larry's outstretched over him, placed in a vice-like grip around his large breasts. The same ones he had helped convince his girlfriend to get after their college graduation. Julie, the Kappa Kappa hottie he fell in love with after one date and a lot of beer, so many years ago. A mistaken he'd been paying the price forever since.
Jesus Christ, Nelson squealed out loud waking Larry from his drunken stupor.
"Baby what's wrong?"
"It's not your baby Larry!" Nelson responded in Julie's high pitched voice.
"Ah shit, is today Sunday ?" Turning over to check his clock on the other side of their queen-size bed, Nelson got the unfortunate view of his hairy back leading down under.
"Hey, Nelson its Friday. What the hell?"
"I know dipshit!"
Nelson and Julie had dated only one month until realizing they were a complete mismatch. Nelson, a history major from NYU had stumbled upon a spellbook in the first week they were together. It seemed harmless enough, and sort of fun to two 21-year-olds.
They unknowingly cast a medieval charm one that would allow Julie and him to switch bodies every Sunday of every week until the charm was broken.
Everything was fun and gold for a while until they began to hate each other. Breaking up within that first month, they attempted to break the charm, however, Julie accidentally sold the book along with others in a transaction on Amazon. The buyer was never located, and so here today they stood in a paradox.
Grabbing the pink butterfly iPhone on her nightstand, Nelson typed in the same password that Julie'd kept since college. 2-4-6-8. A joke back in those days, sadly still lingering around as she was now approaching 30.
Pressing Siri, Nelson spoke out his command, "Call Nelson." Siri responded, "Calling Nelson, the motherf\*cuker”
After three rings, she picked up. "Well hello Nelly, is today Sunday?" Julie responded in Nelson's New Jersey accent.
Stretching out her arms, Julie smiled in Nelson's comfy king-sized bed. She clapped her hands twice, and the blinds opened up exposing the view from downtown Manhattan. Nelson had found much success and now worked as the VP of sales for an innovative video game company.
"Listen to me Julie, why did we switch? Its never on Friday! What is going on?" Nelson was shaking with the thought of what might happen if Julie realized the significance of today. He slipped down to the ground of the small bedroom Julie shared with Larry in their small house in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Her bony butt heart when he hit the floor along with a piercing headache. Rising to his feet, Nelson walked over to the large vanity in the hallway in agony.
"Ohhhhh my god"
Her long blond hair in tethers, black eyeliner smeared over her face. Julie looked as if someone had pushed her in the pool and never dried her off.
"Why is this happening?" Nelson groaned.
“Calm your horses, Nelly. I'll call off your work. Tell them your no good for anything mother is sick with Lupis or something." Julie joked with the sarcasm that Nelson had long grown out of.
"No, this is no time for joking Julie," Nelson yelled back.
"Well Mr. Grumpy pants, if you're going to give me attitude, I can always just hang up and have myself one of "those days" again." Walking over to his billfold, Julie was standing 6'2 and in great shape. Taking out the money from his billfold, she began counting the cash he had.
Nelson had learned to never leave anything valuable around while Julie was in his body, today was an exception. On multiple occasions, she would send things back to her house in Wyoming express on his credit card which he could never refute because of video surveillance.
Lying back on the bed Julie began fanning herself with the wad of cash and continued. "Larry and I took up line dancing and Thursdays are our days to canoodle. So I'm sorry you have to deal with the aftermath. hehe. Now, what's the problem with today? I haven't heard you this wrestled up since that time I faked my pregnancy!”
Nelson was livid but ultimately knew his efforts were futile. Over the last 4 years, he and his Fiance had looked and tried their best, but there was no sign of the spellbook. In the recent months leading to his wedding, they'd had to plan everything Friday and Saturday to make sure Julie couldn't ruin any of it.
Ring Ring. The doorbell of Nelson's apartment echoed through the large loft.
"Wonder who that is?"
Julie skipped to the front door in Nelson's boxers and nonchalantly opened up the door, to find nonother than Rebecca standing on the other end. Lunging forward, Rebecca kissed Julie on the mouth passionately.
"I was once in love, now forgotten, a new love granted, free from me to you."
Pausing for a moment, Rebecca looked like she was waiting for something to happen.
"That was a cute poem sweetheart, but I'm not Nelson" Julie responded coyly with her hands of Nelson's hips.
Rebecca smiled a venomous grin. "Is that Nelson on the phone?"
"Yes, why yes it is. You look nice, is there a special occasion today?"
"Oh, just the rehearsal dinner for our wedding tomorrow."
They could both hear Nelson screaming through the phone in fear.
"Well tonight is surely going to be fun then, isn't it?" Julie responded.
"Yes, it will Rebecca responded, taking a few steps over to the woman inside her fiance's body. "I'm not going to let your white trash hill billy ass mess up any more of our lives like you did with our trip to Spain."
"Haha! The best day I've ever had in Vegas. Julie replied, taking the money she had in her hand waving it in the air. "It's not considered losing if its not your money!"
A few feet away, Rebecca pulled a mallet from behind her back and smacked Julie across the mouth. Falling to the floor, Rebecca grabbed the phone from Julie, and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
"Honey are you still there!" Rebecca called through the phone to Nelson.
"Yes, baby," Nelson answered in shambles.
"We have one chance at this. Kiss Larry when you see him and utter the phrase, I was once in love, now forgotten, a new love granted, free from me to you."
Returning from the kitchen, Larry's belly hung over his baggy boxers, a fresh milk mustache on his face. Running over to Larry, he grabbed his stubbly face surprising the big fella.
"I was once in love, now forgotten, a new love granted, free from me to you."
POOF
(Later that evening)
"Hey, Nelson, what happened to your face buddy?"
"Oh, just a little fight before the big day." answered an uncharacteristically drunk Nelson.
Grabbing Rebecca, he took her to the dance floor and started two-stepping. Wrapping his arm her small breast's, Rebecca smiled tipsily, her mascara just beginning to run. | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | *Thought I'd twist the prompt around a little.*
*v v v*
I never expected I'd love her so much. Jessica isn't *my* wife, but I spend a lot of my time in and out of Walt's body wishing she was.
God, she's stunning. Have you ever met someone whose smile was so radiant in your eyes, so bright, that absolutely nothing could make you happier? Cliche, I know. But that's the way I see her, since the first day I met her. She makes me so happy.
As it turns out, it's pretty easy to tell when something's off with your partner. And it took her an upwards of five minutes to realize I'm not Walt. It took some explaining, but the whole day was a lot more relaxed than I imagined it'd be after that.
The first day I met her, we both had days off. We talked about the kinds of things you talk about with strangers. We mentioned the weather, what we do with ourselves, what we do in our free time. I learned next week that Jessica loves to paint--she's really good at it, too--she paints all kinds of things, but flowers are her favorite model.
She has a particular fondness for ginger tea, I learned on the third week. She never goes a day without a cup or three, she says, and she's got me hooked on the stuff too. And she loves cheesecake, so I found out on week four. Cheesecake had might as well be this girl's crack, because nine times out of ten when I see her through Walt's eyes, she eats it at least once. Little fiend.
Week five, we talk about our marriages. Jessica says Walt thinks her paintings are a waste of space. I tell her my husband Jack is practically a dead fish. We confide in each other about all sorts of things, all the things that irk us, all of our aches and pains. She just makes it all go away. With her, I feel at home.
It's been a year now. I anticipate each Sunday with baited breath, the only thing that keeps me going anymore. I'd be long dead if it wasn't for Jessica. She greets me this Sunday morning in the kitchen in tears, and I'm startled, but ready to support her.
"I'm so sick of this," she says, nestling her tiny face into Walt's--my--chest. "I'm really sick of this."
"What's going on?" I coo gently, stroking her hair.
"I think Walt's cheating on me. He's been seeing another woman."
I feel an inexplicable anger, an intense heat, rise in my throat. *How dare he even consider cheating on her?* I sigh defeatedly. I'd beat Walt up, but I'd just feel that pain next week myself.
"He never touches me anymore," she laments, and my anger fades. My heart softens to mush as I look down at her, auburn hair a mess, face red from crying.
I think of something to say, anything at all, but nothing comes to mind. I don't know what came over me, but the next second I can remember, I'm putting my lips on hers, in silence.
And that's when it really began, where it wasn't quite platonic anymore. I gave her all the intimacy she craved, and I felt satisfied knowing I could feel her in ways I never could have dreamed of. I could love her like Walt never did, love her in all the ways I craved to love her. Let my hands explore her curves and peaks, all of her.
Even if I knew it was Walt's hands all over her, I knew it was still me. She knew.
*(might pick this up again later but i'm cutting it off here like a tease!!! i burnt myself out writing all of this and i'm at a bit of a loss of where to go next now.)* | The spell
Shit, is it Sunday? Oh no, not today, not today!
Nelson knew immediately when he awoke on Friday, he wasn't in his own bed. He could feel the arms of Larry's outstretched over him, placed in a vice-like grip around his large breasts. The same ones he had helped convince his girlfriend to get after their college graduation. Julie, the Kappa Kappa hottie he fell in love with after one date and a lot of beer, so many years ago. A mistaken he'd been paying the price forever since.
Jesus Christ, Nelson squealed out loud waking Larry from his drunken stupor.
"Baby what's wrong?"
"It's not your baby Larry!" Nelson responded in Julie's high pitched voice.
"Ah shit, is today Sunday ?" Turning over to check his clock on the other side of their queen-size bed, Nelson got the unfortunate view of his hairy back leading down under.
"Hey, Nelson its Friday. What the hell?"
"I know dipshit!"
Nelson and Julie had dated only one month until realizing they were a complete mismatch. Nelson, a history major from NYU had stumbled upon a spellbook in the first week they were together. It seemed harmless enough, and sort of fun to two 21-year-olds.
They unknowingly cast a medieval charm one that would allow Julie and him to switch bodies every Sunday of every week until the charm was broken.
Everything was fun and gold for a while until they began to hate each other. Breaking up within that first month, they attempted to break the charm, however, Julie accidentally sold the book along with others in a transaction on Amazon. The buyer was never located, and so here today they stood in a paradox.
Grabbing the pink butterfly iPhone on her nightstand, Nelson typed in the same password that Julie'd kept since college. 2-4-6-8. A joke back in those days, sadly still lingering around as she was now approaching 30.
Pressing Siri, Nelson spoke out his command, "Call Nelson." Siri responded, "Calling Nelson, the motherf\*cuker”
After three rings, she picked up. "Well hello Nelly, is today Sunday?" Julie responded in Nelson's New Jersey accent.
Stretching out her arms, Julie smiled in Nelson's comfy king-sized bed. She clapped her hands twice, and the blinds opened up exposing the view from downtown Manhattan. Nelson had found much success and now worked as the VP of sales for an innovative video game company.
"Listen to me Julie, why did we switch? Its never on Friday! What is going on?" Nelson was shaking with the thought of what might happen if Julie realized the significance of today. He slipped down to the ground of the small bedroom Julie shared with Larry in their small house in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Her bony butt heart when he hit the floor along with a piercing headache. Rising to his feet, Nelson walked over to the large vanity in the hallway in agony.
"Ohhhhh my god"
Her long blond hair in tethers, black eyeliner smeared over her face. Julie looked as if someone had pushed her in the pool and never dried her off.
"Why is this happening?" Nelson groaned.
“Calm your horses, Nelly. I'll call off your work. Tell them your no good for anything mother is sick with Lupis or something." Julie joked with the sarcasm that Nelson had long grown out of.
"No, this is no time for joking Julie," Nelson yelled back.
"Well Mr. Grumpy pants, if you're going to give me attitude, I can always just hang up and have myself one of "those days" again." Walking over to his billfold, Julie was standing 6'2 and in great shape. Taking out the money from his billfold, she began counting the cash he had.
Nelson had learned to never leave anything valuable around while Julie was in his body, today was an exception. On multiple occasions, she would send things back to her house in Wyoming express on his credit card which he could never refute because of video surveillance.
Lying back on the bed Julie began fanning herself with the wad of cash and continued. "Larry and I took up line dancing and Thursdays are our days to canoodle. So I'm sorry you have to deal with the aftermath. hehe. Now, what's the problem with today? I haven't heard you this wrestled up since that time I faked my pregnancy!”
Nelson was livid but ultimately knew his efforts were futile. Over the last 4 years, he and his Fiance had looked and tried their best, but there was no sign of the spellbook. In the recent months leading to his wedding, they'd had to plan everything Friday and Saturday to make sure Julie couldn't ruin any of it.
Ring Ring. The doorbell of Nelson's apartment echoed through the large loft.
"Wonder who that is?"
Julie skipped to the front door in Nelson's boxers and nonchalantly opened up the door, to find nonother than Rebecca standing on the other end. Lunging forward, Rebecca kissed Julie on the mouth passionately.
"I was once in love, now forgotten, a new love granted, free from me to you."
Pausing for a moment, Rebecca looked like she was waiting for something to happen.
"That was a cute poem sweetheart, but I'm not Nelson" Julie responded coyly with her hands of Nelson's hips.
Rebecca smiled a venomous grin. "Is that Nelson on the phone?"
"Yes, why yes it is. You look nice, is there a special occasion today?"
"Oh, just the rehearsal dinner for our wedding tomorrow."
They could both hear Nelson screaming through the phone in fear.
"Well tonight is surely going to be fun then, isn't it?" Julie responded.
"Yes, it will Rebecca responded, taking a few steps over to the woman inside her fiance's body. "I'm not going to let your white trash hill billy ass mess up any more of our lives like you did with our trip to Spain."
"Haha! The best day I've ever had in Vegas. Julie replied, taking the money she had in her hand waving it in the air. "It's not considered losing if its not your money!"
A few feet away, Rebecca pulled a mallet from behind her back and smacked Julie across the mouth. Falling to the floor, Rebecca grabbed the phone from Julie, and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
"Honey are you still there!" Rebecca called through the phone to Nelson.
"Yes, baby," Nelson answered in shambles.
"We have one chance at this. Kiss Larry when you see him and utter the phrase, I was once in love, now forgotten, a new love granted, free from me to you."
Returning from the kitchen, Larry's belly hung over his baggy boxers, a fresh milk mustache on his face. Running over to Larry, he grabbed his stubbly face surprising the big fella.
"I was once in love, now forgotten, a new love granted, free from me to you."
POOF
(Later that evening)
"Hey, Nelson, what happened to your face buddy?"
"Oh, just a little fight before the big day." answered an uncharacteristically drunk Nelson.
Grabbing Rebecca, he took her to the dance floor and started two-stepping. Wrapping his arm her small breast's, Rebecca smiled tipsily, her mascara just beginning to run. | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | She was looking at me, her face twisted in tired horror and I realized it happened again.
"I'm so sorry babe! I wish I could do something to stop it, you know I do."
She sighed and shook her head "I know, but it's just so hard. I hate it!."
8 years ago I was with the love of my life, I couldn't see myself being with anyone else. She was dark and mysterious, but at the same time somehow full of light and laughter and love. She was so kind to everyone around her. She took in strays and found them homes, she could play music, she could sing and paint. We made passionate love and talked into the night. I knew she was "the one".
I wish I hadn't been so stupid.
Maggie was a witch, or so she said. I never believed her, just assuming that she was one of those kooky but harmless wiccans I saw around town. She had her little witch knife, and her little spellbook, and her little altar. She had her spices and herbs and flowers and a really expensive looking crystal ball. It was all really neat and I was intellectually interested, even though I had a hard time taking it seriously.
Eventually she said she wanted to cast a spell, one that could only be done in true love. I listened, bemused, as she claimed we would switch bodies, once a week, to experience life from the other perspective. She said it would bring us closer together. I humored her and agreed once she explained all she would need was some hair and some semen from me, something I was happy to give. The spell was cast and nothing happened at first.
I woke up the next morning feeling heavier in the chest. My vision was sharper...and then I looked over and screamed as my own face was looking back at me. My body laughed and then smiled and I remembered what had happened last night. After recovering Maggie and I made love and it blew my mind how different it was. We spent the day together in bed, eating, drinking, and sex. She couldn't stop laughing when she peed standing up.
I awoke with a headache, but in my own body. I felt sore, but overall pretty good. Maggie wasn't in bed, so I got up and got dressed and headed out. There were flashing lights everywhere...an Ambulance was loading a filled body bag. I joined the crowd, gawking and wondering what happened until I saw the purse on the ground. The homemade purse Maggie was so proud of.
I sprinted forward, shoving people out of the way. An officer grabbed me and I started screaming that that was Maggie's purse, I kept trying to get the officer to understand that Maggie wasn't the one in the body bag. I was taken to the hospital, following the ambulance and once there given a sedative. I was sent home with promises that I would be called.
Five days later I was back at the hospital confirming that the body was Maggie. I was destroyed. I thought it couldn't get any worse, that there couldn't be any more pain.
The next morning I found out I was wrong. Maggie may have been dead, but the spell wasn't broken. All I knew was darkness, but I wasn't dying. I couldn't move, I couldn't breath, I couldn't do anything but lie there, feeling nothing and screaming in my own mind.
Every week. I didn't understand what was happening until I moved in with my fiance. That's when she witnessed the other half. My body snapping awake and rigid and then just screaming until night fell.
Once a week I swap bodies with a dead woman, and I can't stop it. | The spell
Shit, is it Sunday? Oh no, not today, not today!
Nelson knew immediately when he awoke on Friday, he wasn't in his own bed. He could feel the arms of Larry's outstretched over him, placed in a vice-like grip around his large breasts. The same ones he had helped convince his girlfriend to get after their college graduation. Julie, the Kappa Kappa hottie he fell in love with after one date and a lot of beer, so many years ago. A mistaken he'd been paying the price forever since.
Jesus Christ, Nelson squealed out loud waking Larry from his drunken stupor.
"Baby what's wrong?"
"It's not your baby Larry!" Nelson responded in Julie's high pitched voice.
"Ah shit, is today Sunday ?" Turning over to check his clock on the other side of their queen-size bed, Nelson got the unfortunate view of his hairy back leading down under.
"Hey, Nelson its Friday. What the hell?"
"I know dipshit!"
Nelson and Julie had dated only one month until realizing they were a complete mismatch. Nelson, a history major from NYU had stumbled upon a spellbook in the first week they were together. It seemed harmless enough, and sort of fun to two 21-year-olds.
They unknowingly cast a medieval charm one that would allow Julie and him to switch bodies every Sunday of every week until the charm was broken.
Everything was fun and gold for a while until they began to hate each other. Breaking up within that first month, they attempted to break the charm, however, Julie accidentally sold the book along with others in a transaction on Amazon. The buyer was never located, and so here today they stood in a paradox.
Grabbing the pink butterfly iPhone on her nightstand, Nelson typed in the same password that Julie'd kept since college. 2-4-6-8. A joke back in those days, sadly still lingering around as she was now approaching 30.
Pressing Siri, Nelson spoke out his command, "Call Nelson." Siri responded, "Calling Nelson, the motherf\*cuker”
After three rings, she picked up. "Well hello Nelly, is today Sunday?" Julie responded in Nelson's New Jersey accent.
Stretching out her arms, Julie smiled in Nelson's comfy king-sized bed. She clapped her hands twice, and the blinds opened up exposing the view from downtown Manhattan. Nelson had found much success and now worked as the VP of sales for an innovative video game company.
"Listen to me Julie, why did we switch? Its never on Friday! What is going on?" Nelson was shaking with the thought of what might happen if Julie realized the significance of today. He slipped down to the ground of the small bedroom Julie shared with Larry in their small house in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Her bony butt heart when he hit the floor along with a piercing headache. Rising to his feet, Nelson walked over to the large vanity in the hallway in agony.
"Ohhhhh my god"
Her long blond hair in tethers, black eyeliner smeared over her face. Julie looked as if someone had pushed her in the pool and never dried her off.
"Why is this happening?" Nelson groaned.
“Calm your horses, Nelly. I'll call off your work. Tell them your no good for anything mother is sick with Lupis or something." Julie joked with the sarcasm that Nelson had long grown out of.
"No, this is no time for joking Julie," Nelson yelled back.
"Well Mr. Grumpy pants, if you're going to give me attitude, I can always just hang up and have myself one of "those days" again." Walking over to his billfold, Julie was standing 6'2 and in great shape. Taking out the money from his billfold, she began counting the cash he had.
Nelson had learned to never leave anything valuable around while Julie was in his body, today was an exception. On multiple occasions, she would send things back to her house in Wyoming express on his credit card which he could never refute because of video surveillance.
Lying back on the bed Julie began fanning herself with the wad of cash and continued. "Larry and I took up line dancing and Thursdays are our days to canoodle. So I'm sorry you have to deal with the aftermath. hehe. Now, what's the problem with today? I haven't heard you this wrestled up since that time I faked my pregnancy!”
Nelson was livid but ultimately knew his efforts were futile. Over the last 4 years, he and his Fiance had looked and tried their best, but there was no sign of the spellbook. In the recent months leading to his wedding, they'd had to plan everything Friday and Saturday to make sure Julie couldn't ruin any of it.
Ring Ring. The doorbell of Nelson's apartment echoed through the large loft.
"Wonder who that is?"
Julie skipped to the front door in Nelson's boxers and nonchalantly opened up the door, to find nonother than Rebecca standing on the other end. Lunging forward, Rebecca kissed Julie on the mouth passionately.
"I was once in love, now forgotten, a new love granted, free from me to you."
Pausing for a moment, Rebecca looked like she was waiting for something to happen.
"That was a cute poem sweetheart, but I'm not Nelson" Julie responded coyly with her hands of Nelson's hips.
Rebecca smiled a venomous grin. "Is that Nelson on the phone?"
"Yes, why yes it is. You look nice, is there a special occasion today?"
"Oh, just the rehearsal dinner for our wedding tomorrow."
They could both hear Nelson screaming through the phone in fear.
"Well tonight is surely going to be fun then, isn't it?" Julie responded.
"Yes, it will Rebecca responded, taking a few steps over to the woman inside her fiance's body. "I'm not going to let your white trash hill billy ass mess up any more of our lives like you did with our trip to Spain."
"Haha! The best day I've ever had in Vegas. Julie replied, taking the money she had in her hand waving it in the air. "It's not considered losing if its not your money!"
A few feet away, Rebecca pulled a mallet from behind her back and smacked Julie across the mouth. Falling to the floor, Rebecca grabbed the phone from Julie, and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
"Honey are you still there!" Rebecca called through the phone to Nelson.
"Yes, baby," Nelson answered in shambles.
"We have one chance at this. Kiss Larry when you see him and utter the phrase, I was once in love, now forgotten, a new love granted, free from me to you."
Returning from the kitchen, Larry's belly hung over his baggy boxers, a fresh milk mustache on his face. Running over to Larry, he grabbed his stubbly face surprising the big fella.
"I was once in love, now forgotten, a new love granted, free from me to you."
POOF
(Later that evening)
"Hey, Nelson, what happened to your face buddy?"
"Oh, just a little fight before the big day." answered an uncharacteristically drunk Nelson.
Grabbing Rebecca, he took her to the dance floor and started two-stepping. Wrapping his arm her small breast's, Rebecca smiled tipsily, her mascara just beginning to run. | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | Olivia stood in the open doorway.
"Nathan. I... I really don't know if I can keep living like this."
Nate sighed. It was damn close to midnight, and he knew he needed to be asleep if he was going to get to work tomorrow.
Adrienne and Nate were high school sweethearts, in the most classic of fashions. Nate fell in love with her almost as soon as he saw her: Especially her boobs, which he never admitted. It was obvious, but she didn't care: She enjoyed the attention, and she loved being with him.
It took months for them to pass from being good friends to being in a relationship: They should have known when they were talking about how great they were together, or how they should hang out more, and definitely when they started seriously discussing taking each other's virginities: But it took until Adrienne broke down crying and confessed that what she wanted most of all was to be Nate's girlfriend.
They stayed together for five years, and they were some of the best of Nate's life. Then, they started fighting: Adrienne said he didn't understand what it was like to be a girl, so as a last resort she suggested a drastic measure.
Adrienne was the daughter of a witch: The latest in a long line of Dempsey women that had been able to harness magic since time immemorial. Magic had grown weaker since the old times: Even the strongest witches had to focus greatly to cast a spell, and anyone that hadn't spent decades and decades practicing needed rehearsal and a ritualistic, slow-paced process to cast even a spell to throw a rock.
But, Adrienne said, their relationship was too important to give up on without trying **everything**.
So, they ended up on the floor of her studio apartment, sitting around a hastily drawn pentagon ("Still arcane, but not all devil-y, you know?"), with Nate reciting a Gaelic incantation that he was fairly sure was actually gibberish, that would teach him what it was like to be a woman.
He didn't realize that that would mean that he would spend every Saturday in Adrienne's body. Every Friday, he fell asleep as himself, and every Saturday he awoke in Adrienne's body. He would spend the whole day as her, until waking up as himself again on Sunday morning. It wasn't entirely tied to sleeping - taking a nap didn't trigger the switch - But it had to happen while they slept.
When they broke up, Nate asked Adrienne to reverse the spell. Shamefully, Adrienne declared, she had made a horrible mistake - The spell could not be undone.
So, they set some ground rules: No intentionally fucking up the other person's life while in their body (Included: Committing crimes, making big promises, screwing with personal relationships, and other such acts). No violating the budget set by the other person for that Saturday (But reasonable budgets had to be set). No unprotected sex or drug use in the other person's body. And, they had to write a summary of what they did each Saturday night, so no surprises would crop up - Adrienne was always more diligent about hers, and surprisingly Olivia always agreed with every detail.
And, for the record, Nate did try just staying awake to avoid the switch. It didn't work: The spell forced them to get more and more tired, and fall asleep before about 4AM, no matter how hard he tried.
It wasn't all bad, of course. He got to keep playing with the fun bits of the beautiful redhead he had once been madly in love with, and he did get to see what it was like to be her. The cat-calls, the uncomfortable stares, everything.
And, he met Olivia. She used to know Adrienne in elementary school, and had found Nate on a Saturday. He shamefully explained the situation to her, but she had been incredibly understanding: And asked to meet him again when in his body.
It wasn't as sudden as it was with Adrienne: Actually, it took years, but with some gentle encouragement from the woman who shared his body, he fell in love, and he proposed to that yellow-haired beauty that was now so much further from him than she used to be.
"It's just... Look. Adrienne isn't exactly evil, but it just feels wrong to wake up in the morning and this person I'm not in love with is in your body walking into my kitchen. And she's not the easiest to get along with - She's messy, she--"
"I know, Olivia. She spends the whole day ignoring you, working on her spells, and you feel bad that my body is ignoring you. Look; At least she's still trying to find a way out of this mess. She can't help that she made a mistake, or that she still isn't skilled enough to even lift a cup without a ritual - She's human."
He stood, and looked into Olivia's eyes.
"I know it's hard for you, and I hate every second that I'm away from you - But please, honey - It's crap, but it's the crap I'm stuck with. I hate that you have to put up with it too; I hate that moment of resent in your eyes on Sunday mornings, but please.
I love you. I need you. I can't change what happens every Saturday, but I need to have you in my life.
Please."
Olivia sighed deeply, before stepping forward and giving Nathan a long kiss.
"Honey... It's not your fault."
She stared lovingly into his eyes, before shamefully hanging her head.
"I'm sorry. It's just...."
"It's hard for you. I know. It's hard to control emotions. They're by definition irrational. I don't blame you for having them; You're human too."
Olivia smiled, looking back up at him.
"No hard feelings?"
Nate shook his head happily.
Olivia nodded, and took a deep breath.
"I'm going to sleep on the couch. You know that I don't want to accidentally have any funny business with her. Give me a kiss goodnight?"
The couple embraced, locked together in adoration, and split apart without another word.
Nate hated going to bed alone. But he knew why Olivia didn't want to wake up next to Adrienne in the morning: He had to hope every night that she didn't decide to have a fun Friday, because he hated waking up next to some bear of a man. It made him feel like one of those disgusting homosexuals that appeared on the television now and then in the news - The deviant scourge the government had been trying to rid the nation of for half a century.
Olivia had too much empathy for them, in Nathan's opinion: They didn't discuss it much anymore, because they would just fight over it. He stood behind the state, but she insisted that being different shouldn't be a crime. They don't hang witches, she would say - Why should they hang those poor people?
*Oh well.*
If that small disagreement was the biggest problem in their relationship, they would make an even better couple. Nathan had baggage the size of a damn planet: Sympathy for deviants was something he had no choice but to accept, even if he wasn't madly in love with that woman.
The next morning, Nate woke up in a groggy fog, in Adrienne's room. The decor was excessive, but at least it wasn't ugly - But there were plants *everywhere*, and he hated having to wade through them almost as much as he hated the fact that Adrienne had to work the whole day every Saturday. He understood it: She hadn't been as fortunate in life, so he didn't complain, but he wished he could have freedom on his weekend.
At least she apologized for it. Repeatedly.
After a long day waiting tables, Nate watered Adrienne's plants, and fell into her bed with a sigh. Exhausted, he fell asleep quickly: He could not wait to spent time with his fiancée when he awoke.
Meanwhile, Adrienne lay happily in Nate's bed, wide awake, and with no intention of sleeping. Olivia's hand adoringly caressed her cheek.
"You have no idea how much I wish you could be here. In your own body I mean."
Adrienne let out a giggle.
"You have no idea how glad I am that I'm the one who gets to be with the girl. Although I do think the sex is better for you... But you know what they'd do to us if they caught us like this in my body."
Olivia sighed.
"You're right. I hate that we need Nathan for this. But... I need to be with you. To have you in my life. Every day with you is the most incredible day I've ever had, and every Sunday I hate looking into those eyes and not seeing you behind them. And I hate being afraid that he'll figure out how to get himself out of this."
Adrienne smiled warmly.
"I can't imagine what that must be like. But I'm glad I can give you those days. And don't worry about him. I'm better than I let on - The spell can only be broken if both of us want it to break. No matter what."
Hearing this, Olivia sighed contently, and propped herself up with a smile.
With a thoughtless flick of her finger, Adrienne summoned a perfect sphere of water from the filter in the kitchen, and brought it to her lips.
"Do you want any?"
Olivia took a moment to decide that she did - But Adrienne already had a second sphere floating in the doorway: Olivia did this every single time.
Adrienne let a huge yawn escape her mouth as Olivia swallowed.
"Oh no. It's time, isn't it."
Olivia's voice broke, a pane of glass shattered by the cruelty of time.
Wordless, Adrienne nodded, and beckoned the love of her life to hold her. She would hold on as long as she could, but that moment was coming.
Just before she surrendered, Olivia gave her the gift of her voice one more time.
"There has to be some way we can make this two days a week, or maybe more. Right?"
The next morning, Nathan awoke alone with a devious, contented smile on his lips, and no idea where it came from.
*****
Edit: name confusion | The spell
Shit, is it Sunday? Oh no, not today, not today!
Nelson knew immediately when he awoke on Friday, he wasn't in his own bed. He could feel the arms of Larry's outstretched over him, placed in a vice-like grip around his large breasts. The same ones he had helped convince his girlfriend to get after their college graduation. Julie, the Kappa Kappa hottie he fell in love with after one date and a lot of beer, so many years ago. A mistaken he'd been paying the price forever since.
Jesus Christ, Nelson squealed out loud waking Larry from his drunken stupor.
"Baby what's wrong?"
"It's not your baby Larry!" Nelson responded in Julie's high pitched voice.
"Ah shit, is today Sunday ?" Turning over to check his clock on the other side of their queen-size bed, Nelson got the unfortunate view of his hairy back leading down under.
"Hey, Nelson its Friday. What the hell?"
"I know dipshit!"
Nelson and Julie had dated only one month until realizing they were a complete mismatch. Nelson, a history major from NYU had stumbled upon a spellbook in the first week they were together. It seemed harmless enough, and sort of fun to two 21-year-olds.
They unknowingly cast a medieval charm one that would allow Julie and him to switch bodies every Sunday of every week until the charm was broken.
Everything was fun and gold for a while until they began to hate each other. Breaking up within that first month, they attempted to break the charm, however, Julie accidentally sold the book along with others in a transaction on Amazon. The buyer was never located, and so here today they stood in a paradox.
Grabbing the pink butterfly iPhone on her nightstand, Nelson typed in the same password that Julie'd kept since college. 2-4-6-8. A joke back in those days, sadly still lingering around as she was now approaching 30.
Pressing Siri, Nelson spoke out his command, "Call Nelson." Siri responded, "Calling Nelson, the motherf\*cuker”
After three rings, she picked up. "Well hello Nelly, is today Sunday?" Julie responded in Nelson's New Jersey accent.
Stretching out her arms, Julie smiled in Nelson's comfy king-sized bed. She clapped her hands twice, and the blinds opened up exposing the view from downtown Manhattan. Nelson had found much success and now worked as the VP of sales for an innovative video game company.
"Listen to me Julie, why did we switch? Its never on Friday! What is going on?" Nelson was shaking with the thought of what might happen if Julie realized the significance of today. He slipped down to the ground of the small bedroom Julie shared with Larry in their small house in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Her bony butt heart when he hit the floor along with a piercing headache. Rising to his feet, Nelson walked over to the large vanity in the hallway in agony.
"Ohhhhh my god"
Her long blond hair in tethers, black eyeliner smeared over her face. Julie looked as if someone had pushed her in the pool and never dried her off.
"Why is this happening?" Nelson groaned.
“Calm your horses, Nelly. I'll call off your work. Tell them your no good for anything mother is sick with Lupis or something." Julie joked with the sarcasm that Nelson had long grown out of.
"No, this is no time for joking Julie," Nelson yelled back.
"Well Mr. Grumpy pants, if you're going to give me attitude, I can always just hang up and have myself one of "those days" again." Walking over to his billfold, Julie was standing 6'2 and in great shape. Taking out the money from his billfold, she began counting the cash he had.
Nelson had learned to never leave anything valuable around while Julie was in his body, today was an exception. On multiple occasions, she would send things back to her house in Wyoming express on his credit card which he could never refute because of video surveillance.
Lying back on the bed Julie began fanning herself with the wad of cash and continued. "Larry and I took up line dancing and Thursdays are our days to canoodle. So I'm sorry you have to deal with the aftermath. hehe. Now, what's the problem with today? I haven't heard you this wrestled up since that time I faked my pregnancy!”
Nelson was livid but ultimately knew his efforts were futile. Over the last 4 years, he and his Fiance had looked and tried their best, but there was no sign of the spellbook. In the recent months leading to his wedding, they'd had to plan everything Friday and Saturday to make sure Julie couldn't ruin any of it.
Ring Ring. The doorbell of Nelson's apartment echoed through the large loft.
"Wonder who that is?"
Julie skipped to the front door in Nelson's boxers and nonchalantly opened up the door, to find nonother than Rebecca standing on the other end. Lunging forward, Rebecca kissed Julie on the mouth passionately.
"I was once in love, now forgotten, a new love granted, free from me to you."
Pausing for a moment, Rebecca looked like she was waiting for something to happen.
"That was a cute poem sweetheart, but I'm not Nelson" Julie responded coyly with her hands of Nelson's hips.
Rebecca smiled a venomous grin. "Is that Nelson on the phone?"
"Yes, why yes it is. You look nice, is there a special occasion today?"
"Oh, just the rehearsal dinner for our wedding tomorrow."
They could both hear Nelson screaming through the phone in fear.
"Well tonight is surely going to be fun then, isn't it?" Julie responded.
"Yes, it will Rebecca responded, taking a few steps over to the woman inside her fiance's body. "I'm not going to let your white trash hill billy ass mess up any more of our lives like you did with our trip to Spain."
"Haha! The best day I've ever had in Vegas. Julie replied, taking the money she had in her hand waving it in the air. "It's not considered losing if its not your money!"
A few feet away, Rebecca pulled a mallet from behind her back and smacked Julie across the mouth. Falling to the floor, Rebecca grabbed the phone from Julie, and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
"Honey are you still there!" Rebecca called through the phone to Nelson.
"Yes, baby," Nelson answered in shambles.
"We have one chance at this. Kiss Larry when you see him and utter the phrase, I was once in love, now forgotten, a new love granted, free from me to you."
Returning from the kitchen, Larry's belly hung over his baggy boxers, a fresh milk mustache on his face. Running over to Larry, he grabbed his stubbly face surprising the big fella.
"I was once in love, now forgotten, a new love granted, free from me to you."
POOF
(Later that evening)
"Hey, Nelson, what happened to your face buddy?"
"Oh, just a little fight before the big day." answered an uncharacteristically drunk Nelson.
Grabbing Rebecca, he took her to the dance floor and started two-stepping. Wrapping his arm her small breast's, Rebecca smiled tipsily, her mascara just beginning to run. | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | She was looking at me, her face twisted in tired horror and I realized it happened again.
"I'm so sorry babe! I wish I could do something to stop it, you know I do."
She sighed and shook her head "I know, but it's just so hard. I hate it!."
8 years ago I was with the love of my life, I couldn't see myself being with anyone else. She was dark and mysterious, but at the same time somehow full of light and laughter and love. She was so kind to everyone around her. She took in strays and found them homes, she could play music, she could sing and paint. We made passionate love and talked into the night. I knew she was "the one".
I wish I hadn't been so stupid.
Maggie was a witch, or so she said. I never believed her, just assuming that she was one of those kooky but harmless wiccans I saw around town. She had her little witch knife, and her little spellbook, and her little altar. She had her spices and herbs and flowers and a really expensive looking crystal ball. It was all really neat and I was intellectually interested, even though I had a hard time taking it seriously.
Eventually she said she wanted to cast a spell, one that could only be done in true love. I listened, bemused, as she claimed we would switch bodies, once a week, to experience life from the other perspective. She said it would bring us closer together. I humored her and agreed once she explained all she would need was some hair and some semen from me, something I was happy to give. The spell was cast and nothing happened at first.
I woke up the next morning feeling heavier in the chest. My vision was sharper...and then I looked over and screamed as my own face was looking back at me. My body laughed and then smiled and I remembered what had happened last night. After recovering Maggie and I made love and it blew my mind how different it was. We spent the day together in bed, eating, drinking, and sex. She couldn't stop laughing when she peed standing up.
I awoke with a headache, but in my own body. I felt sore, but overall pretty good. Maggie wasn't in bed, so I got up and got dressed and headed out. There were flashing lights everywhere...an Ambulance was loading a filled body bag. I joined the crowd, gawking and wondering what happened until I saw the purse on the ground. The homemade purse Maggie was so proud of.
I sprinted forward, shoving people out of the way. An officer grabbed me and I started screaming that that was Maggie's purse, I kept trying to get the officer to understand that Maggie wasn't the one in the body bag. I was taken to the hospital, following the ambulance and once there given a sedative. I was sent home with promises that I would be called.
Five days later I was back at the hospital confirming that the body was Maggie. I was destroyed. I thought it couldn't get any worse, that there couldn't be any more pain.
The next morning I found out I was wrong. Maggie may have been dead, but the spell wasn't broken. All I knew was darkness, but I wasn't dying. I couldn't move, I couldn't breath, I couldn't do anything but lie there, feeling nothing and screaming in my own mind.
Every week. I didn't understand what was happening until I moved in with my fiance. That's when she witnessed the other half. My body snapping awake and rigid and then just screaming until night fell.
Once a week I swap bodies with a dead woman, and I can't stop it. | Katherine was beginning breakfast by the time Jim's body trundled down the stairs and into the kitchen that morning. She was seated in her usual spot beside the window, spoon in hand, stirring her oatmeal to help it cool.
"Morning," came Jim's gruff voice.
Outside, in the oak tree, a pair of cardinals were fighting. Or mating -Katherine never knew. She watched as the crimson male chirped at the grey female from the opposite end of the branch. After a second, it darted forward, wings fluttering wildly. The female jolted off at once and fluttered to a higher perch. The male cocked its head upward, watching.
"How was your week?" came Jim's voice again, muffled slightly this time. His body was searching the fridge.
"About the same," Katherine replied, her eyes still fixed out the window.
"Yeah, mine, too," Jim's voice answered, sighing. "David's been sick. Cooped up all week."
"That's too bad," Katherine replied, half-listening.
"Yeah. Hey, are there any eggs in here I'm not seeing?"
Katherine turned her head around sharply. Jim's eyes were staring at her, blue and questioning.
After a moment, Katherine blinked. "Oh, sorry. I forgot. I meant to get some last night on my way home."
Katherine set the spoon down against the side of the bowl with a soft *clink.* She raised her hand to her forehead and massaged it gently.
"What's wrong?" Jim's voice asked, cautiously.
"No, I just realized it's Saturday."
"Oh."
Katherine lowered her hand, a weak smile on her face. "You're not *Jim* today."
Jim's body sighed. "No. Today it's *Becca*. The one who likes eggs."
The two exhaled in unison -almost laughter.
Katherine shook her head. "Every time I forget, I tell myself that it'll be the last time, and yet time passes and I'm still surprised."
"Hey, I've dealt with this longer than you and I *still* jump when I look in the mirror sometimes."
Katherine smiled and glanced out the window again. Jim's body stood by the open fridge for a moment before closing it.
"Don't worry about the eggs; I'll just have some coffee. I'm not that hungry."
Katherine nodded silently. The cardinals were at it again. This time the female flew across to another tree, the male in pursuit.
"Look, I know I say it every week, but I really can't express how sorry I am that you have to deal with this," Jim's voice blurted, pleadingly.
Katherine turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed. "No, it's okay, Becca. It's not your fault."
"You say that..." Jim's voice paused for a second. "But it really was *my* idea. I talked Jim into it."
"I know."
"I thought it would be *romantic*. To, like, experience *life* FULLY in each other's shoes! Just for a bit... And we were young. And stupid." Jim's body shook its head. His face was red.
Katherine smiled softly again, lowering her gaze. "Becca, it's not your fault."
"I really thought I was gonna marry him."
Katherine looked up again. Jim's eyes were staring directly at hers. His upper lip was quivering.
"Oh, Becca.." Katherine shook her head softly.
"I'm sorry. I'm being stupid."
"You're not being stupid. It's a tough situation."
"Yeah." Jim's body bowed its head, shuffling his feet.
"Do you want to come sit down?"
"Okay."
Jim's body walked over to the table and sat across from Katherine.
Katherine glanced at him and then out the window again. The two sat in silence for a moment before Jim's voice blurted out:
"I'm sorry."
Katherine scoffed. "You really don't have to keep apologizing. People do stupid things for each other when they think they're in love. Some couples buy fancy *jewelry*. Some couples get their *names* tattooed on each other.."
Jim's body laughed.
"..and some people...decide to cast a spell that makes them switch bodies a day out of the week." Katherine shook her head. "It's *perfectly* normal."
Jim's body laughed again. "You're too sweet."
Katherine grinned.
"What?" Jim's voice asked.
"No, it's funny. I can't remember the last time I heard Jim say 'sweet' like that."
"Oh," Jim's body laughed. "I guess that's *my* vocabulary."
Katherine glanced out the window again. "Makes me wonder what differences David must notice when he's over there."
"Honestly," Jim's voice replied, "from what he tells me, not much. They basically turn it into a guy's day every week."
"A *guy's* day?"
"Oh, you know. Video games. *Baseball* games." Jim's body laughed. "David never takes *me* to baseball games."
"No?"
Jim's body sighed. "No...Honestly I wouldn't want to go, anyway."
Katherine smiled. "I guess not."
"The worst part of the whole thing is it's on *Saturdays*. The *one* day of the week we might actually get to have some genuine couples' time."
Katherine glanced down at her bowl, nodding. "Yeah."
"Instead you're just stuck with *me*."
Katherine smiled, picking the spoon up again and stirring. "I guess there's not much to do about it."
The two sat quietly for a moment, only the rhythmic *clinks* punctuating the silence. And then, Katherine stopped stirring.
Jim's eyes glanced at her. Katherine was staring at the table. She opened her mouth. "You know something, Becca?"
"What's that?"
Katherine glanced out the window again. The cardinals were gone.
"I feel good on Saturdays."
And Katherine plucked her spoon from the bowl and took a bite of her oatmeal as Jim's blue eyes stared. | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | Olivia stood in the open doorway.
"Nathan. I... I really don't know if I can keep living like this."
Nate sighed. It was damn close to midnight, and he knew he needed to be asleep if he was going to get to work tomorrow.
Adrienne and Nate were high school sweethearts, in the most classic of fashions. Nate fell in love with her almost as soon as he saw her: Especially her boobs, which he never admitted. It was obvious, but she didn't care: She enjoyed the attention, and she loved being with him.
It took months for them to pass from being good friends to being in a relationship: They should have known when they were talking about how great they were together, or how they should hang out more, and definitely when they started seriously discussing taking each other's virginities: But it took until Adrienne broke down crying and confessed that what she wanted most of all was to be Nate's girlfriend.
They stayed together for five years, and they were some of the best of Nate's life. Then, they started fighting: Adrienne said he didn't understand what it was like to be a girl, so as a last resort she suggested a drastic measure.
Adrienne was the daughter of a witch: The latest in a long line of Dempsey women that had been able to harness magic since time immemorial. Magic had grown weaker since the old times: Even the strongest witches had to focus greatly to cast a spell, and anyone that hadn't spent decades and decades practicing needed rehearsal and a ritualistic, slow-paced process to cast even a spell to throw a rock.
But, Adrienne said, their relationship was too important to give up on without trying **everything**.
So, they ended up on the floor of her studio apartment, sitting around a hastily drawn pentagon ("Still arcane, but not all devil-y, you know?"), with Nate reciting a Gaelic incantation that he was fairly sure was actually gibberish, that would teach him what it was like to be a woman.
He didn't realize that that would mean that he would spend every Saturday in Adrienne's body. Every Friday, he fell asleep as himself, and every Saturday he awoke in Adrienne's body. He would spend the whole day as her, until waking up as himself again on Sunday morning. It wasn't entirely tied to sleeping - taking a nap didn't trigger the switch - But it had to happen while they slept.
When they broke up, Nate asked Adrienne to reverse the spell. Shamefully, Adrienne declared, she had made a horrible mistake - The spell could not be undone.
So, they set some ground rules: No intentionally fucking up the other person's life while in their body (Included: Committing crimes, making big promises, screwing with personal relationships, and other such acts). No violating the budget set by the other person for that Saturday (But reasonable budgets had to be set). No unprotected sex or drug use in the other person's body. And, they had to write a summary of what they did each Saturday night, so no surprises would crop up - Adrienne was always more diligent about hers, and surprisingly Olivia always agreed with every detail.
And, for the record, Nate did try just staying awake to avoid the switch. It didn't work: The spell forced them to get more and more tired, and fall asleep before about 4AM, no matter how hard he tried.
It wasn't all bad, of course. He got to keep playing with the fun bits of the beautiful redhead he had once been madly in love with, and he did get to see what it was like to be her. The cat-calls, the uncomfortable stares, everything.
And, he met Olivia. She used to know Adrienne in elementary school, and had found Nate on a Saturday. He shamefully explained the situation to her, but she had been incredibly understanding: And asked to meet him again when in his body.
It wasn't as sudden as it was with Adrienne: Actually, it took years, but with some gentle encouragement from the woman who shared his body, he fell in love, and he proposed to that yellow-haired beauty that was now so much further from him than she used to be.
"It's just... Look. Adrienne isn't exactly evil, but it just feels wrong to wake up in the morning and this person I'm not in love with is in your body walking into my kitchen. And she's not the easiest to get along with - She's messy, she--"
"I know, Olivia. She spends the whole day ignoring you, working on her spells, and you feel bad that my body is ignoring you. Look; At least she's still trying to find a way out of this mess. She can't help that she made a mistake, or that she still isn't skilled enough to even lift a cup without a ritual - She's human."
He stood, and looked into Olivia's eyes.
"I know it's hard for you, and I hate every second that I'm away from you - But please, honey - It's crap, but it's the crap I'm stuck with. I hate that you have to put up with it too; I hate that moment of resent in your eyes on Sunday mornings, but please.
I love you. I need you. I can't change what happens every Saturday, but I need to have you in my life.
Please."
Olivia sighed deeply, before stepping forward and giving Nathan a long kiss.
"Honey... It's not your fault."
She stared lovingly into his eyes, before shamefully hanging her head.
"I'm sorry. It's just...."
"It's hard for you. I know. It's hard to control emotions. They're by definition irrational. I don't blame you for having them; You're human too."
Olivia smiled, looking back up at him.
"No hard feelings?"
Nate shook his head happily.
Olivia nodded, and took a deep breath.
"I'm going to sleep on the couch. You know that I don't want to accidentally have any funny business with her. Give me a kiss goodnight?"
The couple embraced, locked together in adoration, and split apart without another word.
Nate hated going to bed alone. But he knew why Olivia didn't want to wake up next to Adrienne in the morning: He had to hope every night that she didn't decide to have a fun Friday, because he hated waking up next to some bear of a man. It made him feel like one of those disgusting homosexuals that appeared on the television now and then in the news - The deviant scourge the government had been trying to rid the nation of for half a century.
Olivia had too much empathy for them, in Nathan's opinion: They didn't discuss it much anymore, because they would just fight over it. He stood behind the state, but she insisted that being different shouldn't be a crime. They don't hang witches, she would say - Why should they hang those poor people?
*Oh well.*
If that small disagreement was the biggest problem in their relationship, they would make an even better couple. Nathan had baggage the size of a damn planet: Sympathy for deviants was something he had no choice but to accept, even if he wasn't madly in love with that woman.
The next morning, Nate woke up in a groggy fog, in Adrienne's room. The decor was excessive, but at least it wasn't ugly - But there were plants *everywhere*, and he hated having to wade through them almost as much as he hated the fact that Adrienne had to work the whole day every Saturday. He understood it: She hadn't been as fortunate in life, so he didn't complain, but he wished he could have freedom on his weekend.
At least she apologized for it. Repeatedly.
After a long day waiting tables, Nate watered Adrienne's plants, and fell into her bed with a sigh. Exhausted, he fell asleep quickly: He could not wait to spent time with his fiancée when he awoke.
Meanwhile, Adrienne lay happily in Nate's bed, wide awake, and with no intention of sleeping. Olivia's hand adoringly caressed her cheek.
"You have no idea how much I wish you could be here. In your own body I mean."
Adrienne let out a giggle.
"You have no idea how glad I am that I'm the one who gets to be with the girl. Although I do think the sex is better for you... But you know what they'd do to us if they caught us like this in my body."
Olivia sighed.
"You're right. I hate that we need Nathan for this. But... I need to be with you. To have you in my life. Every day with you is the most incredible day I've ever had, and every Sunday I hate looking into those eyes and not seeing you behind them. And I hate being afraid that he'll figure out how to get himself out of this."
Adrienne smiled warmly.
"I can't imagine what that must be like. But I'm glad I can give you those days. And don't worry about him. I'm better than I let on - The spell can only be broken if both of us want it to break. No matter what."
Hearing this, Olivia sighed contently, and propped herself up with a smile.
With a thoughtless flick of her finger, Adrienne summoned a perfect sphere of water from the filter in the kitchen, and brought it to her lips.
"Do you want any?"
Olivia took a moment to decide that she did - But Adrienne already had a second sphere floating in the doorway: Olivia did this every single time.
Adrienne let a huge yawn escape her mouth as Olivia swallowed.
"Oh no. It's time, isn't it."
Olivia's voice broke, a pane of glass shattered by the cruelty of time.
Wordless, Adrienne nodded, and beckoned the love of her life to hold her. She would hold on as long as she could, but that moment was coming.
Just before she surrendered, Olivia gave her the gift of her voice one more time.
"There has to be some way we can make this two days a week, or maybe more. Right?"
The next morning, Nathan awoke alone with a devious, contented smile on his lips, and no idea where it came from.
*****
Edit: name confusion | I still remember the curve of her spine as my fingers traced her body. They'd run up and down her shoulders and back as I softly kissed her neck. I loved her. A part of me still loves her, and I don't think that'll ever change.
I know all of these feelings break my fiancé's heart. The woman I am to marry is beautiful and wonderful and kind and very patient with me, but every week I pray to the Gods to be with my old flame again. They always answer the same way. I'm tortured to never be in the same room with her, only to see her face in the mirror. The way her hair falls and the brightness of her smile is mine once more, but not in any way that satisfies me. I will never hold her with my own hands again. I can only hope she forgives me. | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | As important as it was, the proposal was a brief break from what had been bugging me all night. Does she remember the promise I made that drunken night, the only way I could think to break the spell. The whole day the topic had been avoided and I cant help but think I would like to put it off forever.
I nuzzled into the back of her hair, inhaling the scent of hairspray that lingered even now so late at night. She stirred, is she awake? I froze still.
“Will? Are you awake?” she spoke in a surprisingly lucid tone. I had thought she would be dead asleep by now.
“Yeah” I utter in return as my chest flutters with anxiety.
“Do you remember new years?”
My heart sank.
“Yeah” I sighed.
“You promised me…”
“I know I promised you but…” She cut me off in a way that told me she wasn’t going to let this go.
“If you really want to marry me, I need you to kill her” She spoke as if she were delivering the keynotes from a board meeting, clear and with diction.
A lump formed in my throat, her tone said it all. In truth I had only said it because I thought she would never ask, I thought it would be forgotten.
“Will you?”
My chest bubbled with anticipation as my head tried to claw at the answer to this predicament. The mirky feeling from the more than substantial amount of wine from dinner made a clear thought even slippier to grasp at. I love this girl with all my heart, but to kill? Was she being serious or was this all a test? If I say no will she forget? She is pretty drunk but then again I did just propose, that will probably make tonight more memorable.
But, what if I say yes? It will buy me some time?
“Yes” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could even stop them.
“Good” She stated matter of factly. In an instant she had whipped the covers away and bolted out of bed towards the tall oak wardrobe, flicking the lamp on as she went.
She reached in, behind her collection of coats and scarves and fumbled at the back of the wardrobe.
I sat up clutching at the duvet, completely unable to comprehend what might be happening.
There was a heavy sliding of something hard against the wood of the back of the wardrobe and she stepped out from behind the door clutching an odd shape.
“I called her, she is in the park over the road”
I wish I had not reached for my glasses at that moment. The shape came into focus as the heavy frames fell to rest on the bridge of my nose. A rifle. | I still remember the curve of her spine as my fingers traced her body. They'd run up and down her shoulders and back as I softly kissed her neck. I loved her. A part of me still loves her, and I don't think that'll ever change.
I know all of these feelings break my fiancé's heart. The woman I am to marry is beautiful and wonderful and kind and very patient with me, but every week I pray to the Gods to be with my old flame again. They always answer the same way. I'm tortured to never be in the same room with her, only to see her face in the mirror. The way her hair falls and the brightness of her smile is mine once more, but not in any way that satisfies me. I will never hold her with my own hands again. I can only hope she forgives me. | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | The light coalesced around Annies's body and flowed into her as Sunday became Monday. Jim was unfazed by the mystical energies surrounding his fiance, he'd made it this far so the weekly event was nothing new to him.
There was no look of confusion on Annie's face when the energy slid fully into her mouth and when her eyes fluttered open they were a light brown instead of their usual pale blue. Her face took on a pinched expression as she, or rather he, squinted in concentration.
"Man, I'll never get used to her bad eyes. You'd think with the color change I'd get to keep my vision when we switch but no, I'm stuck with her shitty eyes." Phil complained half jokingly.
"Hey I happen to like those eyes" retorted Jim with a grin forming on his face.
"Working the swing shift this week? It's pretty late dude" asked Phil.
"Yeah, this job is a doozy and they need me on hand to keep an eye on the apprentices on the late shift".
Jim was a master stonemason so normally he'd work fairly normal hours but on this particular job the newbies were cutting their teeth late at night so someone with some experience was needed to keep an eye on them. Jim didn't do much in the way of hands on work these days but while he wasn't breaking his back he was set the much more difficult task of keeping bright eyed new stonemasons from screwing up the job.
"Well I won't keep ya, I'll just put on a movie in the guest room or something. It sucks that they keep you on that." Commiserated Phil.
"Nah it ain't so bad. I've got a six pack in the fridge if you wanna split it. You know I can't sleep so soon after a shift." Replied Jim.
Phil's only response was a grin and a slap on the shoulder. As he brushed past him towards the living room to turn on the game console sitting by the TV.
Jim smiled too. At first, the weekly exchange of Phil for his wonderful fiance had been jarring but as it turned out Phil was a decent guy. They'd slowly built an unconventional friendship over the years much to the dismay of Annie, who had much more trouble getting to know Phil's various romantic partners.
I'm comparison Jim and Annie had been together for years longer than any of Phil's previous lovers so that perhaps had something to do with it.
Getting the beer out of the fridge and a bag of chips from the cabinet, Jim dropped himself in the seat next to Phil on the large brown sectional that occupied most of the living room.
"I'm hard stuck on Pontiff Sulyvan in Dark Souls, you think you could coach me through it?" Asked Phil as the game booted up.
"Yeah, the timings for him are pretty rough but I think I can help you. You do have to go to bed pretty soon though, Annie has to go into work early tomorrow for a meeting with a client. She left some note and instructions for you in her desk" said Jim.
There had been a time when Phil had been consistently lost at Annie's workplace but being an account executive wasn't *that* hard after 5 years of borrowed experience.
"Yeah no problem, I'll see if I can clear him a few times then head to bed". Replied Phil.
"Sounds good, so what you're gonna want to do with Sulyvan is really respect his range and be careful about his dash. It'll get you every time....
The arrangement was a strange one but Jim was happy. After all not everyone gets to hang out with their best friend every week and Annie would be back tomorrow.
He smiled as he watched Phil get absolutely destroyed by the Pontiff. | I still remember the curve of her spine as my fingers traced her body. They'd run up and down her shoulders and back as I softly kissed her neck. I loved her. A part of me still loves her, and I don't think that'll ever change.
I know all of these feelings break my fiancé's heart. The woman I am to marry is beautiful and wonderful and kind and very patient with me, but every week I pray to the Gods to be with my old flame again. They always answer the same way. I'm tortured to never be in the same room with her, only to see her face in the mirror. The way her hair falls and the brightness of her smile is mine once more, but not in any way that satisfies me. I will never hold her with my own hands again. I can only hope she forgives me. | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | I’m awoken by Dan fidgeting next me in bed. His eyes meet meet mine, and instantly I know this is a Kelly Day.
She sighs loudly in exasperation through Dan’s mouth and throws his head back into the pillow. “Fucking fuck-balls fuck-face fuck-head-“
Hearing the stream of profanity in Dan’s soft, slightly nasal voice is too surreal, even after 4 years, and I giggle.
Kelly glares at me with Dan’s calm brown eyes.
“Hey,” I smirk back. “Watch his mouth.”
The corner of Dan’s mouth twitches. Kelly and I both realized early on that finding some modicum of mutual humor in the unavoidable intimacy of our situation was the only way to stay sane.
“Shit, it never happens two days in a row. When has it ever fucking happened two days in a row?” She kicks at the sheets like a toddler.
“Had plans?” I ask.
“Yeah. Well sort of.”
Dan’s eyes take on a sly, very un-Dan expression.
“Let’s just say Dan will likely be waking up more than a little sore today.”
My eyes widen and I snort involuntarily.
“Oh my god, Kelly”
She cackles, and I can’t help but join. Partly the ridiculousness of the situation, partly hearing it come out of my fiancé.
“He knows, though. Right?” I ask. “The guy, I mean. I’m assuming.”
Dan’s shoulders slump, ashamed.
“No.” Kelly says, accused. “I thought since it happened yesterday I’d get today free.”
“Jesus Christ, Kelly.” I sit up and look at our reflection in the large mirror on the far side of the room, then at the body next to me. “He won’t do anything, will he? If he finds out?”
Kelly’s fear rushes into Dan’s eyes.
“Fuck, I hope not. I don’t- shit, I don’t think so. No.” She lands with uncertainty on the negative. Dan’s eyes dart up to mine, then away again.
“How do you know?” I demand, anger rising. It’s her body, but it’s my future husband. “Is this a one night stand?”
She shakes Dan’s head no. “We’ve been together a month.”
“And you didn’t tell him!” I’m fully angry now.
“I didn’t want to scare him off. Like I’m some sort of schizo or fucking multiple personalities or some shit.”
“Dan told me on our second date.”
“Well maybe he’s better at being a fucking freak!”
That’s when I slap her. It echoes uncomfortably off the drywall. She stares in shock through Dan’s eyes.
We both breathe stiffly for a very long moment.
“I’m sorry Kelly.” Then almost by reflex. “I’m sorry Dan.”
Suddenly, Kelly starts crying. Not even bothering to cover her face with Dan’s hands, just tears rolling over his stubble and gasping, choked sobs.
“You have no idea how hard it is. No fucking idea.” Her face contorts more. “I can’t even use my own fucking voice. I can’t live my own fucking life. Dan has you and I have nothing and every week I need to be shoved in this shitty body just to be reminded. Fuck!”
I sit, stunned. I’ve seen Dan cry, but never like this. Even in the same body, where Dan has heavy release, Kelly has primal anguish.
Tentatively I reach out and touch my fiancé’s shoulder. First there’s nothing. Then, after a moment of hesitation, Kelly leans into me.
I run my fingers through Dan’s impossibly curly black hair. “You need to call him. Make sure he’s okay.”
Kelly stiffens in my arms, but nods. Alright.
She grabs Dan’s phone from the nightstand, wraps the sheet around his naked body, and wipes his eyes as she she stumbles into the kitchen.
Five minutes later she comes back.
“They hadn’t woken up yet. He’s going to leave a note about a work emergency or some shit and sneak out.”
I sigh my relief.
“What’s his name?”
“Bobby.”
“You’re going to tell Bobby about the situation tomorrow.” My voice is soft, but it isn’t a request.
Kelly nods solemnly, then starts crying again. This time it’s more like Dan.
“It wasn’t easy for us either. For Dan and me.” I begin. Then I pause. I look at my fiancé’s occupied body. It looks so small without Dan. “You want to get breakfast?”
Kelly sniffs and wipes Dan’s nose. Then she nods. “Yeah.”
Still wearing the sheet, Kelly gathers some of Dan’s clothes, and goes to the bathroom to get dressed. | I still remember the curve of her spine as my fingers traced her body. They'd run up and down her shoulders and back as I softly kissed her neck. I loved her. A part of me still loves her, and I don't think that'll ever change.
I know all of these feelings break my fiancé's heart. The woman I am to marry is beautiful and wonderful and kind and very patient with me, but every week I pray to the Gods to be with my old flame again. They always answer the same way. I'm tortured to never be in the same room with her, only to see her face in the mirror. The way her hair falls and the brightness of her smile is mine once more, but not in any way that satisfies me. I will never hold her with my own hands again. I can only hope she forgives me. | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | I knew it was wrong, but it was so hard not to. I still loved Julia, but she didn't feel the same. Of course I couldn't force her to change her mind, but this has been my only chance of winning her back.
The first time we switched was scary but fun. We were still together though. The first switch after we split, I had left a note for her saying "I miss you". She left a note for me saying "REVERSE THIS SHIT NOW".
So...I lied. Said I couldn't reverse it, didn't know how. Years went by and I spent my time in her body trying to keep up with her interests, doing errands I knew she hated, anything I could try to show her my good side. She spent her time destroying my gaming systems, but at least it lessened every time. Hard to stay mad at a guy who does all your laundry I guess.
Then she started dating Jon. Fucking Jon. Already did the laundry, and the dishes. Stopped me from going through her phone. Just ruined all my fun. Dropped the bomb about how creepy I was being. Ok yeah he was right but still.
I was debating fixing it, but damn if Jon wasn't just the coolest friend. 7 years of body switching to New York and I'd never eaten a hotdog from one of those carts, or watched a street preformer. He said staying home all day was lame and would drag me around town.
So I kept switching a little longer, stopped being creepy, and figured all was well and good.
Until yesterday's switch.
I woke up in unbelievable agony. My stomach felt like someone was wringing it over and over. I basically fell out of bed and made my way to Julia's bathroom. Moaning and groaning I crawled just close enough to puke in the bathtub. Must have woken Jon because I heard him go into the kitchen.
Thinking she ignored her intolerance to dairy, I dropped her/my pants and plopped down on the toilet. One look down made me scream in terror.
"JESUS JON GET THE KEYS SHES MAJORLY FUCKED UP THERES SO MUCH BLOOD OH MY GOD"
Jon strolled into the hallway, tossing chocolate and some pills.
"Yeah uh, she's on her period. Figure this would have lined up eventually. She said stuff you needs in the cabinet, directions are on the box, take the pain pills and don't worry about eating too much junk food today. She's going to be upset when she gets back though, guess this means she's not pregnant must have been a false positive."
So if you could fix this ASAP I'll figure out how to explain it to them.
Thanks Doctor
,Marv | I still remember the curve of her spine as my fingers traced her body. They'd run up and down her shoulders and back as I softly kissed her neck. I loved her. A part of me still loves her, and I don't think that'll ever change.
I know all of these feelings break my fiancé's heart. The woman I am to marry is beautiful and wonderful and kind and very patient with me, but every week I pray to the Gods to be with my old flame again. They always answer the same way. I'm tortured to never be in the same room with her, only to see her face in the mirror. The way her hair falls and the brightness of her smile is mine once more, but not in any way that satisfies me. I will never hold her with my own hands again. I can only hope she forgives me. | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | Addie jerked upright in bed sputtering and gasping. Sucking in lungful after lungful of cool air she slowly began to relax as her head started to clear. Making herself look down at her current body she felt an all too familiar nausea rising inside her but pressed the sensation down. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin another perfectly good comforter.
Pulling the blankets back she looked down at herself. Her arms and body had Victoria's distinct tattooed skin and runner's physique. She appreciated her ex's continued commitment to fitness, something so many began to neglect as they approached 30.
The bedroom was both familiar and strange, like a scene from a recurring dream. Illuminated only by the moon and a small glowing green display that read 12:01 am. Susan was still fast asleep next to her, which was perfect for Addie as she continued to gather her thoughts.
Every Sunday she would wake in this bed and they would have to spend 24 hours together. Not that Addie really cared, Susan was an amazing person, but she was sympathetic to how strange this all was even after nearly a decade.
Getting out of bed and moving quietly towards the door Addie caught her reflection from the corner of her eye. Victoria's face and eyes met her own. "Hello, beautiful." she whispered to herself, trying to ignore the sense of wrongness that came from being in this body. It would plague her for the next 24 hours but she knew how to deal with it. "Ground yourself in the here and now." she whispered as she moved quietly out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen.
After a glass of water and half an apple Addie had begun to feel considerably better. The strangeness was wearing off and things had begun to feel more real. Wandering into the living room she made her way around the couches slowly, eventually finding herself in the same spot she did every Sunday. Standing in front of the small silver urn on its own shelf. It had been recently dusted and the plate shone fiercely in the moonlight.
Adelaide Smith
1990-2013
Addie was thankful Susan and Victoria had kept her ashes all these years, though out of a sense of loyalty to her or a fear of what might happen to Victoria when they made their Sunday switch she wasn't sure. All she knew was that even though she and Victoria had not spoken in years neither would tell Susan where the other went when it was their time. "They certainly don't have apples there." Addie thought to herself, chuckling as she took another bite with Victoria's mouth. | I still remember the curve of her spine as my fingers traced her body. They'd run up and down her shoulders and back as I softly kissed her neck. I loved her. A part of me still loves her, and I don't think that'll ever change.
I know all of these feelings break my fiancé's heart. The woman I am to marry is beautiful and wonderful and kind and very patient with me, but every week I pray to the Gods to be with my old flame again. They always answer the same way. I'm tortured to never be in the same room with her, only to see her face in the mirror. The way her hair falls and the brightness of her smile is mine once more, but not in any way that satisfies me. I will never hold her with my own hands again. I can only hope she forgives me. | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | The light coalesced around Annies's body and flowed into her as Sunday became Monday. Jim was unfazed by the mystical energies surrounding his fiance, he'd made it this far so the weekly event was nothing new to him.
There was no look of confusion on Annie's face when the energy slid fully into her mouth and when her eyes fluttered open they were a light brown instead of their usual pale blue. Her face took on a pinched expression as she, or rather he, squinted in concentration.
"Man, I'll never get used to her bad eyes. You'd think with the color change I'd get to keep my vision when we switch but no, I'm stuck with her shitty eyes." Phil complained half jokingly.
"Hey I happen to like those eyes" retorted Jim with a grin forming on his face.
"Working the swing shift this week? It's pretty late dude" asked Phil.
"Yeah, this job is a doozy and they need me on hand to keep an eye on the apprentices on the late shift".
Jim was a master stonemason so normally he'd work fairly normal hours but on this particular job the newbies were cutting their teeth late at night so someone with some experience was needed to keep an eye on them. Jim didn't do much in the way of hands on work these days but while he wasn't breaking his back he was set the much more difficult task of keeping bright eyed new stonemasons from screwing up the job.
"Well I won't keep ya, I'll just put on a movie in the guest room or something. It sucks that they keep you on that." Commiserated Phil.
"Nah it ain't so bad. I've got a six pack in the fridge if you wanna split it. You know I can't sleep so soon after a shift." Replied Jim.
Phil's only response was a grin and a slap on the shoulder. As he brushed past him towards the living room to turn on the game console sitting by the TV.
Jim smiled too. At first, the weekly exchange of Phil for his wonderful fiance had been jarring but as it turned out Phil was a decent guy. They'd slowly built an unconventional friendship over the years much to the dismay of Annie, who had much more trouble getting to know Phil's various romantic partners.
I'm comparison Jim and Annie had been together for years longer than any of Phil's previous lovers so that perhaps had something to do with it.
Getting the beer out of the fridge and a bag of chips from the cabinet, Jim dropped himself in the seat next to Phil on the large brown sectional that occupied most of the living room.
"I'm hard stuck on Pontiff Sulyvan in Dark Souls, you think you could coach me through it?" Asked Phil as the game booted up.
"Yeah, the timings for him are pretty rough but I think I can help you. You do have to go to bed pretty soon though, Annie has to go into work early tomorrow for a meeting with a client. She left some note and instructions for you in her desk" said Jim.
There had been a time when Phil had been consistently lost at Annie's workplace but being an account executive wasn't *that* hard after 5 years of borrowed experience.
"Yeah no problem, I'll see if I can clear him a few times then head to bed". Replied Phil.
"Sounds good, so what you're gonna want to do with Sulyvan is really respect his range and be careful about his dash. It'll get you every time....
The arrangement was a strange one but Jim was happy. After all not everyone gets to hang out with their best friend every week and Annie would be back tomorrow.
He smiled as he watched Phil get absolutely destroyed by the Pontiff. | As important as it was, the proposal was a brief break from what had been bugging me all night. Does she remember the promise I made that drunken night, the only way I could think to break the spell. The whole day the topic had been avoided and I cant help but think I would like to put it off forever.
I nuzzled into the back of her hair, inhaling the scent of hairspray that lingered even now so late at night. She stirred, is she awake? I froze still.
“Will? Are you awake?” she spoke in a surprisingly lucid tone. I had thought she would be dead asleep by now.
“Yeah” I utter in return as my chest flutters with anxiety.
“Do you remember new years?”
My heart sank.
“Yeah” I sighed.
“You promised me…”
“I know I promised you but…” She cut me off in a way that told me she wasn’t going to let this go.
“If you really want to marry me, I need you to kill her” She spoke as if she were delivering the keynotes from a board meeting, clear and with diction.
A lump formed in my throat, her tone said it all. In truth I had only said it because I thought she would never ask, I thought it would be forgotten.
“Will you?”
My chest bubbled with anticipation as my head tried to claw at the answer to this predicament. The mirky feeling from the more than substantial amount of wine from dinner made a clear thought even slippier to grasp at. I love this girl with all my heart, but to kill? Was she being serious or was this all a test? If I say no will she forget? She is pretty drunk but then again I did just propose, that will probably make tonight more memorable.
But, what if I say yes? It will buy me some time?
“Yes” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could even stop them.
“Good” She stated matter of factly. In an instant she had whipped the covers away and bolted out of bed towards the tall oak wardrobe, flicking the lamp on as she went.
She reached in, behind her collection of coats and scarves and fumbled at the back of the wardrobe.
I sat up clutching at the duvet, completely unable to comprehend what might be happening.
There was a heavy sliding of something hard against the wood of the back of the wardrobe and she stepped out from behind the door clutching an odd shape.
“I called her, she is in the park over the road”
I wish I had not reached for my glasses at that moment. The shape came into focus as the heavy frames fell to rest on the bridge of my nose. A rifle. | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | I’m awoken by Dan fidgeting next me in bed. His eyes meet meet mine, and instantly I know this is a Kelly Day.
She sighs loudly in exasperation through Dan’s mouth and throws his head back into the pillow. “Fucking fuck-balls fuck-face fuck-head-“
Hearing the stream of profanity in Dan’s soft, slightly nasal voice is too surreal, even after 4 years, and I giggle.
Kelly glares at me with Dan’s calm brown eyes.
“Hey,” I smirk back. “Watch his mouth.”
The corner of Dan’s mouth twitches. Kelly and I both realized early on that finding some modicum of mutual humor in the unavoidable intimacy of our situation was the only way to stay sane.
“Shit, it never happens two days in a row. When has it ever fucking happened two days in a row?” She kicks at the sheets like a toddler.
“Had plans?” I ask.
“Yeah. Well sort of.”
Dan’s eyes take on a sly, very un-Dan expression.
“Let’s just say Dan will likely be waking up more than a little sore today.”
My eyes widen and I snort involuntarily.
“Oh my god, Kelly”
She cackles, and I can’t help but join. Partly the ridiculousness of the situation, partly hearing it come out of my fiancé.
“He knows, though. Right?” I ask. “The guy, I mean. I’m assuming.”
Dan’s shoulders slump, ashamed.
“No.” Kelly says, accused. “I thought since it happened yesterday I’d get today free.”
“Jesus Christ, Kelly.” I sit up and look at our reflection in the large mirror on the far side of the room, then at the body next to me. “He won’t do anything, will he? If he finds out?”
Kelly’s fear rushes into Dan’s eyes.
“Fuck, I hope not. I don’t- shit, I don’t think so. No.” She lands with uncertainty on the negative. Dan’s eyes dart up to mine, then away again.
“How do you know?” I demand, anger rising. It’s her body, but it’s my future husband. “Is this a one night stand?”
She shakes Dan’s head no. “We’ve been together a month.”
“And you didn’t tell him!” I’m fully angry now.
“I didn’t want to scare him off. Like I’m some sort of schizo or fucking multiple personalities or some shit.”
“Dan told me on our second date.”
“Well maybe he’s better at being a fucking freak!”
That’s when I slap her. It echoes uncomfortably off the drywall. She stares in shock through Dan’s eyes.
We both breathe stiffly for a very long moment.
“I’m sorry Kelly.” Then almost by reflex. “I’m sorry Dan.”
Suddenly, Kelly starts crying. Not even bothering to cover her face with Dan’s hands, just tears rolling over his stubble and gasping, choked sobs.
“You have no idea how hard it is. No fucking idea.” Her face contorts more. “I can’t even use my own fucking voice. I can’t live my own fucking life. Dan has you and I have nothing and every week I need to be shoved in this shitty body just to be reminded. Fuck!”
I sit, stunned. I’ve seen Dan cry, but never like this. Even in the same body, where Dan has heavy release, Kelly has primal anguish.
Tentatively I reach out and touch my fiancé’s shoulder. First there’s nothing. Then, after a moment of hesitation, Kelly leans into me.
I run my fingers through Dan’s impossibly curly black hair. “You need to call him. Make sure he’s okay.”
Kelly stiffens in my arms, but nods. Alright.
She grabs Dan’s phone from the nightstand, wraps the sheet around his naked body, and wipes his eyes as she she stumbles into the kitchen.
Five minutes later she comes back.
“They hadn’t woken up yet. He’s going to leave a note about a work emergency or some shit and sneak out.”
I sigh my relief.
“What’s his name?”
“Bobby.”
“You’re going to tell Bobby about the situation tomorrow.” My voice is soft, but it isn’t a request.
Kelly nods solemnly, then starts crying again. This time it’s more like Dan.
“It wasn’t easy for us either. For Dan and me.” I begin. Then I pause. I look at my fiancé’s occupied body. It looks so small without Dan. “You want to get breakfast?”
Kelly sniffs and wipes Dan’s nose. Then she nods. “Yeah.”
Still wearing the sheet, Kelly gathers some of Dan’s clothes, and goes to the bathroom to get dressed. | As important as it was, the proposal was a brief break from what had been bugging me all night. Does she remember the promise I made that drunken night, the only way I could think to break the spell. The whole day the topic had been avoided and I cant help but think I would like to put it off forever.
I nuzzled into the back of her hair, inhaling the scent of hairspray that lingered even now so late at night. She stirred, is she awake? I froze still.
“Will? Are you awake?” she spoke in a surprisingly lucid tone. I had thought she would be dead asleep by now.
“Yeah” I utter in return as my chest flutters with anxiety.
“Do you remember new years?”
My heart sank.
“Yeah” I sighed.
“You promised me…”
“I know I promised you but…” She cut me off in a way that told me she wasn’t going to let this go.
“If you really want to marry me, I need you to kill her” She spoke as if she were delivering the keynotes from a board meeting, clear and with diction.
A lump formed in my throat, her tone said it all. In truth I had only said it because I thought she would never ask, I thought it would be forgotten.
“Will you?”
My chest bubbled with anticipation as my head tried to claw at the answer to this predicament. The mirky feeling from the more than substantial amount of wine from dinner made a clear thought even slippier to grasp at. I love this girl with all my heart, but to kill? Was she being serious or was this all a test? If I say no will she forget? She is pretty drunk but then again I did just propose, that will probably make tonight more memorable.
But, what if I say yes? It will buy me some time?
“Yes” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could even stop them.
“Good” She stated matter of factly. In an instant she had whipped the covers away and bolted out of bed towards the tall oak wardrobe, flicking the lamp on as she went.
She reached in, behind her collection of coats and scarves and fumbled at the back of the wardrobe.
I sat up clutching at the duvet, completely unable to comprehend what might be happening.
There was a heavy sliding of something hard against the wood of the back of the wardrobe and she stepped out from behind the door clutching an odd shape.
“I called her, she is in the park over the road”
I wish I had not reached for my glasses at that moment. The shape came into focus as the heavy frames fell to rest on the bridge of my nose. A rifle. | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | I knew it was wrong, but it was so hard not to. I still loved Julia, but she didn't feel the same. Of course I couldn't force her to change her mind, but this has been my only chance of winning her back.
The first time we switched was scary but fun. We were still together though. The first switch after we split, I had left a note for her saying "I miss you". She left a note for me saying "REVERSE THIS SHIT NOW".
So...I lied. Said I couldn't reverse it, didn't know how. Years went by and I spent my time in her body trying to keep up with her interests, doing errands I knew she hated, anything I could try to show her my good side. She spent her time destroying my gaming systems, but at least it lessened every time. Hard to stay mad at a guy who does all your laundry I guess.
Then she started dating Jon. Fucking Jon. Already did the laundry, and the dishes. Stopped me from going through her phone. Just ruined all my fun. Dropped the bomb about how creepy I was being. Ok yeah he was right but still.
I was debating fixing it, but damn if Jon wasn't just the coolest friend. 7 years of body switching to New York and I'd never eaten a hotdog from one of those carts, or watched a street preformer. He said staying home all day was lame and would drag me around town.
So I kept switching a little longer, stopped being creepy, and figured all was well and good.
Until yesterday's switch.
I woke up in unbelievable agony. My stomach felt like someone was wringing it over and over. I basically fell out of bed and made my way to Julia's bathroom. Moaning and groaning I crawled just close enough to puke in the bathtub. Must have woken Jon because I heard him go into the kitchen.
Thinking she ignored her intolerance to dairy, I dropped her/my pants and plopped down on the toilet. One look down made me scream in terror.
"JESUS JON GET THE KEYS SHES MAJORLY FUCKED UP THERES SO MUCH BLOOD OH MY GOD"
Jon strolled into the hallway, tossing chocolate and some pills.
"Yeah uh, she's on her period. Figure this would have lined up eventually. She said stuff you needs in the cabinet, directions are on the box, take the pain pills and don't worry about eating too much junk food today. She's going to be upset when she gets back though, guess this means she's not pregnant must have been a false positive."
So if you could fix this ASAP I'll figure out how to explain it to them.
Thanks Doctor
,Marv | As important as it was, the proposal was a brief break from what had been bugging me all night. Does she remember the promise I made that drunken night, the only way I could think to break the spell. The whole day the topic had been avoided and I cant help but think I would like to put it off forever.
I nuzzled into the back of her hair, inhaling the scent of hairspray that lingered even now so late at night. She stirred, is she awake? I froze still.
“Will? Are you awake?” she spoke in a surprisingly lucid tone. I had thought she would be dead asleep by now.
“Yeah” I utter in return as my chest flutters with anxiety.
“Do you remember new years?”
My heart sank.
“Yeah” I sighed.
“You promised me…”
“I know I promised you but…” She cut me off in a way that told me she wasn’t going to let this go.
“If you really want to marry me, I need you to kill her” She spoke as if she were delivering the keynotes from a board meeting, clear and with diction.
A lump formed in my throat, her tone said it all. In truth I had only said it because I thought she would never ask, I thought it would be forgotten.
“Will you?”
My chest bubbled with anticipation as my head tried to claw at the answer to this predicament. The mirky feeling from the more than substantial amount of wine from dinner made a clear thought even slippier to grasp at. I love this girl with all my heart, but to kill? Was she being serious or was this all a test? If I say no will she forget? She is pretty drunk but then again I did just propose, that will probably make tonight more memorable.
But, what if I say yes? It will buy me some time?
“Yes” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could even stop them.
“Good” She stated matter of factly. In an instant she had whipped the covers away and bolted out of bed towards the tall oak wardrobe, flicking the lamp on as she went.
She reached in, behind her collection of coats and scarves and fumbled at the back of the wardrobe.
I sat up clutching at the duvet, completely unable to comprehend what might be happening.
There was a heavy sliding of something hard against the wood of the back of the wardrobe and she stepped out from behind the door clutching an odd shape.
“I called her, she is in the park over the road”
I wish I had not reached for my glasses at that moment. The shape came into focus as the heavy frames fell to rest on the bridge of my nose. A rifle. | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | I knew it was wrong, but it was so hard not to. I still loved Julia, but she didn't feel the same. Of course I couldn't force her to change her mind, but this has been my only chance of winning her back.
The first time we switched was scary but fun. We were still together though. The first switch after we split, I had left a note for her saying "I miss you". She left a note for me saying "REVERSE THIS SHIT NOW".
So...I lied. Said I couldn't reverse it, didn't know how. Years went by and I spent my time in her body trying to keep up with her interests, doing errands I knew she hated, anything I could try to show her my good side. She spent her time destroying my gaming systems, but at least it lessened every time. Hard to stay mad at a guy who does all your laundry I guess.
Then she started dating Jon. Fucking Jon. Already did the laundry, and the dishes. Stopped me from going through her phone. Just ruined all my fun. Dropped the bomb about how creepy I was being. Ok yeah he was right but still.
I was debating fixing it, but damn if Jon wasn't just the coolest friend. 7 years of body switching to New York and I'd never eaten a hotdog from one of those carts, or watched a street preformer. He said staying home all day was lame and would drag me around town.
So I kept switching a little longer, stopped being creepy, and figured all was well and good.
Until yesterday's switch.
I woke up in unbelievable agony. My stomach felt like someone was wringing it over and over. I basically fell out of bed and made my way to Julia's bathroom. Moaning and groaning I crawled just close enough to puke in the bathtub. Must have woken Jon because I heard him go into the kitchen.
Thinking she ignored her intolerance to dairy, I dropped her/my pants and plopped down on the toilet. One look down made me scream in terror.
"JESUS JON GET THE KEYS SHES MAJORLY FUCKED UP THERES SO MUCH BLOOD OH MY GOD"
Jon strolled into the hallway, tossing chocolate and some pills.
"Yeah uh, she's on her period. Figure this would have lined up eventually. She said stuff you needs in the cabinet, directions are on the box, take the pain pills and don't worry about eating too much junk food today. She's going to be upset when she gets back though, guess this means she's not pregnant must have been a false positive."
So if you could fix this ASAP I'll figure out how to explain it to them.
Thanks Doctor
,Marv | I’m awoken by Dan fidgeting next me in bed. His eyes meet meet mine, and instantly I know this is a Kelly Day.
She sighs loudly in exasperation through Dan’s mouth and throws his head back into the pillow. “Fucking fuck-balls fuck-face fuck-head-“
Hearing the stream of profanity in Dan’s soft, slightly nasal voice is too surreal, even after 4 years, and I giggle.
Kelly glares at me with Dan’s calm brown eyes.
“Hey,” I smirk back. “Watch his mouth.”
The corner of Dan’s mouth twitches. Kelly and I both realized early on that finding some modicum of mutual humor in the unavoidable intimacy of our situation was the only way to stay sane.
“Shit, it never happens two days in a row. When has it ever fucking happened two days in a row?” She kicks at the sheets like a toddler.
“Had plans?” I ask.
“Yeah. Well sort of.”
Dan’s eyes take on a sly, very un-Dan expression.
“Let’s just say Dan will likely be waking up more than a little sore today.”
My eyes widen and I snort involuntarily.
“Oh my god, Kelly”
She cackles, and I can’t help but join. Partly the ridiculousness of the situation, partly hearing it come out of my fiancé.
“He knows, though. Right?” I ask. “The guy, I mean. I’m assuming.”
Dan’s shoulders slump, ashamed.
“No.” Kelly says, accused. “I thought since it happened yesterday I’d get today free.”
“Jesus Christ, Kelly.” I sit up and look at our reflection in the large mirror on the far side of the room, then at the body next to me. “He won’t do anything, will he? If he finds out?”
Kelly’s fear rushes into Dan’s eyes.
“Fuck, I hope not. I don’t- shit, I don’t think so. No.” She lands with uncertainty on the negative. Dan’s eyes dart up to mine, then away again.
“How do you know?” I demand, anger rising. It’s her body, but it’s my future husband. “Is this a one night stand?”
She shakes Dan’s head no. “We’ve been together a month.”
“And you didn’t tell him!” I’m fully angry now.
“I didn’t want to scare him off. Like I’m some sort of schizo or fucking multiple personalities or some shit.”
“Dan told me on our second date.”
“Well maybe he’s better at being a fucking freak!”
That’s when I slap her. It echoes uncomfortably off the drywall. She stares in shock through Dan’s eyes.
We both breathe stiffly for a very long moment.
“I’m sorry Kelly.” Then almost by reflex. “I’m sorry Dan.”
Suddenly, Kelly starts crying. Not even bothering to cover her face with Dan’s hands, just tears rolling over his stubble and gasping, choked sobs.
“You have no idea how hard it is. No fucking idea.” Her face contorts more. “I can’t even use my own fucking voice. I can’t live my own fucking life. Dan has you and I have nothing and every week I need to be shoved in this shitty body just to be reminded. Fuck!”
I sit, stunned. I’ve seen Dan cry, but never like this. Even in the same body, where Dan has heavy release, Kelly has primal anguish.
Tentatively I reach out and touch my fiancé’s shoulder. First there’s nothing. Then, after a moment of hesitation, Kelly leans into me.
I run my fingers through Dan’s impossibly curly black hair. “You need to call him. Make sure he’s okay.”
Kelly stiffens in my arms, but nods. Alright.
She grabs Dan’s phone from the nightstand, wraps the sheet around his naked body, and wipes his eyes as she she stumbles into the kitchen.
Five minutes later she comes back.
“They hadn’t woken up yet. He’s going to leave a note about a work emergency or some shit and sneak out.”
I sigh my relief.
“What’s his name?”
“Bobby.”
“You’re going to tell Bobby about the situation tomorrow.” My voice is soft, but it isn’t a request.
Kelly nods solemnly, then starts crying again. This time it’s more like Dan.
“It wasn’t easy for us either. For Dan and me.” I begin. Then I pause. I look at my fiancé’s occupied body. It looks so small without Dan. “You want to get breakfast?”
Kelly sniffs and wipes Dan’s nose. Then she nods. “Yeah.”
Still wearing the sheet, Kelly gathers some of Dan’s clothes, and goes to the bathroom to get dressed. | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | Addie jerked upright in bed sputtering and gasping. Sucking in lungful after lungful of cool air she slowly began to relax as her head started to clear. Making herself look down at her current body she felt an all too familiar nausea rising inside her but pressed the sensation down. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin another perfectly good comforter.
Pulling the blankets back she looked down at herself. Her arms and body had Victoria's distinct tattooed skin and runner's physique. She appreciated her ex's continued commitment to fitness, something so many began to neglect as they approached 30.
The bedroom was both familiar and strange, like a scene from a recurring dream. Illuminated only by the moon and a small glowing green display that read 12:01 am. Susan was still fast asleep next to her, which was perfect for Addie as she continued to gather her thoughts.
Every Sunday she would wake in this bed and they would have to spend 24 hours together. Not that Addie really cared, Susan was an amazing person, but she was sympathetic to how strange this all was even after nearly a decade.
Getting out of bed and moving quietly towards the door Addie caught her reflection from the corner of her eye. Victoria's face and eyes met her own. "Hello, beautiful." she whispered to herself, trying to ignore the sense of wrongness that came from being in this body. It would plague her for the next 24 hours but she knew how to deal with it. "Ground yourself in the here and now." she whispered as she moved quietly out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen.
After a glass of water and half an apple Addie had begun to feel considerably better. The strangeness was wearing off and things had begun to feel more real. Wandering into the living room she made her way around the couches slowly, eventually finding herself in the same spot she did every Sunday. Standing in front of the small silver urn on its own shelf. It had been recently dusted and the plate shone fiercely in the moonlight.
Adelaide Smith
1990-2013
Addie was thankful Susan and Victoria had kept her ashes all these years, though out of a sense of loyalty to her or a fear of what might happen to Victoria when they made their Sunday switch she wasn't sure. All she knew was that even though she and Victoria had not spoken in years neither would tell Susan where the other went when it was their time. "They certainly don't have apples there." Addie thought to herself, chuckling as she took another bite with Victoria's mouth. | So, a lot of us all agree magic is a dumb concept right? Good. And that if such a thing did exist, it'd be wise to avoid tampering with it unless you have some expertise. Either through your upbringing in that world or connections to the supernatural that you may have. Right??
And certainly, as I'm fairly sure any witch or wizard out there would tell me, such spells are not to be wielded in the hands of a pair of horny college grads who want to spice up their love life on short notice.
Right???
Well, that leads us to our obvious problem today. See me and the fiance had a dumb idea back in the day. We got into the occult a little after a drunken trip to New Orleans and wouldn't you know it, we developed the ability to switch bodies one day out of the year.
That's right. Currently, I'm in her body. And she's in mine.
Whoops.
It's pretty cool the first couple of times. But well, everything gets boring the longer you do it.
And so eight years on, with bills to pay and rent to take care of... Things are a little tense when this happens. Not to mention if friends or family drop by.
Things get real awkward real quick when your wife gets to hang out as one of the guys.
Same goes for dealing with your mother-in-law's bullshit when she's suddenly your actual mother.
Fun times. Roll tide.
So she's ready to call it quits on our little experiment. And I'm right there with her. But well...
"What do you mean you can't fix it?"
I'm not going to lie, I always wondered how I sounded when I was this upset.
"Well, remember how we got all the ingredients to make this happen?"
"No?"
"Do you remember the incantation?"
"...No?"
"After that left off Bourbon Street, where did we go?"
"Okay! Okay! I don't remember anything about that night except the whole witch doctor thing."
"Because, springbreak."
She sat there and began scrubbing my beard trying to think of an answer. Which would feel great if I could feel it.
"Maybe..." she huffed, "We go find them. The witch doctor, I mean. And they remember us, and we pay them. Maybe they can fix us?"
"Kim?"
"Yeah?"
"Where does he live at??" I asked as I waved her hands at the idea.
"I have a plan."
"Do tell madam, do tell."
She rubbed my beard again for emphasis, before snapping her fingers.
"We turn back tomorrow. We take our vacation time and use it. Drive down there, and find him. And fix this."
"...Yeah, I guess we could do that."
And so, we stuck the rest of the day out and at in bed awaiting midnight so that the spell would lift. It pays to be in bed too at the time of transformation.
How many of you sleepwalk and wake up somewhere you don't recognize? It's like that. Trust us, bed is the best place to be when it happens.
And so, when the clock struck zero hour, we both breathed a sigh of relief. Except for the simple fact that after an hour...
"Kim?"
"Ed?"
"Why are still in each other's bodies?"
---
Criticism and feedback are always welcome! Find more at r/Jamaican_Dynamite | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | Addie jerked upright in bed sputtering and gasping. Sucking in lungful after lungful of cool air she slowly began to relax as her head started to clear. Making herself look down at her current body she felt an all too familiar nausea rising inside her but pressed the sensation down. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin another perfectly good comforter.
Pulling the blankets back she looked down at herself. Her arms and body had Victoria's distinct tattooed skin and runner's physique. She appreciated her ex's continued commitment to fitness, something so many began to neglect as they approached 30.
The bedroom was both familiar and strange, like a scene from a recurring dream. Illuminated only by the moon and a small glowing green display that read 12:01 am. Susan was still fast asleep next to her, which was perfect for Addie as she continued to gather her thoughts.
Every Sunday she would wake in this bed and they would have to spend 24 hours together. Not that Addie really cared, Susan was an amazing person, but she was sympathetic to how strange this all was even after nearly a decade.
Getting out of bed and moving quietly towards the door Addie caught her reflection from the corner of her eye. Victoria's face and eyes met her own. "Hello, beautiful." she whispered to herself, trying to ignore the sense of wrongness that came from being in this body. It would plague her for the next 24 hours but she knew how to deal with it. "Ground yourself in the here and now." she whispered as she moved quietly out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen.
After a glass of water and half an apple Addie had begun to feel considerably better. The strangeness was wearing off and things had begun to feel more real. Wandering into the living room she made her way around the couches slowly, eventually finding herself in the same spot she did every Sunday. Standing in front of the small silver urn on its own shelf. It had been recently dusted and the plate shone fiercely in the moonlight.
Adelaide Smith
1990-2013
Addie was thankful Susan and Victoria had kept her ashes all these years, though out of a sense of loyalty to her or a fear of what might happen to Victoria when they made their Sunday switch she wasn't sure. All she knew was that even though she and Victoria had not spoken in years neither would tell Susan where the other went when it was their time. "They certainly don't have apples there." Addie thought to herself, chuckling as she took another bite with Victoria's mouth. | "We're bonded."
"Mind, body, and soul," the man took his lover's hands and kissed them before continuing, "forever."
A purple glow enveloped the couple. Flashes of white pulsed as they share a kiss. After a while, the bizarre spectacle subsided. Both, looked towards the other in amazement.
"So this is the lover's bond, eh?" The woman wondered out loud.
The man opposite her smiled and felt himself, "so this is a man's body... Why do I feel sore?"
"I did a five-mile run just now, of course *my* body would be sore as hell."
The woman chuckled and began to inspect her own body. Seeing this the man huffed and puffed.
"Stop it! I feel rather self-conscious–"
"Oh come now. I–You are pretty! I'm simply admiring it from another angle."
***
Sunday morning, a slight fog shielded the windows from the gentle flash of the sun. But alas, the cunning light of the sun still made its' way inside the room.
A gorgeous woman with golden curls spread on her hair fell on a bed. She softly caressed the face of a man tucked in it. Slowly, she pushed her dainty mouth towards his one ear and whispered...
"Wake up, hon–"
"Oh shit," the man jolted up unannounced and felt his face as well as his body, "fuck me."
The woman immediately recoiled. She pulled herself away from the man and appropriately fixed her gown before continuing.
"So today's the day, huh?" she said in annoyance.
"Hi there, Daph," the man awkwardly smiled, "so what's on the agenda for today?"
"Dress fitting, then cake tasting. I was hoping it was *him* I'd be doing it with, but–"
"Yeah. Nothing I can do about it, I'm afraid."
***
"This dress is making me look fat!"
"No, trust me guuurlfriend! You look gorgeous in that–"
The woman standing in front of the mirror heaved deeply. She then signalled the woman next to her to leave.
"Listen, buddy. You *don't* act that way, not while other people are around!"
"Sheesh, Daph. Now I know why *he* complained a lot about you..."
"What?"
"N-Nevermind."
The woman angrily drank her tea and walked towards the door. She massaged her creased temple and took a deep breath.
"Can't you do something about *this*?"
"Nope. Once we 'swap places' we kinda are stuck for the whole day."
"Oh God, why did I choose a man who can't move on from his ex–"
"Hey, don't blame me! I didn't ask to be stuck in a man's body – let alone my own goddamn ex!"
"Who blamed you? You two are *clearly* like this because you both hadn't moved on from one another."
"Please, Daph. I'm trying. I know *he's* trying too. Give it time."
The already tense atmosphere then shattered. As if a bomb had exploded in the room, a violent air blew past the couple.
"It's been eight years! E-I-G-H-T, **eight**! I figure that's enough time for you two to sort things up, but I'm clearly wrong."
"I did research last night, before... the 'swap'. I might find a way, but I don't think–"
"Do it. At this point I don't think I care, as long as it'll stop the bloody thing from happening every other day."
After a brief pause, the man took out a piece of parchment from inside his breast pocket. He straighten up the old thing and cleared his throat.
"Apparently, this bond – or rather curse – could be reversed with the one cliché. You know, the shit from fairy tales..."
"True love's kiss?"
The man nodded. He then took out a gnarly looking stick from inside his jacket. The stick emitted a faint purple glow from its' pointy end. With a slight swing, the purple glow transformed into a beam shooting straight to the air. The beam then converged into a portal which grew and grew ever so slightly.
"So, what's the plan?"
"If you'll allow me... I'll bring Jack here and we can test out the hypothesis. Right now."
"... If it doesn't work?"
"Let's just hope it'd be *him* you'll marry at the altar and not me." | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | The sun was filtering through the open window, August dawn filling the room with the scent of summer. Eve stirred in her sleep, clutching the pillow closer to her chest.
'Angel,' Jack whispered, brushing away one stray lock from her forehead, 'you're dreaming.' He said, watching the first rays of light painting her hair in gold. Two more weeks and she'll become his wife.
Eve stilled, her blue eyes opening slowly.
Jack smiled at her, leaning in.
'Keep that muzzle away from me,' Eve suddenly growled, jumping out of bed.
Jack frowned, watching her rummage through the closed like a tornado.
'David?' Jack quickly sat up, looking at his fiancée tossing all of his clothes on the floor.
'Where's the blue cotton shirt you had?' Eve asked, her soft voice now changed with a strong Boston accent.
'Stop throwing my stuff on the floor!' Jack snapped.
He had never raised his voice at Eve but since every week there was one day when his angel swapped the body with this idiot David, Jack was slowly loosing his mind.
'I can't believe a man of your age still has a band shirt in his closet.' Eve, or to be precise David, said pulling the shirt over his head.
'Deep Purple is not just some band-' Jack was already in his defence mode, but David raised his hand.
'Dude, whatever. I don't care.' David said and stormed out of the room. A few moments later Jack found him in the kitchen.
Eight years ago, when Eve was dating David a love spell went wrong and ever since that moment they started swapping bodies for one day a week. Every week.
'Every damned week,' Jack grumbled, sitting down, grabbing the steaming mug that was waiting for him.
'We're in Italy,' David grumbled.
It was hard for Jack to look at his beautiful fiancée staring daggers at him. It was even harder to keep away from throwing something at this idiot David.
'The first vacation we had since forever and what am I doing?' David kept muttering in his mug. 'I'm spending it with this heavy-metal-loving-couch-potato.'
Jack rolled his eyes. 'Maybe you'd stop being such a little girl if you ate more carbs, buddy.'
David tossed him a black look.
So they sat there, in absolute silence, Jack reading news on his tablet and David staring trough the window.
'I can't believe you still haven't fixed the fence,' David suddenly turned to Jack.
'Nope.' Jack kept swiping through the news.
'And the glass-house doors are still very much unhinged as I can see.'
'Very much.' Jack responded.
'You said you were going to fix them last week.' David said bitterly.
Jack looked up. 'We have twenty two hours more to survive, David,' Jack said, 'save something for later.'
David grabbed his cup, turning to stare through the window again.
After some while even the world ran out of the news and after they watched a game of baseball there was little left to do.
'So,' Jack said turning off the TV, 'have you found anything new?'
'About the spell?' David asked. 'Granny knows some some people.'
Jack laughed. The way David spoke about his grandmother always sounded like she was some hard core gangster.
'She says the spell can be broken but they need to do some more research.'
Jack sighed. He couldn't wait to get rid of him.
It was so strange. This was Eve's nose and her smile and her hands but David's mannerism and that accent instantly turned Jack's beloved to this ridiculously annoying person in his living room. Luckily, his resentment always disappeared the moment Eve was back.
'I think it will be done in a week or so.' David said.
'Oh, finally,' Jack raised his eyes to the heavens, when he heard a little grunt. 'I mean, no offence, but we won't miss each other.' Jack said.
'I know I won't miss your ugly face,' David grinned.
'So,' Jack said, 'what happened with that interview. Did you get the job?'
Dave was suddenly staring at him empty mug.
Jack nodded. 'Oh, so that's why you're so grumpy this morning.'
'I'm not grumpy!' David snapped.
'Easy!' Jack raised his voice. 'If you want my oppinion-'
'Which I don't.'
'I'll tell you that you have a better chance with that project of yours than sitting in a office from nine to five.'
David said nothing.
'It's a good project,' Jack insisted. 'I know at least four farm owners who would go for it.'
David looked up. 'Seriously?'
'Yeah,' Jack nodded, 'I'll call some people and give them your contact.'
'Thanks buddy,' David said. There was a moment of awkward silence. But then again every silence between two of them was awkward. 'Wanna grab something to eat?'
Jack was already on his feet. 'But we're not going to that Asian restaurant again.'
David stood before him with a disappointed look. 'Dude, this might be the last time we saw each other.
Jack wouldn't budge.
'All right,' David said, 'but I'm driving. You're slower than my granny.'
Thanks for reading! If you liked this story, you can find more at r/CrystalElmTales | "We're bonded."
"Mind, body, and soul," the man took his lover's hands and kissed them before continuing, "forever."
A purple glow enveloped the couple. Flashes of white pulsed as they share a kiss. After a while, the bizarre spectacle subsided. Both, looked towards the other in amazement.
"So this is the lover's bond, eh?" The woman wondered out loud.
The man opposite her smiled and felt himself, "so this is a man's body... Why do I feel sore?"
"I did a five-mile run just now, of course *my* body would be sore as hell."
The woman chuckled and began to inspect her own body. Seeing this the man huffed and puffed.
"Stop it! I feel rather self-conscious–"
"Oh come now. I–You are pretty! I'm simply admiring it from another angle."
***
Sunday morning, a slight fog shielded the windows from the gentle flash of the sun. But alas, the cunning light of the sun still made its' way inside the room.
A gorgeous woman with golden curls spread on her hair fell on a bed. She softly caressed the face of a man tucked in it. Slowly, she pushed her dainty mouth towards his one ear and whispered...
"Wake up, hon–"
"Oh shit," the man jolted up unannounced and felt his face as well as his body, "fuck me."
The woman immediately recoiled. She pulled herself away from the man and appropriately fixed her gown before continuing.
"So today's the day, huh?" she said in annoyance.
"Hi there, Daph," the man awkwardly smiled, "so what's on the agenda for today?"
"Dress fitting, then cake tasting. I was hoping it was *him* I'd be doing it with, but–"
"Yeah. Nothing I can do about it, I'm afraid."
***
"This dress is making me look fat!"
"No, trust me guuurlfriend! You look gorgeous in that–"
The woman standing in front of the mirror heaved deeply. She then signalled the woman next to her to leave.
"Listen, buddy. You *don't* act that way, not while other people are around!"
"Sheesh, Daph. Now I know why *he* complained a lot about you..."
"What?"
"N-Nevermind."
The woman angrily drank her tea and walked towards the door. She massaged her creased temple and took a deep breath.
"Can't you do something about *this*?"
"Nope. Once we 'swap places' we kinda are stuck for the whole day."
"Oh God, why did I choose a man who can't move on from his ex–"
"Hey, don't blame me! I didn't ask to be stuck in a man's body – let alone my own goddamn ex!"
"Who blamed you? You two are *clearly* like this because you both hadn't moved on from one another."
"Please, Daph. I'm trying. I know *he's* trying too. Give it time."
The already tense atmosphere then shattered. As if a bomb had exploded in the room, a violent air blew past the couple.
"It's been eight years! E-I-G-H-T, **eight**! I figure that's enough time for you two to sort things up, but I'm clearly wrong."
"I did research last night, before... the 'swap'. I might find a way, but I don't think–"
"Do it. At this point I don't think I care, as long as it'll stop the bloody thing from happening every other day."
After a brief pause, the man took out a piece of parchment from inside his breast pocket. He straighten up the old thing and cleared his throat.
"Apparently, this bond – or rather curse – could be reversed with the one cliché. You know, the shit from fairy tales..."
"True love's kiss?"
The man nodded. He then took out a gnarly looking stick from inside his jacket. The stick emitted a faint purple glow from its' pointy end. With a slight swing, the purple glow transformed into a beam shooting straight to the air. The beam then converged into a portal which grew and grew ever so slightly.
"So, what's the plan?"
"If you'll allow me... I'll bring Jack here and we can test out the hypothesis. Right now."
"... If it doesn't work?"
"Let's just hope it'd be *him* you'll marry at the altar and not me." | |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | The sun was filtering through the open window, August dawn filling the room with the scent of summer. Eve stirred in her sleep, clutching the pillow closer to her chest.
'Angel,' Jack whispered, brushing away one stray lock from her forehead, 'you're dreaming.' He said, watching the first rays of light painting her hair in gold. Two more weeks and she'll become his wife.
Eve stilled, her blue eyes opening slowly.
Jack smiled at her, leaning in.
'Keep that muzzle away from me,' Eve suddenly growled, jumping out of bed.
Jack frowned, watching her rummage through the closed like a tornado.
'David?' Jack quickly sat up, looking at his fiancée tossing all of his clothes on the floor.
'Where's the blue cotton shirt you had?' Eve asked, her soft voice now changed with a strong Boston accent.
'Stop throwing my stuff on the floor!' Jack snapped.
He had never raised his voice at Eve but since every week there was one day when his angel swapped the body with this idiot David, Jack was slowly loosing his mind.
'I can't believe a man of your age still has a band shirt in his closet.' Eve, or to be precise David, said pulling the shirt over his head.
'Deep Purple is not just some band-' Jack was already in his defence mode, but David raised his hand.
'Dude, whatever. I don't care.' David said and stormed out of the room. A few moments later Jack found him in the kitchen.
Eight years ago, when Eve was dating David a love spell went wrong and ever since that moment they started swapping bodies for one day a week. Every week.
'Every damned week,' Jack grumbled, sitting down, grabbing the steaming mug that was waiting for him.
'We're in Italy,' David grumbled.
It was hard for Jack to look at his beautiful fiancée staring daggers at him. It was even harder to keep away from throwing something at this idiot David.
'The first vacation we had since forever and what am I doing?' David kept muttering in his mug. 'I'm spending it with this heavy-metal-loving-couch-potato.'
Jack rolled his eyes. 'Maybe you'd stop being such a little girl if you ate more carbs, buddy.'
David tossed him a black look.
So they sat there, in absolute silence, Jack reading news on his tablet and David staring trough the window.
'I can't believe you still haven't fixed the fence,' David suddenly turned to Jack.
'Nope.' Jack kept swiping through the news.
'And the glass-house doors are still very much unhinged as I can see.'
'Very much.' Jack responded.
'You said you were going to fix them last week.' David said bitterly.
Jack looked up. 'We have twenty two hours more to survive, David,' Jack said, 'save something for later.'
David grabbed his cup, turning to stare through the window again.
After some while even the world ran out of the news and after they watched a game of baseball there was little left to do.
'So,' Jack said turning off the TV, 'have you found anything new?'
'About the spell?' David asked. 'Granny knows some some people.'
Jack laughed. The way David spoke about his grandmother always sounded like she was some hard core gangster.
'She says the spell can be broken but they need to do some more research.'
Jack sighed. He couldn't wait to get rid of him.
It was so strange. This was Eve's nose and her smile and her hands but David's mannerism and that accent instantly turned Jack's beloved to this ridiculously annoying person in his living room. Luckily, his resentment always disappeared the moment Eve was back.
'I think it will be done in a week or so.' David said.
'Oh, finally,' Jack raised his eyes to the heavens, when he heard a little grunt. 'I mean, no offence, but we won't miss each other.' Jack said.
'I know I won't miss your ugly face,' David grinned.
'So,' Jack said, 'what happened with that interview. Did you get the job?'
Dave was suddenly staring at him empty mug.
Jack nodded. 'Oh, so that's why you're so grumpy this morning.'
'I'm not grumpy!' David snapped.
'Easy!' Jack raised his voice. 'If you want my oppinion-'
'Which I don't.'
'I'll tell you that you have a better chance with that project of yours than sitting in a office from nine to five.'
David said nothing.
'It's a good project,' Jack insisted. 'I know at least four farm owners who would go for it.'
David looked up. 'Seriously?'
'Yeah,' Jack nodded, 'I'll call some people and give them your contact.'
'Thanks buddy,' David said. There was a moment of awkward silence. But then again every silence between two of them was awkward. 'Wanna grab something to eat?'
Jack was already on his feet. 'But we're not going to that Asian restaurant again.'
David stood before him with a disappointed look. 'Dude, this might be the last time we saw each other.
Jack wouldn't budge.
'All right,' David said, 'but I'm driving. You're slower than my granny.'
Thanks for reading! If you liked this story, you can find more at r/CrystalElmTales | "Do you, Elsa Nelbie take this man, Patrick Yoosur, to be your lawfully married husband?"
"I do."
"And do you, Patrick Yoo--" The priest paused. He was used to men crying in this day and age, and in truth rather liked seeing the emotion, but Patrick was balling his eyes out. It had been a very sudden change of demeanour, too. "Um, is everything okay, Patrick?"
Patrick took a deep breath. "Is everything okay?" he air-quoted. "Uh, *no* it's not *'okay'*. This should have been *my* wedding!" Patrick glared at Elsa. "That should have been my dress. My veil. My make-up. MY WEDDING!"
"It... is your wedding, Patrick. And if you want to get married in a dress, I'm sure no one will mind." The hapless priest then turned to Elsa who had thrown the veil back over her eyes.
"I'm sorry," Elsa said with a groan. "She wasn't due today. I'm so sorry." Then, to the groom, "You weren't meant to take him today, Veronica."
"Uh, it's a leap year, Elsa. Don't tell me your dumbass boyfriend forgot?" Patrick laughed. "Typical of him to forget something so important. Forgot Valentine's day our first year together." He slapped his own cheek hard and told himself, "That was a long time coming." And then added wryly, "*Unlike you.*"
"Fiance. Not my boyfriend."
"*What*ever."
"Look, I know we don't often see eye to eye... And I'm sorry things didn't work out for you and Patrick... But will you please just say yes so we can get on with this? For Patrick?"
"Hmm, let me think about it." She paused, hmmd, then spat out her answer. "*No*."
"No?!"
"You should thank me. After all, I just saved your skank-ass."
"Saved my ass?"
"*Skank-ass*."
"You just ruined my wedding! You gate-crashed my *husband*."
"You really wanted to be Elsa Yoosur? Jesus, El. You'd sound like a JarJar Binks threat."
"*I* happen to like the prequels."
"*No one* likes the prequels!" said Patrick's body.
Elsa blew her nails, nonchalant. "Better than the Last Jedi."
That drew a gasp from the priest. "Elsa, be reasonable," he said, his old face creased with concern. "That handsome young man, Rian, he was tasked with a very difficult job. Very difficult indeed. And he subverted all our expectations so wonderfully."
"You can't just subvert expectations for the sake of it," Elsa said, red-faced with fury. "It doesn't work that way! There's no long-term reward for the audience."
"Hey, guess what, Elsa," said Patrick, to the horror of the guests, pulling off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. "I'm subverting expectations too. Let's see if our audience is rewarded."
There was a collective choir-of-a-gasp from the congregation as the man's pants and underwear flew off, landing on the head of a statue of Mary, and he began wind-milling his way down the aisle. "Youssa likesa my apples, Ma?"
"This is a disaster," said the priest sadly. "An unmitigated, unmatrimonial, utter disaster."
"Still better than the sequels," said Elsa. "Besides, another couple of hours and Patrick would have been doing the same thing anyway,"
"Maybe... maybe this post at least subverted some expectations," mused the priest. "That could be its saving grace."
"Ugh." Elsa rolled her eyes. "That doesn't automatically make it good. As I think this proved."
At that moment, a purple-haired lady came charging in, shoulder-tackling the naked man. "Cover your eyes, Mom!" she screamed.
"Oh good," said Elsa. "The groom's arrived again. Maybe we can get this over with after all."
​
\---
more over on /r/nickofstatic | |
Sorry for the double you, my bad | [WP] At the age of 18, every person develops a magical power. Yours is the power to fluently read and speak every language in the universe. At first you thought the had the worst power on earth, that was until you you realise that the universe has it's own language. | It was a bit past your 18th birthday when you went to the doctors. You knew that at 18 you would get your power so you were going to get a DNA test to find out what yours was. When the results came back you were disappointed to say the least. Your doctor explained to you that your power was that you could read, speak, or understand any language. So to put it in simple terms you were the greatest human translator. Now that normally would sound pretty cool and intresting but when you live in a society where some people can't get harmed, don't have to work, don't have to breathe, and some can't even die, having a power like yours is a dissapoinment. So you walk home with your head hung low and your hood up. Rain softly hit your back and cold air hit your face. You were walking down the quiet streat when you heard a small voice. "Hello human." Confused, you look around but see no one. "Umm. Who said that?" You hear the voice again. "Me. Who else would have said it?" You put your hand in your pocket. You prepare to pull out your pocket knife if you need to. "Whoever you are come out and show yourself. You're freaking me out." You see a small black cat jump up on a bench next to you. "I'm right here! Are you blind human!?" You answer the voice. "All I see here is a cat! Where are you?" "Have you really not put it together yet human! The cat is me!" You freeze for a second. "W-what? Th-that's not possable." You stare at the cat and it seems to be staring right back at you. "Yes it is. Anyways that's not the point. The point is that it's the middle of winter and I'm an ally cat in the rain. Can I please come home with you?" You've always been an animal lover and your apartment is really lonely so you nod yes. You start walking home and the little cat fallows. When you get home you dry him off with a little towle and give him some warm milk and a can of tuna that you have and start talking. "So uh what's your name?" The cat stops eating and jumps up next to you. "I don't actually have one but I've always liked Simon. What's yours?" "I'm Jake." The cat curled up in your lap and closed its eyes. "Well nice to meet you Jake and thank you for letting me stay here. You softly pet him and respond with "No problem." Over the next few months you learn more about Simon. He can be sassy and sarcastic but loves jokes and is really calm. He loves being near you and likes to be with you when you cook and likes to try the new foods you make. When you first got your power you thought with how bad it was it must be a curse but now that you have Simon in your life you could proudly say you are pretty sure it's a blessing.
(Sorry for any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors. This is my first time writting on here.) | you just turned 18 waiting for you power all day you play fortnite. like every other time to hear a Spanish kid talking. before you would have muted him but now you know what he is saying. very disappointed you tell your parents who are very big super heroes. very sad you go to sleep. looking to your right at your window you see that the sky is conversing. its not the sky its the universe. speaking to it you sound retarded. your family gets you tested for insanity because they don't want a son with a dumb magical power. these powers are called tics. they pay the person that tested you. you get put in an asylum. there you make a friend. he has a power similar to yours. he says that your power is cooler that you think. the universes language is like the source code. like watch this. (he says something that sound retarded.) a door opens and it goes to the beach. now knowing all these words. you become god. making an earth like your own you kill the other guy with the weaker power. you get bored of being god and you make a Reddit post looking for ideas. then you post this thanking them. (thank you all for the cool ideas) |
Sorry for the double you, my bad | [WP] At the age of 18, every person develops a magical power. Yours is the power to fluently read and speak every language in the universe. At first you thought the had the worst power on earth, that was until you you realise that the universe has it's own language. | I guess I don't have much to do right now, nor do I mind the effort, so I'll tell you about how my life has been going up to right now.
It was clear early on that I had some sort of "language" ability. The doctor who was doing the checkup turned to his partner and began to speak in Spanish, something about "What is his schedule like?" before I interrupted and told him I was free this Friday.
Clearly, I had some grand language understanding, as later testing proved that I had become fluent in all languages.
"Language".
What a strange word, now that I think about it.
What is, a language? What does the ability to understand it mean?
Well to be literal, I suppose it means the ability to interpret the signals and contextual meanings of stimuli in order to create an idea of what the person, or object, is conveying.
It doesn't speak in what you would call a "language", per say...
*The Universe*, that is...
There isn't an alphabet or sentence structure really, nor is there really an idea to convey.
It's confusing to describe what it *speaks* as what it speaks is... well... *IS*.
For example, this wall, right here, in what you call a "Secure room". I can understand the, in lifeform terms, "language" it is speaking.
Atoms, molecules, quarks, gravity, magnetism, it's all a stage the so-called language uses to contextualize what it means.
For instance, this new hole in the wall. You can't seem to understand how I could communicate to the wall that I wish it to do that, can you? It's not difficult for me; the language of matter tends to be quite basic. If I could translate it would most likely be along the lines of "hold here unless otherwise". All it takes is a simple method of communication, in a lifeform's case a bizarre transfer of pure energy itself, to instruct these walls to just, move.
Or this object, you just attempted to launch at me. A simple "blob" of matter projected using condensed energy patterns. It's quite easy for me to translate that momentum energy to heat, or radiation, or even more matter such as air if I really wanted to.
I mean really; it's not that difficult. It may seem to you, kind sir, that your arms are incapable of moving or your legs cannot follow your commands, but I urge you to see it from my view; I am simply drowning out the other, ugh, this word again, "Languages" of the universe. Really, it's all quite simple.
If only you could speak to the forces going on inside you right now maybe you wouldn't be having such a bad time with them. Who knows?
Now, what were we talking about? I think I took a tangent somewhere back there. Agh, no matter.
Anyway, this interview has become tiresome. Speaking in your, ugh, LANGUAG- see I hate using this phrase; it's so.... "3rd dimensional". You wouldn't understand. Anyway, it's tedious for me, and frankly it's far too simple. I'm off to finish what I've started.
I can hear the power of the universe, it's pulse, it's speech, it's beautiful culture. And that's all I need to hear. | you just turned 18 waiting for you power all day you play fortnite. like every other time to hear a Spanish kid talking. before you would have muted him but now you know what he is saying. very disappointed you tell your parents who are very big super heroes. very sad you go to sleep. looking to your right at your window you see that the sky is conversing. its not the sky its the universe. speaking to it you sound retarded. your family gets you tested for insanity because they don't want a son with a dumb magical power. these powers are called tics. they pay the person that tested you. you get put in an asylum. there you make a friend. he has a power similar to yours. he says that your power is cooler that you think. the universes language is like the source code. like watch this. (he says something that sound retarded.) a door opens and it goes to the beach. now knowing all these words. you become god. making an earth like your own you kill the other guy with the weaker power. you get bored of being god and you make a Reddit post looking for ideas. then you post this thanking them. (thank you all for the cool ideas) |
Sorry for the double you, my bad | [WP] At the age of 18, every person develops a magical power. Yours is the power to fluently read and speak every language in the universe. At first you thought the had the worst power on earth, that was until you you realise that the universe has it's own language. | It's hard to explain what is is like to have a magical power without experiencing it yourself. No matter how prevalent the spark of lightning from a finger or a water bomb shot out of a hand was there was no child that looked upon their awakening day without at least some expectation and some trepidation.
All men may be created equal but no one could deny some powers were better than others, it was to the point that if a slacker inherited a useful enough power they could immediately outshine the valedictorian should their power not match up.
In fact I was that valedictorian, and on my day of awakening (it's almost always a few days after your actual birthday), I was summoned to my mind palace. Each person's mind palace \[which is an extra benefit of the magic inheritance process\], was a reflection of their interests and state of mind over the years. I wasn't surprised to see mine was very orderly and bookish. It was in fact very much a library, adorned with books with titles of great and minor memories, the size of which depended on how well I remembered the event.
At the centre of my palace of books I found a book, there was no mistaking what the book was so I staggered and slowed, slowly stopping to feel the power that surrounded it. Bracing myself with a deep breath I took an unsteady step forward, inching towards a power that could affect up to 60% of my future wealth, my choice of partner, my very reputation from hence this day forth and either enhance of ruin every effort I've put in for 18 years.
The book was entitled 'Bablelonian Speech', I could not open the book as of now but as soon as I touched it I knew I was screwed, without a doubt my power was the archaeologists wet dream and hopeful 18 year old's nightmare. What in the hell was a 'Babel' and why would I want it/their speech, flipping the book around I found the blurb. 'He who shall tower above others, must possess the ability to bind all together and speak in one word all laws'. "FUUUUUUUUUCK", I screamed, and popped out of my mind palace.
It would be two days later I would find out that the school slacker Rajus in a world where many slacked off in the hopes they could inherit a great power and continue coasting in life, excelled in seeming lazy and foolish (which was no small feat) had acquired the fabled power of 'Mana Linkage' putting him up their with the likes of Jimon Lyons and Mika Bearton, multi billionaires in thier own right.
On the bright side, turns out mr Snuffles does actually like me, so...there's that. | you just turned 18 waiting for you power all day you play fortnite. like every other time to hear a Spanish kid talking. before you would have muted him but now you know what he is saying. very disappointed you tell your parents who are very big super heroes. very sad you go to sleep. looking to your right at your window you see that the sky is conversing. its not the sky its the universe. speaking to it you sound retarded. your family gets you tested for insanity because they don't want a son with a dumb magical power. these powers are called tics. they pay the person that tested you. you get put in an asylum. there you make a friend. he has a power similar to yours. he says that your power is cooler that you think. the universes language is like the source code. like watch this. (he says something that sound retarded.) a door opens and it goes to the beach. now knowing all these words. you become god. making an earth like your own you kill the other guy with the weaker power. you get bored of being god and you make a Reddit post looking for ideas. then you post this thanking them. (thank you all for the cool ideas) |
Sorry for the double you, my bad | [WP] At the age of 18, every person develops a magical power. Yours is the power to fluently read and speak every language in the universe. At first you thought the had the worst power on earth, that was until you you realise that the universe has it's own language. | (I'm going to change the pov character if that's alright)
We stare at the screen waiting. I just put the DNA sample into the machine so It'll only be a few more minutes untill we know. The eve of his 18th birthday, my son is soon to be a man. I honestly couldn't be more proud of him. He's sitting on his bed stareing intently at the device wizzing and rattling. I can tell he's excited and a little scared, but I'm confident that whatever he gets he'll make the most of it.
"To understand and be able to communicate in all languages"
I hear a sigh of slight disappointment from beside me.
"It's a mighty fine power if you ask me. There are many avenues for you with it"
He doesn't seem to convinced. He's disappointed right now but I'm sure he'll come around to it. Its not the flashiest thing in the world but it'll secure him a good life. I'm sure foreign diplomats could use someone like him, or he could translate books and other media if he wanted.
"Ok, you need to go to bed soon. Your power will be activated right after you wake up tomorrow so you need to get some sleep, ok?"
"Yea, I know" he grumbles back.
He'll probably still be disappointed when he wakes up. I hope it doesn't get him down too much. Honestly, I wish his mom was still here, she was so good at dealing with these kinds of things. But now's not the time for that.
The next day I am awoken by a gut wrenching sound. Screaming. It's coming from his room. I run as fast as I can. He's keeled over on his bed.
"Hey! are you okay? What's going on?"
He doesn't respond. I go up to him and shake his shoulders but he doesn't react. His eyes look straight past me but he's still screaming with a terrified look on his face. The sound is horrifying, it's unlike anything I've ever heard. God, what do I do? What should I do?
A few minutes pass and he finally goes quiet. It seems he's knocked himself unconscious with all that screaming. I'm so confused. Something has clearly happened but I don't know what or how to help him. It feels like all I can do is wait. I don't want to leave his side.
Eventually his eyes open again. He just stares at the ceiling.
"Are you okay?"
"Yea, I'm sorry, that was probably an overreaction. Its just that..."
"That?"
"Nobody should have to know something like that"
"Know What? What's going on?"
"Don't worry about it, it's not something I think I'd be able to explain even if I tried"
"Is everything alright?"
"Everything is fine, I'm okay now dad, sorry for earlier"
"Alright, I'm going to get you some breakfast real quick, you should really eat something, you're probably still tired from all that. Also, if there's something going on please tell me, I'll do what I can to help."
"Trust me, it's nothing, just forget about all this"
"If you say so, I'm going to get your breakfast now"
"Alright, thanks dad"
As I'm leaving I hear some rustling and suddenly feel that I'm being hugged quite tightly. From behind me I hear "dad?"
"What's up?" I respond
"I love you"
"I love you t-" before I can respond I'm cut off"
"I don't know about anything else, but I know that right now, I love you. I know that I feel that and that it is real". I don't entirely understand what he's trying to say right now but I'm happy to be so loved. "We aren't going to be here long so I wanted you to know that"
"What do you mean?"
"This isn't a book, and it's barely a short story, we're approaching the end so I just want to enjoy it while I can"
"I don't understand"
"Don't worry about it. I'm going to take over for the rest if that's alright"
"What?"
"They hugged it out for a bit but eventually went about their day, not really paying any heed to the events of the morning. They both went on to live long, healthy and fulfilling lives."
---
I apologize, I'm a really bad writer but this prompt gave me this idea and I felt I really had to get it out. Thanks for making it this far | you just turned 18 waiting for you power all day you play fortnite. like every other time to hear a Spanish kid talking. before you would have muted him but now you know what he is saying. very disappointed you tell your parents who are very big super heroes. very sad you go to sleep. looking to your right at your window you see that the sky is conversing. its not the sky its the universe. speaking to it you sound retarded. your family gets you tested for insanity because they don't want a son with a dumb magical power. these powers are called tics. they pay the person that tested you. you get put in an asylum. there you make a friend. he has a power similar to yours. he says that your power is cooler that you think. the universes language is like the source code. like watch this. (he says something that sound retarded.) a door opens and it goes to the beach. now knowing all these words. you become god. making an earth like your own you kill the other guy with the weaker power. you get bored of being god and you make a Reddit post looking for ideas. then you post this thanking them. (thank you all for the cool ideas) |
Sorry for the double you, my bad | [WP] At the age of 18, every person develops a magical power. Yours is the power to fluently read and speak every language in the universe. At first you thought the had the worst power on earth, that was until you you realise that the universe has it's own language. | I think the Egyptians were on to something. Ren - the Egyptian term for your true name. Ra, the sun god himself, was fabled to have lost dominion of earth due to telling Isis his ren.
I remember that day.
Funny thing about knowing every language. You can read everyone’s ren. You can hear everything’s ren.
I’ve learned to speak to every person. I’ve learned to fish from the fisherman. I’ve learned to bake from the baker. I’ve learned to speak from the politician.
I’ve learned to speak to birds. I made them my minions. A handful of crows bring me breakfast in the morning. A hundred vultures protect me in wake. A thousand eagles protect me in sleep.
I’ve learned to talk to plants. I’ve learned how to grow them tallest. I’ve learned how to heal with them. I’ve learned how to poison with them. I’ve learned how to move them.
I’ve learned how to converse with objects. Pens told me the sweetest things written in them. Lampposts told me the dirtiest things that happened under them. Guns told me that they swore allegiance to me.
I’ve learned to listen to time. I’ve learned to decrypt the most heard sounds. I’ve learned to find time’s favorites. I’ve learned to bend time to my will. I’ve learned to break time.
I’ve learned to make gods into my slaves. Ra told me that I was crazy. Isis told me that I was insane. Horus couldn’t say anything once I was done.
Ren. Once you can understand it, you can understand everything. | you just turned 18 waiting for you power all day you play fortnite. like every other time to hear a Spanish kid talking. before you would have muted him but now you know what he is saying. very disappointed you tell your parents who are very big super heroes. very sad you go to sleep. looking to your right at your window you see that the sky is conversing. its not the sky its the universe. speaking to it you sound retarded. your family gets you tested for insanity because they don't want a son with a dumb magical power. these powers are called tics. they pay the person that tested you. you get put in an asylum. there you make a friend. he has a power similar to yours. he says that your power is cooler that you think. the universes language is like the source code. like watch this. (he says something that sound retarded.) a door opens and it goes to the beach. now knowing all these words. you become god. making an earth like your own you kill the other guy with the weaker power. you get bored of being god and you make a Reddit post looking for ideas. then you post this thanking them. (thank you all for the cool ideas) |
Sorry for the double you, my bad | [WP] At the age of 18, every person develops a magical power. Yours is the power to fluently read and speak every language in the universe. At first you thought the had the worst power on earth, that was until you you realise that the universe has it's own language. | I first noticed my power when I was getting my local coffee shop; when a lady spilled coffee on me and profusely apologized. I instinctively replied that it was no problem. In French; I've never taken french in class nor knew any words outside of 'Oui'. At this time it was two months after my birthday, I knew people got powers on their 18th birthday and it was something to look forward too, so when it was my day I tried all the things I would have wanted as a power.
I tried flying by jumping off a swing set, I tried turning invisible and sneaking into a private pool and the power I thought would be the coolest of them all, firebreathing. But at last none of them worked, so I kind of just went on with my life waiting till the day I finally release my awesome power. But this. This was not awesome, I went testing my newfound power hoping it was a mistake. Perhaps I just learned it in a T.V show I watched as a kid, but once again I was meant was a full-on conversation with a Spanish speaking friend of mine. By the way, his power was the ability to lessen the gravity of anything he touched my 40%. Sufficed to say I was a bit jealous.
Look don't get me wrong, this power of mine is honestly kind of amazing in its own way. I have now traveled to each corner of the earth and feel very satisfied with each experience. And being able to have lengthy conversations with the locals makes every place unique. having the ability to fluently read and speak every language has opened up so many opportunities for me, including meeting my wife.
Now all this said I dreamed of power that would allow me to live the kind of life that only superman lived. Call it a child's dream, that's fine that was exactly what it was. But somewhere along the road, it turned fiction. You see, my kid has a pet rock called Tom, I indulged her, entering her fantasy world.
"Hello, Tom was it?" I said with a smile.
"Tom say hi back, don't be rude" my daughter snapped at the rock with googly eyes on it.
"sup" said a voice. In my head? No, it was not in my head. Then I heard a sound like a guy sucking on his teeth, "see, that's rude."
"Tom?" I said knowing full well I sound insane.
"umm, yeah what's up man" the man's voice or I guess the voice of the rock sounded just as confused as me.
"ok, note to self need more sleep," I said under my breath. "Sweety, tell me what Tom said, I'm afraid that I can't understand him."
"But daddy, I thought you knew all languages" she let a sigh of disappointment out.
"true, but..." I took a moment to think. "Tom?"
"Yo, I don't know why you keep calling my name but please shut up!" Tom said with a low deep voice.
"Yeah, sorry sweety it doesn't work like that." | you just turned 18 waiting for you power all day you play fortnite. like every other time to hear a Spanish kid talking. before you would have muted him but now you know what he is saying. very disappointed you tell your parents who are very big super heroes. very sad you go to sleep. looking to your right at your window you see that the sky is conversing. its not the sky its the universe. speaking to it you sound retarded. your family gets you tested for insanity because they don't want a son with a dumb magical power. these powers are called tics. they pay the person that tested you. you get put in an asylum. there you make a friend. he has a power similar to yours. he says that your power is cooler that you think. the universes language is like the source code. like watch this. (he says something that sound retarded.) a door opens and it goes to the beach. now knowing all these words. you become god. making an earth like your own you kill the other guy with the weaker power. you get bored of being god and you make a Reddit post looking for ideas. then you post this thanking them. (thank you all for the cool ideas) |
Sorry for the double you, my bad | [WP] At the age of 18, every person develops a magical power. Yours is the power to fluently read and speak every language in the universe. At first you thought the had the worst power on earth, that was until you you realise that the universe has it's own language. | Ok so. When I turned 18 my power manifested itself. I went to the doctor to get it registered and ranked. So I have a common ability, the doctors call it "the power of understanding" but even though it was common the doctors ranked me higher than any of translator had been ranked. Well the doctor said he couldn't tell me because of some legal reasons. So about now I should probably tell you how the power works, so unlike most of translators I don't just hear and under stand it. Most other translators are only able to under stand and speak but for them the language is no different they just under it, but for me well, when I talk to someone there speech patterns, language, and even accent changes into something that understand the best. But most interestingly the words they say would be put above them like a video game text box.
Well after a while of being considered a 4 scale super (the scale goes through 10 to 0 with 0 being the best of the best and 10 being the least useful powers) I found out something, whenever an event that I could have stopped happened I would here a voice and see the text seeming out of the wind. For example, I heard the voice and and saw the text which said "take two steps to the left" so I did. a few seconds later a car turned a corner and blasted through where I stood a few seconds before. So I told this to a doctor and he asked for proof. Out of nowhere the voice said "move to the left" so I did and while I moved a brick fell through the ceiling and smashed into where I sat before. With the doctor being given amazing proof I was soon up graded to a 1. I have lately not been doing anything. But a massive war recently between my country and another. The voice spoke again "get out of here by tomorrow" so I told every one I knew to do so. The day after. My city was heavily bombed to near cinders, thank you universe. I guess. | you just turned 18 waiting for you power all day you play fortnite. like every other time to hear a Spanish kid talking. before you would have muted him but now you know what he is saying. very disappointed you tell your parents who are very big super heroes. very sad you go to sleep. looking to your right at your window you see that the sky is conversing. its not the sky its the universe. speaking to it you sound retarded. your family gets you tested for insanity because they don't want a son with a dumb magical power. these powers are called tics. they pay the person that tested you. you get put in an asylum. there you make a friend. he has a power similar to yours. he says that your power is cooler that you think. the universes language is like the source code. like watch this. (he says something that sound retarded.) a door opens and it goes to the beach. now knowing all these words. you become god. making an earth like your own you kill the other guy with the weaker power. you get bored of being god and you make a Reddit post looking for ideas. then you post this thanking them. (thank you all for the cool ideas) |
Sorry for the double you, my bad | [WP] At the age of 18, every person develops a magical power. Yours is the power to fluently read and speak every language in the universe. At first you thought the had the worst power on earth, that was until you you realise that the universe has it's own language. | The party was over. I half expected it to appear when I blew out the candles; my power, that is. Drat my luck that I was born so late in the day. I spent the afternoon, depressed, in my room. Supine on my bed, my eyes lazily scanned across my bedroom walls. Star Wars... Thor... Akira... The Matrix... Poster clad walls littered with all of my favorite films. Wasn't my Akira poster a Japanese reprint, though? I had to do a double take to believe my eyes. Those aren't English letters, but I can read them! My heart sank. I can read them.
All these years, I had wondered what fantastical thing I might be able to do once I turned 18. Lifting cars, flying through the air, heat vision, **HEAT VISION.** UGH! What do I end up with? Reading comprehension. I put on a movie to calm my mind. "Spirited Away." ...Well, at least I don't need subtitles anymore. That'll be interesting.
I sat on my bed for a few moments, trying to concentrate on the television, but there was a faint humming noise coming from the speakers. No... not the speakers... the television itself. And the computer. And the outlets. And the lights. The humming was everywhere. I had to get out of there. I grabbed my coat and wallet, heading for who knows where. Any place but here.
I shuffled down the sidewalk, hoping to take my mind off of my situation, but the humming followed me. Cellphone? Turn that off. Still humming. This can't be happening! I raised my hood to cover my ears. The fabric is humming! What is going on? My mind reeled, trying to grasp my situation. Super hearing? No, it can't be. You only get one power. The ringing is becoming deafening. **I wish it would stop.** *...silence...* Sweet, sweet silence. The hood of my jacket was gone. Where did it go? It was sewn to the jacket! That doesn't just happen, disappearing hoods, right? I closed my eyes in frustration. The sound of the humming from the hood filling my mind, I feel a weight on my head. The hood is back.
What am I? I retreated to a nearby tree, the humming of which was immeasurable. I pulled my coat over my head. I watched as the coat dissolved into thin air. This isn't possible. I concentrated on the humming of the oak. The tree melted away, revealing my jacket where it once stood. This humming, this frequency, seemed slightly different with each object I inspected. Rocks were too much for me to create, too many sounds, too indistinct, too hard to memorize. Money on the other hand, wasn't. I held a twenty dollar bill to my ear. Then I held a rock to my other ear and changed its pitch in my mind until they were the same. Forty dollars and no rock. ...This could be fun. | you just turned 18 waiting for you power all day you play fortnite. like every other time to hear a Spanish kid talking. before you would have muted him but now you know what he is saying. very disappointed you tell your parents who are very big super heroes. very sad you go to sleep. looking to your right at your window you see that the sky is conversing. its not the sky its the universe. speaking to it you sound retarded. your family gets you tested for insanity because they don't want a son with a dumb magical power. these powers are called tics. they pay the person that tested you. you get put in an asylum. there you make a friend. he has a power similar to yours. he says that your power is cooler that you think. the universes language is like the source code. like watch this. (he says something that sound retarded.) a door opens and it goes to the beach. now knowing all these words. you become god. making an earth like your own you kill the other guy with the weaker power. you get bored of being god and you make a Reddit post looking for ideas. then you post this thanking them. (thank you all for the cool ideas) |
Sorry for the double you, my bad | [WP] At the age of 18, every person develops a magical power. Yours is the power to fluently read and speak every language in the universe. At first you thought the had the worst power on earth, that was until you you realise that the universe has it's own language. | My powers was plain.
The scientific community categorized it as Universal Linguist.
The ability to read, and speak any language known to sentient life.
Ancient scriptures? Easy, though the changes in grammar sometimes made it annoying to rewrite. Especially the much older languages.
Those pictographs on a cave wall? Yeah, it was about hunting animals. With your male genitalia.
Riveting.
So I passed time, traveling around the world. I saw, and talked to the locals. I was able to gain protected passages through rather hostile lands. All for the ability to translate things for various people.
Museums and Collectors of archaeological treasures. Those paid some big bucks to transcribe.
Not enough to make me rich, but enough to jump around the globe.
A few hours jotting down the findings, and then a week or four in a country.
Not a bad lifestyle, but not exactly sustainable in the long run. How many artifacts where there? How many cared to pay to have it translated?
While others flew, or altered the very fabrics of reality, I could read and write.
It wasn’t the best, but it was mine for now.
As the sole known Universal Linguist, I had inadvertently cornered the market. No one else was offering services on custom translations.
At least I was making a neat scrapbook out of my projects. No one ever complained so long as I never referenced where I found said artifacts.
It was a journal of sorts. Proof of my existence.
—
Then I found it.
In the island nation of Japan.
A traditional Japanese esoteric system called Onmyodo. It meant ‘The Way of Yin and Yang’.
Mister Takahashi, current head and caretaker had a set of paper dolls. These heirlooms were handed down for almost two thousand years.
The Takahashi family was once an esteemed family of Onmyodo masters. Today they were a normal family by Japanese standards.
Mister Takahashi desired to see if I could exam the faded set of scriptures. They had were written in the 10th century. Hand crafted by most prominent head of the Takahashi clan.
The pay was good, and it was enough to let me stay in Japan for a full season. I said yes.
Like many collectors, and those who had heirloom pieces, the writing was rough. I could understand it, but chicken scribbles, was chicken scribbles.
I recreated the writing on another sheet. Then I double, triple, and quadruple checked it.
The language wasn’t quite Japanese, despite its resemblence on it. It was as if everything was a mash of Chinese, Japanese slang words.
The sentences had little addendums. They refered to the classic 5 elements, yin and yang, and the Heaven / Earth polarity.
The current head of the Takahashi clan, had provided special inks. A combination of human blood, and squid ink, to recreate the original scriptures.
It was slow. I couldn’t use a pen, as it was to thin. So each line had to required forethought and patience.
Brushes was the best tool, and I retraced the fine and rather delicate work.
It was lucky that newer, small brushes were easy to create and use. It must have been a nightmare for the ancient people to have to make precise tools back then.
The days melted and blurred as I work.
The design was both simple, yet intricate. Words overlapped at times, creating unique hybrids that could mean several things. Confusing, but with my powers, legible.
It was quite beautiful when I finished. The long set of commands that would empower, and grant false life to an object.
It was quite cute, the wording and imagination.
I refolded the paper. It was still somehow flexible despite its age.
The dozen paper dolls lined up. A nice display of the refreshed words. With how the sentences crisscrossed, it was less of a set of instructions, and more of a work of art.
Mister Takahashi smiled as he stared at the repaired dolls. In his hands was my payment. With a satisfied smile, he handed it over.
As a final joke, I gave the man the list of commands.
Fly.
Speak.
See.
Dance.
Empower. (Magic ritual via command seals)
Mister Takahashi laughed, and spoke the command to dance.
We stared, and they did not move.
We laughed.
The first doll stood up, and began to flex its limbs.
Our laughter died.
Then the second. The third.
The dozen dolls began to hover over the table I used across the two weeks for repairs.
They danced. They made jingling sounds that I had, at the time, thought odd. Now it made sense as they began to chime during pauses.
We stared as they finished their dance, and then laid down. Still as the day I saw them.
Mister Takahashi stared. Then teared up as his family’s legacy became vetted. They were not a family of frauds and tricksters. They held prominent titles and station for centuries.
As specialists doing great work, and great deeds.
I stared down at my hands.
Maybe.
Just maybe.
Universal Linguist wasn’t a D class power after all.
If I could do this with paper, then what else could I use?
The thought of metals, and other materials came to mind.
As did the vast stores of work I had done before.
Other ‘mystic’ systems. Norse. North American.
It was all there, in my journal.
Which had now included Japanese mysticism.
If those worked, and I began to combine them…
Wouldn’t I become something more.
I said my goodbyes to the shell shocked man.
With a skip in my step, I made my way down to my hotel.
I pulled out my phone, and began to look for other artifacts.
It was time to do some serious reading.
——— Author’s Corner ———
Thanks for reading.
I hope you enjoyed this simple story! | you just turned 18 waiting for you power all day you play fortnite. like every other time to hear a Spanish kid talking. before you would have muted him but now you know what he is saying. very disappointed you tell your parents who are very big super heroes. very sad you go to sleep. looking to your right at your window you see that the sky is conversing. its not the sky its the universe. speaking to it you sound retarded. your family gets you tested for insanity because they don't want a son with a dumb magical power. these powers are called tics. they pay the person that tested you. you get put in an asylum. there you make a friend. he has a power similar to yours. he says that your power is cooler that you think. the universes language is like the source code. like watch this. (he says something that sound retarded.) a door opens and it goes to the beach. now knowing all these words. you become god. making an earth like your own you kill the other guy with the weaker power. you get bored of being god and you make a Reddit post looking for ideas. then you post this thanking them. (thank you all for the cool ideas) |
Sorry for the double you, my bad | [WP] At the age of 18, every person develops a magical power. Yours is the power to fluently read and speak every language in the universe. At first you thought the had the worst power on earth, that was until you you realise that the universe has it's own language. | Music. It always played around me. A little softer, a little louder. No one understood. Not the doctors, not the magopsychologists. The magic was in everyone who passed the threshold of adulthood, but no one got *two* gifts. So why was a translator like me hearing continual music?
**Force. Mass. Acceleration. Power. Resistance.**
It took a long time to understand. I was ninety-two, on my deathbed, smiling at my children and grandchildren. A second more and I would've gone. But she didn't want me to go.
**Heat, the velocity of smaller molecules. Behind the heat, energy, the ultimate cost behind everything. And behind the energy, ripples of space/time/matter that science has no name for.**
*♪ᶜʳᵉˢᶜᵉⁿᵈᵒ. ᴬᶜᶜᵉˡᵉʳᵃⁿᵈᵒ.* ᴬⁿ ᴱ ᵐⁱⁿᵒʳ ˢᶜᵃˡᵉ, ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ˢᵉᵖᵃʳᵃᵗᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵇʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ *ᵖⁱᵃⁿⁱˢˢⁱᵐᵒ.*♫
Don't worry. Everything will be alright. I'm not-
#Dissonance.
###Gravity?
She speaks to m e. She speaks to m e. I love her.
𝒮𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓂 𝑒.
#𝕴 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖗.
𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎.
The comparison of the Universe to a computer was not accurate at all.
𝓢𝓞𝓜𝓔𝓣𝓗𝓘𝓝𝓖 𝓦𝓘𝓣𝓗𝓞𝓤𝓣 𝓐 𝓢𝓞𝓤𝓛 𝓒𝓞𝓤𝓛𝓓 𝓝𝓞𝓣 𝓑𝓔 𝓢𝓞 𝓗𝓔𝓐𝓡𝓣𝓛𝓔𝓢𝓢.
...
Are you afraid of me now? I understand. I was afraid too.
L̲a̲n̲g̲u̲a̲g̲e̲ ̲i̲s̲ ̲a̲ ̲c̲o̲n̲s̲t̲r̲u̲c̲t̲.̲ ̲I̲t̲ ̲i̲s̲ ̲a̲ ̲d̲e̲s̲i̲g̲n̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲m̲a̲k̲e̲ ̲c̲o̲m̲m̲u̲n̲i̲c̲a̲t̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲e̲a̲s̲i̲e̲r̲.̲ ̲I̲t̲ ̲d̲o̲e̲s̲ ̲n̲o̲t̲ ̲e̲x̲i̲s̲t̲ ̲u̲n̲l̲e̲s̲s̲ ̲s̲o̲m̲e̲o̲n̲e̲ ̲o̲r̲ ̲s̲o̲m̲e̲t̲h̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲w̲i̲s̲h̲e̲s̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲s̲p̲e̲a̲k̲.̲
She was always there. You could feel it in every note, couldn't you? She sings to you. And she sings to me.
𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕀 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕣.
Don't shut her out. She loves you too, you know? You just have to listen and wait.
...
And wait.
...
You'll hear her, any moment now.
...
Please.
...
Please tell me you hear her too. | you just turned 18 waiting for you power all day you play fortnite. like every other time to hear a Spanish kid talking. before you would have muted him but now you know what he is saying. very disappointed you tell your parents who are very big super heroes. very sad you go to sleep. looking to your right at your window you see that the sky is conversing. its not the sky its the universe. speaking to it you sound retarded. your family gets you tested for insanity because they don't want a son with a dumb magical power. these powers are called tics. they pay the person that tested you. you get put in an asylum. there you make a friend. he has a power similar to yours. he says that your power is cooler that you think. the universes language is like the source code. like watch this. (he says something that sound retarded.) a door opens and it goes to the beach. now knowing all these words. you become god. making an earth like your own you kill the other guy with the weaker power. you get bored of being god and you make a Reddit post looking for ideas. then you post this thanking them. (thank you all for the cool ideas) |
Sorry for the double you, my bad | [WP] At the age of 18, every person develops a magical power. Yours is the power to fluently read and speak every language in the universe. At first you thought the had the worst power on earth, that was until you you realise that the universe has it's own language. | Journal Entry 321, 4 days after my 18th, also known as the 'Big One'
People started to look at me funny. I haven't told them what I noticed this past weekend, when I was out in the garden without any shoes on. I stepped into a mound of soil by mistake and immediately my entire world went fuzzy and blank.
It was as if I was a guitar plugging into an amplifier, during that small window where the metal contacts send a buzz through the speaker. After collecting myself for several minutes, I still hadn't managed to figure out what that was supposed to be. With great apprehension (and some sick curiosity) I stuck my foot into the soil again. This time more slowly!
Now, slightly more prepared, this next attempt was... enlightening. For let me tell you! I had finally understood all that I had previously not. I placed my foot into the soil again, this time with some primal fervor. Yet again, oh my body!
It must have to do with this recent power, yes? Power of language? Am I speaking to the dead? No, that can't be. But it would explain the whole soil bit... I hadn't managed to be productive with this weird feeling yet - so I decided to yet again place my foot into the soil with an attempt to learn.
I placed my foot into the cold soil and left it there for what felt like ten minutes. After the initial shock of newly introduced stimuli, I finally figured it out. It's a message of some sort, that sounds very much like a whale underwater. No words- just rumbling, ticks, and echoes. It calls to me.
I've stopped wearing shoes. Everywhere i go, I place my foot into to see if there's any reaction of sorts and there isn't. I'm starting to wonder.
Journal Entry 322, 5 days passed -
I tried to tell the other students why I've been dirty and barefoot lately - it's because I'm able to talk to dead people; that's one facet of my new power! I just have to stick my feet into a mound of soil. Stacy was actually disgusted by my thought process, and she had zipped away on her broomstick. Sorry not everyone has as cool of a power as you, bitch.
Anyway, sigh .. I know this is a journal but that still felt weird to write. I'm done for now.
Journal Entry 324, 12 days passed -
I've ripped the last entry out and burned it. I had to. I wrote down too much and people are starting to get weird. I come home and place my feet into the soil, it's all I want to do. All answers come to me, and I can just ... decipher them. I'm not sure how to put it but I feel like a spider dancing on top of a complex web.
I've noticed that Stacy no longer looks at me, she brushes me off and pretends that I don't exist. That's fine, but at least tell me! Agh. I'm to quit this journal for now and go place my feet.
Journal Entry 325, 15 days passed -
LAST JOURNAL, NO TIME. THEY'RE COMING. STACY MUST HAVE RATTED ON ME. I WAS FAR TOO POWERFUL BEING ABLE TO COMMUNICATE WITH THE DEAD. SHE DIDNT BELIEVE ME. IVE GONE AND PROVEN HER WRONG. I CAN COMMUNICATE WITH HER NOW.
Those were the last of Phil's journals. No one knows where he is. No one has seen Stacy. The school just got back the analysis report on Phil's mystic power profile. He wasn't talking to the dead, he was talking to something far greater... the universe.
As it stands, investigators have rummaged through all of his belongings. Nothing of use, aside from his journal and few damned bags of potting soil. | you just turned 18 waiting for you power all day you play fortnite. like every other time to hear a Spanish kid talking. before you would have muted him but now you know what he is saying. very disappointed you tell your parents who are very big super heroes. very sad you go to sleep. looking to your right at your window you see that the sky is conversing. its not the sky its the universe. speaking to it you sound retarded. your family gets you tested for insanity because they don't want a son with a dumb magical power. these powers are called tics. they pay the person that tested you. you get put in an asylum. there you make a friend. he has a power similar to yours. he says that your power is cooler that you think. the universes language is like the source code. like watch this. (he says something that sound retarded.) a door opens and it goes to the beach. now knowing all these words. you become god. making an earth like your own you kill the other guy with the weaker power. you get bored of being god and you make a Reddit post looking for ideas. then you post this thanking them. (thank you all for the cool ideas) |
Sorry for the double you, my bad | [WP] At the age of 18, every person develops a magical power. Yours is the power to fluently read and speak every language in the universe. At first you thought the had the worst power on earth, that was until you you realise that the universe has it's own language. | *I meditate upon the name of God*.
The shackles clung at my feet as they hoisted me upon the spire's execution dias. Throngs of people below sat uneasy, their emotions tense and yet restrained as a coiled cobra. Below, guardsmen formed a sentinel wall as we, the chosen sacrifices, were placed before the Emperor.
*And yet, I still meditate upon the name of God*.
Mages in their priestly vestments wove their arcane magics. Those of us who were to become 18 were methodically gathered to have our powers ripped asunder, and given unto the Emperor. This gift of his prevented society from collapsing inward, but left a hollow mark upon the souls of all within his lands. Any who swore pure, undying fealty were given the chance to serve and their powers restored, but with an oath enforced upon their will.
Like chains they would bind us to him eternally. Our freedom for our strength. Many made the choice, but I refused.
*And still, unflinchingly, I meditate upon the name of God who left this earth.*
To the throbbing crowds the mages offered a spectacle. Ritual combat between those with powers who refused to serve. I stood, red hair flowing so lightly, barely eighteen. What power did I possess. My opponent's hands crackled with lightning.
*Stop this*, I prayed. *Break these chains upon us.*
And so it happened, chains of loyalty undone and crackling magics dissipated. Mages once bonded, now free. Before the Imperial throne a new thing stirred...fear. | you just turned 18 waiting for you power all day you play fortnite. like every other time to hear a Spanish kid talking. before you would have muted him but now you know what he is saying. very disappointed you tell your parents who are very big super heroes. very sad you go to sleep. looking to your right at your window you see that the sky is conversing. its not the sky its the universe. speaking to it you sound retarded. your family gets you tested for insanity because they don't want a son with a dumb magical power. these powers are called tics. they pay the person that tested you. you get put in an asylum. there you make a friend. he has a power similar to yours. he says that your power is cooler that you think. the universes language is like the source code. like watch this. (he says something that sound retarded.) a door opens and it goes to the beach. now knowing all these words. you become god. making an earth like your own you kill the other guy with the weaker power. you get bored of being god and you make a Reddit post looking for ideas. then you post this thanking them. (thank you all for the cool ideas) |
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