《Where Muses Go To Die》 #1-LEL- Chapter 1 I grew up hearing tales of heroes. I would listen in our living room, my mother quietly knitting in her rocking chair, my father relaxing on his recliner, either having a smoke or petting our sheepdog. While I sat on the hardwood floor, my father would spin me tales of wonder. "...Sir Dolgrin faced the mighty beast, it''s red eyes staring down from on high, roaring to shake the stones themselves, the only light illuminating its'' face the flame on the beasts'' breath..." :...Arrayed before the demons'' army were a mighty alliance, headed by grim Groffgar Steel-whisker, graceful Imladrian Tree-talker, and the noble Griefild Plain-walker. Facing them on the side of darkness, was the second Dark Lord..." "...With her final breath, Serimaria, lady of light, blesser of the cursed, healer of the sick, and banisher of evil, raised her hands and uttered one, final spell of ancient power, and though the spell itself has been lost to time, the crater she made has yet to be buried..." Each day it seemed, a new story would be spun before me. After thirty-two, however, I began to have questions. "Pa, if the heroes always win in the end, then why do more demons come?" At this, he would always pat my head and say, "Because, my boy, the world must always be in balance, the dark with the light." Years passed, and on the day of my coming of age- -I had a wonderful party. My father got drunk, and mother tut-tutted the whole way home. As we reached the door, my father lost his stomach, and most of the drink. Mother hurried inside to find something to clean it up with, and while she found something I supported my father. While holding him, he turned to me and spoke clearly, even through the drunken haze. "Son, I have told you of all the greatest men and women to ever walk this realm, but I somehow forgot to mention the greatest son." I looked down, embarrassed. "Father...you''re drunk..." He threw his head back and laughed, "Hah! I may be a bit tipsy, but drunk is-" here he lost the rest of the drink, and most likely a bit of his insides as well. After wiping his mouth, he continued unperturbed. "Son, I''m not a good father. I have never taught you the things I should''ve, nor been the role model you would want to strive for. I have been merely human, but you, my son...you make me proud to call myself a father, even if it is an empty title that I have done nothing to earn." I mumbled a bit, and shuffled my feet. I wasn''t used to my father being so forward, nor him being so sincere. "You''re exaggerating..." He staggered a bit, but placed his hand over my heart, and held my chin. "My boy, my pure, perfect son, my pride and joy, my greatest accomplishment, if you can call it mine. Son, know that whatever you choose in the future, I will always be proud...to call myself your father." I looked into his deep, murky green eyes, and nodded, shaking his hand firmly. The rest of the night I tended to him, and laughed at his headache in the morning. But I never forgot his words. Another year passed, and I grew into my own ambition. My body was strong, my heart soft, my soul pure. It was during winter that I went from my home and became a knightly acolyte. There, I received a shock to my naive young heart. "Hahaha! Lick it clean, and make sure to say thank you!" Another acolyte, larger and stronger than the rest of us used his strength and influence with the supervisor to extort and bully those younger and smaller than him. When I first came, he looked me over, and decided that I was too big. Not a threat, but not easily cowed either. I could''ve just left him to his fun. Maybe I should''ve. But when I thought back to what my father said with tears running down his face, "I am proud to call myself your father." The next time the bully attempted to throw his weight around, I confronted him. We fought, and he gave me a sound beating, but left to nurse his own ego. I helped up myself along with his victim, and felt lighter of heart. The next time, it was me that they cornered. I was afraid, but when I remembered my fathers'' words, I held my chin up and stood with my shoulders squared, and faced them with dignity. They taunted me, goaded me, but no matter what they said or did, even when they disgraced my fathers name, I refused to let myself rise to their bait. They grew tired of my non-reaction, and gave me a sound beating. When they left, the former victims helped me up, and I felt that maybe it was over. For six months, the bullies defeated me. Time and time again, we would stand eye-to-eye, and each time they would hurt me. Two months after the abuse started, the previous victims abandoned me. I could have hated them. Should have hated them. But after going through what they had, I would always grit my teeth and square my shoulders. One day, when I lay bruised and battered after the latest round of senseless violence, the bullies brought in three of the other acolytes. They were of the newer, fresher ones. Their young, freightened faces brought undescribable emotions to my heart, and most of all was... Relief. I though, "Now that they have someone else, I can be free!" I almost choked on my own revulsion that the thought had come into my head. I slammed my head against the floor, and examined myself while the fresh acolytes cried out in freight. Fear. Pain. Relief. Exhaustion. Hatred. Hatred, not of the bullies, but of myself. I hated this frail, puny body that refused to rise, I abhored this unfaithful heart that gave in to temptation, but most of all, I hated this soul that cried out in cowardice. With every fiber of my body, I hated myself, and I hated me back. What was it he said? "My boy, my pure, perfect, son, my pride and joy, my greatest accomplishment." HAH! I began to laugh at myself. Even in my own mind, the words sounded sarcastic. This weak, frail, cowardly body, heart, and soul of mine...I would destroy myself, if I could. But I cannot defile this vessel that my mother and father created and nurtured together. If I do not stand for the right, who will? If I don''t fight the fight, who shall take my place? If I let them, can I live and still look my parents in the eye? I rose, my knees shaking and buckling underneath the weight of this tragic mortal vessel. I lifted my head, and felt something ignite within. All fell silent, and I felt the pressure of a half-dozen eyes on my struggling form. With all the breathe I could muster, I spoke. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation."Leave...them...alone. If you must...destroy something...destroy...me." Blood trickled down my nose, and I shook even as I panted for air. The fresh acolytes looked toward me with hope in their eyes, a light shining forth from the windows of their souls. My tormentor looked at me, then laughed. "That''s funny! But, it''s boring kicking a dead horse that barely fights back, I''m going to partake of some fresh meat!" Saying so, he turned toward the three acolytes and prepared to break them. He raised his fist, the three helpless in the arms of his lackeys. "Beg for mercy, I might consider beating you within a foot of your life!" His arm began it''s descent, then- His arm stopped, and for a moment, he struggled to extend his arm. Then he felt the iron grip on his bicep, and turned to look into my face. I imagine I looked rather eerie, my face gaunt from months of abuse and dripping with blood. "I hate myself more than I could ever hate anything else...and if I cannot destroy myself, then I will just have to be satisfied destroying you." I twisted his arm into a lock, then snapped it at the joint of the elbow, then wrenched it back into place, before breaking it again. He screamed, but I didn''t allow myself to feel sympathy. His three cronies had released the acolytes, and prepared to give me a sound beating. Or perhaps more than a beating. I''d never fought back with anything more than a half-hearted punch, after all. The started gearing up, and as much as I didn''t want to, I saw three young men being wasted. I closed my eyes, and strengthened my resolve. I once beat them, to see what would happen. The next time, they just came back harder. In a fight like this, you either break... ...or spend eternity being broken. This time, I''m saying no. The three start to chuckle, assured of victory. They are all a year older than me, each of them being seventeen, and are noticeably larger. I listen to their laughter, and answer it with a snicker of my own. Their eyes narrow, and I see them getting ready to attack. I give a laugh, and say, "Just because you spent the last half-year not learning, doesn''t mean I followed your example." They rushed forward, and like lightning I stepped toward the leftmost one, and caught his clumsy hook with ease. I then slammed his head upward with an elbow to the chin, holding tight to his arm so that he couldn''t escape, the broke the arm I held, and raised it above his head. He screamed as his arms'' bones scraped against each other, and his ribs stretched out. I then broke six of them with the same elbow. I ducked under his arm, twisting it behind his back to elicit more screams, and kneed him in the groin before sending him to bowl over one of his comrades. As the two fall in a tangle of arms and legs, I strike out with a kick to the groin of the only lackey still standing, bending him almost double. I then take his head by the ears, and slam his face into my knee in order to rip off both ears. Sure, holding the back of his head and kneeing him in the face would have been fatal, but I didn''t want to kill them. I just have to break them. The third, and last, of the bullies trembled while trying to scamble away. My heart twisted with hate of myself, and pity for all of them, but I thought of the things this boy could do if left alone... And suddenly, too much seemed like not enough. I stepped on his stomach, snapping a rib and driving the breath from his lungs at the same time. I then step on his groin, and grab a leg before twisting it into a lock. Pressing his face against the floor, I snap his leg. Then I step on his neck. This boy...if I stop now, who knows what he will do in the future? It is too much of a risk. As I started to increase the pressure, from behind an arm wraps around my neck. I choke while looking behind me to see my tormentor, recovered from having an arm broken. It now hangs limp by his side, but he continues to strangle me with his good one. He squeezes my neck between his bicep and forearm, and I gasp. He smells of sweat and tears, while I smell the blood on myself. He''s panting in my ear, gasping for air as he chokes the life out of me. In his eyes, I see the same fear, the same relief, and also the hatred. But the hatred is pointed at me. My breath is rasping in my throat, and the world begins to speed away from me into a dark tunnel. At the end, I see the fresh acolytes standing before me, petrified with fear. I reach out to them, for help, for support, for anything. Then I realize, their fear is toward me, just as my tormentors'' hate is for me. They will not help me, they will just look on while I die. I somehow manage to gurgle out a laugh, feeling like the situation is almost comedic. Here I am, fighting for a persons sake, and their fear of me outweighs that of the enemy I am battling for them. It''s almost funny. Almost. My mind hazes, and my vision wavers before my eyes. I reach up to his arm, but he is much bigger. I cannot pull him away, he has too firm of a grip. However, I remember a technique. With my right hand, I reach up toward the tormentors hand, then grab one of his fingers. Then I snap it. He howls and releases me, long enough to get a breath, before regaining his hold. By then, it is too late. I gather my weight below his, grab his elbow with my left and his hand with my right, then take a large step to my left, twisting his arm away from my neck and into yet another lock. He loses his balance, and starts to stumble. I use his own weight to break his other arm, then release him and fall to the ground, gasping for air. To my right, the three acolytes stand petrified with fear of me. I feel the weight of the strain I''d put upon my body, and the saw the black edges of my vision, knowing that I wouldn''t stay conscious long. I take one last look at the three I''d saved, and smile. "I think...my father...would be proud."
LINK TO CHAPTER 2 So, yeah. I thought it was a little mean to post the chapters out of order, but that''s the order I wrote them, adn I don''t know how to move stuff around, so you can either: 1.Read all of LEL before moving on to the others. 2.Read the writings in chronological order of being written(I mean...if you want...) 3.Stop reading and do something productive instead of giving yourself cancer by reading this. But, you know, whatever you wanna do. I''ll just sit here quietly and judge you... #2 -MF- Chapter 1 Have you ever wished to just close your eyes, and fall asleep? To embrace blissful nothing and wondrous dreams? I have. But, if wishes were so easily granted, life would be miserable. Well, more miserable than now. Now, you may be wondering, "Is this guy some crazy insomniac?" I''m afraid the answer to that is no. Sadly, I''m a god. Most people would be like, "Woah, cool! Being a god must be super cool!" Sorry to pop your bubble, but it''s not all smiting and worship. Godhood is more of an inconvenience than anything else. First you have a group of people you''re supposed to take care of, next you can''t actually protect them, and then you''re the one they blame when it''s really those leafing gods of law and justice. You know, the ones who everyone is all, "Oh my law! Please judge me! And be a total root about it too!" They irritate me the most. What''s worse is that punching other gods is also prohibited, so unless I want a major one coming down here to shove a planet up my flower, I can''t give those earworm-loving fungi the beating they deserve. Woo~ lets calm down a bit. There''s a whole bunch of other things that godhood does to make my life a pain, like the impulse to smite the wicked and bless the righteous and the urge to talk to myself, but what irks me right now is my inability to sleep. You hear stories of gods tricking other gods to drink something that puts them to sleep, or of mortals sealing evil gods into a stasis. Sure, that''s all fine and dandy, but I have to ask- Why can''t I be the one who drinks something to knock me out? The answer is probably that no one cares whether I''m awake or sleeping...oh! I forgot to mention to myself, which feels very strange, that while I''ve been complaining to myself a couple billion years just passed and things that resemble very large rocks with teeth and spines and claws and horrible, nasty frothy mouths have started to go around and kill each other. *Sigh* it''s gonna be one of those worlds, isn''t it? I briefly considered making one of these species my chosen people, however I wasn''t able to sense a sentient life-form with the intelligence to recognize me as more than food. Honestly, I''d rather have a bunch of these howling animals be my chosen. Considering what''s happened before, it would undoubtedly be easier. Now, if I can just manage to eliminate my people early, then I can go and bother some of the other gods. Not much passes for entertainment, besides the lives of mortals, and I have no interest in those. Stem, a god-child hasn''t been born in...was it billions, or trillions of years? Not counting mortal-god-half-breeds, of course. It''s funny. You would think one divine being would attract another, but it''s the very fact that mortals are flawed that draw us gods to them like vultures to carrion. I use this analogy because gods are parasites, that disguise their leeching as "Gifts" and "Blessings." Funny enough, gods and goddesses have little to no actual attraction to each other. It''s always political or strategic when a god is born. If only mortals knew, I''m guessing they''d be either revolted, or curious. Curiosity is another one of the mortals funny traits, and hard for divines to understand. Omnipotence does that to people. Well, near-omnipotence. It''s like being able to look in two directions at once, but it''s confusing and hard to do for very long. Except for gods, we use our third eye, and our regular eyes, and then some of the really show-offy divines use their seventh eye, just for kicks. Oh, leaf my life. another half-million years passed while I was day-dreaming. If I don''t hurry up, things are gonna get ugly... I take a look around, and feel disappointment. Three variations of cold-bloods, eighty different variations of warm bloods, seven spirit races, and who-knows how many combinations capable of reproduction. Even worse, one of those bark-mad upstart divines barely a trillion years old snuck in while I wasn''t watching and impregnated the whole world with magic. He didn''t even help shape the core! He''s lucky devouring other divines was outlawed... While I fumed over the childs'' transgression, the first groups of people were formed. Three species of warm-bloods went extinct, and at least a dozen combinations died off along with them. Meanwhile, the area where I was most concentrated-a little peninsula on the once-mega continent. I guess you''d call it an island? Or maybe a continent? Whatever-it seems that my irritation was picked up by the inhabitants. On the island/continent/former peninsula there lived one of the cold-bloods, and three warm-bloods. Since the seven spirit races lived everywhere, they weren''t worth mentioning. First, the warm and cold-bloods began to grow less intelligent, and then feral. The four separated, then began to fight. Very soon, the warm bloods ganged-up on the cold, and drove them to near-extinction. At this point, one of the warm-bloods back-stabbed the other two, and gained an advantage. For twenty years-less than a blink-the other two warm-bloods bent knee to the other, until they revolted and drove the traitor race to the edges of the-I''ll just call it a continent. It''s big enough, I think.-continent. The two then turned on each other, and slaughtered each other until it seemed like I could spot the bloodstains from my perch. Soon, they began using the lesser warm blood to fight for them, making it so that the traitor warm-bloods fought and killed each other, for the sake of the ones they betrayed. Two hundred years of slaughter ended with neither side the victor, and all three of the warm-bloods exhausted and broken. Then came the era of the cold bloods. They crept of the corners and the crags, and took the warm-bloods almost without resistance. For generations, the warm-bloods had done nothing but weaken themselves, but the cold-bloods had been spending that time purifying their bloodlines and breeding themselves into the epitome of strength. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Hatred between the four kept them snapping at each-others throats, At this point, the very earth had begun to shape itself to my mood, and the very dirt and rocks gleamed a dull red. Magma had the habit of popping up in odd places, and the continent had actually expanded by several hundred miles in the last hundred years. This rate of growth was unnatural, and shouldn''t have been possible. But, as they say...the wrath of god is easily kindled. However, even in the barren plains of this continent, broken up by mountains bellowing smoke, animal life still existed. The reason this was so is because of the spirits. When my anger was first sensed, six of the spirit races slowly left, while one seemed to gravitate towards it. The strange thing was, spirits are colorless... ...or, they should''ve been. The ones that inhabited this continent had been dyed green-red-black. Then, depending on their color, they divided themselves into several sub-sections. Spirits are supposed to be neutral, unbiased, and set apart. But, when the cold-bloods control weakened... ...the spirits wrenched away control. Thirty years passed, one thing led to another, and the sub-sections of the spirits started killing each other. And then, now that the four non-spirits had replenished their numbers, they splashed their bodies across the ground anew, and, if possible, with greater fervor. I had grown bored of anger, and all of a sudden, I felt very tired. I surveyed the carnage brought about by my emotion, and gave myself a brief laugh. If I''d stopped three-hundred years ago, then perhaps peace could''ve been found. As it is...the hate between them runs too deep. It''s out of my hands. Might as well take a closer look. Taking the form of a cold-blood, I took physical form on this continent. Ash. Dust. Brimstone. If my purpose had been to create a non-fictional hell, then I''d have accomplished it. The smoke-filled air stung my eyes and choked my throat. Sharp rocks cut every part of me that wasn''t scaled, and I had to shoo three animals who were looking for a meal. I came across the site of a recent skirmish. Looks like a warm-blood party had gotten caught in the cross fire of two spirit groups. The spectral dust left behind when a spirit died, which should have been rare, lay on the ground scattered like dirt. I kept walking. Even funnier than the animals, the way the plants had adapted was simply magnificent. Not one plant wasn''t on the way toward intelligence, and a few were able to move around enough to become carnivores. Between rocks, all through crevices, a strange black weed grew. However, when I picked it up, I almost sneezed. Packed into that small handful of weed was enough power to crush a hill. This weed had first been made by several spirits, however, the unstable and thick concentration of power had warped and twisted it, creating something wonderful and horrible at the same time. I put down the plant, and continued to walk. I stopped at the site of yet another skirmish, and sat on a couple of piled corpses. I had grown tired of having to warm my blood myself, so I reverted to my divine form. Behind a stone, I heard a squeak. I lifted the rock with a thought, and hiding behind it was a spirit. The spirit seemed very afraid, and bowed very low. So low, in fact, that it phased slightly through the ground. "I-I''m very sorry to have spied on you, Divine One." I smiled bemusedly, and patted the air beside my seat in an unmistakable gesture. The shy spirit floated over to the area indicated, taking the smallest form possible. I sat, a proud figure blazing with divine power, next to a golf-ball sized wisp. One of the many amusing forms spirits could take. "Worry yourself not; I''m not interested in staying unknown, and I would enjoy the company, if you don''t have something pressing to attend to." It shifted briefly into a wide-eyed fish, as though wanting to scream out ''what could possibly be more pressing than you?'' It gained control of itself, and shifted into a wispy ribbon. "Of course, I would be deeply honored to simply bask in your presence." I frowned. This made the spirit change into a long string, and curl up behind another rock. I sighed and disintegrated the rock and said, "I''m just a bit proud that I can intimidate you, it''s really flattering, but if you would drop the whole, ''respect'' thing, I''d appreciate it. Not very good for making conversation, you know. " The spirit shifted into an eel, then wriggled with discomfort. "I don''t think I can..." I grinned, then lifted my hand. "I can always vaporize you." The spirit let out a small scream, then hurried to shift into a pigeon and ramble, "Of course! Anything you say, Divi-um, si-your gra-um-uh-" I smiled at the spirit, then grunted and stood up. "Come. Follow me." The spirit halted it''s speech, then started following me. "Uh, Divi-why me?" I walked liesurely, only bothering to dim my power, and answered the spirit. "If I had to say, it would be that I think you''re cute. That, and you''re the only non-divine I''ve met, and seeing as I hate all of them, you are very much preferable." The spirit changed into a bird with scales, and winged after me. "Cute? In what way?" I stepped up onto a large hill in the middle of a huge incline, and looked about myself. On all sides, the cold, warm-bloods, and spirits had gathered. They were all armed, and all seemed determined. Obviously, this would be the last battle. I took one last step onto the top of the hill, and spread my arms. Then I answered the spirit. "You don''t make me want to erase your molecules on sight. That''s more than I can say for anyone else." I was only being half-sarcastic.
Chapter 2 #2 -MF- Chapter 2 -7.6 billion years ago- "Hey dude, how''s the star coming along?" I looked up from the ball of light shining in my hands, and shrugged. "These things take time, Riencer. And I would prefer being called anything, even a nickname, over ''dude.''" He laughed and threw up his hands. "But your name is way too long and hard to pronounce! Besides, I call everyone dude." I sighed and covered the star with one hand, while reaching out and altering the paths of several hundred chunks of various elements flying through space. A nearby supernova that I''d helped along had formed all the substances needed for a planet that could support life, which is part of the reason me and the other two had chosen this place. "I understand that you''re informal by nature, and though that is part of why I can tolerate your presence, ''dude'' starts getting annoying by the 1472nd time." He chuckled and said, "I don''t think I''ve said it that much." I began to gather more hydrogen and carbon, putting it into the star and giving it a little jump-start with the nuclear reactions to speed up the process. Usually the star would be finished much, much sooner than the planets, but the other two were impatient. I''d had to do ridiculous things to get this star where it is, all the time trying to delay the other two. Still, I feel that this has been a learning experience. By utilizing some of the unique gases that few, if any, had ever seen before, I''d cut the usual time in half. I''d experimented on my own a little, and had been able to expand my elements table that now contained about 183 unique entries. One of the side effects of the particular gases I had used made the star quite a bit more radioactive, more volatile, and gave it an ethereal violet color. It would have a life much shorter than other stars, but I found the flaring violet beauty almost entrancing. Once this project was finished, perhaps I''d go somewhere and experiment more on my own. I wonder what kind of colors I could make, if I really tried? Replying to his comment, albeit after a short pause of about a half-million years, I said, "Yes, you did. I counted." I looked over at him, and although most divines found it hard to decipher the expressions of others in ethereal form, I could tell Riencer was holding back his laughter. I poked him and asked, "What is it?" He shook his head, which in this form basically meant his entire body of mist that spanned more than most galaxies, swirled and spun. "It''s just that you''re so absentminded. Even for a World-Maker, you think too much." For a second, (or rather, a couple hundred thousand years) I was speechless. It shouldn''t have hit me that hard, but it did. I shook myself, and tried to dislodge the uncomfortable feeling and change the subject. "Enough about me. How''re you? I know how draining your job can be." He cringed, and said helplessly, "It can''t be helped. I don''t have the technical genius of Aldious, nor your building prowess. For a useless jokster like myself, this is the most I can do." I hesitated, (sixty-thousand years) then took my hand away from the star and laid in on his ethereal shoulder. "Riencer, you underestimate yourself. You''re not a useless jokster. I know perhaps a half-dozen other gods brave enough to do what you are." He smiled belatedly. "You call it bravery, but really it''s boredom. The others are so fickle, they change every millennium, and are no fun to talk to. You two are the only ones I''ve found that actually care." I tightened my grip while saying, "I don''t wish to offend, but you''re a moron. Half the intelligence of a micro-organism is more than you can ever aspire to. If IQ were measured by light yours would be negative black-hole. Sometimes I look at you and wonder how you''ve remembered how to make sounds with your voice, and others I wonder how you haven''t sucked the entire universe into that endless cavern you call a cranium. Now, I think-" He grabbed the hand touching him, wincing and speaking hurriedly, "Alright, alright, I get it. You don''t have to be hurtful...I''ll stop calling you dude, if you''ll let go." I gripped harder. "Riencer, you didn''t let me finish. Now, I think you''re the most decent person I''ve ever met. I say person and not divine, because comparing you to the gibbering pit of worms known as gods would be a worse insult than all the ones before. Do you not understand my respect for you?" He now had both hands on mine, and was frantically pulling. "Okay! I get it! I love you too man, just please let go!" I gripped harder still. "I know the sacrifice you''re making. What you''re doing is the most important part of this, yet the vast majority of divines, myself included, are terrified of the commitment. I only pray that the souls will all have your temperament." He jerked back and forth with frantic panic and screamed, "I''m glad you feel that way and appreciate me, but please for the love of all this is divine, stop crushing me!" I let go, then looked closely. It seems I had grabbed him a bit too hard..."I''m, very sorry...I seem to have made a fool of myself. If I can do something to apologize...?" He rubbed where I''d made a dent in his form muttering, "Jeez, if you can crush a god in your hand, why is it taking you so long to make a star...? And what could you do for me?" I bowed my head, though I doubted he was able to pick up the gesture in my swirling mist. "Anything. Less, and I would be insulting our friendship." He grinned. The expression was so wide it spanned the breadth of my vision, a gigantic crescent floating in the empty space. "Anything, hmm...?" I regretted the phrasing of my words. Still, I was satisfied with the meaning. I''d said them on instinct, or "from the heart" if I were to have organs, and I felt glad to feel this way. "Anything within my power, that is. Especially if it''s against the law." Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. He grinned wider. "Then, from now on, you will no longer complain when I call you ''dude.''" I let my head fall in defeat. I''d been outsmarted. "As you wish. I hope you''ll be grateful-" He held a finger up, a solitary spout in an ocean of waves. "I''m not finished! From now on, not only will you not complain when I address you as I wish, but you will also refer to me as, ''dude.'' Capisce?" I felt as if my entire being were filled with the essence of defeat. If I''d had knees, I would have fallen to them. "A...as...you...wish...d...d...du...dud...dude." He laughed, then turned and started to leave. He stopped for a second, (two-hundred-thousand years) then said as an afterthought, "By the way, your star is melting." I looked back to my star, and it had indeed started to fall in on itself. I began to correct it in minute adjustments. Oh for leafs'' sake, this was going to add a half-billion years to the schedule. But then a thought came to mind. I toyed with the star, pushing it around in my hands, feeling the heat and shape. "...think too much...if you can crush a god...why is it taking you so long..." I took the star into the palm of my hand, then ripped the gases I wanted from wherever I wanted. I looked down on other divines who threw their power around like a right, and spit on patience. I''d unconsciously started to hate my own power, as well. I hated the others arrogance, their habit of looking down on others, and most of all I''d hated how they hated people who thought differently from them. I guess that makes me a hypocrite. Doing this will make me twice a hypocrite. Do I care? ... I looked up my internal calendar, then crossed out the date I''d originally set. I went a billion years from now, and put down three lines crossing, in the shape of a star. I may be a horrible person for doing this, but if I have all this power, why shouldn''t I use it? They called me ''Gulfriek-Eanter,'' for a reason, after all.
-Present- I admit that I''m irritable. I allow that I may have a short temper. I may be a bit impulsive. But, if three lefts make a right, maybe by doing this I''ll be a hypocrite three times over, and it''ll cancel out. I''m god, if I can''t make up logic, who can? Living organisms are oh so fragile. They split like paper, and live for blinks. Just reversing the flow of their bloodstream kills them, and damage a few cells and they''ll die with a vengeance. Or, that''s what other divines see them as. I know they''re different. I know something other gods, ignorant gods, stupid gods, never bothered to find out. Rock, fire, ice, animals, planets, they''re all the same. You just need to look closely. Surrounding me where four living, breathing species, one of which was cold-blooded. Thirteen sub-species of spirits hovered above. They all looked so different, on the outside. Let''s go deeper. Hmm, muscle, bone, blood, scales, skin, spirit. Still too different. Let''s go deeper. Let''s see, cells, cells, lots of cells, and-oh, spirit cells. I guess they''re a bit more different than usual. Let''s go deeper, shall we? Ah, here is where all the differences are. Carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, iron, to name a few. Now the spirits were just Coldfrean, Jelfrex, and Neorin. Or, as I knew them, numbers 134, 156, and 173. Along with a healthy dose of magic. I almost swore at that, but I knew that magic was integral. Without it, these elements would never have combined. Jelfrex and Neorin were like oil and water, Coldfrean and Jelfrex should be making a highly poisonus gas, and Coldfrean and Neorin should be creating a nuclear reaction right about now. So, as much as I dislike it, I''ll have to leave the magic in. So troublesome...but, it isn''t a baseball game without a few curve balls, is it? Doing this one-by-one would take too long, so I just stripped all the souls of their atoms, and rooted them in place. That way, I can make an accurate number when I''m finished. The spirit yelled, as all of the living beings around us suddenly disappeared. To the spirit, all of them had just been vaporized and left with only their souls, rooted in place. The spirit couldn''t see atoms, after all. To my eyes, however, I saw stars. An endless myriad of lights, made up of smaller lights orbiting clusters of light. Now comes the fun part. I spent perhaps a hundred years deciding, then o.ooo2 seconds arranging all of the atoms in a formation that pleased me. I then infused every atom with magic. A little overkill, but hey, I''ve never used magic before. I have to admit, it''s kinda fun to not worry about what makes what explode and whatnot. Magic sure can solve short-term problems. Well, I say short term, but in reality it will take longer for the elements to become unstable and cause extinction than it will take for my star to die. So, all in all, no real downsides. I nodded my head, satisfied, then attached the bodies to the souls, and left. I''d started with four-thousand-three-hundred-and-five souls with bodies, and I left four-thousand-three-hundred-and-four souls with bodies. I doubt there will be any noticeable repercussions.
AN: School was ten years ago for me. I don''t do planet-science for a living, made obvious by my not knowing the science-y term for that, so anything I got wrong was merely due to ignorance. I expect all of you to correct me, hopefully with hurtful comments. Just cause'' I''m an S doesn''t mean I can''t enjoy a little pain now and then. :3 #2 -MF- Chapter 3 AN:...Golfriek dammit j0nn0. This is all your fault. AHHHH! THIS IS SUPPOSED TO HELP ME STOP WRITING! STOP ENCOURAGING ME! Ever since I wrote the second, I''ve started to tell myself the story of my insomniac god. Hey, wanna know how far I got? Wanna take a wild guess? Take a shot in the dark? I''ll just wait till'' next chappy, and then tell ya. Maybe you''ll repent of your sins? I LEAFING STARTED PLANNING THIS MANURE! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!? HUH!? *sniffle*...y u do dis...*sniff*
"Hmahmhmmhm..." It''s been a while since I''ve hummed to myself. I can''t quite recall the tune, but it must have been quite a fierce one. Still, I got the feeling I was forgetting something important... "you mother...I''ll take your...shove it up...strangle...gut... I feel like something is buzzing in the back of my head. Must be the use of power. Amazing how much only a few million years could dull a gods'' skill. Sure, I may have forgotten to line up a few of the...okay, a lot of the key atoms, but they''ll still be able to breathe, so what''s the problem? ...are you even...listen you...stick it up you... Ah, I must admit one thing. After spending so much time working on inanimate objects, dealing with things that still have to work after you''re finished is strange. Usually the things I work on only need to explode or be radioactive. Huh, maybe I accidentally...? No, no, I''m certain I wouldn''t be that absentminded... Maybe I should check? I mean, if I did, it may wipe out life on the planet... ...would that be a bad thing? I suddenly realized I didn''t know. Well, I have time...might as well tour my planet. Aldious may have planned and executed the cell pool, making life actually begin, but I''d been the one to mold the core and entice nearby sources of water to crash land on my oh-so lovely ball of magma. Even if I complained that it was tedious going through it every time, I must admit I enjoy the rain for birthing a planet. I like picking out the patterns of rain, and seeing if I can spot identical drops. Still, even after watching tens of thousands of showers, I hadn''t found two drops that were exactly alike. Hah...things always end too quickly. It''s a pain being there to see them, and even more of a pain watching them end. Though...sometimes, if the ending has a big enough bang, I like to stick around and watch. I wonder what color my modified star will make when it dies? I lazily went spinning around the planet. Making a quick count, there were seventeen continents, and hundreds of islands. It seems I was very enthusiastic when making this one, and made it quite a bit larger than most. Well, the only difference is gravity. Living things seem to have adapted, so no harm done. Still, to imagine walking all the way around it, I had to shiver a little. I''m glad something like legs aren''t necessary for divines. Let''s see...many warm bloods, and, what''s this? The cold-bloods have split up, and although small traces of each other can be found, the number of cold-bloods has increased to a number near twenty. Simply amazing, the effects of environment on organisms. I guess at first, the cold-bloods were limited to only a few, select ecosystems where survival was possible, but after some ingunity and evolution, they''ve spread out a bit. Strange, usually new species would begin at the start, and would only shrink. This world is definitely an interesting one. Let''s see...one, two, forty-eight gods, eh? An unusually high number. But, since there are three main continents with brothers nearby, it seems they''ve been divided around. Let''s see, three clusters of four-five continents, each with thirteen or more gods. Then, for the remaining two landmasses, excluding the place of my anger, a split of seven and two. Everywhere I looked, civilization was just taking solid shape. Taking iron and copper, building with stone, bending the rivers. I''m surprised. Most of the time magic-infested planets took many times longer to develop to this stage, as they relied heavily on their unnatural gifts. Looking around... I''m proud. The mood is pleasant, and progress is like a comforting slide. Seeing all of these young happy divines, I think it would be rude to spoil their fun just because of one thing I disliked. My heart must be softening with age...I''ve become so compassionate, I can barely associate what I was like before with the me of the now. May as well check up on my project. I hope nothing exploded yet... This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. When I returned, I had to frown. I also noticed something had been following me for quite a while now. "You! Almighty-whoever, what the heck are you doing!" yelled a very small, very irate, and somehow endearing spirit. The form of a young bull snorting seemed to be its'' favored form at the moment. I gave a courteous flick of the eyes, then replied. "Why, my young troublemaker, I''m touring around the planet. Care to tell me what you''re doing, spying on me?" The spirit turned into a pufferfish, ballooning a few times in a therapeutic way. "Spying?! Spying?! I''ve been helpless while you took me for a joyride, for what felt like years, I might add." I chuckled, and waved my hand indifferently. "Only a decade. Quite fast, I might say. Still, it troubles me that you hitched yourself a ride on me. Even if your puny existence is so little I only now noticed you, it''s rude to make someone carry you without permission." The spirit turned into a drooling dog, making the spluttering and stuttering much more amusing. "Permission? Puny? Decade? You..." I lifted the mist equivalent of an eyebrow. "Care to finish that, pup?" I believe making myself pulse with the power I contain usually intimidates things. I tried it out to satisfying results. The spirit became the smallest insect known on this planet, as large as a grain of dirt. Impressive, I would praise Aldious, had he remained. "Uh, no, your uh, m-magnificence..." As much as I dislike groveling and scraping, a certain amount of formality is required for decent communication. Otherwise, I''d just point and grunt whenever I wanted to say something. Still, I enjoy the use of words and vocabulary. Insults were oh-so much better when the person you mocked couldn''t tell what you were saying. "Good. Now, since it appears I was in the wrong, I''ll grant you godhood and we can call it even." It was silent, and seemed to think I was lying. "Um, I don''t think you can just hand out godhood...and how would that make us even?" I shrugged. Quite a large movement, considering my misty form. "Who are you to say what I can and cannot do, and as for your second question...huh? I actually don''t know...Whatever, just take your almighty power and go bug someone else." I waved my hand, made the spirit a divine, then turned away. The second I turned my head, the spirit-turned-divine plummeted to earth in the middle of an ocean, and caused massive tidal waves capable of destroying civilizations whole. For a long moment, I considered just letting it happen. But...haaaaaah...I guess this is what you call taking responsibility. Manipulating a few ocean currents, I dissipated the tidal wave until it was just another gentle wave lapping at the shore. Reaching out, I picked up the new divine and held it at arms length, afraid it would infect me with stupid. It was panicked, and spasmed like it was trying to change form. So flighty, this thing. "Hey, calm down. I''m gonna ask you a question now, got it?" It nodded, unable to get words out. I shook it a little, then let it float. "I''ll only ask this once. Do you want to be a divine?" It franticly shook it''s head, probably unable to speak. I sighed, shook my head, then took back the power, leaving only a small spirit. It gasped, then changed into a turtle. "You...you''re a bit of an idiot, aren''t you?" I thought a bit, pieced all the information together, then nodded. "Yep. Other than makin stuff and movin stuff, I''m pretty much useless. Isn''t everyone bad at knowing when doing something will make bad things happen?" The spirit became vaguely humanoid, then face-palmed. "...I get the feeling you''re going to cause me no end of trouble. I''m stuck with you, huh?" "What''s so bad about that?" I waited, but even though the spirit didn''t say anything, I got the message. Well, whatever. I can''t be the only one who''s almost destroyed all of civilization by accident. Twice. ...Right...?
Chapters in order up till 5 #2 -MF- Chapter 4 AN: I did it again...as I was wrapping up the chapter, I clicked on a bookmark and lost all my progress. ... Still not gonna take precautions, cause eff typing out this anywhere else. Besides, I never write the same chapter twice. This will be better(worse?) than what I would have posted, so it could be a blessing(curse?) in disguise...? Meh, I''ll just make this short and move on.
I returned to the place of my anger, and dropped off the spirit. Honestly, It would have been amusing to talk more, but I get the feeling It wouldn''t end well. (for example, what actually happened in the chapter I did(n''t) write.) I took a step back, (metaphorically) and had a good look at what I''d created. Ash, rock, magma, carnivorous plants, animals with magic, and a couple other nasty surprises for the natives, once they''d developed the technology. ...maybe I''ll stick around for a bit. It''s been a while since I''ve actually watched a group of mortals do something. I wonder why other divines are so obsessed with letting mortals do things themselves, so obsessed even, that they made a law on it. I took a seat (metaphorically) and settled down to watch the progress of what I''d made. If I was the prideful sort of person, which I am not, I would be getting quite a big head right about now. I mean, who besides the great me could do something so amazing? With the skill of a thousand artists I''d crafted a race of perfect beings that could eclipse most divines. But, if the creator is that good, the creation can''t help but be revolutionary. *Sigh* it''s hard being perfect. I mean, sure, they might be a little unstable, and a little varied, and maybe they''re sorta trying to kill each other even though they''re all the same, and although a few, okay a lot, have gone insane, they''re still pretty much great, right? ...In my defense, this is my first time making a species. I''d started off with the regular two-arms two-legs one-head, but then I thought that was kinda boring, so I gave some four arms, or sixteen legs, or a couple more heads, or other parts, or maybe some other stuff... Okay, I admit it. I took pretty much everything and mashed it all together. Does it look cool? ...sorta. Does it work? ...Hah, I''m going to have to do something, huh? Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. So far they''d started to separate into groups, which is no good. They were, although varied, all basically the same. They could all reproduce with each other, so shouldn''t that make them more accepting? ...looks like that was a mistake. I''d been gone for less than a century, and already seventeen different factions had broken out. Well, I say ''faction'' but they''re more like tribes. Scattered, broken, warring...at this rate, the day another race begins colonizing, is the day this island becomes property of someone else. After spending some time on it, I take offense to that. Once again, I went down to this island I''d broken on accident, where I''d ruined four species on accident, and decided to talk with them. Just asking what they wanted had worked with the spirit, maybe it''ll work this time too? They trembled when I approached, and meekly followed when I gathered them all together. Then, I asked them if they wanted to return to killing each other to extinction. Some arguments, a lot of shouting, a little bloodshed, but in the end we came to a consensus. I wanted to make them interesting, so they would let me add things that didn''t change their basic shape too much. They wanted differences from each other, so I obliged. A hundred years wasn''t that long, but already they seem to have developed comradery with each other, and had gotten some attachment to a few of their less troubling features. Sadly, most of them returned to two-armed two-legged and one-headed beings, although with some fun add-ons. Then, I told them very stern-like, that I would appreciate them stopping the bloodshed. Well, I admitted that a little was alright, but no more genocide. Only I''m allowed to kill an entire civilization and it''s way of life, accidental or not. I made the requested changes, made a few changes to the land, then left. Rules be mushroomed, I''ll do what I want, when I want. If any of the divines complain I''ll plead the fifth. Still, I''m going to be watching what these organisms do. I''m feeling too lazy to create something right now, so I''ll just watch someone else make something of worth for once... I wonder where that spirit went? I kinda want to have another conversation... #1 -LEL- Chapter 2 AN: For those who don''t value sanity. Spoiler : Have you ever felt as if you''re pressured from inside, an unbearable need to...let something out? Well, today I had a wonderful conversation. During the conversation, I spoke of the insane pleasure I have from violence. I spoke of cutting, snapping, breaking, twisting, blood spatters...ho, better stop, I''m getting...you know...(¡ä¡«£à©d) Anyway, that isn''t really too much out of character, so it isn''t much to type about. Next, however, I spoke of my friends (imaginary) and the voices that speak to me that no one else can hear. You see? I got it out, and I feel good about it. Even if I can''t actually cut someone open, I can at least imagine it...in vivid detail...with lots of sound effects...and maybe a little touching... NO! Snap out of it! Anyway, before I type something that''s going to get me banned/arrested, I''ll get on with it. "The Feline Faction" was born of a whim, an idea I had and wrote down. It had an emotionless killer and smaller, more innocent person who could become an emotionless killer. Then, I kept going. Oh, those days were bliss...I wrote of blood and slaughter, and for some reason people praised me for it. Crazy, right? Then, the story tied me down, and I captured myself with the plot. I swore that day... Never again! From now on, plot will be random and unnecessary! Yet I still managed to rope myself down, though I''m still progressing, and should be able to write the next chapter of lich pretty soon. So, now I will make another oath... Here, in this thread, I will do as I like because I like it! And what I like is blood everywhere! PRAISE BE WOODEN! HAHAhAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhAHA*cough cough*pscyopath*cough cough*HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! For those who care what I think.(LOL! As IF! I''m hilarious, aren''t I?) Spoiler : This is LEL. When I started, it was meant to be the story of a boy who did what was right for the right reasons. Soon, he''d be doing what was right because it was right, but his methods would be questioned. Still, results change opinions. Slowly, he would slip. Eventually, he''d be doing the wrong things for the right reasons. Justification is all adjective, so who can say what is right and wrong? Certainly not anyone else. I do what is right. I accomplish the goal. I am justice, right, and light. The gods ally with me, and I represent their will. I am perfect. I am righteous. I am the law. Justice is mine, and so is everything else. But, I''m far too impatient for that, so instead I''ll just bastardize this entire fiction and make it one blood-soaked hell, where I can dispose of my unhealthy obsession. As I said in the description, I do not recommend reading this. After all, it''s just me letting out my violent tendencies. Which reminds me of a song...time to start writing. :) BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD! HOOOOOOOOO! Warning: Regular profanity incoming, as well as increased bloodshed. Is it important to the story? The plot? The characters? ...don''t ask questions you know the answer to. Now, I''ll just write this, and if you want pain, go and read it. Masochist. I mean, seriously, what the heck is up with those people? Well, even if I don''t understand them, I still appreciate them. As a sadist, they make dishing out pain a lot more guilt-free. So thank you, you weird sickos...yours is my favorite fetish to satisfy. ^^
Naturally, I was expelled from the order. As I packed my few belongings, putting a portrait my mother had drawn of my father into a pocket I''d asked one of the other acolytes to sew into my shirt. Even if they wouldn''t openly back me up, some of the more courageous acolytes would do me little favors, here and there. Still... Just breaking a few bones and leaving didn''t seem like enough to repay my tormentor for all of the times I''d bent my back to take his blows. I tried to convince myself of my own rightous reasoning for what I was about to do, but deep down I know that what I''ll do is not strictly good. But, for the safety of my fellow acolytes, even if they have not done anything to gain my favor...I still love them, as my brothers and sisters of the order. And family sticks together, no matter what. Even the bully is my family, my brother. But, it is also the duty of the brother to discipline their sibling when the parents dare not intervene. I stopped in front of the infirmary doors, and nodded to the two guards standing guard outside. Not a part of the order, they were common folk like me, but not as talented or fortunate. From six months ago, I''d played cards with them, and they''d welcomed me even if I hadn''t been willing to wager with them. I know gambling isn''t bad, but I don''t wish to develop the habit. Their backs were straighter, and they didn''t look at my eyes. I smiled, put a hand on both shoulders. "My friends...sadly, we cannot spend more time together. I enjoyed your company, and although your tales were often too lewd for my taste, they were amusing all the same. I cannot carry all that I own, as I must travel light. Consider this a...gift." I passed them a cerimonial sword, my mark of the order. I should technically have gone to the master and returned the sword, but he would not miss a decoration. The sword would sell for quite a bit, and for that I was happy. I had little of worth to give to my friends, but I''m glad I at least have something worthwhile to give. "Friendship is a weighted scale. Even if it stays tipped one way for a long time, make sure to balance it out. Relationships can be more valuable than gold or steel, in many situations." They seemed shocked, and Fred tried to refuse, stating that it was too much. I shook my head, remaining in my bowed position with the blade held out. George slowly reached out and took it reverently, and I nodded once more before opening the door and entering. I would miss these two, and they will definitely forget all about me, but I will remember them. They were two lights in an endless abyss of depression. I had too much pride for suicide, but they stopped me from indulging in...unsavory habits. I''d always been bad with small animals. Five young men lay stretched out on bleached white sheets. No one tended to them at the moment, mostly because I''d arranged it that way. I approached on bed, and sat down. I gently caressed the cheek of my tormenter, and embraced him tightly. He awoke, confused at first, but then quick to let the beginning of a scream escape his lips. Before he could rouse the others, I took the pillow that was around his head and wrapped his face in it, stealing away his air and muffling the scream. I continued to press until his struggles started to wane, and then stopped suffocating him. I carefully laid his head back onto his pillow, then kept one hand pressed to his throat and a finger to my lips while Shushing him. He was afraid, but I crooned softly, "Do not be alarmed, brother dear. I have not come to kill you, although that would solve the dilemma that currently troubles me. But, if you end up uncooperative, I may have to do something quite wicked..." He started whimpering, so I brushed his hair back and wiped away the sweat on his forehead. "Shh,shh, it''s okay. As long as you do as I wish, then everything will turn out alright, and everyone is happy. Even though you hurt me, taunted me, isolated me, and made my life a living hell, I understand that this was all a trial to test my faithfulness, as is my current misfortune. I do not blame you for ratting me out, but in exchange for my malevolence, I want you to do a couple things for me..." He cried the whole time, but I wiped his tears and left with another kiss on his forehead. I waved goodbye as I left, and he immediately curled up and began to sob. I know it is shameful, but I took some guilty pleasure in his pain. I softened my heart, and took this as a lesson to not judge those who bully the weak too quickly, for now I can empathize with them, and better judge and forgive them of their sins. I gave both the guards a firm handshake, then walked out of the door of our abbey while feeling like skipping. I felt a rush of energy, a burst of adrenaline, a feeling of leaving behind the shackles of youth, and becoming my own man. For half a year, I''d trained in the knightly arts. Although I diligently worked in my studies of courtesy and manners, I found myself invariably drawn, and talented, in martial practice. Though my peers were all young, hardy men like me, I found them to be poor opponents. My drill master had first been shocked, then proud, and finally resigned, when I beat him twenty-six to nome, without breaking a sweat. Likewise, our strategy instructor was shocked when I crushed him in a game of wits, and then embarrassed when I carefully instructed him on my use of his openings. It had been winter when I arrived, but I left in the heart of summer. I walked a road built with rock and dirt, the sun on my back and the wind in my legs. For the first week I ran full-pelt, only taking short breaks, but I soon slowed down so as to enjoy nature. God had given the wild as a gift to Humanity, and if his chosen soldiers did not appreciate it, who would? A group of seven scraggily men kindly asked me to give them my possessions, but as I did not have anything to give, I regrettably stated that I could not do anything for them. When they attacked me, I was at somewhat of a loss to do with a half-dozen unconscious men. They were undoubtedly breaking the law, and although it pained me to instill punishment, if I did not, who would? They should not be killed simply because they were forced into unsavory circumstances, but if I did not do something permanent, then there would be no meaning to it. When they awoke, I peeled the skin off of each of their hands, from wrist to fingertip, so they would no longer be tempted to stick them in others'' pockets. It was not permanent, but it would last a long time. I admonished them to become honest fellows, and repent of their sins, then left them tied together by the wrist. They became scared of trying to free themselves after the first couple instances of rope burn on uncovered flesh, and waited meekly for me to inform the local peacekeepers of their position. Within half a day, they were safely in prison and prepared to repent, and I visited and gave each of them a blessing of endurance, so that they could become closer to god in their captivity, and repent of their sins by doing just and honest things. I attempted to find good, honest labor in the large town/small city, but unfortunately there were many other hands, more experienced and more willing to work cheaply, as was the case with the locals. I regrettably resigned myself to the fact that life was a hard mistress, but found new faith after spending the night in solemn prayer at the church. I begged Ienfrete, as is his most holy of names that may only be used in faithful, personal communion, for the opportunity to prove myself to my new neighbors, and when morning came after my six hours of earnest prayer, I was politely asked by the priest to let others use the alter. I blessed him for his patience, and left a donation of all that remained of my liquid assets, and left. When I stepped out onto a street that smelled of garbage and refuse, with people yelling and hurrying without a look at each other, I suddenly felt an overwhelming amount of love for each and every one of these people. I embraced everyone I met and blessed them, but I''m afraid I offended someone, as he and several of his friends begin to push me around. I waited until they had led me into a dark alley, and then lovingly taught them about humility and the dangers of uninformed pride. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. I considered leaving them something to remember me by, but instead effortlessly brought them down without causing injury, all the while with a smile full of love and forgiveness to soften my blows. In my dealings with people, I had found that frowning had it''s uses, but for most situations, a smile could represent everything I needed to show. I blessed each of them as they woke up, and then said farewell as they fled from me. For a long while, I continued to wander the streets of this city whose name I knew not, spreading gods'' love and mercy to all I could. When night fell, I wearily rested in the middle of the street. Since I loved and understood all of my neighbors, I knew that falling asleep would mean a quicker reunion with my god, and although the very thought warmed my soul, I knew that god did not welcome those who fled to him. So, I sat in the center of the main avenue, and meditated. I thought I heard a voice many times, but each time I reached out, the sound receded, and I was forced to return myself to a state of peace. I so wanted to hear the voice, to let it envelope my whole being, but... ...as I expected, a welcoming group arrived and surrounded me. I slowly got to my feet, refreshed from the rest, and smiled a bright good-middle-of-the-night. They wore masks, and carried knifes, sticks, clubs, and even a few swords. I let my arms spread out, as if to embrace all of them and spoke in a quiet voice that still managed to echo down the whole of the avenue. "Woe is me, oh ye lost lambs of faith. Forget your wicked and foolish resentment, and join me in repentance." A large, bear-like man stood in front of me and spoke in a deep voice, "I''m afraid not, pilgrim. Tell me, before you go to meet your god, what is your name?" I smiled even wider, and opened my arms as wide as my heart. "You are well-spoken for one so crude. If you must know this penitent follower of gods'' name, then I shall let you hear it. "In the land of my father, I was known as Con, but ever since the order bestowed a knew name upon me, I''ve been known as Cyscon. Please, I beg of you, if you value your life at all, leave this place. "I cannot bring my unworthy heart to forgive those who seek to kill in cold blood, and though I pray it was not so, I am hot-blooded, as well as thirsty. I pray, do not let me drink." He said no words, but ordered his men foreward. I bowed my head to the ground, falling to my knees, and prayed with all my heart- Men raised weapons to strike from all around, and their lust for blood choked me. I offered my most fervent prayer yet, screaming out with my voice what my soul could not. "God whom I love and fear above all else, bless your unworthy follower with the strength to carry your burdens." A shockwave of pure white energy blasted the men apart, and I stood up from my knees, my skin shining with the light of the lord, my body pulsing with his divine strength, and offered, not a prayer... But, a simple entreaty. "Forgive me god, for I know not mercy." I spin toward the man who asked my name, and decapitate him with my foot. The strength leaves my body, the prayer having run out. I retreat several steps, fending off those who follow after me. My faith will take a minute to return, so in that time the safest thing to do would be to carefully defend and avoid injury. Oh, lord in heaven, I want to rip their heads off so much it hurts. A thug oversteps his companions and stumbles when I deflect his attack. I grab his wrist and pull it behind his back, forcing it up his back high enough to cause pain. He swings around, his back facing me, his front toward his fellows. He holds a knife, which I grab, and then lay against the artery in his neck. So easy to let my hand slip. I tilt my hostages head up, so that the spray blinds his two compatriots. I discard his body and step forward, sinking the blade up to the hilt in the left ones'' heart. I grab the others'' head, step behind him, then circle my hands around to his chin. Like spinning a top, I force his neck around and around, until it cracks. Maybe even more after it cracks. I feel a burning pain in my kidney, and stumble from the pain. I whirl the body around to block the storm of clubs and knives that stab and crash into the body taking my place. Shoving the body forward to buy some time, I take a few more retreating steps, and hold my hand over my wound. "Merciful and loving lord, grant me the healing that will allow me to stand before your enemies." The skin pulls together and the bleeding stops, but I''m not skilled enough at healing to fully recover. This wound, left alone, will still kill me if I do not get it treated. For now, however, I can still fight. Seven thugs left..I feel as though I should be afraid. I will probably die, but if it is for my god...I will happily die drenched in my foes'' blood. They come from my left and right, one with a sword, the other with a club. I step to my left and sidestep the club, breaking his arm then hitting his ribs and taking the club, then smashing it across his chin. I step foreward, but am still cut across the back by the sword-thug. I turn and back-hand the thug who cut me, hearing a snap from his spine as I do so. I let go of the club with my left, and grab the sword as it slips through his fingers. Five left, circling me and eyeing the dripping sword and misshapen club, dented from hitting skulls. They nod silently to each other, then attack as one. I leap to the right, giving myself a half-second before the other three come swinging. Two to deal with. I break the club over ones'' head, and give the other a cut on the arm as they dodge. I continue to dodge around to the right, the dazed thug turned toward me, and I swing the sword in a shining arc, followed by a spray of red. I stand and let myself be drenched, and let the body fall, as the other four regroup. I stand with a blood-covered sword, blinking red out of my eyes. I breathe heavily, the wound in my side beginning to push through the adrenaline. I gasp and let go of my sword with one hand, holding my side as the wound reopens and fresh blood seeps from my side. The four warily fall back to observe me, and one elbows the others and motions to their daggers. They laugh, retreat a couple steps, and take out their knives. They stand in a line, and bring the knives up by their heads. It takes all I have to stand. When I step toward them, they back away, and I see the burning hatred in their eyes. They will see me dead, but instead of doing so with their own hands, they''ll let me bleed out. To die such a death... Shameful. Our fight has made quite a commotion, and some people are peeking out from behind doors. I look at them, hopeful that perhaps someone will assist- I hear a rush of air, and only an agonized lurch lets the daggers miss my throat and heart, and instead hit my shoulder, stomach, and one bounce off my hip bone. The other misses completely and clatters into the street. I gasp and fall to my knees once more, the sword still clenched in my numb fingers. To die from a bunch of thugs...? A couple street rats...? Such people should be below me. Why should I bleed and die while they laugh from afar? I''d hoped to frighten them by decapitating their leader, but instead I''d only enraged them...I guess, even in my blood-filled head, I still have some mercy. I had, after all, not used the prayer I was most proficient at. Tightening my hand around the cheap sword, until the worn leather rubbed blisters against my palm, I offered the prayer I had offered countless times, and that which had always been answered. "God, Lord of Justice, grant me the speed to fulfill thine will." Perhaps because it was direct. Perhaps because it felt close to my heart. Maybe by random chance. This prayer was the one that I was first taught, the one that confirmed all my faith in god. It was a simple prayer, anyone could perform it. But no one as well as I. I stood up, walked up to the four thugs, then slashed all four throats in one swing, as I made full use of my bodyweight. I smiled, and looked up as the prayer ended. They had flinched when I cut them. But only when my prayer wore off did they start to bleed. I fell to my knees beside their bodies, and panted. They were fools. I was lucky. Instead of finishing me off quickly, they''d stepped back and given me time to let my faith return. If anyone of the knives had hit a lung, or my heart, or an artery... Even as my lips trembled and my body was wracked with coughs, blood ejaculating from my throat, I offered a prayer of thanks. Suddenly, I felt ashamed to die on my knees. I stood up, then coughed some more. I had little chance of living. My faith returned, and I healed myself, concentrating on the bleeding. I looked to the sides of the street, and felt saddened that not one tried to help me. I dragged the eleven bodies into a square, then lay them flat on their backs. I may have hacked some blood onto them, but I don''t think they minded. My faith returned, and stopped my stomach from bleeding. I rifled through their pockets until I''d gotten several coins. It didn''t matter what kind, but I took their hands one by one, enclosed a coin in them, then placed the metal covered by the hand on their lips and closed their eyes. Except for the one without the head, if you ignored the cuts and blood, it almost seemed like they were praying. I healed myself again, just out of habit at this point. Now that I had paid proper respect to the dead, dying didn''t seem...so...shameful... ...anymore... ... ...Such nice voice. I wonder what it''s saying? I should concentrate...I healed myself, then pinched myself in an attempt to wake up. I was so numb, I couldn''t tell if I''d actually pinched myself, but at least I opened my eyes. The sun was sitting above me. Huh, it''d been several hours, hadn''t it? I looked down at myself. I''d fallen asleep standing up, my hand over my stomach. Although covered in blood, none of it was less than an hour old. I felt my wounds, and although still there, i wasn''t going to die. I placed a hand over my beating heart, and wondered what in gods'' name happened. ...had I sleep-healed myself? I laughed out loud at that. It made sense. My teacher had always said that faith returned faster when the mind was at peace, so priests and healers would sleep a lot, whenever they weren''t meditating. My healing instructor had said she would drill me until I could heal in my sleep, but I didn''t take that literally... I continued laughing, and healing, and began to stumble down the road. I still had no work, and I was starving. I had a few left over coins, and I''m sure that my neighbors'' wouldn''t mind me using their money. Usually people charged for funerals anyway. I had barely survived, by a hair. It would take at least a full day before I could hobble, a couple before I could run, and much longer before I was back to normal. I''d better find someplace peaceful, and take a much-needed break from loving my fellow man. I admit, their love is too much for me right now. Next time, instead of letting myself almost die... ...I think I''ll just kill all of them. #1 -LEL- Chapter 3 I stood in front of a board filled with faces, and wondered idly, "Human life seems to get cheaper and cheaper every time I care to look..." I was favoring my right leg, as I still had some slightly damaged flesh on my hip. I''d been able to almost completely heal my kidney, enough that it''ll fix itself with time, and I''d stopped most-well, some of the bleeding from my shoulder and back. Turns out I''d been hurt more than I thought-I can walk, but jogging would probably kill me faster than stabbing myself would. It''s been an entire week since I''ve come to this town, and I''ll I''d managed to get is scars. Well, and thirty-seven copper pennies that wouldn''t miss their dearly deceased owners. Though, only six remained after buying enough food to live. Times sure are hard... But, with the grace of god, nothing is impossible! I continued to browse the faces, wondering which one would be enough to get some bandages. They don''t even have to be clean, just not used. But, sadly, all of it was either too strenuous, or not worth enough. I''d always wondered why mercenaries and bounty-hunters always looked so glum and were so irritable, but after spending a week in their shoes, I think I''m already developing what my mother had always called-"The Scowl." I''d already scared off one or two groups of hooligans with it, so it wasn''t really a negative thing. Just made me not want to see my own reflection is all. I continued grumbling and examining illustrations of faces, wondering which ones could be taunted into coming to me, so I didn''t have to walk too far, when I heard a disturbance. I assumed The Scowl and turned, to see three bearded fellows harassing a clean-shaven fellow. I usually don''t concern myself with other peoples problems, unless they are righteous,(or donate a lot) but they were being loud, and my shoulder wound had opened up, and I was just having a bad day. "Hey." my voice is low, and somewhat gravelly from praying for seven days straight, and I scratch the beginnings of a beard. "Quiet down. Some people are trying to be productive members of society over here." They take offense to this, and two scoff while the other takes a few angry steps towards me. "Who t''fuck er you? I''m a bounty-hunter, boy, and in case you didn''t notice, I can cut you up and serve you fer breakfast!" I smiled. "Really? I''m simply dying to eat something, so how about you do just that?" I slump exaggeratedly on my walking stick, and pat my stomach. He scrunched his brow and wiped a hand on his vest. "Wait, are we talking about food? Or violence?" I hit myself with the staff, and question my choices in life that led to me dealing with idiots. "Oh, I don''t care anymore. Just harass more quietly, that''s all I''m asking." He shrugged, then turned away. I sighed and turned back to inspecting faces, until I hear a high-pitched yelp. "Hey! I thought you were helping me, are you just going to abandon me to these people?!" Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. I turn back, and hold up a finger. "If you really want help, then answer two questions." The clean-shaven fellow nods quickly. "Whatever you ask!" "One, do you believe in god and all of his mercy, may his divine name be spoken of in reverent whispers and victorious cries?" "Yes!" "Two, when was the last time you made a donation to the church?" "Um, uh, I think it was...maybe last...um..." I turned away, but the fellow cried out, "Wait! I''ll go make a donation right after this! Okay!?" I smile, a great, big, room-encompassing one, and spread my arms. "Oh, ye true believer, let this humble worshiper of god do a service for ye!" The bearded-idiot looked even more confused. "So wait, are we-" I hit him in the temple with my stick, then twirl it around my neck to catch it with my right hand and hit bearded-idiot #2 in the chin, before spinning and thrusting the end of the stick into bearded-idiot #3s'' stomach. One and two collapse, and number three hunches over on his knees and groans. I find the noise annoying, so I hit him in the back of the head to shut him up. I then smile at the beardless-not-idiot, and start heading towards the church while beckoning with my hand. The non-bearded fellow starts following me, but nervously points at my back and whispers, "Uh, thanks and all, but your back is sort of, I dunno, dripping, and was your shirt always red?" I reply, "I can''t remember. Does it matter?" The fellow nods several times saying, "I guess not..."
After watching a sad fellow dropping coins into a donations bowl next to a smiling priest, I begin to walk back to the board to contemplate how many people I''ll have to kill to get some bandages. The fellow hurries up to me and makes me stop. "Wait, I just wanted to ask...you seem kind of, lost, and I was thinking that I know stuff and you have a stick and maybe together we could-" "First, tell me your name. Then, promise me that by the end of today I''ll have something to stop the bleeding. Then, I''ll do whatever you want me to for one week. After that, we can negotiate. Deal?" "Oh! Okay, deal. My name is Ren, and I promise to get you some bandages! Oh, and what''s your name?" I grunt, then follow the energetic Ren. "Cyscon, but you can call me Cys, or Conny. Now, lead the way." Ren grinned, then started walking down the central avenue in the direction of the main road. "Sure thing, Cys!" Ren kept chattering on about this, and that, and some other stuff, but I was having trouble not fainting from blood-loss, so I didn''t really pay attention. Next thing I knew, I was tied up in a chair, upside down, hanging from a rope in the middle of an arena surrounded by spectators, with a gang-leader and a dozen buddies all howling for blood, and Ren smiling sadly down at me, a very full purse in hand. But, at least I had bandages. #1 -LEL- Chapter 4 i''m not new to being tied up. I don''t mean in a sexual sense, but my tormentor was quite fond of tying me up, hanging me from the ceiling, and hitting me with a stick until the, "Candy" came out. ... Huh, that sounds much more sexual than I thought it would after thinking it in-loud. In-loud, as in the opposite of out-loud, which is speaking, so I mean thinking, not speaking. ... It''s interesting the kinds of thought go through your head when your upside-down and in an arena-like pit. Very enlightening. ...*gate opens* It''s also interesting the thoughts you have when a very large dog-wolf-horse-thing stares at you while slobbering with saliva. You''d think I''d scream, since all the terror and all, but with all the blood in my body,(not very much, to be honest) rushing to my head, I''m starting to find it hard to think at all. In fact, I''m starting to see a tunnel with a bright light at the end, and suddenly that huge, slobbering mouth seems quite welcoming... ...*Crowd screams in delight as the dog-wolf-horse-thing stalks towards me* ... I look straight into that endless paradise of light, and for some reason... ....it makes me very, very, angry. "God whom I love and fear above all else, bless your unworthy follower with the strength to carry your burdens." I rip the ropes that bind me, and fall to the floor on my back. I stand up and hiss as the pain of my reopened hip, back, and shoulder hits me. On the bright-side, my kidney seems juuuuuust fine. The dog-wolf-horse-thing howls as I turn to face it, and I groan inwardly, and outwardly, as I look at it. The size of a horse, the fangs and claws of a wolf, and a hellish-black color, with a collar made of steel and broken dreams. At least it has adorable floppy ears. I get into a crouch, and wait for the dog-wolf-horse-thing to make its'' move. Without warning, it leaps the ten-feet between us, mouth wide open and fangs glistening. I roll forward under its'' belly, coming up behind it. As the beast lands with a roar, I reach up and grab its'' tail. I yank down as hard as I can, and the dog-wolf-horse-thing spins around and tosses me through the air. Not empty handed, however. I crash-land near the side of the arena, and wipe the sweat off my brow, then throw away the quickly disappearing tail. It vanishes into smoke and floats away, and I''m left with an angry, tailless, dog-wolf-horse-thing. Why couldn''t the tail take me with it? The beast howls, long and hard, then turns its'' red irises onto me. Then, it sprints with the speed of a stone falling through the air. I wait, then step to one side as the dog-wolf-horse-thing crashes into the wall of the arena with an earth-shaking crash. Not giving it a chance to recover, I jump onto its'' back, and take hold of the large, floppy ears. For half a minute, I scream for all I''m worth, and then the ears, too, come off with a gut-wrenching riiiip. The dog-wolf-horse-thing turns toward me, a cold, burning hatred that seeks to swallow the whole world, or at least me. This time, it stalks forward while carefully boxing me into a corner. I back off, waiting for god to show me a sign that he''s watching. ...*dog-wolf-horse-thing stalks closer.* Any time now... ...*The crowd screams in delight at my inevitable doom* Annnnnnnnnnny time.... ...*I can smell the dog-wolf-horse-things'' breath* If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ...Okay, I give up, I''m on my own. Mom never wanted a dog around the house. Guess now is the only time I''ll get to play with a, not quite dog, but a, dog-wolf-horse-thing. Good enough. "Come ere'' Poochie, papas'' got a hell''ve lot of childhood memories to make up for." I step into slashing distance, jump back and let the dog-wolf-horse-things'' claws graze my chest, then step forward while speaking each word like a sentence of death. "God whom I love and fear above all else, bless your unworthy follower with the strength to carry your burdens." Then I lifted my hand, and smacked the dog-wolf-horse-thing on the cheek. It flew three feet to the right, rolling over and over until coming to a stop on its'' side. For a couple seconds, all it can do is stay lying down. After a minute, it gets up and looks at where I was. I''m standing in front of it, and it can see the whites of my eyes. "Forgive me god, for I know not mercy." The dog-wolf-horse-thing whimpered.
I sat in a small, five-by-five-by-five cell, and chewed on bread that was probably older than me. From outside, I heard footsteps, and Ren came into view on the other side of my bars. For many moments, there was only awkward silence, then Ren spoke. "Um, about this...I''m really sorry, but chief said that I should find an unlucky sap and lure him here so that we could have a great gory show, and well, you were sorta the only one who doesn''t know about this..." I kept staring at the ceiling. Ren kept talking. "I''m really sorry, I know you helped out of the goodness of your heart, but, well, the worlds'' a hard place..." I said nothing. Ren was getting desperate. "Look, it''s your own fault you ended up here, okay?! I''m just doing my job! I know that other people matter, but it''s not like they matter more than me, right? So can you stop making me feel guilty!?" I blinked, then looked at Ren. "Oh. Hey there, sorry, I wasn''t paying attention. Blood-loss makes thinking very hard, you know, so could you just repeat what you sa-" "Fuck you! I''m glad you''re in here!" I stared open-mouthed, my hand on my chest in a hurt posture. "Why the hostility? Oh, and thanks for the bandages, by the way. You even got me shelter, and food! So, what do you want me to do next?" Ren stopped, then tried to talk but had to swallow. "What are you talking about? I sold you to an underground arena so you could die. Why are you asking me what I want?" I put my hand to my chin, and scratch my beard. "You know, you must have a pretty short memory. Didn''t we make a deal just a few hours ago?" "What deal? I broke the deal, I sold you for fucks'' sake-!" I held up my hand, palm out. "Upupupup, let me stop you right there. It seems I made a mistake. You aren''t "Beardless-not-idiot, you''re just beardless-idiot. We agreed that you''d get me bandages-which you did-and then I''d do whatever you wanted for a week." I held up seven fingers, then put one down. "Let''s say this was day one. You have six left, so what do you want me to do?" Ren looked at me as if I was crazy, and as far as I knew... Crazy was a pretty accurate description of me. #3 -TG- Chapter 1 AN: Since no one voted in an hour, I''m just gonna do what I want. Start a new fiction for no reason at all! LOLOLOLOLOLOTROLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
I woke up, as most protagonists do, and opened my eyes. Huh, complete darkness. Looks normal. I''ll just go back to sleep now... ..Zzzzzzzz... zzzzzz... zzzzzz... Huh? Wha? What''s that you say? I''m supposed to be doing something? ..Zzzzz...zzz...zz...z.. Whatever...I''m getting bored of sleep anyway...may as well get up. I put my hands up against the stone lid of my coffin, and shoved it off. I sat up, and whistled. All around, looted corpses lay sprawled. I chuckled a little. "My, my, my, my friends, you don''t look too good. Adventurer got your purse? Pft, hahaha!" I make such good jokes. I lift myself up, out of the stone slab, and walk down the long, creepy corridor. I meet a couple zombies as I walk, but they ignore me. Well, here in the tomb, we''re all dead. Having something in common helps people get along, as they say. Or as I say. Can''t really remember which. I pause to pick up a long, black coat, and whirl it around my shoulders and put the hood up. That nasty sun makes getting a tan very painful, very hard, and also fatal. How I know that? ...I shouldn''t ask myself tough questions. I''ll tire my poor head, and that would suck. Suck...suck...suck...right! Like a vampire! Or a prostitute! But I really hope I''m the former! Being born a prostitute is like being born at ninety years of age, and then having a heart attack five minutes later and dying, despite all of the very capable doctors around you, who were too shocked at having a ninety-year-old coming from a fetus to actually help resuscitate you, resulting in your tragic and avoidable death, but which is agreed by all as fortunate as it would have been very strange to raise a ninety-year-old. I step out of the tomb, and start walking through the graveyard. I pass skeletals, zombies, a couple undead rats. I really hope I''m a vampire. I check my reflection in a marble tombstone, and although it''s a little disheartening that I can see myself, I at least have red eyes. I check my fangs, but they don''t look any bigger than the usual human canines. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. It''s okay, living means believing! I do believe in vampires, I do, I do! I do believe in vampires, I do, I do!! I DO BELIEVE IN VAMPIRES, I DO, I DO! I open the gate, walk out, then close it, and keep walking farther from the graveyard, while quietly praying to god, or the devil, or a cactus, or a tree, honestly I''ll take an insomniac at this point, I just really hope I''m a vampire. I see a person. I rush forward, open my mouth wide, dive towards his throat-!!! *nom* "..." "..." I hold on desperately, hoping that I''ll be able to drink his blood. Hoping, believing, begging... "Uh, excuse me, but...could you stop chewing on me? I''m not into men, and I don''t even know you..." I stop trying to bite him, let go, and go into orz position. "I''m a failure of a vampire..." He blinked at me, then asked, "You''re a vampire? But you don''t have any fangs..." I sobbed, "I don''t know! I really want to be, but I can see my own reflection, and I don''t have fangs, I just wanna know what I am..." He pokes me and says, "Then, why not just look at your status?" I blink at him. "I can do that? Teach me, oh great lord!" "Okay! Just think ''Status'' and concentrate. K''?" I nod, and think Status with all my will. "..." "..." "...so, what are you? Are you a vampire?" I don''t want to say. I don''t want to see. All I want is to die. What I see, displayed in bright blue letters, next to the "Race" classification is, "Lesser Weak, Feeble, Decrepit Zombie." "...I''m very sorry." ... I''d rather have been born a prostitute. #4 -NRR- Chapter 1 AN: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *Starts another fiction just to piss people off* HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHA (P.S. this is supposed to be read with a rhythm, a one-and-two-and-three-and-four-and-one-and-two and now you get it.)
Crawling, sniffing, finding, taking, crawling, sniffing, finding, taking. Crawl in-to every-nook and cranny, sniff it out, sniff out the treasure, find it, find it, find the treasure, taking, taking, taking, taken, now we-go right back-to crawling. What-is-this? It is-another, what is-it, it is-another, crawling, sniffing, finding, stealing. Break it! break it! into pieces, tear it-up and-bite the entrails, no more crawling, no more sniffing, only me is taking, taking. Take and bite and eat and drink and what-is-this? They are some others. Crawling, sniffing, finding, stealing. Dirty, stupid, crawling, stealing. Break them! Break them! IN-TO PIECES! Tear-them up until they''re food-now! Dead and dead and dead and pieces, all alone now with no friends now. Lonely, lonely, with-no friends now. I am one who''s all alone now. No more breaking, no more crawling, only sorrow and-the sad now. All alone with no more friends no, no more friends now. I don''t need-friends no, don''t need them, now I don''t, I won''t still need them. All-alone-now I-can break now. All-alone-now I-will break now.
(P.S. You can stop now, now) Crawling into the deepest corners, finding the darkest, deepest, treasures, sniffing out, yes, all the dangers, taking, taking all the treasures~ Yes, Squeaky is very good at finding treasures, squeaky thinks he''s very clever~ Stupid, stupid, stupid Scratchy, Scratchy mocks him, yes he does, mocks poor Squeaky till he screams! This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Squeaky doesn''t like bad Scratchy, maybe Scratchy find he likes poor Squeaky, but poor Squeaky keeps his grudges, yes poor Squeaky get''s his vengeance, oh you poor, you poor poor Scratchy~ Squeaky likes you, yes he does, or at least, he likes your taste~
(Now a sing-song voice) Squeaky is good~ Squeaky is great~ oh the great and skillful Squeaky! He just makes others look so silly~ Others try and claw the shell, Squeaky hits it, hits it with a rock~ Squeaky gets the, gets the nut, others bow and beg great Squeaky~ Squeaky knows, oh Squeaky knows, Squeaky knows what stupids don''t~ Squeaky gives the nuts to others, others eat, oh they thank Squeaky! But oh Squeaky, oh poor, poor, Squeaky... Squeaky says, he says, "You''re welcome!" and he thanks them all for coming~ Oh great and good and forgiving Squeaky, he must have forgotten everything! Squeaky~Squeaky~Squeaky~Squeaky~ Silly stupids, Squeaky doesn''t forgive. Squeaky doesn''t forget. Nuts are poison, stupid others, now you''re dead now, Squeaky hates you~! Now your flesh and bone are food now, now you all are dead and dead now~ Squeaky doesn''t need bad friends~ All Squeaky needs is lots of deads!
Squeaky crawls. Squeaky walks. Squeaky runs. Since when could Squeaky walk? And Squeaky talks! He speaks like two-legs, Squeaky finds he walks on two-legs. Squeaky runs~ Squeaky runs~ Squeaky finds lots, oh lots of others! Other two-legs, who look like Squeaky! Now that Squeaky thinks so clear, Squeaky thinks he likes it here. Squeaky doesn''t need no others~ Squeaky foresees a great big bonfire~! #3 -TG- Chapter 2 I can handle being called weak. After all, insults only do the damage you let them. Although frail is a little irksome, after being lightly tapped on the shoulder and having my collarbone snap, I can''t really deny anything. Being called decrepit...alright, I admit it. That''s a little hurtful. It''s not my fault I''m dead! And I''m not even that old! Late 3s'' at the most. I forgot the exact count long ago, and when my birthday is, but...that''s unimportant. One thing about my race, (Other than it''s existince being something other than vampire) is the starter, the beginning, the first thing people will always see when they care to look. Lesser. By nature, I hate this word describing me. I''m not ''lesser'' than anyone, or anything. Even if I''m weak, cunning can always make up for the fact. However, being forced to have the shame of carting this description around is the ultimate humiliation. When I find the bastard who decided to stick his fat, stupid, soon-to-be-a-trophy nose into my business just to screw with me. Well, I say that, but I still have a small, secret fear... ...That maybe no one tried to screw me over, and simply assigned the word as it was most appropriate. NO! I will not accept that! The world must be out to get me, it simply cannot be a coincidence or chance that I ended up with that word describing me, as in, me. So, for now, I will proceed while assuming the entire world is out to get me. Because firstly I''m not a vampire, and secondly because of that stupid word. Still, the world''s a scary place... Running as fast as possible, a terrifying beast is chasing me. "Ahhhhh! Please save me, Jed!" To one side, the kind man who I met as I stepped out of the comforting graveyard into this horrible, bright, insane world, shakes his head and sighs tiredly. He approaches me at a walk and steps on the tail of the horrifying, terrible beast that tormented me for the last five minutes, clawing my skin like butter, and mercilessly hunting me down. I tremble a little, as the rat Jed is holding almost gets loose. "Eep!" I try my best to shrink into a small, tiny space, so that the rat won''t find me. Jed has disbelief written over every inch of his body. "You....are more than a little pathetic. It makes me less motivated just looking at you..." I huff, draw to my full height, (5''6'''') and try to stare down my nose at him. He, being over six-foot, laughed as I fell over from bending too far backwards. I rub my head and take a closer look at the demonic beast of a rat that drove me to this sorry state. A thin, worm-like tail, four short, thin legs, white fur, tiny teeth, a pink nose, and black dots for eyes. Admittedly...it''s pretty adorable. So cute...I find myself reaching out for it, only to get bitten. I yelp and back away, and Jed looks at me uncertainly. "Are you okay? How''s your HP bar looking?" I squint at him. "My what-zit bar?" He waves his hand at the sky unhelpfully. "You know, that long, thin, bright and dark red bar that shows up when you get hit? The one that, if emptied, makes you die?" Realization hits. "Oh! That thing! I thought I was going insane and seeing things, or that this monster had some sort of poison...well, it''s ninety-percent dark red, so that''s pretty good, right?" He takes a bottle out of his pouch and wordlessly hands it over, daring me to not drink it. I gulp it down, and the pretty light-red fills up the bar completely. Huh. Jed either just saved me from a near-death experience, or he just poisoned me. Huh. Am I going to die now? Well, if I am, then at least I''ll take something worth taking. I poke Jed and say, "Hey, got any bread? Or meat? Anything?" He gives me something then seems to hesitate. "If you''re a zombie, you can''t digest anything other than human flesh. And you don''t actually have to eat..." I break the bread into small pieces, and offer one to the monster. It eyes me up and down, then carefully takes the bread and eats it. I then attempt to touch it, aaaaaand~ "FUCK! It bit me!" I yell while recoiling. Jed starts laughing again. However, the monster then holds out a paw, and I shake it with a finger. I pick it up, and place it on my shoulder. I doubt the monster actually liked biting me-I do have ''decrepit'' as a part of my race, after all. As we walk, I continue feeding the monster pieces of bread. Jed starts the conversation back up. "So, why the sudden truce? You were an inch away from killing each other. Well, it would kill you and then you''d squish it. Do you talk mouse?" I shook my head. "No, I don''t speak mouse. Besides, this is obviously a tough, mutant rat, probably infected with something that makes it a hundred times stronger. Definitely. So, I decided that having such a beast as a friend would be advantages in my quest to destroy the world." He laughed at that, then slowly trailed off. "...destroy the world? That was a joke, right? Right?" I shrugged. "Or whoever made it. Either one would be fine. When I find the person or thing that labeled me as "lesser" I''ll..." Jed took a couple steps away, and left me to my dark mutterings. I started whispering my plans to Quibbles, as I''d decided the monster should be called. I find the fact that such a horrible monster has such a cute name hilarious, though I somehow manage to contain my mirth. Eventually, we reach a large, well-built building. Signs and stalls surround it, and after stepping through the drape covering the doorway, I see an endless pathway of shops filled with all sorts of people. I notice my jaw has become slack, and close it. I may not be ashamed of my dental formation, but I may have some hundred-year-old lettuce stuck in my teeth. Jed pats my shoulder and says, "Feel free to wander. I''ve got some work to do, and although meeting a zombie who doesn''t want to eat me, and only wants to topple god is interesting, it''s hardly profitable. Meet back here at dusk, I''ll find a place for you to stay." He begins to walk away, and I call out to him one last time. "Hey! Jed! I forgot to say this, but thank you!" He smiles and looks over his shoulder, then disappears into the crowd. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Hah~ I''m lonely...and bored...and Quibbles is starting to respond to me, which is even more terrifying than almost dying. I hold up the adorable monster in my palm, while resting my head in the other, and unveil my woes. "Oh Quibbles...how did it come to this? I''m pretty sure my life was pretty ballin'', and it is a shame I died this young, though I''m not complaining about the absence of Alzheimer''s." In a high-pitched, squeaky voice, Quibbles responds. "Don''t worry about it, I''m sure you were pretty awesome. Besides, aren''t you decrepit? Why do you look like a teen, then?" I shrug. My youthful appearence is a mystery to me. I have smooth, milky-white skin, and supple joints. After looking at a gravestone to see my reflection, I''d noticed I resembled a mid-teen, or even younger. Being short compared to everyone else didn''t help either. "So why decrepit? It doesn''t make sense. Hey, open up your status again." I bring up the blue window again, and go back to the race panel. A burst of shame from seeing the ''lesser'' quickly passes, and I try pushing on decrepit with my finger. It pulls up a much larger version of the word, complete with pronunciation and the (adjective) next to it, along with a description of the word and the effects. Basically, someone who''s elderly or ill. However, there is some abnormal phrases here... "Because this monster -Lesser Weak, Frail, Decrepit zombie- is of an old age, the dark energy has begun to mutate within the individual. [+1 strength,+1 agility, +1 intelligence,+1 constitution, exudes an aura of lassitude} Oh! Cool! I quickly check out the ''lesser'' as well. [Lesser] Decreases all base stats by 50% Well that isn''t too bad. I check out weak, as well. [weak] Decrease all base stats by 50%, all physical ability decreased by 90% Wait...fifty...plus fifty...equals... ... So, in other words, I have my base ability nullified, and then get +1 strength, agility, intelligence, and constitution. So...I have four points? Really? I wonder if I can check how many Quibbles has? I was too depressed to check what frail does, and simply close the status window. I look at Quibbles again. "Hey, Quibbles, if you added all of your stat points together, what number would you get?" Quibbles looks thoughtful, then says... "I''m not very good at math, but since all creatures, regardless of their species, start off with ten in each of their base stats, and I have some extra, I have around...two hundred in all?" I''m...just a little...unhappy...especially since people are looking at me weird when I talk to Quibbles, as if he can''t talk back! "Ha! Hahaha! HAHAHAHA! I''M NOT CRAZY! HAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" "Um...dude...I think you''re crazy. I mean, who talks to a mouse? Weirdo..."
Three hours later, I''ve managed to get three round pieces of copper with my wonderful acting skills. Jed walks up to me, though I don''t notice at first and keep muttering..."...Not crazy...not crazy...not crazy...stupid rat...not crazy..." He taps my shoulder, and I look over at him. He looks really happy, but is trying to hide it in pity. He waves at me, and I follow. "Come on. I booked you a room, Pardon me, but I''ll be staying on the other side of town Mr. Not Crazy." He leads me to a seedy inn, but it looks dirt cheap, so I can appreciate Jeds'' frugality. I remember something, and pull out the copper disks. "Hey Jed, some nice lady gave me these disks of copper. Do you know what they are?" He laughs and pats me on the back, and I think he only cracked a rib. "Those are coins. Not as small tin, but almost the lowest denomination." I take a close look at the disks. I hold it up to the light. "This? You call this money?" I pull out my wallet-which was buried with me, as I am quite clever at hiding things-and pull out the lowest denomination of coin. A silver penning, barely worth keeping in my wallet. Still, money is money. Jed gulped. "Uh...how many of those do you have?" I shrugged. "If I converted all the gold into this, it would be...around 350000? it''s unusual to count by silver, most of the time we go by gold, which would be 350. Of course, carrying that much metal would be heavy, so most of it is either white, black, or crystal.I usually keep more on me, but during the end people carrying too much money found they were missing some vital organs." Huh. I think I just remembered something. Jed is paler than me. Which is to say, pale as a ghost. I pat him on the shoulder. "You okay, buddy? Anyway, if you''re using copper as money, they must have finally found a way to enchant it with useful magic. Anyway, I can''t expect to use this, so..." I hand him the wallet, and give him a push. "Let''s see, how about making it a round 300000? You can take the extra as exchange, and obviously as thanks for taking care of me so far. If you have trouble converting such a small sum, I can maybe just trade with you?" He nods, then seems to go in and out of a daze. "Hey Mr. Zombie, am I dreaming...?" I try to pinch him, but he doesn''t seem to feel it, so I hold Quibbles up to Jeds'' cheek and give Quibbles'' tail a tug. Some swearing and running ensues, I almost die again, and then I eventually get settled in the inn. During the night, I discover I have no need for sleep. When the sun starts to rise, I drape my cloak over my shoulders once more, pick up Quibbles and place him on my shoulder, then head down the stairs and out the door. I''m hoping to leave before Jed comes back. I like him, but he knows too many embarrassing things...plus, I want him to keep the money. I own nothing, and having that kinda cash on hand is dangerous. I bluffed, saying it was a small amount, but even back in my day 350 was quite the sum. I stroke Quibbles whiskers, then look out at the horizon. I enjoy the moment, then begin walking. "Come, Quibbles. We have a world to destroy." #1 -LEL- Chapter 5: An Easter For Psychos Four. That is how many days I''ve been here. Just three left. Because being wounded wouldn''t let me be, ''entertaining'' enough, I''d had a shifty man tap me with a stick and fix my injuries. It felt good, not having to hunch over every time I needed to move. I''d breezed through the flaming bull, the Light Lion, and even a Wind Leopard. When surrounded by my prayers, things like strength, speed, and stamina, became less important than skill. And that is when I killed each and every one of them. A man of god should not take pleasure in the killing of any creature, even monsters, but...it could be argued that monsters are the enemy of god, and thus I should take joy in their destruction. My ''handler'' Ren, came by and attached a rope to my hands and led me out. After I''d ripped off my cell door because the warden attempted to mock me, and then proceeded to forgive him when he groveled on the ground, I had stated, in no uncertain terms, that I was here voluntarily. I also told them that they had six chances left to kill me, and that if they failed...dire consequences would be incurred. The same consequences would occur if they attempted to kill me in my sleep, attack with blunt force, or basically do anything besides lock me in a large box with a vicious animal. So, these past four days, I''d been tied-up, drugged, and in a memorable fight with a leopard, weighed down by a hundred pounds of beef-armor. The joke was on them, however. I''d distracted the leopard by letting it chew on my left arm, then snapped its'' neck with my legs. I wonder what they''ll do this time? Ren led me up to a long length of wood, about fifteen feet long, with a cross-section of about half that. Ren had me lay down on top of it, and began to tie my arms and legs down. While doing so, Ren spoke absently. "This is apparently the method of execution for criminals in the empire far to the west. One of those other religions also recognizes it as a religious symbol, but they''re a bunch of crazies. Today, it will be another attempt to off you." While saying so, Ren took out a knife, and made thin slices in each of the ropes. Enough that I could break them with some force. I raised an eyebrow. "Come now, Ren. Why trouble yourself over this? If you were discovered doing this, you would likely be thrown in with me. Perhaps you''d like that...?" Ren ignored me and placed the dagger, now sheathed, behind the small of my back, pressed by my body into the cross. Then Ren whistled, and six burly men came forward and hefted cross, dagger, and me, all at once. I yelled over my shoulder to Ren, "...Take care of yourself. Reality chews up kids like you into bits." Ren said nothing, and his face was covered by shadow as the gates opened. From every corner of the arena, humans, beasts, and everything inbetween, howled for blood. "Al-PHA! AL-PHA! Al-PHA!" I chuckled a little at this, as the six men carried me to the middle of the arena and began to set up the cross. Alpha was the nickname the crowd had given me after I''d made the wolf-horse-dog-thing(which I was later informed was named a ''Hell-Hound.'' Honestly, so unimaginative...) beg for mercy. It''d be flattering in any other situation, but considering that half of the people yelling were hoping to see me ripped into tiny bits, I felt it would be presumptuous to take the nickname as a compliment. They were comparing me to a dog, after all. The opposite gate opened up, and I wondered what it''d be this time. Maybe a griffon? But, a creature like that could probably destroy the barrier protecting the crowd, so that''s a no-go. I wonder... A shape-no, shapes-came into view. Around thirty of them. All were slightly shorter than your average man, wearing nothing, holding swords, spears, bows, and shields, and was completely covered in white fur. Long ears were tied up in a tail behind the head of each one, and the red-eyes and inch-long fangs confirmed their identity. Ah, hell. It''s a tribe of Rabbid. Yet another imaginative name, but I approved of the choice of words. If I had to describe the Rabbid by any other word than ''bloodthirsty'' it would be rabid. I guess I''ll have to kill them all, huh? The owner of the arena was yelling something, but I just looked up toward the heavens. "Forgive me, god. I know exactly what I''m going to do, and I will show no mercy." I flexed my arms, legs, core, and curved my back. With a snap, the sabotaged ropes came loose. As I fell the couple feet to the ground, I took the knife behind my back and concealed it in the ragged bags they had given me for clothing. I then turned back to the cross and bowed my head, clasping my hands together. "God whom I love and fear above all else, bless your unworthy follower with the [color=#3333ff]strength [/color]to carry your burdens." I then ripped the cross from the ground, swung it around myself in a full circle, and then released it in the direction of the Rabbid. Half got out of the way. The other half became very colorful blotches on the wall. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. I ran towards the right-group, as they were divided in two. Pulling the knife out from concealment, I deftly sidestepped a spear thrust and plunged the dagger hard, and deep, into the Rabbids'' throat. Catching the spear as it fell from its'' now-senseless hands, I casually spin it behind my back and around my neck, familiarizing myself with the weight. A good spear. Something a knight would never say. Knightly weaponry was comprised of maces, swords, hammers, and very rarely, a halberd. knights don''t use spears. But then, even before my expulsion from the order, I had never really been much of a knight. Swords were just so limiting-slash, stab-that''s it. But a spear... I moved forward, towards the seven Rabbid that were nearest me. I batted a sword out of the way, then impaled the owner through the mouth and out the back. I spun, using the momentum to rip the point out of its'' head, and used the butt of the spear to wind a yelling Rabbid, its'' sword raised above its'' head. Twirling the spear to the right, I use the side of the tip to slash out the winded Rabbids'' throat. The Rabbid wore no armor because, quite conversely from their lust for blood, they''re vegetarian, and abhor wearing the skin of other animals. They have also never advanced enough to mine the earth, so any metal they got was from foreging, and it was rare that any armor made for the other races fit the Rabbid. The remaining four halted their head-long charge, and tried to group together- I lunged forward, gutting the one on the right with a horizontal sweep, knocking away the lefts'' panicked spear-thrust, then grabbing the spear in both hands, and driving it through the left ones'' torso. As I let its'' body-weight drag it clear of my shaft, I caught its'' falling spear and held it in reverse. Behind me, I could hear the other seven closing in on me. I''d better finish this now-or I''d be faced with foes from in front and behind. I lifted the reverse-gripped spear, and shot my arm forward in an over-head throw. It went in through the eye, and out the temple. Rushing forward while the downed Rabbid squealed in pain, I give my spear a quick twirl. The remaining Rabbids'' eyes flick toward the motion, and before it can regain focus, I''ve raised the spear so that it''s tip is pointing down, and jumped in the air. I enter through the collar, down through the ribs, displacing guts, and out the pelvis. The impaled Rabbid twitched and convulsed, then fell still. Though, it didn''t fall over, since it had something holding it up. I step over to the spear I''d thrown, pick it up, and step on the head while pulling the spear out. The seven Rabbid eye me warily, and begin to move in a surround- If one of them gets behind me, I''ll be injured. If I''m injured, I''ll die. I had learned from my encounter with the foolish street gangs- Although waiting for your opponent to make the first move was honorable, making the first move could more efficiently solve problems. Between honor and efficiency, in this case, I favor doing things quickly. I yelled and charged, praying. "God, Lord of Justice, grant me the speed to fulfill thine will." I stab one, two, three, four throats, before the prayer wears off. I rip my spear from the throat of the fourth, and step out of range of the blood fountain. Three were left. One had a large pack on its'' back, but it didn''t seem to have any weapons concealed within. Stepping forward, I feint an overhead thrust to the one on the right, parry the lefts'' attack, then slam half the length down the rights'' throat. I snap the spear with its'' body weight, then take the jagged wood in my right hand, hold the lefts'' left hand with my left, and plunge the three-feet of wood through the stomach, in between the organs, and into the heart, and out the shoulder. As left falls, I grab its'' sword, and turn to the last, and final Rabbid. It holds a bow, and trembles as it raises it. I step forward, cut the bow in half, then kick and break both knees. The wounded Rabbid falls and bends over. I raise the sword high, high over my head, and look at the ceiling. "Oh god of Justice, receive the sinners soul in love." Then I let gravity lead the blade, and lop off the Rabbids'' head. A long stream of red follows. Something falls from the bag, and I reach out a hand and pick it up. A strangely oval rock, probably volcanic as it was completely black. I quickly stuff it into my shirt, and go to have my hands tied again. They tried to knock me out the first couple times, as it was easier and less risky that way, but after a few injuries, they agreed that letting me do as I wished was best for all involved. I leave a crowd yelling and screaming my praises, knowing that tomorrow, two thirds will want to see me killed. Maybe I should make a bet with Ren about how many will want me dead on the last day? Haha...I would, except I don''t have any money. Oh well. After I''ve killed off everyone in the building, I''m sure they''ll have some loose change. #3 -TG- Chapter 3 AN: Two-thirty in the morning, and I''m writing a chapter. Why? Because this FUCKING MUSE won''t leave me the fuck alone. When I''m awake, when I''m asleep, during every. Waking. Moment. It''s DRIVING ME SANE. I can think straight. I can plan it out. I can see the lines, the branching paths, the different arcs and stories, the effects and reactions. I can hear the dialogue, the voices and the gestures, the scenery and the background, the secrets, the innuendos, the jokes, the puns, all of it. I''m finding my FUCKING MIND. And now I remember why I lost it in the first place. ...It would have been better for all involved if my mind had simply stayed lost. Unfortunately, I have the habit of doing the expected when it''s unexpected. I tried to draw like Mozart, but found my cello didn''t have the right colors, so I decided to smell the sunshine, and brag about the taste of the rainbow. Now, I''m going to listen like Beethoven. Is it funny, that sometimes I think I''m the only sane person in this world? I''m tired of secrets. Of giving hints. Of concealing things. So...how about I just tell you everything? Yeah, that sounds good... First, some backstory. Next, a different point of view. And then... Back to my favorite zambie.
Many attribute the end of the world to when the sky fell. However, I attribute that point to a long time ago. But, since that story is unimportant at the moment, I''ll tell you about the time when the earth and heaven were reunited. The year became known as 0000 AE, or AFTER END. Taking place in the sprawling metropolis known as ARFIELD. Set in the middle of the clover-shaped continent, it was the meeting place for people from all walks of life. Commoners, soldiers, kings, and every now and then, a god or two. As the four peninsula were separated from each other by several miles of water, infested with gigantic sea-life, this city was the only place that people could see others from different peninsula. Without this small stretch of land holding the four peninsula together, they could be called separate continents. One day, ARFIELD disappeared. People in the city itself looked up to find the sun had lost it''s light. It was noon, and the sun should have been straight overhead. The violet light of their star had never before disappeared. That day, a shadow covered ARFIELD. It slowly grew smaller, and smaller, and people began to sigh in relief. Then, a rock ten miles high and wide destroyed the city, the people, and all life within 100 miles of it. No tidal waves or shock waves went past there, as the two divines in possession of this landmass contained the damage to the hundred square miles surrounding the sudden destruction. What happened next took man, monsters, and the gods by surprise. A demon king by the name of <> claimed the mountain as his own, built a citadel, contracted minions, and stated his defiance of the divines. Naturally, the god and goddess took offense to this, and tried to strike him down... ...but since Divine Law states that divines cannot directly destroy mortal beings, the two were forced to request their followers to destroy this upstart. A war spanning ten years followed, and then ended abruptly as the demon king personally went out and destroyed the divines'' armies. For the next ten years, both sides gathered their strength and licked their wounds. During this time, the four peninsulas became separate, and lost their cohesion. When the war resumed, their forces were, one by one, forced to retreat. Meanwhile, <> did nothing but gain power. The divines were powerless, the demons omnipotent, and the power of man all-but extinct. All seemed lost... ... But, then, one company released a ''game.''
Jacksons'' POV I excitedly put on my protective suit, placed a mouth-guard in my mouth, (duh) and got into the capsule. VR tech had come a long way, ever since a company calling itself The Agency had gotten their hands on the product. They had made massive leaps and bounds in the field. Their top-scientist, a kid-genius named Silica, had finally discovered a way to simulate the five senses through use of previously unknown technology. Now, after years of work and trillions of dollars worth of equipment, it was here. It gone through prototyping, military use, insanely-high prices, and now...it was as expensive as an Xbloks and twenty games. Although a large investment, people the world-over firmly suggested it. And now...it was all mine. I giggled and fidgeted, delaying the moment I started it up. I shivered with joy, and then a burning surge of desire to start it up incinerated all other emotions, and I pressed the start-up button. A haunting blue light came on, and I felt my mind begin to move to a different place. The suit would protect my body from any radiation, even though it had been tested and proven to be 100% safe, and the mouth-guard would stop any uncontrollable spasms from making me bite my tongue and kill myself. And then, I saw nothing but white. I looked down, and instead of seeing a body, all I saw was white. When I looked up again, I saw a small window with ''sign up'' at the top. I filled in the information, checked that I''d read the terms and conditions agreement, (Who actually reads that?) and was then asked to provide a username and password. I obviously made my password *************, and then metaphorically sat down to think on my username. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. I wanted something majestic, something awe-inspiring, something that made you stop and examine the person you saw. After putting in the username, I pushed REGISTER, and entered the universe of virtual reality. I immediately pulled up my face-book chat, then asked a simple question. {What world should I go to?] I waited, but then I remembered... I don''t have any friends. ... I blinked away the virtual tears and opened up the list. All the worlds had names, but they were numbered for ease of filing. I randomly selected world 69 because of reasons, and was then asked were I wanted to start. I looked over current events, and found one I liked. <> I selected it, and was then asked which of the four continents I wanted to start on. I chose the south-west one, which resembled the leaf of a four-leaved clover, and was then asked what race I wished to start as. Although it was boring, I chose human. I randomized my starting city, and then fell to earth. I opened real, human eyes, and looked around. I was sitting in a chapel, surrounded by candles and crosses. Behind me stain-glass with the image of a goddess reaching out toward a nekked man was artfully displayed. I turned around, and got up off of the altar. In front of me, a priestess bowed and presented a white tunic. I took it and put it on, and was then led out the door. When I stepped out, I was struck dumb. A pollution-free sky, a violet sun, and clouds a shade of deep red. I looked down to earth, and looked out at the city from which I had been ''born.'' One-and-two story buildings, all seeming to lean, dark alleys, twisting streets, and shady people walking with their hands on their pockets. This chapel was up on a hill, which let me look out over the city, but it really was seedy. To the side, the priest spoke. She was a middle-aged woman, with a kind if flat face. "Tis'' the year 0021 A.E., 7nth day of the month of the ox. I''m guessing this is your first time, so you didn''t know. I''m guessing you already know what you''re here for?" I nodded, then spread my hands. "My name is Jackson, but you can call me Jack. What can I do to help?" The priestess seemed slightly surprised by my tone. "My, it''s been a while since a polite one came through. Perhaps you aren''t completely crazy like the others...either way, my name is Melinda. If you honestly want to help...then, we have an infestation in the chapels'' storehouse. Could you help out?" I nodded, smiled, then followed the priestess. After being handed a long stick, I proceeded to beat the shit out of fifty rats. I would not have been able to normally, but the priestess continually healed me, and gave buffs. I pretended to not be surprised by magic, and she pretended to not notice how much I enjoyed killing the rats. Afterwards, she gave me some money and an amulet with a cross, blessed me, and sent me off with a smile while promising me that I could come back tonight if I couldn''t find a place. Once she was gone, I gave the voice-command for help, and got acquainted with the user interface. After I''d familiarized myself, I pulled up my status. I''d gained two levels, and had twenty points to distribute. I''d gotten ten from starting, and five for each level-up. I quickly put all the points into agility, dexterity, and strength, and a couple into constitution. I then headed into town, and the nearest two-story building. There, I rented a room, and then headed out of town to see if I couldn''t find anything else stabbable. I''m liking this world already.
My race was horrible in so many ways, I never thought I''d find a good thing about it. Well, in actuality, I never got fatigued, so that was a plus. I highly dislike being wrong. I''d arrived at a little town after walking a long time. I had the cloak on my back, two copper pieces, and a mutant-rat with huge fangs and razor-sharp claws. I sighed, then headed into town. Destroying the world is so much work...
AN: Hi, it''s me again. I practically spoiled god, the meaning of life, and the universe, all at once. I hope you''re happy, you muse bastard. Well, didn''t get as far as I''d hoped, but that just means I''ll write the next chapter really soon. Or never. I can''t remember which. Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and all that...and also, just to clear things up, Quibbles is a normal mouse. Well, sorta. I''ll not spoil that. Our MC is just...eccentric. In a lot of ways. I''ll enjoy writing about them. :3 Well, I''m glad. I just ruined all of the mystery that I''ve been building for months. Feels good... #3 -TG- Chapter 4 I''m lost. I''m prideful about a lot of things, but right now...I have no idea where I am. If it weren''t for these blasted alleys and those bloody storefronts that are exactly the same no matter where you go. I refuse to consider that I''ve just been walking around in circles. "Hey mister, why have you been walking in a circle for the last two hours?" "..." "Hey mister, did you hear me?" "...sometimes, when you get older, you''ll walk around in circles...just for fun." A 7-year-old brown-haired green-eyed snot-nosed brat walked up to me, and continued to throw a blown-up pigskin into the air, catch it, and then repeat. He then popped a nut into his mouth and started to chew. "Hey mister, are you lost?" "...what makes you think that?" "Well mister, you have the same kind of look on your face as a stray puppy." "What? No I don''t! If anything, I''m at least a dog!" He chewed thoughtfully, looked me up and down, and then decided something. "...Whatever you say, mister." This fucking kid... "Hey kid, aren''t you supposed to be in bed by now or something?" He stopped chewing and eyed me doubtfully. "It''s two in the afternoon, sir. Though, I guess geezers and babies take naps in the afternoon..." I opened and closed my mouth like a fish, trying desperately to process exactly what had just happened. At that point, I forgot what he said, and decided to not dwell on it. "Well, do your parents know where you are?" He eyed me some more and continued to chew. "Ma said I''m to be at home by dark, or else she''ll feed me to the goblins, and pa said he didn''t care where I was, as long as I came home with a black eye and some kids wallet." "...You have a pretty messed-up dad, you know?" He kept chewing. "It s''all right. He was joking. I think. So mister, if you''re looking for the tavern, it''s to the left, second on the right. Look for the only straight sign and you''ll find it immediately." I laughed. "Haha! Well, I guess I could go there. But not because you told me about it." He threw the ball up and caught it. "Whatever you say, mister." I sigh, and resign myself to get some info out of the kid. "Hey midget, what year is it?" "0021 A.E. mister, where have you been the last twenty years?" I thought about it. "Dead asleep." I turned to go, then had a thought strike me. I turned back toward the kid. "Hey kid, come back here, same time tomorrow. I''ll make it worth your while." ;) He chewed and eyed me again. "Mister, not that I don''t like you, but I would prefer to not be kidnapped and sold into slavery." "Wha-what makes you think I would do that?!" He stopped chewing, and pointed at me, one aspect at a time. "You''re wearing a black cloak when it''s a million degrees, you''re pale and have beedy-eyes, you have a mouth that always seems to be smirking, and what''s visible of your hair is an absolute mess. One would think you''re in need of money, and a good mother, by the looks of you." "Wah-who-ha-you-huh!?" He chewed in finality. "And to top it all off, the first thing you did after coming into town was talk to the first child you see, and arrange to meet me and say, what was it? "I''ll make it worth your while." The boy grinned at me evilly. "The guards would love to hear about this, so I think I''ll go tell them...I enjoy watching them beat people up." I fell to my knees in defeat. I had been beaten, manipulated, and used, like a cheap whore. No, a prostitute would never bend their knees to anyone! Well, unless they were getting paid! But still! I looked at the kid right in the eye, now that we were at the same eye-level. I saw the deep well of intelligence, and the dark, murky stain of deceit. He looked at me with a huge grin plastered over his face, He had stuck up his middle-finger in a taunt, and I felt an overwhelming feeling of... ...nostalgia? I got to my feet, and bowed my head, letting my hood cover my eyes. "...Kid, you''re good. You have earned my respect. You have potential, and talent, and above all...you''re careful. You only picked on the new, unknown man, the one nobody would defend, the weakest, the most vulaurable. You...remind me of myself when I was your age-" He spit out the chewed-up nut, dropped the ball, and laughed out-loud. "Hahaha! You, who can''t be older than sixteen, talk like an old man! And besides, why should I care if I''ve earned your respect? Go back to your mother and cry about it!" I watch him quietly, until all of his laughter has run out. Then he eyes me. "What? Are you crying cause'' a kid just tricked you?" When I look up, he takes a step back. "Listen, kid. You didn''t let me finish. What I was going to say is, you shouldn''t let it go to your head. I was the most careful man to ever walk the earth, and the day, the hour, the minute I got cocky, I lost. Losing in this world means dying. So next time you want to crow about your victory like the cock of a henhouse...wait until your opponent is ash, disintegrated, or dust. Because if you don''t...you may just find you''re a headless chicken. So learn some humility, eh?" The kid shivered, and kept looking at my face. "U-um, I''m r-really sorry, p-p-please don''t..." I turn around and say over my shoulder, "Because I believe in returning kindness, I''ll leave you something tomorrow...whether you take it is up to you. G''day." "R-right...I''m gonna go get the watchmen, please stay right there..." "Wait! One last thing, before you go." "Y-yes...?" I look deep, deep into his eyes, and say with a completely straight-face... "My name is Jeff." Then I turn and run like there''s no tomorrow.
Jacksons'' POV I returned to the towns'' market after my sixth trip to the forest. I checked my status again, and distributed my stats again, but saved thirty. I had to admit, I was pretty proud of myself. Level 45 in three days was considered Top-player performance. The only sad thing was that I would soon have to leave, since all the mobs in this area will be too low-level to get any decent exp. I''d grown fond of the NPCs here. There were a lot of glaring problems with the game, namely that mobs came in families and you got bonus exp for killing the children first, but at least the shopkeepers and merchants were all life-like. They would converse with you as long as you were buying something, and throw you out when you were only browsing, they were practically people! Still, I was idly considering genociding the whole town. A lot of the NPCs were level 60-70 or higher, and that was saying nothing of the loot I could get! Still, this realism came with some problems. Namely, people would defend themselves, and even monsters wouldn''t just automatically chase after you one at a time. Luring was no good, as they would stop chasing you if they left the pack behind. It made grinding harder, but also more interesting. Except, people were different. Even more intelligent. I''d attacked a bandit lair solo at level 15, but I''d almost died six times because of the traps and ambushes. I''d had to leave halfway through because they had started to get high-leveled, in the 40s and higher. Still, humans were difficult opponents. After facing down life-like NPCs, gutting them and watching their guts spill out, I''d gotten a new appreciation for serial killers work. Not that I''d do it in real life, but... It was very therapeutic to project faces, that''s all I''ll say. After selling all the trash equipment and materials, I''d gotten quite a bit of silver...almost a hundred pieces, which would convert into gold, but no one carried that coin in town except for the mayor. It was very nice that they used the metric system here, so everything came in tens and hundreds. I went looking for the tavern, as I wanted to see just how deep this system went. Maybe I could even discover a lazy devs'' work, and extort the shit out of it? After finding the place on my mini-map, and navigating through the twisty alleys, I found myself at the tavern. There, loud yells and cheers were being called out. I went in, and saw a bunch of people crowded around a table. I sat down in another table, and waited until someone came to take my order. After asking for some food, I waved at the crowd that seemed almost like a living thing, pulsing and undulating with every minute. The waitress sighed. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. "Men...they''re gambling. A stupid dice game...but they treat it like a religion. I really wish their wives would keep them busy and away from here, but, well, they are our best customers. Especially the lucky ones." At that time, the door opened again, and a cloaked, pale fellow walked in.
I surveyed the room. A group of men gathered around one table, a waitress and a customer dressed in armor, and the barkeep behind-you guessed it, the bar. I could practically faint in surprise. I began walking toward the group of men, and watched a couple rounds. The men took turns throwing dice, but they didn''t go enough times for me to see the pattern. At that moment, a man who was on a winning streak grinned at me. "Hey boy, you wanna try?" I opened my eyes real wide, and softened my expression to give off a feeling of innocence. "Well shucks, mister. I ain''t ne''er done this dice game a''fore! But, if ye''d kindly explain the ro''ols, I''ll try once or twice." He laughed and took a swig, then motioned to the seat opposite him, which I took. He smiled and began his explanation. "Listen up, cause'' I''ll only say it once. The challenger throws first, and then then other guy throws his. They do this until one die matches with one of the other guys'' dice. If one of the seconds'' dice match up with the firsts'' dice, then the first throws his dice again. If he matches one die, the second throws again until either match both. If, after one guy has matched once, neither of the dice match up with the other two, he loses. Ya get it?" I blinked owlishly, and said hesitantly, "Sure do, mister...so, I do this?" My dice roll across the table, and show a six and a two. The smiling man throws his dice, and gets a two and a six. "Haha! It looks like luck is with me! Tell ya what kid, since that was just a practice, I''ll-" I take out one of the two copper pieces, and slid it across he table to him. He pauses, and the rest of the men grow silent. Then all of them laugh. The smiling man takes up his dice and motions, "Wanna go again?" I smile in reply, and throw the dice. A 1 and a 4. He throws the dice, and gets a 1 and a 3. I pick up the dice and shake them a little, then pause and look up at the anticipating man. "I must warn you, mister. I''m a downright scoundrel who cheats his way through life. I promise you won''t regret it if you stop right now." He laughs. "Hah! It''s okay, I won''t hold you to it. Just throw the dice!" I flick my wrist, and my dice come up a 1 and 3. Everyone has gone quiet. After a minute, the smiley man laughs and hands back a copper piece. "You''ve got some damn good luck! Let''s play again, I doubt you actually know what, ''cheating'' is." I shake my head. "I may have a different description, but the fundamental meaning is the same. I tell you-nothing good will come from trusting me." The man waves to the barkeep, who has taken an interest in our game. "Hey Horace! You can sense when someone uses magick or a skill, right?" "Sure can." "Then, did the little whelp do anything?" "Nope. Check the dice, just in case." The smiley man picks up the dice, and throws them. 2 and 3. 4 and 2. 6 and 1. "Heh, they''re the dice we gave em''." The man looked at me accusingly. "Do you still think you''re cheating?" I hold up my hands in surrender. "Let''s play another game. Then you''ll know." I throw, he throws, I get the same numbers as he does, and I get another copper piece. Some more discussion ensues, and they finally agree that I must just be really lucky. After an hour, everyone in the room except the armored customer and the waitress has played and lost against me. Since I had become the one they challenged, they''d thrown first, and every time I threw the dice, they always won. Soon, they were all somewhat depressed, but also a little happy, since I''d payed for the last two rounds. Even if it was their money, people still appreciated you spending it on them. Besides, they only gambled coppers-some men grumbled that their wives were too strict, while a few others were grateful. After a few minutes had passed of me not being challenged, the armored customer walked over to what had become my table, and sat down. They then picked up the two dice I''d been using, and turned them over in their hands. I''d already switched dice countless times, but it hadn''t made a difference. Soon, the person set a piece of copper on the table, and held up the dice. "Can I play?" I gestured at the respectable pile of copper in front of me. "You know I cheat. Do you still want to play?" The person laughed. "You say that, but what I think..."
Jacksons'' POV "...is that you just have a very high luck stat." He looked at me quizzically, then laughed. "That''s quite funny. Hearing that someone thinks I have a high stat...it''s healing for the soul, laughter is." I smiled a little myself. I didn''t know what kind of event this was, but if it was the type I think it was... I opened my status, then put all thirty of my leftover points into luck. Then I rolled the dice fearlessly. Two sixes. This was bad...if both dice were the same, then the other person only had to have one six to win. I unconsciously held my breath- A 1 and a 4. I forced myself to hold in my joy, then picked up my own dice, and threw them down. A 1 and a 3. He looked a little worried, his brow scrunching up and biting his lip. He rolled the dice...a 3 and a 4. For six more rounds, we rolled, until I won. He handed over a copper piece, and all of the other men in the room had come over and cheered for me. It was like with bandits-they took travelers money, then people like me were paid to hunt them down and take the travelers stolen money-then we were thanked for it. This world still had some fundamental flaws, as I''d thought. For the next two hours, me and him played game after game, losing some, winning most. I tasted victory on my tongue like blood, the metallic taste filling my mouth. It was the feeling I got from cutting down a hundred goblins to rip off their chiefs head, of crushing a thousand spiders to impale their queen, of throwing aside wolves to destroy their alpha. And then, the fated words that told me the event had neared completion... "Hah, the night is almost over. It would be wrong to simply end it like this-how about I bet all except for these ten coins," here he separated his two-hundred-thirteen copper coins from ten, and pocketed the ten, "and we bet these, oh, two-hundred coins?" I smiled. I knew what I had to do. In events like these, you could gain a reward for risk- But, if you risked greatly, you got great rewards. I took out the bag that held near a hundred pieces of silver. This guy wore a black cloak, had red eyes, pale skin, and looked like he was always hiding a smirk. If anything screamed ''mystery'' he did. "How about, we bet all or nothing?" Everyone gasped, and looked at the guy. I bit my lip, and silently prayed. Come on...take the bait... He had a knowing look as he picked up the dice, as if he knew what I was after. "If I lose, we''ll have to go somewhere private..." I almost started giggling. Here it is! The time when I get it! The reward! After all my work, it was finally here! I threw a 2 and a 3, and he threw a 2 and a 3! I''d won! The reward was mine! Why was he picking up the sack of silver with an apologetic smile! Why was everyone patting me on the shoulder in a mournful way! Why could I not stop smiling! Why did my mouth taste like ashes! Why, oh why, was I so stupid? I fell to my knees, and cried for a long time. The guy had left ten silver, stating that it would be wrong to take all of it, and the barkeep patted my back and carried me, with the help of the waitress, up into the back where they gave me a blanket. I cried myself to sleep, and decided deep in my heart... "...First chance I get, I''m going to kill every. Single. Bastard, in this whole town." He~he~he~he~he~~ #3 -TG- Chapter 5: Loaded Dice Throwing a ball into the air, catching it, then repeat. Over and over. I walked up to the only lighted building, a squat brick tower, with two lightly armored and armed guards standing outside, on either side of the door. Most of them were most likely out on patrol, so there should only be a dozen or so inside. I tossed the ball into the air one more time, then held it while stopping in front of the guards. "Hey, beat it." I swished my cloak, and pulled out two pieces of silver. Then I bowed, and reached out a hand to shake. One at a time, I slipped a coin into their hands. They looked the other way as I opened the door. When I stepped inside, I dropped the bag holding my two-hundred or so copper pieces, then kept walking. The six guards watched me carefully, until I''d reached the door with a metal plaque on the outside. ''Cheif of the Watch, Bensfin Gebrisor.'' I knocked twice, and waited politely. After a few seconds, a gruff voice from inside yelled, "What?! It''s two in the morning! Get in here, and you''d better tell me something good!" I open the door and step inside. A half-clothed full-bearded man sat at his desk, a line of drool making a pool on his desk. I quickly walked forward, and took a seat. He raised an eyebrow, but I spoke quickly. "I get the feeling you don''t like to waste time, so I''ll get straight to the point. You seem to be a man who''s comfortable with himself, so you won''t mind me telling you this-" "You''re makng an awful amount of assumptions." "Yes, but even if I''m wrong, i still think you''ll like what I have to say. I want to bribe you." He looked at me for a few seconds, then laughed. "You? What could a brat possibly want to bribe me for? And don''t think I''ll arrest your daddy just cause'' he-" *Thunk* A couple pieces of the glittering metal popped out of the bag and rolled around, a testimony to the value of the coinage. He looked back at my face, then wiped the smile off his face. "What kinda value are you gonna place on my soul?" I laughed a little myself. "Oh, your soul was sold a long, long time ago. You don''t become like me and you with only a few wrong steps. Extreme good, and extreme evil are two sides of a coin. Achieving either takes more effort than most people have. But, for people like us, that go seeking the wrong path...well, let''s just say that the risks don''t always exceed the rewards, eh?" We both grinned wolfishly. "So, enough with the talk. What are you paying me for, and how much are you paying?" I opened up the sack, and counted out five coins. His smile wavered, until I pocketed the money. Then, I pushed the sack towards him. "83 pieces of silver, a large sum, yes? And all I want...is for you to ignore talk about a very successful gambler. You get what I''m saying?" He looked me up and down, then put a single hand on the sack. "I can''t excempt you from law. If one of my men sees you doing something illegal, they''ll still arrest you. I have to maintain my reputation." I put up my hands. "Of course! None of your men will see me do anything! But if an angry man comes out of a tavern and goes looking for his buddies to teach someone a lesson...maybe you could invite them over to stay a night?" He nodded, then took the sack and placed it in a drawer. "Sure, I can do that much. The mayors'' been complaining that the guard haven''t been earning their pay...I''d say we''re earning a pay of some sort, huh?" I get up, then remember something. "Oh, and if a little kid comes around saying stuff about a guy named Jeff...you know how kids are these days, right?" We smiled, shook hands, then I turned around and left. Then, I asked one of the guards standing outside the door where the apothecary was. He pointed me in the direction, then I set off. --- When I arrived, the apothecary was dozing at his counter. I quietly gathered everything I wanted, then placed them on the counter. I gave the man a gentle shake, and speaking in a soft, wavy voice, I said..."...and then this happened, and that guy punched the other...it was terrible. Right, this is...two silver, six copper, right?" He nodded sleepily, took my money, then waved goodbye while falling asleep as I left. With any luck, he''d dismiss this as a dream. I couldn''t have just stolen it, as there was probably an anti-theft charm somewhere in the building, and it would take too long to find it. Plus, I didn''t have any way of deactivating it, so even finding it would be useless. Then sat down in an alley, and sighed. A pile of garbage was right next to me, which might be enough. I took out the sugar, molasses, and a few other...ingredients...then set about grinding it all together with a loose cobblestone. I could see in the dark, another useful trait of my race. Well, I didn''t need to sleep, so it would follow sense that night was where my species strength lay. After I''d made it, I took a stick about a foot long, and inserted it into my creation. Then, I carefully wrapped it up with a leaf, then headed towards the place where I''d met that stupid kid. After reaching the place, I sat down to wait. Several hours passed while I waited. Then, at the first sign of light, I started looking around the alleys until I found a kid. Dirty, ragged, and starving. Perfect. I sat down beside it, and sighed loudly. When the kid didn''t respond, I poked it on the cheek. It slowly looked at me, and I smiled. "Hey, you seem a little down on your luck." The child looked at the sky, then whispered, "...Luck has nothing to do with this. Just simple human foolishness." I looked at the sky too, and the rapidly disappearing stars. "The sky is so full of stars...don''t you think it would be nice if you could take one?" "Pft, as if you could hold onto a star. Besides, they''re so far away, how would you even reach them?" I smiled wider, and threw something into the air while the kid wasn''t looking. A twinkle shined high in the sky, and I held up my hand. "Like this." And it fell into my hand with a click. I held it up to the faint light that was fast disappearing. In my hand was a silver coin, more money than this kid had probably seen in its'' life. "Kid, you don''t need to reach a star to own it. Greed is humanities defining trait, and money is the materialization of that. What if I said that you could one day have a million people, all at once, look into the sky and say, "This belongs to that kid." it looked at the coin in my hand, then looked away. "Did you come here to mock me?" I flipped the coin, caught it on the back of my hand, then tossed it to land on the kids head. "No, I came to hire you. You''re the one who started the philosophical topic." The kid took the coin, then scooted a little away from me. "Aren''t you a little young to be preying on little children?" I smacked the kids'' head. "Listen, I''m the only prostitute here. What I want you to do is a little different..."
Snot-nosed-brats'' POV I hid behind a corner, watching for that stupid teen to walk into the place we''d met before. Although I was superior in every way, I was a little curious about what kind of gift that stupid boy would think to give. I looked at the sun every now and then, counting off the minutes until two. The moment arrived...and passed...I checked the sun...he was five minutes late... *Poke* "AH! What the fuck!" I looked behind me, and saw a kid even smaller than me. It looked at me, then said, "Hey, do you know a creepy guy named Jeff?" I nodded. "Ah...yeah..." It held up a stick attached to a bunch of leaves. "He said to give this to you. Said is was a peace offering, and that you were undoubtedly better than him." You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. I smiled, and took it. Kinda like a trophy. As I pulled at the leaves, they fell off and a bright, glistening disk was revealed. "Wow, even though everything else about him sucks...he at least knows when he''s defeated." I almost called out to the kid who was rapidly disappearing, but something had caught my attention. It was something small, in the middle of the disk. I used my finger to wipe at the cloud and transparent substance, and it came away sticky. I unconsciously licked it... it was sweet. I quickly licked the disk itself, and it felt as if my tongue had been stung by nettles, yet it was somehow pleasant. For an hour after I licked it, until I was finished. Then I threw the stick away, and found the thing that had been in the middle. A scrap of bark, with something etched into it. It was hard to read as it was old-speak, but I could vaguely make it out... ''Dear, unfortunate, stupid, friend. The fact that you''re reading this means that you are so tiny brained you have lost any respect I may have held for you. What did I say, about opponents? Ash. Disintegrated. Or dust. Now... Please, be entertaining. I could use a good laugh.'' Then, something gathered in my bowels, and then...unspeakable things happened. The only thing I remembered was crying on the hard, cold cobblestones, and cursing Jeff with all my heart. "...I''ll find you...and I''ll take everything you love...and I''ll destroy it...mark my words."
"Pass your bets! 10-1 on Mr. Dice, please pass your bets!" Today was a good day. I threw my dice, to the groans and cheers of everyone around me. This was the fifth tavern tonight, and the wealthiest so far. The kid-after getting some decent clothes, a haircut, and a good washing-was professionally taking bets and setting odds. Of course, since I cheated, we always got more than we lost. And quite a bit more it was. Now, instead of making money by winning, I was making much more money by losing. Just when it seemed I was undefeatable-I would lose dramatically, Although it always looked like I left the tavern with fewer coins than I entered, the kid had trouble carrying it all out. Of course, after my loss, I would always win a few times to assuage damaged pride, but I always winked and passed a coin to any guard I passed. Afterward, the guard would get a few of his buddies and follow the muscular guys who lost a lot of money, and invite them to sleep in the dungeon. Ah, it felt good. Of course, I left out the back door, as going out the front was just asking for trouble. Night was beginning to fall, and I had a lot to do if I wanted to wake up. --- I opened the door, and stepped in. All around, shadowy figures and dark corners surrounded me. I boldly walked forward, until I''d reached the foot of a throne-like chair. A thin, willow-like man no older than twenty lounged sideways on the chair. I gave a short bow, then took out a bag of silver, and threw it on the ground. "I want two of the biggest, meanest, and strongest men you have. The fee is 40 silver. The time is until I''m done here. I''ll give an additional tip of 5 silver for each instance that requires your mens'' attention. Do we have a deal?" The man sat up, then snapped a finger. "Fen, Ben, you got anything else to do?" The duo stepped forward. Seven foot tall, half as wide, and muscly as all hell. Perfect. "Nothing worth 40, boss. We taking it?" The boss nodded, and I turned around and left.
Boss'' POV The second Dice left, I snapped my fingers again. "Hey, Flip. Get out here." A thin, rat-like man slumped out of the shadows. I pointed at the door. "Follow him. Come back and report. I''ll get the men ready. Go." I rested my chin on my palm, and smiled. "Tonight, my friends, we make a lot of money." """WHOOOOOOO!""" --- I motioned with hand-signals for the operation to begin. Eight men quickly climbed to the second floor of the inn, then broke the window and jumped in. The sound of muffled yells carried across the street, and the twelve sentries I''d placed in a large circle around the building all smiled. I let myself enjoy a little smile. Why take 40 silver and act like dogs, when we could take it all and make him act like a dog? Then the sentries started disappearing. One by one, they were pulled into the shadows. Then, the inn door opened, and the eight men I''d sent in were thrown out, unconscious and tied up. Men in burgundy surcoats and carrying spears and clubs came out after them, and motioned for a prison cart to place the captured thieves in. I turned around, to find a smirking, red-eyed bastard looking at me, surrounded by shadowy figures holding tied-up sentries. The men standing behind the sentries weren''t guards-they were members of rival gangs. They were grinning at me, taunting and gleeful. The man stepped forward, and gave a bow. I sighed, and let my head hang in defeat. "How did you do it?" The man smiled. "Betrayal is like the plague. Those who dabble in it are bound to get infected. You''re the biggest gang in the whole town, and to get that way you made enemies. I just offered them a plan to do some betraying themselves." "That still doesn''t explain the guards. I''ve bribed them." I raised my hands palm-up. "I pay them more. Besides...the going rate for bail is 5 silver, right? Why do you think I paid you 40?" I fingered my sword. "I hope you don''t think I''ll come quietly." He shook his head. "The deal still stands. Your two men will meet me in front of this inn in the morning, and I''ll still pay the tip for any instances that I need to make use of them. I keep my word..." I eyed him. "...unlike other people." "You''re a bastard." "Hey, I take pride in the fact I don''t know who my father is." I let out a sigh, then started walking away. He let me. As I left, I felt a surge of sarcasm rise in me. "I guess I know why they call you, ''Loaded Dice'' around here. They say that the only way to beat you is to take all the factors of luck out of it." I laughed. "And, I keep telling them. Luck has nothing to do with it."
Congratulations! You''ve gained the title <>! Effects include: +1 Wisdom, -1 Luck. Keep up the good work! I smiled to myself while looking at the pop-up. ''Wisdom'' affected your mana capacity. I now had ten. Which would be useful... Except I can''t use magic, and the cheapest spell, in existence, cost 15 mana. As I was feeling depressed, Quibbles came over and climbed onto my shoulder. I was sitting at the table of my broken-in room, wasting time until sunrise. I gave Quibbles pieces of the meal I hadn''t eaten, but ordered to keep up appearances. I leaned back, and looked at my sacks of money. Three hundred pieces of silver, and no clue what to do with it. That was the problem with me. I knew how to get money, how to save it, to enlarge it, I just... Didn''t know how to use it, besides giving it away. The only reason I carried a wallet was so that any pickpocket ballsy enough to rob me would get a decent return. I went to the bed, and lay down on my back. Propping up my head on a pillow, I kept petting the drowsy Quibbles until it''d fallen asleep. It''d grown. Right after I''d arrived here, Quibbles had run off. Now he''d returned, and was a size bigger. His claws had grown, his tail had become longer... My, Quibbles really is a little monster. I think he takes after me. I just hope he doesn''t start talking again... #3 -TG- Chapter 6 AN: Wow, I actually reached the sixth chapter for one of these. Don''t think this trend will continue. Unless you really want it...stupid...
Jacksons'' POV He~ Oh, isn''t murder oh so murderously fun~ Level 76, with a unique weapon and Rare level armor, along with three rings each giving stat boosts~~ Just a little more, and I''ll kill every~last~person~ In that fucking town~ He~he~he~~
"""WHOOO!""" I left the latest tavern, with light pockets. Life was good. The birds were singing, people walked by me with smiles on their faces, and all around good feelings abounded. It made me sick. People who told you they were going to kill you were honest, people who smiled at you were dirty traitors who wanted to stab you in the back. Urgh, I need to start making preparations. Pretty soon, someones'' going to take a swipe at my pedestal, and I don''t want to be standing on it when that time comes. If only I had an enemy to take my place... Hmm...the gang bosses aren''t enemies, that kids'' already been taken care of...I don''t think I have any yet. Damn. I must be slacking. I''ll need to pick up the pace. Well, I don''t have to worry too much...fame breeds animosity like a light draws moths. But, I''d better get ready now, or I''ll end up dead. Again. --- Waving farewell to the apothecary, I headed up the windy road to the chapel on top of the hill. Once there, I rang a bell hanging from a pole to alert the priest that I was here. This chapel wasn''t very big, so it was unlikely to have more than one. A middle-aged woman came out, and offered a polite greetings. "Hello, stranger. Have you come to pay respect to the goddess?" I smiled, and held up the bag of material I had. "Actually, I was hoping to use some of your equipment. Of course, I''d be happy to pray or donate or whatever." She looked at me weird. "Um, equipment? I use it to make medicine, and I could make some for you..." I laughed. "No, I''m not making medicine. But, I''m hoping I''ll be able to make something else. What do you say?" She took a minute to decide. "Well, it couldn''t hurt, and I haven''t used it in a while..." She led me into a back room, filled with glass bottles, pipes, a burner, and other complicated tools. I breathed in the sour scent of burned glass, and went straight to work. "I must compliment you. This is even more advanced than mine was. Well, at least one good thing came of my sleep..." I went about my task quickly and efficiently, wasting no time or material. After a couple minutes, I set a substance to heat, then went back into the main building, and took a seat. The woman followed me out, and sat beside me. "You seem to know what you''re doing...but I must confess that I don''t know what you''re making." I nodded my head. "I never told anyone about my discoveries. And even if I wasn''t the first, or the only one, I doubt anyone else talked about it either. It''s simply too valuable." "So...you''re not going to tell me what you''re making?" I grinned. "Nope. But you needn''t worry. In this amount, it can''t be dangerous. But, I wish I could use magic. I''d be able to speed up the process considerably. Still...if I hadn''t learned patience by this point, I''d have died long before I actually did." She chuckled. "You sound older than me." I sigh. "With age comes foolishness, not wisdom. If only I''d learned that and checked my pride, things would''ve...no...actually, I think things turned out rather well. Here I am, a fresh start, I have Quibbles, no one''s posted my face all over the nine kingdoms with a price on my head, and I don''t have a bloody fiance that wants to marry my corpse. I...I think I''m actually better off, now that I''m dead, than I was alive. Well." I''d brightened considerably. I''d always felt a little down because I''d been killed due to my own incompetence, but now...was being dead really all that bad? For the next couple hours, I talked animatedly with the priestess, about philosophy and the workings of the divines, and we had a friendly argument on the pros and cons of priesthood. I insisted that being a priest was in no way favorable, and she politely extrapolated the blessings she received. We came to a stalemate, as these conversations with two stubborn people usually do, and I finally went back to my finished product. After bidding her goodbye, I went to the potters and got a small, fragile vase with a thin neck. --- Three days later, a carriage came into town. It went straight to the mayors villa, then departed to the nearest tavern. There, the footman inquired the occupants as the the location of the infamous, ''Loaded Dice'' and then departed as per direction. When they arrived, the place they came to was full to bursting with happy, drunk people. Outside, an armored person was trying to push their way through. The carriage pulled up to the door, then two men in plate stepped out, followed by a young girl. She ordered the two clad in plate to clear a path, which they did with enthusiasm. Inside, there was a table set in the middle of the room, with all of the other furniture set against the wall. At the center table, two chairs were set up. In one, a burly wagon driver was sitting, perspiration running down his face. In the other, a small, slight, pale man in a black cloak sat with a lazy smile. Two men stood behind the slight fellow, both built like bears. When the girl came in, she motioned towards the wagon driver. He was picked up, chair and all, and deposited outside, while a plush, throne-like wooden chair that probably cost more than the building, was set opposite of the slight man. The girl then daintily took a seat, with the two clad in plate taking up positions behind, and mirroring the two bear-men. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. At this, the cloaked mans'' smile grew wider. "Hey Ben, Fen, how much would I have to pay you to go up against those two tin-men?" As one, the two responded, "More than you have." then they went to leave. Before they could go, I threw them a small pouch. "A small gift to your boss, and for you too, if you want." They gave a salute, then crossed their bodies and left. A good funeral send-off. I turned toward the girl. "Now that that''s done...would you like to play a game?" She leaned over the table, blond hair falling like a river of gold. "I''d rather you answered some questions." I chuckled, then pushed a pair of dice towards her. "The alleys'' for asking questions. The table''s for playing." She frowned, and held up a hand. The plate-clad warriors took a step forward- "For every round you win, I''ll answer a question truthfully. For each one you lose, I''ll answer falsely. Deal?" He waved the two back, grinned like a wolf, then pulled out a large, heavy gold coin. "I only play with gold." I shrugged, and pulled out ten silver. "Soon I will too." then smiled a challenge. She picked up the dice, and threw them. I gave mine a casual toss, and took her gold. "Now, ask a question." "Are you the one named, ''Loaded Dice?''" I nodded. "Yep." She frowned, then threw again. I threw and took another coin. "The next question?" "If your name isn''t Loaded Dice, what is it?" "It starts with U." I took another coin. "Next?" "Do you actually cheat?" "No." And then, she threw, I matched one, and she matched both. She clenched her hand in victory. "Now, you have to answer my question truthfully." "Yes." Then I picked up my dice. She froze. "Wait. That wasn''t a question." "It sounded like one." "No, it was obviously a statement." "Obvious to whom?" She snapped her fingers, and the two plated men took another step forward. I nodded. "I see. Kindly ask your question, which I will answer truthfully." She pointed at me. "Are you a servant of the Demon King?" I blinked. "Sorry...that''s your question, right? You''re not joking?" She motioned to the two behind her. "Check his bag." They quickly stepped forward and dumped it over the table. Amidst the shining silver and copper, a single black ring stood out, a prominent red gemstone set carefully within fine design. She reached out and picked it up. "Hmm...this seems rather suspicious, doesn''t it?" I looked at her, than at it. "I''ve never seen that ring before in my life." She smiled. "Oh, but these rings always glow when their owner touches them...you wouldn''t mind wearing it, right?" She proffered the ring, and I looked at the two plate-clad angry-looking sword-wielding maniacs, and decided taking it was a good idea. I took it, and slid it onto my right-ring finger. Then, it shined with a fiery glow. The girl pointed her finger. "There! Proof that you''re a devils'' servant! Quickly, call the guards, and have him arrested!" I bowed my head, and admired the ring, not paying any attention. The two armored men stepped towards me, but paused as a surprising sound echoed and grew from within my throat. "...Ha...ha...ha...ha...ha...ha...ha!...ha...ha...ha...ha...Ha!HA!HAHAHAHAHA!" "What are you laughing at, demon spawn?" I looked up at the little girl, who couldn''t have been older than fourteen. "It''s just...to think, that all of my problems could be solved with no effort on my part! I''d spent so long, pretending to like people...pretending to care...but now...I have it." I looked directly into her eyes, and held up the ring. "I thank you for the gift, I''ll make sure to put it to good use. And as for your reward...I''ll answer you question." She blinked. "Wait...I was just...you couldn''t actually..." I bellowed out a laugh, then yelled, "Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes! Now, you filthy humans and your disgusting skin...keep one eye open tonight, eh? Oh, and you, the little blond mite...I swear to one day find you, and ''repay'' you for this." Then I raised my arm high above my head. All around, people screamed and covered their heads. Then, I threw down the pot, and smoke soon choked the room. --- I continued to chuckle as I jogged down the road. At the inn, I dropped off a message for the lil'' kid that''d helped me, and told the innkeeper to deliver all of the things I''d left in there to the kid. Then, I took a good amount of money, and jogged down to the towns small stables. I bought a black and white-streaked horse, and rode out of town laughing like a maniac. Congratulations! You''ve gained the title <> Effects include: Magic path unlocked, -1 Luck I once again admired the ring that girl had so kindly slipped into my bag, then turned around and given to me. <> Effects: +1 Intelligence, +5 Mana Capacity Now...I could do something. Not a lot, I would have to level up to even learn a magic, not to mention I''d only be able to use it once, but...I wasn''t completely powerless anymore. Then, I remembered something. "Oh, shit...I forgot Quibbles.." "..." I''m sure he''ll be fine... #3 -TG- Chapter 7 AN: I-it''s not like I''m writing this because I enjoyed talking to everyone...
Tiania Silvercrest Auromsteins'' POV Honestly, I was close to wetting myself. But, as my father always says, "A noble is noble not because they simply are, it is because the commoners need someone to lead them." And, isn''t this exactly what I wanted? All around, men and women were yelling, crying, cowering, and fighting. If this continues, who knows what could happen? But what if I fail? I Slowly rose to my feet, and waved back my two bodyguards, Giffard and Poll. They were both level 75 Knights, but against this many people, even they could be overwhelmed. Now was the time I took responsibility. I goaded and taunted the demon. I endangered all these people. If any of them get hurt, regardless of whether it was by my action or not, it is still my responsibility. Rule is such a heavy mantle. "SILENCE!" Instantly, my tone filled with the weight of command and authority cuts through the cacaphony, bringing me the attention of all around me. These aren''t county bumpkins, so unless I use sufficient rhetoric to win them over, they''ll continue rioting all the same. Time to remember all those lessons my tutors gave me. But they didn''t prepare me for this. "Listen, good people of Keravala, this day we have brought a demon out into the open. Panicking will get us nowhere, instead, I want you all to quietly return to your homes, and warn everyone you meet." "What will hiding in our homes accomplish if that devil burns the city down!?" The yells came back, and Giffard and Poll had to hold back angry drunkards. "LIsten! I will speak with the mayor and the head of the guard, and together, we''ll prepare a defense. Right now, the best thing you can do is lie low and avoid attracting the demons attention by...I don''t know, yelling?" Immediately, the noise started dying down, and people started quietly leaving. After most had gone, I sighed and collapsed in my chair. I''d feel embarrassed to show my guards this, but they''d seen me in a much worse state. After giving myself a moment to recover, I stood up again, and steeled my resolve. "Come, Giffard, Poll. We have a town to protect."
Jacksons'' POV I felt like dancing. I had never expected the even to go this way. One of the demon kings'' servants, in the starting town! I had thought of finding the bastard to kill first, as an opener of my genocide of the entire town, but now... I''m going to see this event to the end, and I''m going to suck this town, this event, and everyone involved, dry. Oh, just thinking about the loot I''m going to get is making me aroused~
Asheras'' POV With the same expression I used when faced with anything, I listened to the message ''Jeff,'' more commonly known as ''Dice'' had left. In short, it was an apology that he had to leave in a hurry, and left everything to me. I took the several hundred pieces of silver, and the recent acquisition of three gold pieces, and pondered deeply. On the one hand, I could live comfortably until I was old enough to be apprenticed, but who knew what would happen to a little kid with lots of cash during that time? Besides, life was boring. Nothing happened, only trivial matters occured in day-to-day life, and everything had the same, gray tone. Except Dice. Underneath his hood, his eyes always shone, full of wisdom and cunning. They glowed with an inner light, and anyone who looked would quickly realize that the soul behind those eyes was vast, resourceful, and mind-numbingly ancient. That body of his that could barely move seemed like a joke, a trick of the eyes, so ironic was the match of that soul and that body. Like sticking a dragon inside a rabbit. Now that he was gone...the gray tone had dulled even more. I could barely make out where walls were. Everything seemed to crumble as I walked on it, and nothing felt solid. And I...I felt empty. My soul cried out in endless torment, the vast and cold expanse of reality draining its'' life and bringing me to my knees. Nothing felt warm. Food turned to ash in my mouth. Sleep eluded me. Light avoided me. Everywhere I looked, the gray seemed to mock me. Life...is not worth living. How many times have I fondly dreamed of death? How many days did I lay staring at the stars, weeping at my weakness that made me unable to go through with it? My tears had run out, until nothing but emptiness remained. And there I sat, quietly awaiting death. Until the bastard picked me up, and jogged me from my trance. He filled my head with useless dreams and hopeless fantasies, of stars and hope and beauty and color. And then he left. Like everyone else. ... ...No. Before I knew it, I''d purchased a bow, spare clothes, rations, and a horse. I asked the stablemaster where a suspicious looking man had left, and he pointed down the road. I knew not how long I wandered aimlessly through the streets, blind to all around me. But now... I must make up for lost time. I''m tired. Of living. Of breathing. Of being left behind. I''ll track the bastard down, nail him to a tree, and if he still manages to slip away... I swear, to god, to the devil, to myself, that I''ll be strong enough to end it all.
Sitting at a dirty table in a run-down inn, idly drawing symbols in the crumbs, I ponder the end of all things. *Thump* I look up. "Hello there, mysterious stranger. My name''s Gerald, but you can call me Garry." said a veritable giant. "I''m Greg, you can call me Greg." added a man almost as short as me, and carrying a bow on his back. "I''m Percy, and if you call me anything other than Percy, I''ll kill you." growled a boy a little taller, and a little less pale. I looked at the three, then lowered my head, assuming they were talking to someone else. "Hey, we aren''t done with you." stated the less-pale, raven-haired pretty-boy, while aggressively grabbing the front of my shirt. "Hey, we''re trying to be friendly, ease off." said the dashing bowmen, curly brown hair sweeping across his forehead. "We wouldn''t want to offend a magican." Rumbled the blond giant. I looked behind me, then back at the trio. "What magican?" The giant chuckled, a sound that made the floorboards vibrate. "Well, what else would a cloaked, slight, mysterious fellow be?" I squinted at him. "I think you have me confused with someone else. I believe the words you were looking for were, "clothed, puny, suspicious fellow."" "Come on, don''t be coy. You look like a magican, you talk like a magican, and you even smell like a magican! It''s obvious you''re a magican!" I look at him. "First, what does a magican smell like, and secondly-you sniffed me?" He shrugged. "You smell like those dangerous chemi-somethins that magicans are always messing around with. You only have to be a few inches away." I scoot away. "So, supposing I was a magican-not saying I am-what would you say?" The giant laughed and picked my up like a doll. "Why, join us! What else? My team is lacking some magical sorcery, and you''re just what we need!" Feeling like a piece of hanged-up clothing, I look down at the giant. "You don''t actually know what a magican does, do you?" His grin faltered. "Well, no-but I''m looking forward to learn!" "Well, you''ll just have to wait, because I''m not-Mf!mFMFFMFMFMFM!" The giant clasped me to his chest, then left the inn, followed by his two companions. --- "I told you! I''m not a magican! And this is kidnapping!" "Hahaha, just what a magican would say." "Kidnapping is illegal, you know?!" "Do you think anyone will miss you?" "..." "I''ll take that as a no. Welcome to my party! We call ourselves-The Joyful Jaunterers! You''ll love it here!" "Aren''t you a cleric? Doesn''t this poke your morals?" "Hmm? Those useless things? Nah, they got in the way of profit. Now I listen to the little red man on my shoulder!" "...and they call me a demon..." "What was that?" "Nothing!" --- I was sat down on top of a wagon between Greg and Percy, while Gerald rode in the front wagon, next to the tradesmen who''d hired them. As we rumbled down the dirt road, I tried many times to escape, but was checked every time. I attempted the ol'' ''I need to use the bush'' but they just told me to do it over the side of the wagon. Barbarians. Every one of them. Every now and then, wolves or goblins would jump out, only to be nonchalantly slaughtered where they stood. Greg put it most aptly. "These pests are like rats. You step on one, and the rest just scatter." Still, there was an advantage to being in a party. I was getting experience. The bar was mostly full after around a hundred dead goblins. I asked Greg about this. "Seriously? I leveled up three times this trip. You must be quite high-leveled to not even get one after all this..." I cried to myself. Gerald once made a comment. "Man, all of the monsters here are only Tier I. I wish we''d meet something interesting." To this, the tradesman expressed his relief at not having met anything ''interesting.'' But, I had a question. "Tier? What''s that?" Percy humphed and turned away, but Greg, who seemed the most helpful, tried to explain it. "Tiers are what we use to differentiate between high and low classes. I mean, you must have already hit Tier II, am I right? After you reach Level 100, you''re asked to pick a higher class and a sub-class. Guards and tradesmen are Tier I, while Knights and Merchants are Tier II. Of course, they gain experience and levels differently, but you could call a level 25 knight a level 125 warrior. Except, for each higher Tier, the bonuses for each level, and the skills, become exponentially larger." The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Gerald chimed in. "That''s why I want to meet a Tier II monster. For monsters, they evolve into completely new creatures, or at least stronger versions, whenever they hit the big one-hundo. The stat bonuses they get are much bigger, but us humans make up for it with skills and team-work. Still, the more evolution''s monsters get, the more human they become. Some can use skills. Ah...those are the fun ones." I look at him. "You know those ''fun'' ones can kill you, right?" He just grins. "That''s what makes it fun. Plus, you get huge bonus EXP when you kill something of a higher Tier." These...psychopaths. They''re crazy! Why did I have to be kidnapped by maniacs! Still, I was interested, so I checked my status again. My base stats meant nothing, as no matter what they were they''d be nullified. I checked my level and... Level: 0 Tier: -III ...wait. -III? As in, less than Tier 0? Seriously!? "...Hey, when you''re born, you''re level 0, right?" They all looked at me like I was an idiot. "No, stupid. Everything, regardless of race, is born Level 1. Even when you Tier-up, you start at level 1. How else would we get a skill point?" "...wait. Skill point. How get?" Percy impatiently hammered the wagon with each word. "At level 1, everyone gets a skill point. Then, at 5, 10, 15, and so one, another one is awarded. Are you just playing dumb to get a rise out of me?" I retreated far into myself. So, I was, effectively, four tiers below everything else, a level that didn''t even exist, and...I''m gonna check what the ''fragile'' part of my race means. <> This individual is so pathetic that it can barely support its'' own life, much less do much about it. EXP gain reduced by 99.98%, -1 Level ... Seriously? Are you kidding with me? I was just starting to enjoy life...I thought death wasn''t so bad...but now... I reaffirmed my oath to destroy the world, deep in my heart. Right now, because of the difference between mine and other monsters'' Tiers, I''m gaining EXP, even with the titanic wall standing in my way. Instead of being a super-high level, I''m so low, and so weak, that it seems impossible for me to get stronger. How, oh how, I ask you, is this fair? I don''t even start out with a skill point! Everything...is hopeless... There is no reason to live... And as I was falling deeper and deeper into the abyss known as self-pity, something ''interesting'' stepped onto the bushes. Warning! Tier III monster <> has appeared! Oh, great. I''m heading towards death at RECORD SPEED! "Okay, it''s been fun, but I really think we should fall back and-" """CHARGE!!!""" FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUU ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL! I sat down next to the tradesmen, who was sweating profusely. "My, I never thought...I mean, Ogres are a dangerous race, you never see them so far south, but if a Lesser Ogre evolved, then maybe...but that''s impossible..." Wait... I clamped my hand on his shoulder. "Wait. What''s a "lesser Ogre?"" He looked at me, then turned back. "They evolve from very large goblins, a Tier II monster, even more dangerous than the conventional Hobgoblin that is the same Tier. Technically, it''s possible that a Lesser Ogre could evolve, but it would have to kill so much..." I only heard up until, "It''s possible a Lesser Ogre could evolve..." My mind was clear. All the doubt and pity was gone. My head swirled with joy... I could do it. It was possible. I could, eventually, rid myself of the <> precluding my Race! I could do it! But... Two <> were accompanying the <>, and together they were too much for Gerald and Percy. Gerald, with his large tower shield, could hold off all of the goblins surrounding them, but he was quickly tireing, and Percy, with his dual swords, could only cut down the goblins and try to get the attention of the ogres. Greg was busy shooting arrows at the <> trying to weaken it, just a little. The Ogre was wearing nothing but a loincloth, and holding a large stick. It stood at nine feet. Geralds equipment was good, and the Ogre was probably low-leveled, but there were simply too many monsters. If it was just the lesser monsters, or just the Ogre, they could do it... After Greg, Percy, and Gerald had killed nigh on two-hundred monsters on the way here, my experience bar was a centimeter from pushing over the edge. I was, almost, level one. For so much work, I was almost at the point that everyone excluding me was born at. But, instead of filling me with self-pity... It filled me... With fire. "Greg! Kill one of the goblins!" "Which one!?" "Any! Just do it quickly!" He didn''t question further, just shot a small green-skin in the eye. As it fell, dead, I received a notification... Level-up! +1 Level, +0 stat points, +1 skill point I entered my skill tab, scrolled past my racial skills, entered the magic, then opened the only path open to me... < > <> Learned! Effects: -25% speed of individual target for -1- minute. Cost: 15 mana I slipped on my new ring, and grinned. I stretched forth my hand... "<>!" Instantly, the <> began to move as though slowed by a strong wind. Taken by surprise, Gerald almost took a blow from a <> but quickly recovered. I yelled to him, "The <> will be slow for one minute! Back off, and finish off the lesser monsters." With obviously superior teamwork, the three psychopaths retreated at a full run. The Ogre tried to follow, but seemed frustrated at its'' slow feet. All of the other monsters eagerly followed Gerald and Percy. Then, Greg, Percy, and Gerald, committed a slaughter as I''d seen only perhaps a dozen times in my life. Then, when the minute ran out, the ogre stumbled a few steps forward, to find all of its'' followers dead, and three grinning lunatics covered in green, gooey blood, raising their weapons. I didn''t enjoy watching the butchers'' work...but I didn''t close my eyes, either. I just watched for...research. Yeah... ..research. Glorious, blood-spattered research. --- As we were sitting around the campfire that night, the three laughing and drinking, I sat a little away from them and brooded. I''d gained 3% EXP from the <> alone. A being that had a seven Tier difference gave me 3% Exp, and it would only get harder from here, the higher leveled got. I would have to kill every person in the town I came from, the town I woke up in, and probably a couple others. Except...i had no strength, and no way of dealing damage. I could only make people three-fourths as fast. Well, I wouldn''t die from old age, maybe I could just be patient? Percy elbowed me, which took ten percent of my health away. "Hey, whatcha thinking about?" He''d gotten considerably more polite since the incident. He hadn''t even blamed me for not using my magic sooner. He was either a very good person...or an idiot. I''m leaning towards the latter. "Oh, nothing. Just wondering why none of the monsters had names. Are they just not smart enough?" Percy chuckled. "Man, you must''ve been hiding under a rock your whole life. Some monsters do have names, but only because they were given. Monsters can''t name themselves, you know? It just doesn''t work, because..." "Names hold power." inserted Greg. I looked at him. "Really? But everyone in town has one..." Gerald nodded sagely. "That''s exactly the heart of it. People are gifted with names from the goddess, because we are her chosen people. Monsters were cast out, abandoned, forgotten. They became angry, and the earth itself became angry, and spewed forth a flood of nameless beasts, hell-bent on destroying the goddess''s favored race. But, it is exactly because of the Goddess'' favor that we can weather the storm, and even prosper!" I thought about it. "..say, what if a monster were to call itself by a name. What would happen then?" Greg smiled and spoke slowly. "It would be like using a sword as a shovel. Sure, it works somewhat, but it doesn''t contain the essence." I thought about it. "...so, how would you give a monster a name?" Gerald shrugged. "When a beast-master tames one, they give it a name, but they only do so to identify it as different from other monsters. Now, Named Monsters, are entities unto themselves. No one quite knows how they''re made, but the demon king is a prime example of what happens when one gains power. They seek to destroy humanity, with their ill-gotten name lending them power." I thought for a while. "...So I''ve been thinking. I''m embarrassed about my actual name, so I should use a different one. An impressive one. What kinda name do you think a magican would have?" "Geoffrey! Jeffery! Peffery!" "...I don''t know. ''Greg'' is the only name I can think of..." "Afrideous!" I hang my head. "Not to be offensive...but you suck at coming up with names. How about..." "...Imed?" "Meh, I like mine better." "...I still think Greg is better..." "What kinda stupid name is that?" I responded. "Oh, come on. Just for fun, Percy, call me it." "No." "Com''on, just once." "No." "...I''ll give you my stew." Percy looked up, a shine in his eyes. "Alright. "I, Percy, Name you Imed." Named Monster <> is near. #3 -TG- Chapter 8 """AHHHHHHHH!""" I shaded my eyes with my hand, and gave a whistle at the dust cloud they were making as they ran away. The trip should''ve only taken a day, but because of the Ogre delay they were planning to camp out for tonight, since the road gets much more dangerous at night. Gerald had tried to convince the others, saying it would be ''interesting'' but was quickly shot down. I rested my hands on my knees, and sat back down. Night was quickly approaching, and the monster-repelling charm was in the tradesman''s'' wagon. Ahh, the sky is so much more beautiful at night. To the side, my black-and-white streaked horse was lazily chomping grass. I gave a short whistle, and it walked over to me and nuzzled its'' nose into my cloak, looking for treats. I gave it a pat, and stroked its'' mane. "Hah...looks like it''s just us now, huh?" The horse nickered, and gave me a comforting butt of the head. "It''ll be sorta lonely...even though each and every one of them was out of their minds, it was kinda nice to be part of a group." The horse gently chewed on my hair. "But, you saw the notification too, didn''t you? I''m a <> now. Now, whenever I meet people, they''ll immediately try to either kill me, or flee in terror." The horse licked my hands, and I scratched its'' chin. "...I know it''s not very monstrous of me to wallow in loneliness, but I can''t very well help it. Hell, I''m talking to a horse." The horse blew on my face, and nuzzled further into me. "Well, at least I can solve on problem immediately. I can''t just keep calling you ''the horse'' can I? But I had a hard time thinking about mine, and I have no experience naming horses." The horse withdrew, and bent its'' knees enough to lie down, and looked at me. "Hah...well, here in the dark, those white streaks really show. How about Wraith?" The horse blew out air in a snort. "Guess not...what about Shadow? You''re sorta blacky-ish." The horse looked at me, then I swear it rolled its'' eyes. "Damn...not that either? Well, what then!" I stood up and kicked a rock. Rock vs. Toe, Rock wins! I hop around on one foot, then almost fall over- I fall against something big, and warm. Looking at the horse from this angle, the black blending with the darkness, the white streaks suggesting, yet not confirming the shape of a horse. I stop swearing, and pat the horse some more. I tighten the saddle, climb on, then pat its'' neck. "How about Ghost? A perfect mount for a zombie, don''t you think?" Ghost nickered cheerfully, then started high-stepping down the road, the way we''d come. I took my feet out of the stirrups and lay down on Ghost, while looking up at the sky. Like this...I didn''t have to be lonely, and I could still enjoy the night sky. I think...I can live like this. Then, of course, it started raining. Just typical. --- I had to dismount and lead Ghost, as horses don''t have my night-vision. I''d broken off of the road, as the trees offered more shelter, but they also had many deep, treacherous holes. Getting through without breaking Ghosts'' legs was taking all of my reaction, and Ghosts'' strength. I''d headed North, towards the mountains, and hoped to find an overhang. To my fortune, I found one just big enough for a horse and two people. Unfortunately, it was occupied. Two small, ugly, green-skinned goblins huddled underneath. Both were wearing sacks, but only one had a rusty dagger. They were both half the size of other goblins, and one had blue tattoos covering their face, arms, and legs. For several seconds, we numbly stared at each other. The goblin holding the knife quickly rose, and picked up its'' companion, preparing to flee. They looked about ready to die on their feet. I held up a hand to stop them. "You''re fine. Mind if I put Ghost here? When his mane gets wet, it puffs up and irritates him." Ghost shook helpfully, and trotted under the overhang, fearlessly dropping gratefully to its'' knees. The two goblins trembled, and I leaned up against a tree. "It''s fine. The rain doesn''t bother me, but you two''d most likely die if you go anywhere right know. One of them mutters something, while the tattooed one collapses and passes out. "Sorry, what was that? I didn''t hear you." The goblin holding a knife looked at me. "I-M-E-D. Strange name." I laughed. "Don''t too much fun of it. I thought it up myself, after all. But, I confess you have the advantage of me, as I don''t know your name." The goblin sat down next to its'' friend, then grunted. "Don''t have one." I thought for a second. "How about Pokey?" "No." I sat down, rain dripping off of my hood. "Not much for conversation, huh?" "No." "But, this rain could go on for hours...don''t you want to pass the time?" The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. "No." We sat in silence for several minutes. The rain began to increase in intensity. Then, the goblin spoke. "You not eat us?" I eyed the two. "Nah. You''re so small and thin, I could pick my teeth with your ribs. Besides, even if I wanted to, I couldn''t." "Why? You named. Strong." "Hahaha! That''s a good one! But, sadly, not the case. True, being named does...what does it do?" I pulled up my status, then checked the description on my name. Named Monster <> Due to cunning rather than strength, this individual stole a name. All base stats increased by 10%. "Ah, that''s what it does. Kinda funny, since I don''t have any base stats. I have...let''s see, four points from <> and one from <>, and one more from <> if you can count that. The ring is so that means something, maybe." "...You, named, weak?" I nodded. "You could probably kill me with one stab. Though, Ghost would be a bit harder..." The goblin seemed comforted by this. After a few more minutes, it''d nodded off as well. Two goblins, a horse, and a zombie. Three were sleeping. For the first time since waking up, I wished I could go back to sleep. It had been so warm, so stress-free. Plus, in my dreams, I wasn''t a fragile, weak, lesser, decrepit corpse. I was me, in my prime. Boiling, roasting, skewering, crucifying, ripping, and doing all manner of entertaining things to my enemies. Of course... As time went on, their faces blurred together, and even I started to fade, until I was just a shadow, torturing blobs of unrecognizable humanoids. Even dreaming became dreary, and the warmth had all seeped out into my coffin. And, while tossing and turning inside a stone sarcophagus, I got bored. There was no one to talk to. No one too fool. No one to best, no one to beat, just...more of nothing. Life is meant to be lived for the joy of living. And I''m dead. Sure, I didn''t have an alliance of kings all gunning for my head, but that had been fun. It had made every moment hell, so that each moment that wasn''t hell was memorable. But now... Even memories that I''d treasured for years were nothing but a vague sense of deja vu. What was I even doing here? What could I do? If I got myself killed...could I proudly walk up to the enemies that I conquered, and tell them I met a fitting end that could satisfy them? No. I cannot just slip quietly into the night. It is my responsibility, as the one who ended so many lives, to kill myself in a sufficiently bombastic manner. Why else would I have been brought back to life, if not to satisfy the spirits of the dead? Anything else would simply be shameful. As the rain lessened, let up, and finally retreated, morning light painted the open canvas that was the mountains. Two goblins and a horse woke up to find a zombie grinning at them. "Hey kids, wanna make some dead bodies?"
Percys'' POV I panted, catching my breathe, as the light of the sun rose over a terrible night. I''d had a nightmare, of a grinning monster leering over me. I held my hand to my breast, and noticed an unread notification. Oh no, you were tricked into giving a monster a name! As such, the price of power was deducted directly from you. -1 Exp. I rubbed my eyes, then reread it, and looked at the cost again. I looked at my exp bar, but if it had moved, I couldn''t tell. The exp required to level was in the thousands. Wait...wouldn''t that mean...that he was stupidly weak...? For a long time, I would ponder over this. Not until much later would I get an answer. Of course, at that time...much bigger problems were holding my attention. --- Asheras'' POV I knelt in the mud. With a scream, I smashed the clay bowl that was the only remnant of the camp. I''d gone without sleep...pushed myself as hard as I could, and braved dangers grown men would fear...and after all that... "Foiled! By the fucking weather!" All tracks had been obliterated. Now I had no choice but to follow the supposed route towards the town, and hope that I could find him. My hands trembled with rage, and a tint of red hung around the edges of my vision. From the side, I heard a low growl. Behind as well. I looked up, and saw that I was surrounded by wolves. "You fuckers! Come on then, come and get some!" I pulled my bow to the limit, and flipped the cover off my short-sword. I had some stress to relieve. #3 -TG- Chapter 9 AN: Damn, I just found a song from 2011, and I can''t stop shaking my head...my fingers are itching to move, and what better way to use this energy, than to corrupt all of the minds that read this? It''s one of those times when I just burst out laughing for no reason at all. Let''s hope I stop soon... Ah, whom I kidding? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAGAGAGGAGGAGGAGAAGAGGAGAHSHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Who says you can only be completely insane? I''m going 110% on this, and I''ll burst these limits. For life! For liberty! And Insanity! Or whatever it is I am...
Imeds'' POV For clothes given to a dead body, I have to admit they were pretty ''fleek'' as young''uns these days would say. Water-proof, durable as hell, and pretty damn comfortable, I had to wonder why no one robbed it off my body. I pulled open my equip tab, and checked out the shirt/pants/shoe combo. Apparently they were a set. ( Tier II Level Requirement: 60 Woven from Mithril thread, Black Steel wire, and magic, this cloth is durable, magic-resistant, and immensely comfortable, made not for combat, but for casual wear. Because of your low level, you receive 0% of the clothing''s'' effects. Offers 0 protection and deteriorates at 600% speed.) Well...I might as well just wear nothing, huh? Except, since I''m literally a negative Tier, nothing I wear will help me in any way. Might as well wear this, since it''s comfortable. Still, I have to wonder. Who makes casual clothing that has a level restriction? Obviously someone clever, duh. You don''t want plebs wearing your threads, so there''s a need to set some boundaries. Besides the Raiment, I also had the and the . The ring didn''t have any requirements, except for a finger. Since the cloak had a strength requirement of 1 I barely fit the bill, but I''m glad I at least got that. It gave me 1 defense. Whoopee. I stopped admiring the depth of the gemstone set into my ring, and looked up as my two new friends woke up. They didn''t know it yet, but we were about to become best pals. "Hey kids, wanna make some dead bodies?" --- "<>" The horned-rabbit briefly flashed a dark purple, and began to move at three-fourths its'' previous speed. For the two goblins, before, the rabbits had been too swift to catch, and everything else was too formidible. Now, Pokey-ahem, Unnamed, was able to catch up to the rabbits and stab them several times in the face. We made a good team. As I had 2 intelligence, because of <> and the ring, I regenerated 2 mana per minute. In seven-and-a-half minutes, I was full. Then I could cast <> again, and Pok-Unnamed could stab another one. After we''d massacred all nearby furry creatures, P-Unnamed and the one I''d dubbed ''Sleepy'' ate the rabbits. I would''ve suggested they cook it, but I honestly didn''t know how to start a fire without flint and steel, or better a burner, or even better, magic. A good thing to note, other monsters just didn''t want to eat me. In fact, a triple-horned horse trotted right up to me, and let me pet it. Ghost chased it off, but I just think he''s jealous. But, Pokey wasn''t-ah, dammit. Unnamed wasn''t the only one who killed stuff. Ghost was having a blast crushing various woodland creatures, and kicking anything that moved. I think that Pokey and Ghost must''ve-ah, whatever. Those two must''ve agreed on a competition of some sort, as they both seemed determined to rid the forest of all creatures fuzzy, while I would just sit there petting a cute armadillo that snuggled up against me. Animals really seem to love me. That, or they''re sympathetic that all things even vaguely resembling human hated me. Often, we''d meet goblins who tried to kill Pokey and Sleepy on sight. Ghost would use the technique-Crushing body weight-and everything would be fine, except for the green goo stuck in his hooves. I smoothed the fur of an adorable horned rabbit, and shivered a little. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Why is it that everything except for me wants to kill everything in sight? Is there some sort of memo that I missed? Is it just me, or is every creature besides me obsessed with murder? For two weeks, I passed the time peacefully enjoying what nature didn''t get stabbed, crushed, or eaten. Then things went wrong, as they often do. --- I was passing time while my mana regenerated, massaging a bird, as I often did. Birds were the only thing Pokey wasn''t interested in eating, as they didn''t have enough meat on them. All of my other furry friends were only pleasant memories now. I looked up for no reason, expecting the usual sight of two green-skinned gobbys and one gigantic horse, but instead I only saw Ghost. As I inspected my surroundings that were a little farther away, I saw my two green friends being carried away in nets. Naturally, I followed. Curiosity killed the cat, and I killed the guy who hurt the cat, so there was nothing to fear now. After three miles of trekking through the forest, with Ghost following a fair distance behind, since even though he''s stealthy for a horse, he''s still a horse, I reached the goblins'' camp. It was set near a stream, with animal skins used in place of canvas. Clumsy tents were grouped around shallow pits, and from what I counted, there were only about thirty goblins. None of them were young, either. They were all warriors. A pit to the side was filled with smaller green bodies that seemed several weeks old. Yet, the bodies hadn''t been buried, and maggots were teeming around them. I watched while my two recently acquired comrades were shut up in wooden cages, and all of the goblins split up to gather wood. It seems they''re making a bonfire. Fun. Hey, I worked...well, okay, I just sorta got those two as friends, and I''m too lazy too find new ones. You''ll just have to do something else...but, here I am, as powerful as a twig. How can I save them? I let myself begin to ponder plans, then left to see about something. --- A fire began, and then was stoked, and fed, and prodded, until it had become a blazing inferno. Green-skinned hunchbacks danced wildly around the fire, raising their calls to the heavens, along with the smoke. Several carried over the wooden cages, and opened the one containing the tattoo-clad goblin. It was prodded at spear-point to a position upwind of the fire, where all could see. A goblin took a stone dagger, and raised it high. Cheers and yells greeted this. Two goblins held the smaller tattooed one down, as the dagger was brought close to the tiny goblins chest- Named Monster <> has arrived. The roaring of the fire fled to the background, and all eyes turned to behold the massive shadow creeping from the trees. Red eyes glinted from eight feet up, and a voice echoed out. "I wouldn''t do that, if I were you." The goblin holding the dagger trembled so much it dropped the knife, and several barely resisted the urge to flee in terror. The shadowy figure continued, "Rather than sacrificing to a god that isn''t listening, how about you listen to me? I have need of some minions for a task, and you happen to be in my path...come, if you wish to live." Then it turned, and left. Several goblins stared in fear long after the monster had disappeared, then discussion began. Many options were laid out, and several plans were put out. In the end...goblins are practical. It''s why they''ve survived for so long. Between an unknown, far-away being that may or may not exist, and the very-near, very-real and known threat that definitely existed, it was obvious what they''d choose. They followed after the figure, ignoring the two they''d held prisoner not-long ago. After picking itself up, the tattooed goblin freed its'' sibling, and they held a quick discussion. Escape? Into the unknown? Or... Follow this strange monster known as <>? #3 -TG- Chapter 10: Roadside Assistance AN: Well, it seems we''ve gotten here already. ... I''d like to thank my mom, my dad, the academy, my grandparents, my uncle tom, my aunt Katy, my great aunt Jammima, the twins, my niece, my nephew, the mailman, my bed, the secret stash of drugs under my bed, the rock outside my front door where I keep my keys, the Geralds, the Jefferys, the Fergasons, the Mcguffries, the Almaclunkskies, and most of all, I''d like to thank YOU, the reader. Or not. JK TROLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
Giving Ghost a nudge with my knee, he came to a stop under a thick leafy canopy. Under the shadow of the tree, I looked out over the road that was less than a hundred meters away. As I surveyed the situation developing, I turned back around and took stock. Thirty-six goblins. Stinky, short, green, untrained, untried, and terrified out of their minds. If it''s only something like this, my cunning is truly being wasted. "I need a lieutenant. Who has the ambition for the job?" The goblins all sneakily eyed each other, but no one took the first step. In goblin culture, the one who made the first move was the one who died first. From behind the group, a voice thick with the goblin accent shouted. "I do." I looked over the groups heads'', and spied Pokey tugging Sleepy along. I nodded. "Good. You will obey Po-that one as you would me. Now, here''s the plan, if you fuck up, I''ll use your skin as toilet paper." --- From the goblins reactions, I''d finally been able to figure out the exact distance at which the notification of my presence would pop up. I waited just outside that range, and waited for the first step of my plan to go through. This wouldn''t require much timing, but it would be more dramatic and believable if I got it right. They sure are taking a while...
Olivia Bonfried Jealstroms'' POV The forest shook, and something crashed through the undergrowth. I''d been riding in my carriage, on the way to check on one of my vassals towns. Rumor stated that a demon was in the area, and I wanted to make certain that the defense was seen to. On the road between Vanbe and Namstead, one of the horses leading my carriage had broken a leg. The driver claimed that one of the horses had suddenly started to slow down, causing the carriage to turn, which led to one of the horses getting injured. As night was quickly approaching, we made camp. At dawn, we set about preparing to send someone off to fetch help, when this happened. Out of the forest, a large boar came thundering from the undergrowth. It had horns as well as tusks, and bony spins extending from its'' back. My four guards prepared to defend me, when- Named Monster <> has arrived. The guards all froze in surprise, and one was immediately speared on the end of the boars'' spine. The other three looked in fear at the awesome existence known as a <>. It-or rather, Imed, turned and prepared to charge again. It was bleeding from several cuts, and had spears and arrows sticking out from its'' hide, but that only seemed to infuriate it. The guards grimly faced it, facing towards death with open eyes. The boar charged- "<>" From behind the boar, a cloaked figure on a horse charged forward. The boar began to run, but seemed to have trouble, as if pushing against a wall. The horse came forward, and carefully avoiding the spines, reversed and kicked the boar in its'' side. The monster tumbled and rolled, before coming back up. Beside me, the cloaked figure swept down from the saddle. In a serene, almost soothing voice, the figure spoke. "You three, surround it. Don''t let it get a fix on you, keep it disoriented." My guards moved as if following his orders were natural, and split up to surround the monster. It seemed oddly sleepy, and moved slowly. With the three guardsmen all stabbing it from different angles, keeping it from gaining the advantage, the weakened monster soon slowed, and then died. Afterward, the stranger clapped. "Wonderful. Couldn''t have done it better myself. Now..." Here the cloaked figure turned to me, and offered a hand. "You seem to be in a spot of trouble. Need a hand?"
Imeds'' POV Offering my hand to the young noble, I lifted her to her feet,(sorta) and escorted her to the carriage. After depositing her inside, I waved at the driver and the three guards. The guards obediently walked over, while the driver threw up some complaint. "Um, sorry to be rude, kind stranger, but the horse is injured and her ladyship-" I held up a hand to forestall the rambling that was sure to come, and jerked a thumb at Ghost. "I have a horse. I can ride in the carriage." The driver opened his mouth, but by that point the three guards had gotten their comrades'' body onto his horse, and mounted up themselves, and even the noblewoman was looking at him. He sighed and got up into his seat. I smiled cheerfully, started to hop up on top of the carriage next to the driver, then remembered something. "Hey, you." here I pointed at the youngest of the guardsmen, a lad of less than twenty winters. "Who, me? "Yeah, you. Have you ever learned the true meaning of ''mercy?''" The lad shook his head. I nodded, then led him over to the injured horse. When he came to stand next to me, I motioned at his dagger. "This beast here is loyal. Brave. It did its'' job well, and was a boon to its'' handlers. Now, it''s slowing down the group, and out here in the wilderness, it will no doubt be eaten by monsters. Do you think it would prefer being alive, or dead, at that point?" The young man paled. I pointed at the dagger again, and lowered my tone. "Now son, I could do this for you. No one will laugh at you. But...do you think this beast would prefer dying by the hand of a stranger, or by the hand of someone it served beside?" The boy opened, then closed his mouth, and trembling, unsheathed the dagger. "Sir, I...I don''t think I can let you do that. But I don''t think I can do it." I clapped him on the shoulder. "Have courage. When you''re lying on the ground, bleeding cause'' some bastard gutted you, you better hope that someone''s going to have the courage to show you mercy. Because when all''s said and done, it takes more courage to kill a man than it does to die. Do unto others as you would have done unto you, am I right?" His hands shook on the hilt. "I''m hearing your words, and I''m thinkin'' they''re true, but...I just don''t think I can do it." "Here. When it''s your time, you can help guide your saviors'' hands too." I held his hand, and helped him draw the knife across the injured horses neck. I also held my hand up in front of the boy, so he didn''t get blood sprayed in his face. His face was white, and he panted for a minute. I clapped him on the back, and stood up. "Take a minute. You''re in shock. Lie down, and catch up in a little. Don''t push yourself." He mutely nodded, and I hopped up on the carriage. Together, we set off. --- After about an hour of riding, A knock came from inside the carriage. We stopped, and the driver went down to open the door. The noblewoman stepped out, and the guards started making preparations for lunch. I started snooping around, then returned while carrying some things. I sat down at the fire, and started grilling a mushroom. A pleasant smell began to waft. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. When it had turned a beautiful golden-brown color, I took a bite out of it. When I made appreciative noises, the guards came over. "Hey, whatcha eatin?" I shrugged. "Just enjoying natures'' bounty. It isn''t often you see these kinds a mushrooms, and they only taste right if you eat em'' fresh. Wanna try?" I handed over the mushroom, and the three guards tried it out for themselves. When their backs were turned, I spit it out. I don''t know if zombies have working stomachs, but I don''t want to find out they don''t. A little while after, the driver had unhooked the horses, and Ghost came over to nuzzle my shoulder. I patted him and fed him some of the berries he liked. After ruffling his mane, the driver came over and sat down next to me. "Your horse is very well trained. Not often you see one as docile and good-natured." I laughed and gave the driver a big smile. "I won''t deny that he''s well-trained, but docile is pushing it. He''s a bit of a kicker, as you''ve seen." The driver burst out laughing, and together we traded jokes. Then the guards came over, and we were all soon laughing like old drinking buddies. After a half-hour, an audible clearing of the throat could be heard. The guards immediately shut up, and the driver went pale. I looked over at the noblewoman, who was standing very proudly. "I think, for the remainder of the trip, that this kind gentleman should ride in the carriage with me." This elicited some surprise, but not much. After the guards were mounted up, the horses hooked back on, and everything repacked, we were on our way again. Inside the carriage, I sat with a straight back, and observed the noblewoman. She was trying very hard to stare down her nose without directly looking at me. Amusing, but I don''t have time for laughter right now. "So, a beautiful young woman, accompanied by only four escorts, or five, counting the driver, and you''re all the way out here. Now, what could you be doing? Perhaps finding a dragon to kidnap you?" She whipped her head towards me. "I''m very capable of taking care of myself, thank you, and getting taken by a dragon is so overrated. If I had to choose to be abducted by something, I''d choose trolls. They, at least, would be interesting to find more out about." I leaned against the side of the carriage. "Oh? You''re sure it''s not because trolls are well known to be endowed with ''gifts'' aplenty?" She went red in the face, then turned away. "Just for saying such a crude thing, I should have you forced on your knees and decapitated." "Oh my, that would be horrible. Let me get on my knees on my own, then, and perhaps you''ll let me keep my head?" Her eyes flitted towards my face, then quickly flitted away, embarrassed by my even look. "You seem to be very full of yourself, for a strange man in the middle of the forest. Where''d you come from, anyway?" I ignored her question. "Oh? But what''s a man to think, being invited by a young lady into her carriage, all alone out in the woods...almost straight out of a novel, don''t you think? Or perhaps you''re too young to know what I''m talking about?" She turned to face me. "I know very well what you''re saying, thank you very much! And I''d appreciate if you didn''t say disgusting things simply to get a rise out of me. It''s undignified for a lady to get taunted." I tilted my head sideways, resting my head on my arm. "But, it''s just so fun! With all the colors your face is, I could paint a picture worth ten thousand words. ''A rose and lily, red and white, slipping incandescently through each other, creating a stream of beauty.''" She calmed down, and stared disapprovingly at me. "You say such poetic words, yet you can''t fool me. I know a prick when I see one." I straighten up. "Oho! To say such a thing, you''re practically tilting your neck to me! Oh, the things I could say, the colors you would turn, oh, the thought itself is heartwarming~" She slammed her fist against the door. "Shut up! I''ve had enough of your stupid words and-" From outside, the drivers'' voice floated in. "Do you wish to stop?" "-I would like it if you kindly closed your fucking mouth!" The driver fell silent. "...Yes, my lady..." She looked crestfallen, and scooted toward the door, then looked at me. "You make it too easy, your ladyship." I spoke, while hiding my mouth with a hand. She sighed deeply. and collapsed against her seat. "...Whatever. I guess, if this is what you want, I''m honor-bound to repay you for helping us. Do your worst." I stopped grinning like a fool, and folded my hands. "My lady, I apologize. It was piggish of me to repeatedly taunt you so. It''s just...you one of those people, you know?" She lazily looked at me. "One of those people''? What do you mean?" I scooted forward, to the edge of my seat. "You know, the way I see it, there are four types of people in this world." She looked at me, and it was her turn to be coy. "Ho? And how did you figure that?" I stated bluntly, "Experience. Something your ladyship is obviously lacking. Unless you wish to correct me?" She shut up. "Now, there are the people who slog down the road of life, stepping in a straight line. Sometimes they step in puddles, and it''s misfortunate, but really, what can they do? Then there are those lucky bastards, or walk down that road and slip past the puddles as if they aren''t there. The rotten fuckers. And then, there are people like you. Every step you take, every move you make, you seem to be stepping deeper and deeper into water, until you''re waist deep. It''s sad, really. Then, the fourth type-" The carriage shook a little. The noblewoman looked around. "What was that?" I wave my hand dismissively. "It''s nothing. Anyway, don''t you agree?" She sighed again. "Sure, sure. But, if that''s the case, what kind of person are you?" The carriage comes to a stop. I open the door, and step out. I walk past the line of goblins armed with spears, and turn from their backs to once again look at the lady. To the side, the unconscious guards and driver are piled, the sleep-inducing mushroom having finally taken affect. I spread my hands to the side, palm-up. "I, my lady, am one of those people who make the puddles. Which you just stepped in." The young lady looked from me, to the goblins, to the passed-out guards and driver. She closed her mouth, then stared right at me, speaking as if enlightened. "You sleazy fuck-bucket waste of oxygen." I grin, and bow. "At your service."
Asheras'' POV I was ready to pull my hair out. After hearing from the mercenaries that had traveled with him, I found out he''d been left somewhere in the middle of the road. They said some other stuff, something to do with names, but I wasn''t listening. After sprinting down the road, since my horse died to feed the wolves, I met with a carriage and a catatonic-noblewoman, spouting nonsense about some goblins or something. When I got back to the place where I had fought the wolves, I felt like smashing something. Here I am. In the middle of the forest, with nothing but my bow, some arrows, a short sword, and no leads whatsoever. I swear...when I find that bastard... Ooooohohoho, I''m gonna have some fun... #3 -TG- Chapter 11 AN: I know I promised to tell you what TG stood for in the tenth chapter, but~ I don''t think the time is right. Maybe at chappy 20. (hah! Now that I''ve set an unreachable goal, this muse is sure to become so despondent that it dies of sorrow! mwhahaha!) --- *Sigh* I got to chapter 43, in a story I had such high hopes for. The characters were all awesome, the writing style was enjoyable, there was humor... ...but then it took everything I loved about the story, and burnt it into ash in my face. I was tempted to keep reading, to hold out hope that it would get better, but I know from my own experience of writing something... Once you start down a path, you often find there''s an incline. And that cliff leads to a bottomless pit of disappointment. Basically, what I''m saying is... You must be quite the M to be reading this, huh? Oh well. Let''s tickle those pain nerves in your brain, to see how much we can make you twitch. :3 (I finally found a pretty good translation. It isn''t perfect ''intelligent'' but I can pretend very well.)
"<>" Under the horde of green-skinned imps, a many-horned dear was quickly suppressed. When it attempted to escape, it found it had lessened in speed, and was quickly netted and slaughtered. I gave out concise orders, and four goblins who had contributed the least were given the task of dragging the carcass. Pokey/Unnamed led the goblins back to camp, while I remained mounted on Ghost and left. For beasts such as these, a little mystery was required to maintain loyalty. Well, I say loyalty, but all I really need is for them to stay terrified of me. We had gained nothing from the carriage. Many goblins still wondered why it was that I had gone to all the trouble, but they had not dared to question me yet. This was good. The intelligence of goblins has surely deteriorated since my days, when they were stealing the beards off wizards. How far goblin kind has fallen... From several meters away from the camp, deep in the dark and lengthening shadows, I could still clearly make out the sound of howls and cheers, and see the smoke, if not the fire itself. Goblins sure liked bonfires...at least that fact had remained the same. I was walking, looking at the plants placed underneath several trees. Minute changes, but nothing too serious... "Ow!" I fell over, and looked up at the object I''d rebounded off. Sleepy, the blue-tattooed goblin, was crouching in the bushes. I rubbed my shoulder, and sighed. My red bar was half-gone from falling over... Sleepy, being a goblin, had a very hard-to-discern expression. I sat up, and gave a greeting-smile. "Hey there, it seems I''ve run into you. I was not looking." Sleepy nodded, then kept looking at me. After several minutes of intensely looking into green-eyes, my gaze slid away. I walked a short distance away, and sat down on a log. Ghost trotted over to stand beside me, and licked my hand. Taking the hint that it wasn''t only dinner time for the goblins, I got out a bag of berries. One good thing about the carriage was that among the ladies luggage, there was no end of fabric. I''d gotten quite a few sacks. Sleepy stepped out of the shadows'' tree, and approached me. I did my best to smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. Patting the patch of log next to me, I waved at Sleepy. "Have a seat." It came over and plopped down next to me. Even next to the relatively short me, Sleepy was practically fun-sized. Three feet was just too little for me to take seriously. Even though it could probably kill me if it punched me hard enough...ah, god has truly blessed me with many opportunities for humility, huh? Feeling the awkward silence acutely, I fidgeted slightly. After several minutes of awkward shifting, I asked the first question that came to mind. "So...where''d you get the tats?" Sleepy looked at me, and for a moment I thought we were going to have another staring contest. But Sleepy turned away and started to speak, rough as goblin speech was. "Plague...half dead...middle of night...runes appear." I nodded. That would explain why no one had buried the bodies left by their fellow goblins, or even eaten them. Not even predators had dared to partake. But if that was the case... "Then, if you''re from here, why did I find you in a cave?" Sleepy paused, and continued haltingly. "Scared...curse...fear...other one infected too..." "So you healed the other goblin?" Sleepy nodded. I patted its'' head. "Very good...I think I''ll find quite some use for you. So, are you alright with me calling you ''Sleepy?'' "...I''d prefer something else." "Hmm...well, how about Blue?" "No." "Tattoo?" "No." I sat there, stumped, for a long time. Finally, Sleepy poked me. I jolted a little in surprise. "Hmm?" Sleepy tugged on my sleeve, and bowed its'' head before muttering something. "...Thra." "What was that?" "Selanthra. If that''s okay..." Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. I patted its'' head. "That''s kinda girly sounding...what if you''re a guy?" It shook its'' head. "...I think I know what gender I am. Unless I have genitalia mixed up." I nodded. "Well, I''ll believe you. I''ve always had a problem telling a boy from a girl. It caused many problems for me in my younger days..." Selanthra kept looking at me, then pinched my hand. When I quickly withdrew, she tilted her head. "You...are strong." I laughed out loud at that. "I wonder what I ever did that deceived you so." It-she shook her head. "Took carriage. Easy." I squint at her. "You realize that that was just a show? For the goblins? To make them fear me, you know?" She nodded. "Yes. They''re scared. You''re strong." I shook my head. "Listen, I deceived you. I almost died from tripping just now!" She shook her head. "You''re strong." I sigh, getting slightly frustrated. Then, I happen upon a good metaphor. Or simile. Or whatever it''s called. "If a human were to tell you it was a king, would you believe it?" "...I don''t understand." I turned to face Selanthra. "Imagine this. A human tells you, with a straight face, that it''s a king. Would you believe it?" "...no." I nodded several times. "Alright. So, what if another human showed up wearing rich clothes and with a crown on its'' head, and told you it was a king. Would you believe it?" "...no." I nodded. "Then, what if the human were to show you its'' castle. What then?" "...yes." I smiled. "But, you only saw something from far off. If you were to walk up, and touch it, it would collapse, since it''s made from paper. Do you understand?" "...no." I sighed again. "I''m like that human. I dress like a strong person. I look mysterious. I showed you a hint of power, and promised you that it was only a tiny bit of what I could do. You believed me. But...in reality, I''m trying my hardest here. This is my limit, don''t you see?" She nodded. Then she poked me. "You''re strong." I almost collapsed. Then she waved at my torso. "Weak here, yes." she pointed at my head. "Strong there. More than all goblin. Even me." After which, she got up and walked away. I remained sitting, and pondered. "If what she says is true, I don''t have to flee..." "...maybe I should settle down. I feel kinda affectionate to those green little terrors..." "Since when did kids say such deep stuff...I''m starting to feel ashamed of myself..." "But, I''ll have to kill most of them off. Thirty is just too many...let''s say...five. Ah... Poor goblins. They truly ran out of luck when I ran into them."
Olivia Bonfried Jealstroms'' POV I kicked open the door. The hinge splintered, and the door was left hanging drunkenly on its'' on remaining hinge. Even if I hadn''t invested many points into strength, I was still a level 40 noble. I could crush a peasants throat if they displeased me. Sadly, nobles of the court such as I had no combat-related skills, just manipulative ones. If they had any ability at all, or a weapon, I would be at a disadvantage. To be out-thought and manipulated myself... Oh, I''m going to make certain my shame dies along with that prick. And if I can set it on fire as it leaves...all the better. "Who here is the cruelest?!" All eyes in the room turned toward a scarred man seated at a table in the corner. I strode forward quickly to seat myself. The scarred man blew out a cloud of smoke, and grunted. "Little lady...hiring an assassin to deal with your boyfriend is too drastic." I plunked a medium-sized sack on the table. Gold plunked out. "Does it matter what they were before?" The man looked from the coins back to me, then back to the coins, before swallowing saliva and grinning. "Need someone killed?" I smiled as well. Normally, the uplifted line of my mouth would accentuate the delicate lines of my cheekbones, which in turn drew attention to my crystal-like eyes. This time, however, the smile drew attention to the very-sharp canines, and the whiteness of the teeth, as if picked often with the ribs of dead men who displeased her. As the assassin heard the details from her, he got up to make arrangments. Soon after, the girl was helpless with uncontrollable giggles. "Hehehe...I hope your skin is peeled off, strip by strip, and your fingernails are torn off, and your shins are ground up for dogs, and your fingers are snapped one-by-one, and..." Her fantasies became increasingly gruesome as time went on, and even the hardened members of the assassins'' guild were a little green-faced. A few quickly left to vomit. "Oh~I can practically taste the vengeance~" {hr} Jacksons'' POV I looked up. I felt as if a kindred spirit had been born somewhere... The thought left me giggling. But now I have this rat problem to deal with... Voting-Poll-Spectacular HG has been chosen! Thank you all for participating: Lullmaister We appreciate your feedback! ''We'' obviously referring to the collective mind of all potatoes. We will write the chapter sometime. We don''t actually know... Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.Just know, HG is an apocolpyse fiction. And, well, I''ve had this muse clawing at my face for a long time. See ya in...lots and lots of hours! Teehee~ #5 -HG- Chapter 1 AN: Heh heh heh, I''m starting another one. ^^ Will it continue for a while...? Well, Zeny has the defibs charged, so probably. Or, maybe, if I started enough, I''d be able to exhaust even his power...hehehehehe... Ahem, excuse me. Plotting will have to wait, right now I''m writing a chapter! Of course, it can''t compare to Zenys'' version, but...I''ll not shame myself by not trying. Plus, Zenys'' was a little short...*Hint hint* so of course I couldn''t be satisfied with just that. Here''s the good version.
Zenlith Wrote: [ -> ]Here''s an excerpt of what could be hell girl''s childhood: Once upon a time, there was a little girl in her room... Well, it wasn''t her room, it was her best friend Alyssa''s room and technically, it was on fire... anyway, she was very unhappy because one of her friends didn''t want to play her favorite game named "I''ll rip out your soul and consume your flesh". Naturally, this made her very sad. She then decided to go ask her friend''s parents, Garrick and Ashley, what she should do. "But Adeline, maybe Alyssa just wants to play another game?" Ashley said. "Ok." Adeline said. She walked over to her best friend Alyssa. "Want to play another game instead?" Adeline asked Alyssa. "Yes." "How about the-''Put your parents in the room that''s on fire''-game?" Adeline suggested. "Waaaaaah, mommy, mommy, Adeline is making scary monster voices again." This made Adeline hurt. All over her body, but especially inside her heart... So she set the rest of the house on fire, dragging Garrick, Ashley and Alyssa screaming and clawing down into the depths of hell. The end... Or was it?
Now that the good part is over, let''s just get this over with. Without further adieu... HELL GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
Pu$$ykat66: So, have you heard? MegaBia!ch: Herd wut btch? OmegaBia!ch: O, U talking about that rumor? TheChosenB!@tch: OH! OH! I HEARD IT! Pu$$yKat66: Yeah, about Becky and that dick going out behind your back. MegaBia!ch: Fck yu syin? Ar yu smoking? OmegaBia!ch: Well, Obviously lol. But the rumor is tots true. I heard they got to ''know'' about each other in the bathroom. ( ?¡ã ?? ?¡ã) TheChosenB!@tch: I COULD HEAR THEM FROM OUTSIDE! BECKY IS ONE HELLUVA SCREAMER! MegaBia!ch: Ur all jus jelly an makin stuf up. Chad is, liek, not leik that. TheChosenB!@tch: LOL! DON''T YOU REMEMBER HOW YOU STOLE HIM FROM FREYA? MegaBia!ch: ...shut yer face. He''s changed, like, a lot. OmegaBia!ch: Funny U say that, actually, Chad has been winking at me...( ?¡ã ?? ?¡ã) MegaBia!ch: I SAID SHU- Queen: Enough. I''m talking. Pu$$yKat66: Oh Queen! What''re you doing here? Aren''t you in the middle of transit? Queen: I am. I want some information. MegaBia!ch: Well, wut cud we now thet yu dont? Queen: Check your texts. Tell me, is there something strange in there? OmegaBia!ch: Now that U say that, actually, there''s this text from some prick called "God." TheChosenB!@tch: HOLY SHIT! ME TOO! Queen: Tell me. What does yours say? The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.Pu$$yKat66: It says, "Repent all ye lost sheep, else destruction hath come. The end of all days, The Second Coming, The Millennium, the time of peace, prosperity, and learning, the day of reverence and the thousand years of preparation hath come, oh ye woefully sinful sheep. The Shepherd hath come, now bow down and worship the savior. Your father in heaven loves you, Kate." TheChosenB!@tch: MINE SAYS, "Your sins have condemned you. Burn in hell, and repent with pain, Chelsea." MegaBia!tch: "For disobeying the commandments, outer darkness will be your only dwelling, Megan." OmegaBia!tch: ... "''Prick'' is not the correct way to address your lord in heaven, Alyssa." Queen: Then, it is as I feared. Queen: Well girls, guess we''re fucked. I''ll be heading to church, see ya in hell. Pu$$yKat66: ... TheChosenB!@tch: ... MegaBia!tch: ... OmegaBia!tch: ... Queen: LOL. How do you think someone got a hold of all our numbers? Pu$$yKat66: It was probably Megan. She has the habit of giving anything with a penis her number. MegaBia!tch: Hey! That''s not true! I''m perfectly satisfied with vaginas too. TheChosenB!@tch: ROFL, CAN''T BELIEVE I WAS SO SCARED FOR A SECOND! I MEAN, HOW DID THEY KNOW ALL OUR NAMES? SUCH A FUNNY JOKE, RIGHT? OmegaBia!tch: Hahaha, sure. But one thing still confuses me. While I was reading, halfway through it changed...must be my imagination, right? Queen: Huh, I wonder why the sun is so bright today. And why everyone is looking at it. And why there are two suns. And why everything is burning. Queen: ...guys? Queen: ... Queen: ... Queen: Shit, I thought I was going to die of an overdose. Queen: So why is it that everything is burning? Queen: Well, since everyone else gave their messages, I guess I should give mine too... Queen: "I look forward to a personal interview. Let''s talk, shall we?"
White. All around, everything is a gentle shade of white, like clouds. "Where...?" The last thing I remember is typing my final message, somewhat hysterically I''ll admit, but I know I was on my train to New York, when suddenly I received a text. It said, "Do you believe in God?" I responded, thinking it was a joke. "Yep. No one more than me. Might as well be a fucking prophet." But they responded. "Good...then, you''ve kept the commandments, right?" "What commandments?" "Oh...oh no...this can''t be...it''s worse than I thought...well, it''s okay." I was feeling kinda weirded out. "How is it okay?" "Soon most of you filthy heretics will be dead. And worse. "Um, are you a terrorist?" "No. I am named Jophiel. It is not a pleasure to meet you, but it will be a pleasure... To see you burning in hell." I dropped my phone. Thinking it was stupid, I contacted my friends. What they said terrified me. And now... A beautiful man, black hair, chiseled muscles, sharp chin, and blazing eyes. And a pair of feathered wings behind his back. And he was shuffling through files and marking papers. For several minutes, I simply sat in the comfort of the clouds. After a long wait, the man looked up at me. "Let''s see...you haven''t done anything worth punishment...but Jophiel keeps saying that I go too easy on you. Sorry, nothing personal. It''s just...I''ve got a quota to reach, and you''re the last one I need. I''m truly sorry. I hope you die quickly, and are freed from the pain." I sat quietly, not understanding. The man picked up a flaming sword, and took a step toward me. He raised the sword above his head. I didn''t move my head. "Hey...this is a dream, right? Will I wake up soon?" "...Yeah. This is a dream. But, you won''t wake up. Sorry. As I said... Nothing personal." Then the sword pierced from the top of my crown, to my foot. And after seeing so much fire... I became one with it. To be continued... #5 -HG- Chapter 2 AN: Well, I did it again. I''d finished half the chapter, then clicked off of the box and pressed backspace and... *Poof* ...dammit. Well, the good news, (for you at least) is that the second draft is probably better than the first. I kinda went a different direction, but I think this''ll be better. Now, Zenys'' Hell Girl Part II is in the previous chapter, so you can go there and read it. Or...he could start a thread for it? *hint hint* My point is, it''s not here. So there''s no point going any further. W-what? I''m not plotting to trick him into writing a complete story, and using the fact that he''s the leader of WriTE against him! What would make you think that!? What kinda person do you take me for? ... Anyway, here it is. *Whisper* P.S. j0nn0, this situation remind you of anything...? *whisper*
I blinked. In front of my eyes was nothing but red and purple, wavering stripes of flashing color. I jerked my head back and suddenly- A closed door, a bench opposite me, other people sitting, dozing, or standing. Then what did I see¡­? I looked down again. Ah, that¡¯s it. My skirt is red and purple striped...just my skirt. I felt something twitch. Looking over at my finger, I saw it move slightly as the train jostled me. It wasn¡¯t numb. I lifted my arm, surprised and joyful at its¡¯ movement and feeling. I could feel the soft fabric rubbing against my skin, and could feel the warmth of blood in my veins. The light that shone on my fingers revealed blue lines running through my hand, and each time my fingers moved I felt as if an entirely new range of motion had been discovered. After a minute of ecstasy, I looked at my other arm. I tried lifting it. And it did! My arm rose as I told it, the feeling of muscle sliding over bone and socket rotating in my shoulder left me almost in tears. I flexed my legs and felt the nostalgic feeling of muscles contracting and tightening. I remembered to breath. Oxygen filled my every atom and my lungs expanded, absorbing the gas. I blinked again. I shifted in my seat. My back was a little sore, and my arms were kinda weak from staying in the same position most of the morning. I checked my hair, but it seemed normal. Just what happened¡­? I picked my phone up from my lap. It brought some memory back. A white place I think¡­? Maybe an insane asylum? Whatever. My dreams have never made much sense. Probably to do with my parents strange idea of what little girls like. Creepy dolls and terrifying bears...just what kinda abusive father gives their daughter an unblinking china doll that stares at her all night with unblinking eyes and a mouth that begs to eat little girl''s¡¯ flesh? I checked my phone. Another text from someone I don¡¯t know, might as well ignore it. No text from ¡®god¡¯ or whatever. Must¡¯ve been part of the dream...but for some reason all of my texts to my friends are still there...damn, did I really send all of those ellipsis? I had to have been half-asleep to send something so stupid. I send another ¡°are you there?¡± message, but after a minute still nobody had responded. Whatever, I need to check something. If I showed up in New York at Columbia college with ruined make-up, what kind of impression would I make? I checked my phone again. Still no new texts. Whatever, if those hyenas aren¡¯t gonna answer me, I¡¯ll just ignore them. If I seemed desperate, they¡¯d probably abandon me. The only thing those bitches know is strength. If they thought for a minute I was weak, I¡¯d be left in an instant. I got up and headed toward the bathroom. There would be a mirror there, hopefully. I¡¯d have to make do with cleaning it up. I abhorred purses and never carried one, so all of my supplies were in my suitcase. Still, it¡¯s worth it as long as I don¡¯t have to carry that girly piece of shit everywhere. I passed through several cars, usually getting nothing more than a passing glance, except for teenage boys. But you can¡¯t help those, they¡¯re all pheromone-high-dogs. I guess I make-up isn¡¯t that bad? When I got to the restroom, it was in use, so I had to take a seat and wait. I checked my phone again. Still no response. Maybe their phones got disconnected? But all four of them? Whatever. Finicky wifi was nothing new. ¡°Hi! I didn¡¯t know we had such a pretty young woman on board. I¡¯m Mrs. Cross, how about you?¡± Oh god...it¡¯s one of those damn extroverts. Confucius help me. Still, not responding would be rude. And you never know when you¡¯re talking to some rich, vengeful bitch who would just love to kick your ass. Those people are everywhere. ¡°Oh hello Mrs. Cross, my name is Tiffany, Tiffany Kaylin. How are you?¡± She nodded politely and gave the regular response. She didn¡¯t smile, so I know I didn¡¯t offend her. That¡¯s good. She introduced me to her son Benjamin, and after a minute she turned to respond to a request of his. Nine-year-olds are such a hassle. I checked my phone again. Seriously, no messages. It¡¯s like they¡¯re dead. Maybe I should do a google search to check? And what¡¯s up with this guy in the bathroom? Are they constipated or something? Argh, I could just¡­ Wooh, deep breaths. In, out. Whatever, I might as well check that message I got from this ¡°anon¡± dude. I opened it up. Anon: Get off the train in 5 minutes, or else you¡¯ll never leave. I stared at my phone silently for a few seconds, then checked the time since I¡¯d received it. 5 minutes, huh? ¡­ ¡°Haha! Hey Mrs. Cross, I just got this hilarious text-¡± When I turned around, Mrs. Cross had grown fangs and claws, and was trying to eat me. ... Well, shit.
My first reaction was what anyone would have done. I grabbed her by the face, threw her on the ground, and stepped on her neck. When she tried to bite my foot, I put all my 90 pounds of pressure on her throat, and crushed her windpipe. Taking a step back, I eyed ¡®Mrs. Cross¡¯ who had become a beast and started to attack me. She was sputtering and hacking, while holding her throat. And while I watched, her crushed throat slowly filled out, and pure, unblemished skin replaced my shoe mark. Well, shit. Benjamin was similarly fanged and clawed, but was instead attempting to eat his way through his mother''s purse. I took a step towards the back of the train, keeping an eye on Mrs. Cross. She was coughing, but it had stopped sounding like a dying dogs¡¯ final breath, and more like a wolf clearing its¡¯ throat. I took a fighter''s¡¯ stance. All those years of playing mortal fighting and ultimate street kombat were going to pay off. I heard a door open behind me, and a very fat, very ugly, and very long-fanged man stepped out from the bathroom. He obviously had been constipated, and hat forgotten to pull up his pants. Sadly, he was also behind me, and I was in a narrow train car. Well, shit. Mrs. Cross ran at me. I threw a jumping-spinning-reverse-crescent kick, and knocked her face into a pole. Meanwhile, the fat guy started lumbering towards me. I¡¯d seen this situation in a lot of hentai- I mean, ahem, ¡®research films,¡¯ but I was not animated, and while I may have had a dirty mind, I did not want to become fap material. Then again, all of those animated people didn¡¯t have 12 years of experience ripping ninjas in half and performing Shruikan yukins. I gathered all five-feet-four-inches and 90 pounds of myself, crouching low, and then propelled my fist upward. With the sound of a wooden paddle hitting a large slab of meat, I slammed the fatties head backward, and jumped over him. He didn¡¯t fly into the air with me as I¡¯d hoped, but he still fell over. Even if this is a dream, damn I feel good. I run to the back of our train car, and open the door, heading into the next. Inside, chaos. I sprint past a screaming man, pushed onto the ground and being ripped apart by two creatures. I jump onto a bench, then vault over the pair of feasting monsters. In front of me stand two thin men, eyeing each other now that the remains of another passenger is only bones. When they see me, however, they¡¯re quite interested. I feel jittery just thinking about what I¡¯ll do next. The two come at me with arms outstretched. Come on, really? I move both my arms outward, knocking their arms apart. Then I grab both their faces, stretch my arms as far as they¡¯ll go, then slam the twos¡¯ skulls against each other. A glorious crack is my reward. Moving on now that they¡¯re having a seizure on the floor while trying to heal the dents in their skulls, I come to a man dressed like an old-school sheriff. His badge is rusty and his hat has patches in it, but the revolver in his belt looks clean and well-taken care of. I punch the monster in the gut, then the throat. As he falls over I rip the gun out of his holster. Strangely enough, I can¡¯t see fangs on him, and he isn¡¯t getting up. Oh well, probably just faking. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. I spin the chambers. Only one slug in the last one. I click the slug into place, cock the hammer, then point it towards the sheriff''s face. ¡°Come on, mate. It¡¯s the twenty-first century. Get with the times.¡± *bang* Feeling safe now that he¡¯ll take a little to heal, I check his pockets. He¡¯s got a pocket full of slugs, and a larger bag that clinks. Hopefully with more rounds. I can¡¯t check since the two behind are waking up. Strangely, the guy hadn¡¯t moved the whole time. I looked at his face, and my first thought was¡­ That¡¯s a lotta blood. I mean, damn. I thought Mortal Fighting over exaggerated the amount, but looking at that huge stain on the ground, I can imagine they probably didn¡¯t put enough blood for when you tear a person in half. Just from the head alone there was enough to bathe a puppy with! Urgh...don¡¯t think about blood-covered puppies¡­ I got up unsteadily. Even if there was a lot of blood, that didn¡¯t change that he¡¯d heal from it and probably attack me. He will get up...right? I stepped over his body, loaded two slugs into the chambers, and turned around. Attracted by the scent of blood, the two thin men ignore me and start to pig out. ¡°You bastards, no respect for the dead at all?¡± I plug both of them in the forehead. They fall over and start to seizure again...but like the others, they don¡¯t bleed. I look down at the old guy that I shot. Still not moving. ¡°Well fuck me, I didn¡¯t know. Rest in peace, old man.¡± Even in a dream, I still feel guilty. Although this dream was fun, I hope I forget about it before I wake up. Still, this is awfully realistic. The feeling of the gun in my hand and the bullets in my pocket are making me start to doubt myself. Still, I¡¯m not sure why, but I know this is a dream. It¡¯s almost like someone told me it was. Yeah, I bet I haven¡¯t even left for New York yet. My dad probably said some kind of stupid thing like ¡®sweet dreams¡¯ while sobbing. He¡¯s such a weak-willed guy. Cries at the slightest chance. Still, the knowledge that this is a dream didn¡¯t stop my hand from shaking the next time I shot somebody. I only clipped their cheek. That didn¡¯t even faze the monster as it bared down on my. I was in the next-to-last train car, almost at the back. Was I gonna lose so close to the end? Would I choke with victory so close? HELL no. I brutally shoved the barrel of the revolver into the creature''s mouth, to the back of its¡¯ throat. While the monster gagged on it, my hand getting wet from its¡¯ slobber, I grunted with the effort of keeping my hand between its¡¯ fangs. I cocked the hammer. ¡°I¡¯ll not be...huff...the one...who chokes!¡± Then I blew a hole in the back of the creature''s¡¯ head. Yanking the gun out, I stood there catching my breath. Six more monsters in here, and I have about thirty seconds until this one gets up. Bring. It. On! I ran towards the closest one, a monster in the shape of a girl younger than me. I elbowed it in the face. To my right, a screaming middle-aged man jumped. I ducked under it, and punched it in the gut as it flew. The girl recovered, and the man crashed, then got up. It seems like knocking the wind out of these guys doesn¡¯t matter. Do they even need oxygen? I kicked the girl onto the bench, and shot the guy in the knee. Then I shot the girl in the head. Two shots left, three monsters, and twenty-four seconds left. This¡¯ll be tough. Two guys this time. Perhaps if they weren¡¯t monsters they¡¯d have been going to college with me. I broke the first guys¡¯ knee by stepping on it, and punched the other in the face. I shot the guy on the ground in the spine, then stuck the gun under the chin of the guy who was still standing. Empty. Eighteen seconds left. One monster. It was a twelve-year-old boy-scout. I grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against a pole, but I couldn¡¯t hit hard enough to knock him out. I put him in a headlock, and started to strangle him. ¡°We¡¯ll see if you need oxygen, you little bastard.¡± I pulled hard. But the little guy was strong. I thought I couldn¡¯t hold on. I held tighter. Still struggling, harder if anything. I tightened my grip. He gasped and phlegm flew out of his mouth. I squeezed his throat even tighter. His spine snapped, and he stopped struggling. I threw him aside, and stood up gasping. I made myself not see that the boy didn¡¯t have fangs. I¡¯m really starting to hate adrenaline, this dream, and other people. Damn bastards. Making me feel guilty for accidentally killing them. You would think, that I would be able to tell the difference between someone with fangs, and without fangs. The thing is, eyes play tricks on you. Sometimes you think you see things. I open the door. Thank goodness, there aren¡¯t any monsters in the caboose. Just an open back door and two corpses. I take the first step, and feel a jolt through my body. I¡¯d been in this car for thirty-four seconds. I turned around, and saw a very close, very sharp, very scary fang, right in front of me. I could only raise my hands to grab the monsters wrists¡¯ before I was bowled over. I fell on my back, the monsters¡¯ clacking teeth right above me. I try to throw it off me, but it¡¯s too heavy, and I¡¯m too exhausted. Will I die here? So close to winning. Those foot-long fangs sink into my shoulder, and I scream. But not from the fangs in my shoulder, but from the memory. A handsome man. A flaming sword. A regretful smile. And the searing lightning of a sword wreathed in flame tearing my body in two. I remembered the feeling of my brain splitting apart, of my insides being set alight. But most of all, I remembered the smell of my own burning flesh. I was a piece of charred meat, and I meant nothing. My hands didn¡¯t shake as I pulled the gun towards me. I was bitten three times during the time it took to load a bullet into the revolver. The next time the monster bit into my shoulder, I held its¡¯ head still, and blew a whole from one side of the head to the other. I had to use both hands to pull the fangs out, and fell the moment I got on my knees. I crawled towards the door. Behind me, I heard two more screeches that signified the second and third monster had healed. I crawled past one of the corpses, and kicked it a little closer to the door. The sound of flesh being ripped apart made my stomach clench. Before, I had thought this was a dream, a game, something to enjoy. Now it was just a very particular type of hell. How many of those monsters did I imagine¡­? How many people have I killed already? And if this isn¡¯t a dream, is death the only way out? I slowly reloaded the revolver, slotting the six shots into their respective chambers. Another two screeches signified that the pair of guys I¡¯d shot had gotten up. While holding a fully-loaded revolver, I held the barrel up to my eye, and asked one last question. Do I have the guts? Screeching continued behind me, and the sound of ripping intensified as the number of feasters doubled. A shot rang out. I held the revolver, the barrel smoking. One of the monsters fell. I am a coward. Then I shot the other three. I took my time getting to my feet, making certain of the steadiness of my feet before continuing on. The boy scout did not get up. I made my stumbling passage to the end of the train, and stared out at the track rushing below. A minute ago, I¡¯d have been scared to jump. I¡¯m a girl straight out of highschool, who spent her whole junior through senior life hailed as the most popular girl in school. I¡¯d clawed and backstabbed my way there, throwing away pride and dignity and time and friendship. And now, what good did that do for me? For years I¡¯d done anything and everything I could to hold onto popularity. Which, in highschool, directly translates into power. I destroyed the competition through blackmail and behind-the-scenes bullying. I¡¯d forced more than one girl to change schools. I could be called the scum of the earth, and they¡¯d be correct. All that time, I hid my true self. I¡¯d done everything I could to assimilate and be someone I wasn¡¯t. For four years, I was miserable, and made others feel that misery. If I had to be honest, this apocalypse may be the best thing that ever happened to me. But damn it all, I¡¯m terrified. I¡¯m not scared of jumping anymore. Just scared of dying. The recorded voice of a woman sounded. ¡°Arriving in Philadelphia. Next station: 14 minutes.¡± Fourteen? I¡¯d be dead in two. I jumped. And hoped to god I lived for more than two seconds. #5.5 -HG-1- Chapter 1 (Guest entry) Please note this is a guest entry. Don''t judge poor potato for my bad writing.
Wrote: [ -> ]Now, Zenys'' Hell Girl Part II is in the previous chapter, so you can go there and read it. Or...he could start a thread for it? *hint hint*
Actually, I will do exactly that. I''ve been wanting to try this for a while heheheh, finally I''ve got the invitation. Hell Girl-1 chapter 1: Sirens howled, a shotgun cocked. A sign on the building said "Bank", and police cars with blasting sirens stood in a circle around it. Overshadowing even this sound was the roaring sound of helicopter blades getting closer and closer. "Come out with your hands above your heads. We have you surrounded." A male voice howled into the megaphone. "Or we will open fire." A man with his hands on the back of his head made his way towards the police blockade. His teeth chattered. He turned his head towards where he came from. "D-don''t shoot. Please... Please don''t shoot." "Are you ready to surrender?" The megaphone howled towards the building. Bang. The asphalt was stained in a spray of blood, reaching all the way to the police cars, and the man sunk to the ground, bleeding from his skull. "You''re going to hell for this!" The megaphone man howled. Bang. "You didn''t hit--" His voice didn''t carry through. The police officer threw the megaphone to the ground. A hole went straight through it. "Open fire!" He howled. Tens of policemen unloaded their shotguns and pistols into the facade of the building. Glass clattered to the ground. A lady looked up at the window above her. The back of her shirt was covered in fragments of glass. "Krrrzzt... Hell Girl, why the hell didn''t you kill your mark like Ratface did?" Bang, Bang, Bang. She lifted her walkie talkie. "Sorry, Iron Pebble. Missed." "Don''t let it happen again, goody two shoes. You need your share too, don''t you?" Bang, bang. "... Understood." Bang, bang. She gripped the black sniper rifle in front of her, and brought the tip of the barrel to the windowsill. Through the scope, a helicopter revealed itself. The cross-hair hovered on the pilot. She took a deep breath. "Shoot to kill, April." She squeezed the trigger BOOM The entire building shook so hard she lost the grip on the rifle, and it fell on the ground with a clank. "What the..." April felt the cold sweat soaking the back of her shirt. This couldn''t be good. Not one bit. She peeked over the windowsill and was met by an empty street still littered with empty police cars. She barely spotted the back of the helicopter two blocks down. "Krrzztttttt ¨C Run, Apri¡ªAAHHHH!" She grabbed her walkie talkie. "Iron Pellet? Are you there? Iron Pellet!... Ratface? You there? Anyone?" Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. "KRRRZZZZZ Judgment. Has. Come. Hell Girl. KRzzzt" Her lower lip started to quiver and she set off in a sprint, targeting the roof. "don''t-come-for-me, don''t-come-for-me," she quietly muttered to herself under her breath. She reached the stairs, briefly looked at the stair leading down towards Iron Pellet''s position. Gulp. She darted up the stairs. Clonk. A metallic rattling followed the sound. Her blood froze to ice, every hair on her entire body would have stood up if they could. She couldn''t breathe but forced her legs to move up the stairs, despite every fiber in her body screaming for her to not move an inch. Clonk. Rattle. It was louder. It was coming after her. Her legs moved on their own. Faster. Faster.. FASTER! She found herself darting to the roof, slamming the door behind her, locking it with the key Iron Pebble had given her before they started. She darted to the edge and looked down. ''Perhaps I can crawl''. She took half a step backwards. The back of her head struck something hard. Her eyes grew wide. Thick fingers wrapped around her head, fingernails digging into her forehead on both sides. "Judgment. Has. Come." Tears streamed down her cheeks. "P-p-please. I never hurt a-anyone. P-please, my brother, he will¡ª" "Your brother. Is. dead." Rattle-Rattle. The joints of a metal chain dug into April''s throat. "You. Are. Dead." She felt the ground under her feet disappear, and the strain in her neck was nearly unbearable. She was moved forward, her feet hung three floors over the pavement. "P-p-please, No!" Rattle. "Your Sentence. Is. Death." The nails on her forehead disappeared, the rush of gravity returned. Rattle-Rattle-Rattle. The pavement whizzed towards her. "AAAAAAAAA" Snap. Darkness. "You say you''ve never hurt anyone. That''s a lie. Fifth grade. Bully. Punch in the face." April tried to speak, but she couldn''t utter a single word. "He deserved it, of course. Just like the man in the train you struck for groping your butt." "You may not have killed anyone yourself, but all evil needs is for you to do nothing." "For guilt by association, I sentence you..." "To Hell." #5.5 -HG-1- Chapter 2 (Guest entry) Please note this is a guest entry. Don''t judge poor potato for my bad writing.
Wrote: [ -> ]Now, Zenys'' Hell Girl Part II is in the previous chapter, so you can go there and read it. Or...he could start a thread for it? *hint hint*
Actually, I will do exactly that. I''ve been wanting to try this for a while heheheh, finally I''ve got the invitation. Hell Girl-1 chapter 2: Air flowed deep into April''s lungs, the warm embrace of the pitch black pavement licked her hands. She scanned her surroundings. Small flowery front gardens and their accompanying suburban homes was all she could see as far as the eye could follow the road in both directions. Was it all just a dream? Where was all the cops? She stood up. "Hello? Anyone here?" Silence. She walked over to the nearest door. Knock-Knock Knock. "Anyone home?" Her palms became moist. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement in the window. She walked over to the window and knocked. "Hello?" The curtain was moved aside, and she was met face to face with a sack. Painted in blood, an overly happy smiley. She staggered backwards. ''What the heck?'' Rattle-Rattle-Rattle The hair on her neck stood up. Her legs moved on their own, and she was darting down the street with all her power. rattle-rattle-rattle. The sound became fainter. She looked over her shoulder. Nothing. She darted through a front yard, gripping the door handle. Click. Open. She closed the door, grabbing the heavy pistol from the case on her waist. The smell of a freshly lit match filled the room, the wooden floor clung to April''s feet, like treading through mud. Her knuckles turned white from gripping the pistol. She walked up the stairs and the floor stuck like walking on tape. For every step, the sticky sound would get a little louder, and it would get a little harder to move. ''What is this stuff?'' She carefully eyed the plain wooden floor, while making her way towards a window. Slllp. Sllllllp. SLLLP. Her foot wouldn''t budge. She pointed her gun at the floor. ''Then I''ll bring a sole of wood.'' The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Bang. instead of splintering wood, the hole in the house spewed forth red blood and the smokey smell of a campfire. Her feet were released. HISSSSS She sprinted with all the speed she could muster towards the window and leapt. The wind whistled by as she zoomed towards a bush. Snap. "Arrgghh!" The middle of April''s left shin was bent, as if she had an extra knee. A shockwave of pain swept through her, overshadowing even the cuts from the bush. Rattle-Rattle-Rattle. "No. No." She pulled her gun up, looking for the beast. "Damnit, I''ll blow a hole in you!" She looked to the house. On the doorstep, a naked body four times the size of herself stood, with the same sack from the window sewn shut over its head. Bang Bang Bang. Rattle-Rattle-Rattle. Bang-Bang-Bang-Bang. Rattle-Rattle. Bang Bang-Click. Click. Rattle-Rattle. Click-Click-Click. "P-Please. What do you want?" Rattle-Rattle. A handful of claws the size of upper arms gripped her body and lifted her from the ground. Rattle. The chains dug into her broken leg. The sheer pain made April''s eyes tear up. "Pain." The chain was swung down like a pendulum, letting April''s fractured bone grind against itself. The unbearably bursting waves of pain made tears stream down April''s face. "W-why?" The abomination started walking with April helplessly warped in the twisted fangs. "This. is. hell." #5 -HG- Chapter 3 AN: Hehehe...I''ll write until Zenliths'' fingers bleed and his keyboard breaks. Mwhahahaha! Blackmail? This is bribery! Drinking the sweet nectar that is another authors work, and devouring their life force through their words? Hah! You are either a fool, or confident. And I cannot imagine you are a fool. Still...a challenge is made to be accepted. Now that Zeny can directly post into my threads, these things become easier. No longer do you have to scroll down so far for chapters! Don''t pay attention to these threads. What you should be looking for is #5.5 -HG-1-Chapter 3. It will be up whenever Zenlith feels like. So don''t bother im''. Hm...I should probably fill up this space with something...whatever. *Sniffs crack* OOOOOOHH YEEEEEEAAAAAH, LET''S GET IT STARTED!
I survived. In a manner of speaking. When I hit the ground, my left leg snapped immediately. Though, looking on the bright side, that dulled the shock from breaking my right arm. I avoided looking at the angle of my arm. It made me kinda dizzy. I grunted. My shoulder was already soaked, and the stain was spreading. Before I die from blood-loss, I''d better patch that up. I ripped a long strip from my skirt, and tied an awkward noose with my one-hand and teeth. Every movement was torture. My vision cycled between a narrow ball of light surrounded by pitch black and a light so blinding I cried. I managed to get the noose in the right place. Next comes the bad part. Just the movement made from the cloth rubbing my wound had made me want to black out. I very much doubt I''ll stay awake long enough to admire my third-class knotting skill. I held it with my left hand, and bit down on the cloth in my mouth. At least I won''t bite my tongue. I was sweating. Adrenaline had long since left me tired and clammy. If I wasn''t in shock, I was definitely experiencing anemia. Will I even wake up? I''m...very afraid. But why should I? If I can''t wake up from simple blood-loss induced sleep, how the hell am I supposed to escape this nightmare? I yanked the cloth tight. --- I opened my eyes, spears of light making me immediately close them. No idea how long I''ve been passed out, but it''s dusk. If I don''t get off this track soon, I''ll get the chance to inspect the bottom of a train first hand. I was on my back. Not very advantageous for crawling. I tried to lever myself up with an elbow. Bright spots burst into view, and my head cracked against the wood in between the steel tracks. Well, there go brain cells I probably needed. Looks like I broke, or at least cracked, a couple of my ribs too. Why the hell would anyone become a daredevil if they get hurt like this...? I carefully felt at my chest with my left hand. The two bottom left hurt when I so much as go near them, the bottom right was definitely broken, and my sternum was tender, putting it nicely. What kind of idiot would jump out of a train moving 60 miles an hour... Oh. Me. I''m the kind of idiot that''d do that. I grunted and tilted my head to look at my leg. "Serves me right. But all they ever said was to check both sides of the street before crossing, no one ever said anything about trains and exiting strategies..." At first I thought I must have gotten some PBC pipe impaled in my leg. After I noticed it was jagged, I made a wild guess that my shin had just become much more kickable. Damn, the bitches back home would love that. Well, can''t do anything right now. I''ll have to...oh Confucius...I''ll have to put my arm back in its'' socket. Then, since the elbow is broken, I''ll have to put it in a sling. ...damn it all. Why''d Einstein have to invent gravity? Couldn''t he have been more like Tesla and invented the wheel? Damn inventors making useless stuff. Well, I''m just wasting time. And I''ve already had my whole self-motivation monologue, so doing another would just be redundant. "Damn it all. Damn it all to hell. HAH! I''m a fucking comedian." I grabbed my right arm, and pulled. --- The moon was well up by now. I would have liked it, since I didn''t have to look at all the blood and rips in my clothing. But, moonlight has the annoying habit of reflecting off of bone. Shin bone, to be exact. "Damn leg...damn ribs...now even crawling will be painful." After somehow tying a sling in the dark, I started dragging myself along the train tracks. I want to get off as soon as possible. Luckily, having my leg in the same position for several hours had left it completely numb. Pins and needles may make me cringe, but at least I can''t feel my knee grinding against the back of my shin. Not as good as anesthesia, but it''ll have to do. I was on the outskirts of Philadelphia. Since it''s a city, that''s not saying much. ''Outskirt'' just refers to the suburbs at the edge of town. I just hope I don''t run into anymore creatures... After ten minutes of awkwardly propelling myself with one arm, my leg woke up. The good thing was that I could now use my right leg to help propel me, the bad news was that I had to grit my teeth the whole time as I could hear, feel, and imagine the groove my thigh-bone was carving in the back of my shin. Three hours, or something like that later, I had finally gotten into someones'' back yard. I was sweating like a motherfucker, and every heartbeat pulsed pain from every part of me and multiplied, concentrated, and circulated it through every fucking inch of me. I gasped and pulled/flopped the revolver out of the old guys'' bag. Inside was a bunch of cloth, a bottle of liquid, and luckily some rounds. The revolver itself was banged-up, but that won''t affect it...right? Well, if it jams, I probably won''t have to deal with a broken leg anymore. For several minutes I fumbled the rounds while trying to get them into the chambers. Eventually, I held the grip with my mouth, and trail-and-error ed it. I picked it up with my left hand, and did a quick spin with the chambers. They seem to be fine. Well, I''ll at least get one shot. Doubt that''ll help for long, though. For these creatures, a bullet is a thirty-second delay. Otherwise, shooting them is useless. I ran into another problem. If I held the gun in my hand, I had to press it against the ground each time, and I kept thinking that would set off one of the rounds inside. I solved the problem by tucking it barrel-first into my sling. I crawled around to the front door. It was open, claw marks on the inside. I couldn''t fathom if that was good or bad news, but for now... If I don''t disinfect my leg, I''m going to catch some serious stuff. Not to mention I should definitely splint it. And my arm too. And my shoulder. Damn it...there''s so much to do. I''d better get started. I went in as stealthily as a one-armed one-legged heavily-injured and exhausted ninja. When I came in, I threw up. On the dining room table a twenty-something man had been literally ripped open. His rib cage was splayed like the legs of a spider. His entrails were hanging off the edges like bloody ropes. Thankfully, the blood was dry, so I didn''t have to hear it drip-drip-dripping off the table. And the wall. And even the chandelier. Jesus Christ, how do you kill someone so hard their blood starts falling from the ceiling? I crawled/shambled through the room until I got to the kitchen. After a couple tries, a bench, and a very precharious perch on the counter, I found the medicine counter. I didn''t bother taking what I needed. I doubt there was much I couldn''t use. After somehow getting down without killing myself, I made my way to the bedroom. A large king-size bed. Since I didn''t want to get blood on it, I settled myself down in the least painful position. (In comparison) A lot of tangled bandages, blackouts, improvised splints, and inventive profanity later, I rolled myself onto the bed. Never before have I cursed the person who invented beds that were literally off the ground so profusely. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. "Damn Washington...never did anything right...at least learn from the Russians and use futons you imbecile..." ''Falling asleep'' would be too gentle a term. I passed out. --- I woke up to growling. Or, you could say I returned to my nightmare. Honestly, who keeps track of fiction and reality anymore? I''m a fucking circus freak for fucks'' sake! I opened my eyes. It wasn''t close to me, but it sound like it was in this house. And in pain. Strange...no matter how I shot or punched the creatures in the train, they didn''t seem to flinch. And yet, that guy was screaming for all his worth that his ribs were hurting like hell. It''s okay buddy...we''ve all been there. The growling grew in pitch and volume, until I couldn''t hear anything beyond a vague buzzing in my ears. I think that means that the audio just went out of the spectrum that I could hear. Or, I just went deaf. To be honest, I wouldn''t be surprised, after all the shit I''ve gone through. A thump like the creature fell off of something. Then the sound of sniffing. Damn, these guys are straight up dogs, huh? I guess you could say he was following his instincts as a man. Lol. ... But, seriously though, I think I''m about to die. I did a spin of the chambers in my revolver. Six round. Thirty-seconds each. Three minutes. Three minutes of life. ...Would I be satisfied with that, though? And what if I missed? ...hah, I wish I was the main character of a bad authors novel. I could really use some plot armor right now, or at the very least some kind of power. ...As you wish... My phone beeped. I started. I would have though service would be down by now. Though, I guess these creatures aren''t really that interested in that, so maybe I can still use it? Hm...should I make my fingers go numb clenching this gun, or check my email? Meh, my history teacher was scarier when she caught us texting each other. These creatures don''t have shit on Mrs. Williams. I put the gun down beside me, and pulled my phone out of my pocket. ''Indestructable'' my ass. The screen is basically gone. What''s left of the glass is a couple cracked shards in the upper-right corner. Then again, I should probably be praising the engineering. After all, it did survive a fall from a train moving 60m/h. Which of us came out better, I can''t say. Huh, another text from ''anon.'' Anon: Through the strength of will, many individuals of history have given themselves an inner fire within their soul. Perhaps through your will something more will come to be? ... I deleted the text. Fuck this anon guy. And fuck history. Mrs. Williams admitted, publicly, that I was a lost cause. And something about having more flaws in my memory than the catholic church has contradictions in its'' doctrine. (She was Jewish.) The bedroom door slid fully open, and a figure blocked the door. I set my phone down, and gave my best, I''m-about-to-die smile. I picked up the gun, and cocked the hammer. It felt a little weird. The monster slowly walked toward me. Not running like the others. Huh, it''s not wearing a shirt. I did a couple spins of the gun, smiling and relaxing. It''s strange. Whenever I think about death, or pain, I always feel so scared. But now that it''s here... I''m sort of looking forward to it. The monster came to my side, and lifted a claw. I shot it in the throat. Stumbling back, it choked blood and hit the wall. I blew the smoke from the barrel, and did a couple spins of the chamber, whistling a tuneless song. I was just getting to the good part when the monster woke up. I shot it in the throat again. It stumbled back a step. I did a spin of the chamber, and placed the barrel up against my temple. It would be so much faster, and less painful. Do I really want to end up like that guy on the dining table? Ha, I already did half the job. Still, I don''t want to end up like that. Just a contraction of the muscles in my finger, and everything would be okay. The monster stopped choking and stepped back toward me. I shot it in the throat again. Hah, do I really want to go out like this? Scared and alone, torn to pieces, an empty revolver in hand? Or should I be wearing a sarcastic smile and bearing a hole in the side of my head? Either way ends in death. Damn, this is really not enough time. The monster healed again. Is it just me, or is he getting up faster each time? I shot it in the throat again. I took a good look at the guy for the first time. Hm, his face looks familiar. Well, fuck me! He is the guy on the table. And it took six seconds for the hole in his throat to heal. He takes a step forward. I have two shots in my gun. And all I can think is... "Really?" The monster hesitates for a second. I gesture around the room. "I mean, seriously. I make it all this way, and now you don''t even give me the three minutes I was promised? What the fuck is up with that!" The monster lurches forward again, and puts its'' claw on my throat. I cock the hammer and pull. It jams. ... Ha...ha...haha, hahahaha, HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAhAhahAHAHAhHAhAhA! AND I CALL MYSELF A COMEDIAN! The monsters'' grip is weak. But the claws are sharp enough to make up for it. the sides of my throat are already bleeding. But what the fuck!? It''s almost like god is laughing at me! Like I''m his own practical joke. As if all my effort, my sweat, my tears, my blood, was all meaningless. I should be angry. I should hate god right now. I should be feeling so many emotions right now. But, for a reason I think I know, all I can do is laugh. I cock the hammer. I pull the trigger. It does nothing. HA HA HA HA I have stopped laughing. Not for want of trying, but because the monsters'' grip is strangling me. I choke. And with what little breath I have... "I don''t think I believe in God anymore." And even if there was a god, if he''s the sadistic bastard he''s shown himself to be, I don''t want to believe he created me. I cock the hammer, push the gun into the guys'' throat, and pull the trigger- It jams. I give myself a little chuckle, and close my eyes. Then the gun fires. The grip on my throat disappears. The next second, I open my eyes. Half the guys'' throat is gone, and his eyes are bulging. I cock the hammer, pull the trigger, and shoot the other half of his throat. His head does a little somersault into my lap, and his body falls over. I blink. The monsters'' head blinks as well. The body starts'' getting up. "...seriously? I just decapitated you. Kurgh..." I gagged. Strangling isn''t that fun. I feel kinda bad for that boy scout. Still, if the head is right here... I put my left-hand in front of the creatures'' face. It''s opening and closing its'' jaws, trying to bite me, but it can''t get leverage. I flip it the bird. A hint of recognition flashes in its'' eyes. Then I use my pointer and middle finger to explore the back of its'' skull. I hold it between my knees, and pull its'' eyes out. Then I crush them. In my hand, they start coming back. So I crush them again. For a while, I felt very strange. The eyes felt like squishy foam. The head had fallen backwards, and was mindlessly biting thin air. The body was flopping around like a beached fish. And I just kept crushing the eyes, over and over again. Seems like they can''t grow new appendages. Thank Confucius for that. And, for two days, I continued crushing its'' eyes, listening to its'' teeth clack on empty air, and watching its'' body flop around on the ground. Then I got hungry. ... Well, shit. #5.5 -HG-1- Chapter 3 (Guest entry) Please note this is a guest entry. As promised, here''s chapter 3, matching HG chapter 3.
Hell Girl-1 chapter 3: April¡¯s eyelids scratched against the muddy ground when she opened her eyes, and the stabbing pain from her shattered leg returned. Unconsciousness had been a bliss, even in the fangs of the demon. She pushed herself up, but grit her teeth in pain. Moving her leg was out of the question. ¡°Looking pretty banged up there.¡± A male said from the other corner of the small cage, barely able to hold two people. ¡°Urf. Where am I? What is this?¡± ¡°One thing at a time.¡± The man said. ¡°You got caught. That¡¯s bad.¡± ¡°Why?¡± His eyes pierced April, like spears. ¡°I said one thing at a time, are you deaf?¡± He stood up halfway, unable to fully stand due to the low height of the cage. ¡°You¡¯ve come to the outer ring of the seventh circle. Here, those who do violence upon another arrive.¡± ¡°But I ne--¡± The remarkably thin man, whose ribs were clearly visible on his chest stepped closer. ¡°Spare me. I¡¯m not a heavenly judge. I¡¯m not here to help and guide you, to hold your hand.¡± ¡°Then why are you here?¡± April said, edging towards the back of the cage. He took a deep breath. ¡°The demon that caught you, is a nephilim, an ancient race from before the first destruction of the world. Wingless fallen angels.¡± ¡°What? Why¡¯re--¡± He sqatted down, putting his face inches from April¡¯s. ¡°Silence! Are you daft?¡± his hand came to rest on her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll get to the point. The nephilims thrive on pain. It is their lifeblood, their power, nay, it¡¯s the gears of their power.¡± April put her hands in front of her chest, pressing her back against the back of the cage. Her voice shook, as she spoke. ¡°W-What do you want? Stay back.¡± Smack. April¡¯s cheek glowed red from the impact of the flat hand. Her one hand darted to the holster on her hip. ¡°It¡¯s useless. You¡¯ve been disarmed. We¡¯ve got two options.¡± He said, lifting a fist. ¡°Either, I torture you¡­ Or they¡­¡± He stretched out a finger, pointing into a wall. ¡°Torture both of us.¡± His finger clenched, and the fist shot towards April¡¯s broken leg. Thump She winched in pain and her face twisted, not in pain, but in anger. Her clenched fist shot towards his jaw, knocking his entire body into the cage. ¡°Ow, what do they feed you these days?¡± April tried to get up, but her leg stopped any movement. The thin man approached again, April kicked violently into the air with the healthy leg. ¡°I¡¯ll beat you to a pulp.¡± ¡°Very well.¡± The man said, opening the door to the cage. ¡°We¡¯ve got a fighter here.¡± He yelled. Moments later, a man with the upper body of a bull stared at April. ¡°Too scrawny. Torture her. Not fighter.¡± ¡°Wait, wait.¡± April said. ¡°The thin man over there is more scrawny than I.¡± The minotaur put its large nose in between the bars and took a deep breath. ¡°No. No woman fight.¡± April¡¯s hand grabbed into the nostrils of the beast. Her other hand shot like a bullet, striking between the eyes of the Minotaur. It roared and ricocheted backwards. ¡°Try me, cow.¡± She almost spat at it. The minotaur approached the cage and glared at her. A hoof shot into the cage, tipping it over. April flew like a ragdoll through the cage, bouncing several times. Each time, the tears in her eyes grew larger as her leg flapped around like a broken wing, but her mouth was forced shut. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The minotaur grunted. ¡°Put her with the forlorn hope.¡± ¡°Very well.¡± The thin man bowed. He marched over to the tipped cage. ¡°Hope you can walk with that leg, you¡¯re going to fight tomorrow.¡± April bit her lip. ¡°I¡¯ll get your team. Perhaps they¡¯ll carry you. Good luck not getting murdered tomorrow.¡± April grabbed onto the cage trying to get up. Every second felt like a man tried to hack off her leg with a dull axe. She forced her way out of the cage with the help of the bars, and came face to face with the most scrawny human being she¡¯d ever laid eyes on. His thick glasses kept falling down his nose and his short greasy hair along with his nearly white complexion showed exactly how little physical strength he posessed. ¡°Saluatations, you might already be aware I¡¯m twenty five percent of the forlorn hope.¡± He reached out a hand. ¡°Oliver.¡± ¡°What. The.¡± April¡¯s frown spoke for her. ¡°Allow me to expound. I¡¯ve got congenital insensitivity to pain, CIG. Can¡¯t torture me if I don¡¯t feel a thing. Thus, I¡¯m on the gallow squad.¡± ¡°Gallow squad?¡± April said, trying to wipe the disapproving from from her face. ¡°Forlorn hope. It¡¯s a metaphor for ¡®abandon hope all ye¡¯ who enter here¡¯, if you didn¡¯t realize it yet. We¡¯re cannon fodde--Oh god, your leg is broken.¡± He turned around, putting a hand in front of his eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t handle that... ¡° ¡°Whaa--¡± April¡¯s mouth was wide open, yet she couldn¡¯t formulate a single word. A larger man showed up behind Oliver. The muscles in his upper body showed through his shirt. ¡°Rob!¡± Oliver howled. ¡°Thank god you¡¯re here, her leg is broken. Do something.¡± Rob pondered for a moment, before turning around. ¡°Leave her. Not worth it. She¡¯s dead tomorrow.¡± ¡°Wait-wait-wait,¡± April said. ¡° I can still fight.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Not with that leg.¡± ¡°You stand a better chance with me on your side. I just need a little material and time to make a gizmo. Help me, help you.¡± April said. He shook his head. ¡°Not worth the resources.¡± ¡°I was an assassin, don¡¯t underestimate me.¡± Rob started walking. ¡°A bloody bad one. If you had killed you¡¯d have been in the river of souls.¡± ¡°Shucks, cold as always.¡± Oliver said, looking back at April. ¡°He was in a thousand fights. I guess that¡¯s what happens when people die all around you. Personally, I just joined a week ago. Rob saved me last time, he¡¯s the reason there¡¯s even anyone left in the forlorn hope.¡± ¡°Do you have a sword¡­ bolt cutter, anything like that?¡± April asked. ¡°Ah, you want the metal from the cage? There¡¯s a weak spot, I know because I was stuck in there for so long.¡± Oliver crawled onto the cage and started hammering at it with the butt of a dagger. Clank-Clank-clank-clank. The bars from the cage fell to the ground. ¡°You¡¯d think they¡¯d be better at welding down here.¡± Oliver said with a slight shrug. ¡°Perhaps all the good welders makes the harps in heaven.¡± ¡°Harps aren¡¯t welded¡­¡± April said. ¡°Oh, shesh. Can¡¯t you take a joke at face value? Maybe they¡¯re doing repairs to the pearly gates, what do I know about heaven?¡± he said with a slight smile. ¡°How did someone like you ever end up here?¡± Oliver stopped smiling, and gave off a typical slight shrug, as if his muscles didn¡¯t have the power to lift his shoulders fully. ¡°Let¡¯s get your splint made.¡± ¡°I need to be able to walk on it.¡± April said. Oliver nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s get to work before tomorrow. #5 -HG- Chapter 4 I don''t want to. Shuffling the eyeballs between my fingers, I keep the matter moving. This way, it doesn''t reform. I''d done this for so long I could do it in my sleep. And I did. Twice. Lately, crushing the eyeballs has been getting harder and harder to do, and not just because I''m weakening. Just like how its'' healing period for each shot grew less and less, I think the eyes are gaining a resistance to crushing. Honestly, that''s...terrifying. Eventually, they won''t need to heal. My bullets will just bounce off of them. And even worse, what I really, don''t want to do... "I mean, it could be said to be a delicacy for cannibals...and really, who''s going to judge me for taking just a nibble...? I know god won''t, since I''m already damned. But dammit..." I squeezed the eyes between my fingers. "Why does it have to be so squishy..." It''s not cooked. But I can''t get up and keep crushing these eyes at the same time. I don''t want to think about what''ll happen if I let the head reunite with the body. "Well, there are worse things for your body...here goes." Closing my eyes and tilting my head back, I shove the eye-matter in my mouth. Vomit. Both the action I take, and what it tastes like. I immediately spit it up. Now my whole chest is covered...dammit. Now what will I do? I spent fifteen minutes idly twirling half-healed eyes around my fingers. I steal myself. I put them back in my mouth. It''s worse. The vomit had horrible, mutant babies with ghost peppers, and they grew up to be wonderful sewer cleaners. I gag a lot, but don''t spit it up. Mostly cause'' I don''t have anything left in me. Then I bit down on the eyes. Grapes. If grapes were made of shit. I start pushing it inbetween my teeth, like how you do mouth wash. Oh Confucius, it''s coating the inside of my mouth...I''ll die...I won''t ever not taste this...I don''t wanna live anymore... I grab the head by the hair, and place it over the bed-post. It instantly bites down, and gets a mouthful of wood. Heh heh, mouthful of wood... Dammit, now''s not the time for immaturity! Even if it''s hilarious! I awkwardly swing my right-leg over the edge of the bed. The creature has been clawing at the corner for two hours now, I think maybe it''s tired. Or it''s keeping its'' claws sharp. When the head bit down, the body started swinging wildly, as if possessed. I guess, even though the brain is separated and definitely stupid, it still sends signals. Maybe brainwaves are like radio waves...? I never paid any attention in school. I''m starting to regret that. My left-leg...if you can call it a leg, is looking better. I had a fun time pushing the bone back in... Ugh...I''m hurting just thinking about it. I don''t ever wanna break a bone again. Or see one. Or smell one...I''m not a fan of bones. Well, I should be able to move with only...a lot of pain. Dammit, sitting here thinking about it will only make it worse. Up we go! "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU I could crawl more or less. Balancing with only two limbs wasn''t fun. Luckily, my dislocated shoulder had healed up nicely. Not really injured in the first place, just out of the socket, but now it didn''t hurt. That helped, since I could use my shoulder to stop my elbow from moving too much. Still hurt though. And my leg...it keeps throbbing. If I had both hands it wouldn''t be so bad, but having only one leg and one arm just makes things...very difficult. I have to make shortcuts and take the long way for things. But, first things first. Food. I wonder if the electricity is still up? I saw the street-lights go on at night, so maybe...? It''s probably too much to hope for. I somehow got myself to the fridge, feeling like a deformed frog, and opened it up. I expected rotten, spoiled, anything. But it was all just fine. Huh. Well, for things like these, only one thing can restore your energy. A little bit of eye started dribbling out of my mouth, so I quickly sucked it up. Oh Confucius help me...it seems to have reacted with the air and bred, becoming more repulsive. Fuck. If everything I eat tastes like this from now on...I''ll seriously flip out. I got a bowl, a box, and a spoon. I poured some milk, poured the cereal, then thought about what to do now. If I put the eyes back in my hand, I can''t pick up the spoon. If I can''t hold the spoon, I can''t eat the cereal. Well, I could just doggy-style it, but I have my dignity. Somewhere...a sword laughs. Well...I wonder if those creatures can get dizzy? I let the eye-balls form, then...ugh...use my tongue to tie the optic nerves together, putting a neat bow on it. Never thought my cherry-tying skills would come in handy during the apocalypse. I take it out of my mouth, and throw it at the fan. On my third try, I land them in my cereal. ... I''ll just pretend I didn''t see that. I keep trying. When I get it caught on a blade, I crawl to the switch. I can stand on one leg, as long as it''s not for long. I turn on the fan. Returning to my cereal, I eat. And silently, tears roll down my face. "I''ll never taste again..." It''s a good thing I heard the creature tripping and crashing around in the other room. I needed something to make me laugh. Looks like they can get dizzy. After finishing up, I crawl onto the couch, and go to sleep. Hopefully dizzy, head-less creatures can''t open doors. But, just in case, I loaded the revolver again. --- It''s been four days. I''m all out of cereal. ... It seems, for perfectly logical reasons, I''ll have to move location. I''ve packed a back-pack with...ugh...food, and other essentials, just in case I get lost, and I have a crutch. I can sorta feel my arm again, but my leg is still a lost-cause. I won''t use that until I''m sure my shin won''t pop out again. But before I go... I''m going to take a shower. Because I can. And because I''m covered in my own vomit and feces. I really wish I''d had a diaper for those two days...but, you can only cry over spilled milk for so long. Looking in the mirror afterwards, I have to accept some things. Namely, I look like a zombie. But more than that, that being a girl is disadvantageous in the apocalypse. Time for a change. The hair went fast. It wasn''t neat, but it was good enough. I had to resist the instinct to put my make-up on. A band around my chest was all it took, since I wasn''t very naturally gifted, and putting on the cloths I found in the laundry. I didn''t dare go into the bedroom, but fortunately the guy was doing-as I''m sure millions others-laundry, when the apocalypse hit. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. I had to roll it up a lot, but I think the bagginess helped the image. It''s a good thing the guy wasn''t super tall. Now all I need is...a hat! All boys wear hats. But which one should I wear? I instantly throw away the cowboy hat. It would help, but I wasn''t about to put it on. Baseball caps or this straw one. For a moment, I entertained the image of myself running around in it. Luckily it was only for a moment. I put red and black one on, and, thinking that it would help, I turned it around. Good, now I look like...a fifteen-year-old boy dressed in his dads'' cloths, trying to look like a gangster. I corrected the hat. Then, finally walking with a good leg and an improvised crutch, (A curtain is missing its'' rod.) I set out. I opened the door... And stepped out into hell. --- A week. That''s how long it took until I could use my arm again. I shook it out, swung it around, and basically went nuts. My leg was still in a splint, but I could put a little weight on it in exchange for pain. Still, I healed very fast. But I can''t complain. Now, for this past week, I''ve had some problems. Good thing I''m smart! (And have a gun) After decapitating two more monsters, I found out that Just putting their eyes in a dark place will have the same effect as constantly crushing them. That would have been good to know. Still, I''m surprised I only ran into two of them. This is a suburban area, you''d think more people would be here. Either they all ate each other, or, they all moved someplace. And that makes me very, very afraid. Of course, it''s not all bad news. I found another live person! A middle-aged woman, who was hiding in her attic while her husband turned into a monster and killed their children. When she saw me, she smiled weirdly. Then she pulled out a knife and stabbed herself. Several times. ... ...Item get: Used Knife! But seriously, what did she think I''d do? I was smiling! And who just carries around a Bowie knife? I was muttering, swinging around the knife, when I ran head-first into someone. I looked up into murky sea-green eyes. "Oh. Hey." I was in the middle of limping towards the cereal isle, and I wasn''t really thinking. I didn''t expect a handsome guy to just pop out from nowhere. For a second, we just looked at each other. Then he backed up real fast, and took out a baseball bat. Really, this isn''t a zombie game. What do you think a piece of wood will do against something that can''t be killed? Well, it would probably do something against my skull. So I shouldn''t antagonize him. I gave my best, I-come-in-peace smile, and put the knife in its'' accompanying sheath in my belt. Sadly it had a couple bloodstains. It was really good leather too... Damn, I must be cynical as hell if I''m thinking about the leather when that blood came from a woman who committed suicide. That, or I''m just desensitized already. After chewing on eye-balls, I wouldn''t be surprised if nothing gets a reaction out of me anymore. Anyway, the guy hesitated with the bat. "Um...why did you put your knife away, when you''re smiling like that?" I frown. "Smiling like what? What the fuck is wrong with my smile!? You fucking bitch!" He shrank down, and flinched. "Sorry! I''m sorry! It''s just that, your face is covered in blood, and even while smiling you look like you just ate something bad!" "...well, fuck me. That must be damn scary." He eyed me. "Uh, yeah...do you...not feel it?" I shook my head. "Nah, I feel it. Just, after you wash blood off of your face enough times, it just gets too troublesome, you know?" He peed his pants. "R-real-l-ly...?" I held up my hands. "It''s okay! Not like I killed anybody! ...except those two...and maybe that one girl...ahem, I''m not a homicidal maniac, alright?" I gave a big smile, to show my sincerity. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he fell over. Damn, he really is a bitch if he just feinted from fright. Still...I''m not complaining. His face is even better when he''s sleeping... ... ...holy shit, I really am creepy, huh? I limped to the cereal isle, got my supplies, and got some dried milk and bottled water. Not like I can carry more. I went back to the bitch, and poured some water on his face. He woke up spluttering. "Scary-killer-guy-wha?!" I give him a slap. A good, solid back-hand with my right hand. Oh, righty, how I''ve missed you~ "If you can''t shut-up, I''ll shut you up myself. Either way, you''re going to listen to me, alright?" He nodded. I gave him a smile. He whimpered. I forged on ahead. "Alright, I''ll tell you right now. You can''t survive. How many of the creatures have you met up until now?" "Uh, um, I haven''t...I heard one..." I face-palm him. "Wow. Well, even if you are useless, and a bitch, and not potty trained, I''m sure I can find a use for you. What do you say? Wanna team-up?" "...can I refuse?" I laugh and clap his back. "Haha! We''ll be great teammates! Now, take this back-pack, I''ll go get more. You just wait here..." I start limping towards where I saw some back-packs. Now that there are two of us, I can carry twice as much! But I also have to feed him...hm...meh, I only have to do that once a day, right? I''m sure I can manage. While I''m limping away, he calls out. "Uh, w...what''s your name?" "Tiff-" I choked. I was about to say my name. He just nods. "Tiff, huh? I''m Luke. I...hope you didn''t do anything while I was unconscious." "Nothing lasting." I leave him fainted again, and go back to what I was doing. Although having an extra carrier was nice, I mostly did it for the company. All this alone time has led me to have...very out-of-the-box ideas. I''m thinking I''d go insane, or at least develop a complex or two, if I don''t have someone to talk to. That, and I want to go to sleep without fear of waking up to claws around my throat. Even my dreams are of fighting the creatures. In my dreams, my body is whole. At first. Then it gets ripped and torn and bit and clawed, and all the time I''m screaming. I have gotten sick of my own screams, so long have I listened to them. I need something...real, to hold onto, in this world that seems so nightmarish. I need something that tells me this is real, and that it can get better. But I still think it''ll just end up like my dreams foretell. Broken, bloody, and in pieces. But at least I''m not alone anymore. #5.5 -HG-1- Chapter 4 (Guest entry) Please note this is a guest entry.
April eyed the splint. A bar with a shirt wrapped around it had stabilized the leg, while four bars tied around the upper leg had made a frame for walking. ¡°how''s the design?¡± Oliver asked. ¡°looks like bad modern art¡± ¡°... thanks, I meant if it is functional.¡± ¡°Functional!?¡± April pulled up her leg and let it drop. THUMP. ¡°it''s only slightly worse than a ball chain tied to my broken leg.¡± Oliver looked to the floor, scratching his neck. ¡°I know, I''m useless. So-¡± ¡°But at least I can stand, and move a little. Thanks, Oliver.¡± He still looked down at the floor, but his smile showed even with the angle on his face.. ¡°Let¡¯s go to our quarters.¡± Oliver said. April nodded. THUMP... THUMP... THUMP... The quarters were essentially a small space with a dozen beds and a lone straw man and a single target for practice. ¡°I told you not to bother with her, she¡¯ll be dead by tomorrow.¡± Rob said. Oliver stared at the wall next to him. ¡°Don¡¯t be so hard, Rob. The girl can move, she¡¯ll be useful for something. At least she can stand her ground, amirite?¡± Rob threw a glance at the short stout man. ¡°Cain, I coudda trained the kid for those five hours he was flirtin¡¯.¡± ¡°Ach, look at it as a new weapon. Imagine anyone got stomped over the toes with that thing. Heh-heh.¡± Cain nodded towards the improvised splint. ¡°Ah, shut it, Cain.¡± Rob said, grabbing a two crossbows. ¡°New blood, now that the kid invested in you, I¡¯ll show you how to fire one of these. At least take one of ¡®em down with you, as you disappear into the void.¡± Rob threw a crossbow to April. ¡°Here, this is a goatsfoot. You stick your foot into the ring at the end of the crossbow a--¡± Thunk. A crossbow bolt was embedded in the center of the practice target. ¡°Surprised I couldn¡¯t even get a windlass.¡± April said, putting the crossbow over her shoulder. ¡°Alright, pup, you might know how to shoot after all. I¡¯ll call you that ¨C Windlass.¡± ¡°My name is April." ¡°I don¡¯t care about your name, Windlass. You¡¯re an airhead and a girl. Wind. Lass.¡± ¡°An airhead?¡± April said in disbelief. ¡°You broke your leg. Idiot.¡± Rob said, putting his crossbow back in the rack. ¡°Hahaha, can¡¯t argue with ol¡¯ Rob, can ya?¡± Cain said. ¡°Start gettin¡¯ used to the crossbow, we¡¯ve got a big fight tomorrow.¡± ¡°What are we fighting?¡± ¡°Other groups.¡± Cain said. ¡°Since we¡¯re the lowest in our tier, we usually get a death or two in every battle, mostly ending in draws. Last one was grim, fought the Hopeless Rangers, upper F tier, even within the same tier, it¡¯s a large difference.¡± ¡°Tomorrow should be okay. We¡¯re fighting the Greenhorns. Name says it all. Plus they¡¯re eight man down as well.¡± Rob said. April shook her leg. ¡°At least I¡¯ll get an easy star¨C¡± A voice echoed from a nearby pipe. ¡°Forlorn hope, 501st of the F tier will be fighting the Iron Brigade, 295th of the E tier. Winning price: Character theft. Time to start, five minutes.¡± Rob glared at April ¡°Windlass. What. Did. You. Do?¡± ¡°I may have... punched... a minotaur in the nose.¡± She said. ¡°What?! If any of us survive, I¡¯ll shoot you myself. I¡¯ve never had a character theft round, usually that¡¯s reserved for challenges.¡± ¡°C¡¯mon, we¡¯re late.¡± Cain said. ¡°We can¡¯t afford the penalty against the F tier.¡± They all darted down a hall. THUMP... THUMP... THUMP¡­ ¡°Puh, hah. Wait up?¡± If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°It¡¯s just in here. Hurry! Thirty seconds left.¡± Oliver yelled. When April arrived, Cain already held a bearded axe. Rob had a shield and spear, like Oliver. ¡°Good thing you brought a crossbow. Get it loaded before the gate opens.¡± Rob said. Rattle-Rattle. ¡°Steady, kid. Your hands are shaking.¡± Cain said. Click. ¡°The gate is open¡­ Get into formation.¡± Rob ordered. ¡°We have to hold out for ten minutes.¡± ¡°H-How many are there?¡± Oliver said. ¡°32, by my count.¡± Cain said. ¡°Don¡¯t die. If we surrender, it''ll be together.¡± "You can surrender?" Oliver asked. "Then why did¨C" Cain shook his head. "Only in Character Theft fights." April lifted the crossbow, aiming at a thin blonde man. Next to him, a minotaur. ¡°Crap. I know those guys.¡± ¡°Let me guess, you punched that bull-guy in the nose? You know, if we lose they¡¯ll probably take you on their team. I can only imagine what horrifying plans they have for you.¡± Cain said. April gulped. ¡°Shoot the minotaur, perhaps we can intimidate them.¡± Rob said. April¡¯s finger touched the trigger mechanism. She held the aim at the face of the bull¡­ But he finger would not move. She muttered to herself. ¡°C¡¯mon April. It¡¯s kill or be killed. Do it.¡± ¡°I knew it. Damnation.¡± Rob said, darting towards the minotaur. ¡°If I¡¯m gonna die, I¡¯ll die in a bloodbath!¡± Cain followed closely behind. April lowered her crossbow, targeting the leg of the man trying to flank Rob. Thunk-Splosh. Rob stabbed in wild frenzy, forcing back several men before arriving in front of the minotaur. The minotaur hit him. Hard. He staggered backwards. Cain came to his aid, hooking a man with the beard on his axe, throwing him to the ground before several more rushed in to stop him. Cain backed off, only able to hold off the onslaught because of several crossbow bolts, hindering the advance, yet never striking anyone. Rob feinted and got past the minotaurs axe. His spear skewered the minotaurs stomach. ¡°Take that, bull-man.¡± CLONK. The flat of the minotaur''s axe had struck Rob dead on his skull. He fell to the ground, unmoving. ¡°I surrender!¡± Cain yelled. ¡°We can¡¯t hold another 8 minutes. Surrender!¡± he stared directly at Oliver and April. ¡°I-I give up!¡± Oliver yelled. April grit her teeth, raising the crossbow. ¡°Stupid bull. I¡¯ll show you.¡± Thunk. Cling. The bolt bounced off of the flat of the axe. The minotaur advanced towards April. She loaded. Thunk. Cling. She loaded. The minotaur started a mighty charge. ¡°I-i give up!¡± Smash. April fell to the ground, ramming her head into the wall behind her. ¡°Worthless rat.¡± The minotaur said, eyeing April. ¡±We¡¯re choosing the unconscious guy, and the axe guy. The rat isn¡¯t even worth it as a toy.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t do that!¡± Oliver yelled. ¡°It¡¯s only one person!¡± The minotaur shoved his nostrils into Oliver¡¯s face, breathing so hard Oliver¡¯s greasy hair waved backwards. ¡°Try to stop me, pants-pisser.¡± Oliver fell to his knees while four of the Iron Brigade¡¯s members forced Cain to the ground and dragged him along. "Let me go you pieces of crap!" He looked back at April. ¡°S-say something?¡± But April¡¯s eyes were wide open, yet she just sat against the wall. Unmoving. "It''s my fault... In the next fight, we''re both dead." #5 -HG- Chapter 5: A Chance Encounter AN:Spoiler : ... ...Why the hell am I writing it now? Dammit, I shouldn''t be doing this. Things aren''t looking good. F~uuu... Don''t blame me if I get a bit excited, okay? I''m very unstable when I''m sleepy. ATTEMPT IV: Okay, I''m gonna write this chapter, and not put doubts in every ones mind about history, the future, the present, and life, okay? Okay. Here it is. Fuck me, the AN takes more time than the chapter cause'' I write too much stupid shit. Well, what is the chapter, except stupid shit...? ...was that a rhetorical question...? ...I just looked up ''inflexible'' and went to images, and I got pictures of the Titanic...lol... ...you just wasted .1 seconds of your life reading the ellipses for this useless sentence, and now you''ve wasted 2 more. TROLOLOLOLOOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL (Get it? Cause'' there''s nothing left to say? Cause'' it''s- TOO LATE~ IT''S TOO LATE, TO APOLOGIZE~~~~~~ HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I''m sorry. Plz kil meh....but it''ll be pretty hard cause'' I''m... TI-TA-NI-UM! Who''s insane? What? I am? What are you smoking? HAHA It''s funny cause I set him on fire. Hm? You want some space? But I love you! Oh well, guess you won''t care in a minute. It''s sad, because you can only smother someone for a minute before they stop talking to you. Heya, how''s it hanging? Huh? You say I''m using the expression wrong? Well of course someone with a broken spine would say that~ I bet you''re ''dying'' to see me? Well too bad. You delicious eyeballs are mine, and no matter what Tiff says, I won''t throw them in the ceiling fan. Wanna know the difference between a limousine and people? Limousines make terrible cupcake batter! ...Is it funny that I still doubt my own mental instability? Whatever. I''ll keep saying I''m insane, until proven otherwise. And we all know that''ll never happen. ...I''m gonna write the chapter now...before things start to get weird... I thought about writing something different because I was totally blocked, but then... A character emerged. It whispered sweet nothings in my ear, and coaxed me when I lagged. Now... I cannot wait to introduce you. :3 I keep telling myself to slow down...but screw that! ACCELERATE!
I always daydreamed about robbing a bank. Funny, how life makes you do things you always wanted to, and yet somehow makes you feel miserable about doing it. I unloaded the third slug into the blond-haired blue-eyed large-fanged teenager, and tried to tell myself I didn''t enjoy it. But, dammit! After playing all those FPS I had wet dreams every night for a month about putting a bullet in someones'' skull. ... ...okay, that sounds really messed up when I think it out loud. Video games really do make you violent... I shoot it in the eye just to make sure, and give Luke a yell. "Hey bitch-boy! Hurry it up!" Luke''s voice echoes from inside the vault. "I''m going as fast as I can! It''s hard to find securities stash in all this money!" I rub Six-shooter on my cheek. "Oh my precious gun, why are you the only reliable one around here?" --- Two weeks ago, after meeting Luke, we spent a week getting used to each other. Well, I got used to Luke''s wimpy voice, and he got used to doing what I told him. Now that I think about it... Wouldn''t I have made a fabulous pimp? Oh well, fuck it. I doubt there are enough people left to fill out my ranks. And even if there were, what would I do when they started a mutiny? ...I think I''m thinking too deeply about this subject. I''ll just drop it... Still, from that day on, even when I no longer had a limp, I carried a cane. In case a Luke-I mean, bitch-needed smacking. The first time Luke asked me why I carried it, I gave him a lesson in manners. And bitch-smacking. With boys, you have to constantly remind them who''s in charge. Otherwise, they start to think for themselves. And that''s dangerous. I always liked jocks best. They rarely thought too much. And the ones who did... Well, I wasn''t awarded(unanimously, although not announced) the ''Conniving-Bitch'' title for three years running. Ah, those are some terrible memories. To my face they called me queen, and the second I turned my back, they went right back to my nickname, WSCB. It''s an acronym. I''ll give you a hint. The last letter stands for ''bitch.'' But, that''s why I always screwed over whoever I could. If you don''t know who hates you, and no one likes you, then there''s a simple solution. Don''t discriminate. Because if you just hate everyone equally, then you''ll feel just as good grinding a nice-guys face into the dirt as stepping on a bastards. Where was I...? I think I got off topic...right! Luke! Or as I''ve been calling him for the last two days... "Oi, footstool. Keep your back straight." "R-right, Tiff! S-sorry..." Still, we''d been lucky. We raided seven residences in those fourteen days, and only met two creatures. It was a simple matter of pinning them down with something metal, and sawing off their head with a saw we got in a hardware shop. Then I just scoop their eyes out, and voila! But I don''t have any place to get rid of them, so I have to keep all the eyes in a sack tied to my back-pack. Still, it was worth it, to see Luke''s face when he opened a small sack to see several pairs of differently colored eyes staring back at him. I think my nightmares appreciated the fuel. Assuming that I''m awake right now, and that this isn''t the nightmare. Sometimes, reality get''s so ridiculous that I start to lose my sense of direction. But not to fear! Having Luke really does help. "Hey Tiff! I found some more gauze, should we take it?" "Did you bust your shin again like an idiot?" "N-no!" "Then what do you think the answer is?" "...you don''t..mean...about it..." I cock Longsilver, as I''ve started calling my gun, and call out innocently. "What was that?" "Nothing!" "I thought so. Now get back to work!" Ah...I really like having a minion that''s so easily intimidated. And the best part is... He doesn''t know how terrified I am! --- Breaking someones'' leg over and over is tedious as hell. *snap* *crunch* "You done yet?" I call out. "No." Luke replies. *snap* *crunch* "Are you done yet?" A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. "No." *snap* *crunch* "How about now?" "Yes." "Really!?" "No." *snap* *crunch* "Arrgggghhh! Do you know how boring snapping someones bones repeatedly is!" Luke walks out, carrying a blue duffel-bag. It has an enlarged police-badge on it, and clinks metallicly. I wink at Luke. "I hope they don''t mind me ''borrowing'' these." He grunts, and shrugs. "Doubt they mind anything, anymore." He''s gotten like that lately. Guess for most people, keeping a cheery disposition is hard. Luke must have changed a lot in these past couple months. *snap* *crack* But I don''t get the feeling I changed at all... Luke coughed softly. "Ahem...you don''t have to keep breaking his leg." I nod. "Right, right. I knew that." As we get read, I do a quick survey of the guy I''d been crushing. He seemed...lethargic. Like all the healing had been a workout. I had been snapping its'' bones for the last half-hour. I guess even immortals get tired. But since he''s shown weakness... It''d be a shame to not do anything, right? I grab it by the hair. Ineffectual claws reach up, but I swat them aside. Were these things really to be feared? I mean, at first they''re twice as strong, but after you get into a good position and start breaking them, they just get weaker, and weaker... I push my fingers into the boys'' eye-sockets. Your pretty-blue irises are mine now. I tuck the pair of squishy eyes into my pouch, and step out. Behind me, a blind creature thrashes around. They almost seem pitiful now... I step through the pillars, down the steps, then run into Luke. "Ow, what the hell?" Luke makes a small, high-pitched voice with his throat. I follow his eyes. I feel a little bit of disbelief. I must be asleep right now, right? This must be fiction. At the least-the very least-forty creatures are standing in a loose gaggle staring at us from across the street. My first thought... "I guess we found out where all the people went." My second thought... "I''m gonna need a bigger pouch." My third thought... "OH FUCK MY LIFE!" I grabbed Luke''s shoulder and took off. He stumbled before gaining his stride and runs beside me. We head downtown. Behind me, the screech starts, gets louder, and louder, and doesn''t seem to stop until my ears start ringing so bad I can''t hear anything at all. I tug Luke''s'' shoulder towards an apartment building, and we sprint up the stairs. The creatures are generally bad with handrails, due to the claws and all. Well, for the first couple steps. Then they learn how to do it, and shit gets real. Not that it''s fake right now. But I mean, I have that whole real-fiction problem, so maybe I should be doubting the existence of shit... Regardless, now isn''t the time to ponder on the metaphysical properties of shit. Now is the time for not dying. Fucking zombies ruin everything! I run until I come to the sixth floor, and keep running until I find an open door. The lock appears to have been busted, along with the handle, but there aren''t any claw marks. Oh well, maybe they learned how to use sledge-hammers? Fucking zombies! I throw Luke on the nearest piece of furniture, then close the door. I go to the nearest metal pole--the shower-curtain-hanger--and wedge it into the door and the lock. Then I look at Luke again, and feel like kissing him. In a totally gay way. I am, after all, a guy right now. The duffel bag got caught on his arm, and he didn''t drop it. I extract the poor bag from him, leave him panting and wheezing, and put my hand on the zipper. Then I hear someone behind me. "Um, hey. My name is Alice Carter! Nice to meet you! Unless you have a craving for human flesh, hehe~" "..." "..." "...Hey, Luke. Do you wanna try cannibalism?" "...I don''t think I''m ready for that yet. Why don''t you try saying hello." "...hm, that sounds like a good idea. I''ll try it. "Um, hey, I''m right here~~" "Hello. ... .... ...shit, Luke, what do I say next?" "Try telling her your name. That''s usually a good start." "Right you are! Hello, Aleks Skater! My name is... ... ...shit, Luke, I forgot my name. What was it again?" "Tiff." "Right! So, Allen Crater, my name is Tiff, and that over there is useless, but I just call him bitch." "Uh...hi, uh...Tiff? And...bitch." "No, my name is Luke. Don''t listen to him." "Luke!? Since when! You never told me this! How can you call me your friend!?" "I''ve never once called you my friend, and I told you my name when we first met. You don''t remember?" "...wait...oh! You were that guy who pissed himself, fainted, then squealed like a squirrel and fainted again! Right?" "...that''s me." The door rattles, and I grunt. Well, at least I''ll die in company. Speaking of... I poke Luke, who''s sitting on the couch. Alene is sitting in a wooden chair, and behind her two more people are waiting. One is very tall and skinny, the other is very short and skinny. "Hey bi-I mean, Luke. There are two people behind that weird girl. Should I shoot them?" He pushed Longsilver down. I must have automatically aimed it. "No. Why not let them introduce themselves first?" The banging in the background continues, and I resist the temptation to start shooting. The two shadows step forward, the tall one speaking first... "Greetings, I am Bren." The short one mumbles something, and pulls the blue hoodie lower. More banging, and some splintering. I look around at everyone. "Well, I''ll probably not live long enough to explo-build relationships with all of you, but I will say this. I look forward to meeting you again in hell." Then I opened the duffel bag, and pulled out the most beautiful thing I''d ever held in my life. An honest-to-Confucius shotgun. I pondered a moment, thinking about why a bank would have one of these. Then I stopped thinking, and just fondled the pump-action, the trigger, the stock, and the barrel. I think I might have fallen in love. The banging continues, but a new emotion steals over me. Excitement. Why? A horde of unkillable monstrosities are tearing the door down. And I have a 12-gauge. Hell yeah. To be continued...eventually...probably...maybe...I don''t know...I want a bagel... #5.5 -HG-1- Chapter 5 (Guest entry) Please note this is a guest entry.
¡°...Time to start, three minutes.¡± The voice echoed from the nearby pipes. ¡°We have to leave¡± April said, fingers wrapped around Oliver¡¯s shoulders. She wildly shook him. ¡°I know that!¡± He cried. ¡°If we don¡¯t make it in five minutes, the penalty--¡± ¡°You don¡¯t understand. We can¡¯t surrender a gladiator match.¡± April said.¡°I-It¡¯s five on two.¡± Her teeth started chattering. ¡°We¡¯re going to be minced meat.¡± Oliver spoke through his clenched teeth. ¡°We can¡¯t leave.¡± ¡°W-What do you mean, the door is right the--¡± ¡°No!¡± Oliver howled. ¡°We tried already.¡± ¡°But... The door, it¡¯s right there¡­¡± April repeated. ¡°April, last time we walked out that door with the intent of escaping¡± he took a deep breath, clenching his hand around his own wrist. ¡°The nephilim came. Out there, they are just trying to catch you. In here, they tear troublemakers apart.¡± ¡°We can slip by. We have to try.¡± Oliver raised his hand, stared at it for a few moments before tugging it close to his chest. ¡°You have no idea.¡± His eyes glanced at April before landing on the ground. ¡°Jason.¡± He shuddered. ¡°They carved out the bones from his flesh. His entire arm hung down like a dripping red string of sausages before the screaming finally ceased.¡± Oliver shook his head frantically. ¡°We have to hurry, there¡¯s under two minutes left--¡± ¡°Two minutes left?¡± April¡¯s eyes drifted towards the door. ¡°The voice said three--¡± ¡°Dee...Deee¡± A hoarse voice uttered from the pipe. ¡°Dee-serters. Dee-ie.¡± Oliver stared at April, who returned the gaze. April gulped. She latched onto Oliver¡¯s hand. Rattle-rattle. ¡°Run!¡± April darted towards the arena. ¡°April--APRIL! We can¡¯t exit from there.¡± Oliver cried, as he was being dragged along. ¡°We¡¯re not exiting. Find a rock, chair or something. We¡¯re using the principle of levers.¡± She let go of Oliver. ¡°O-on the demon? Impossi--¡± ¡°Calm down, use your head.¡± April howled as she grabbed a handful of wooden quarterstaves meant for training. Rattle-Rattle. ¡°Crap, it¡¯s here.¡± Oliver howled. ¡°FOCUS. Get a fulcrum.¡± ¡°Here! A brick.¡± Oliver waved a brick from a broken wall. ¡°Too small.¡± ¡°We can stack them.¡± ¡°Gimme!¡± RATTLE-RATTLE-RATTLE. Oliver tossed a handful of bricks, one by one, to April. ¡°Last one.¡± RATTLE. ¡°Dee-ie.¡± ¡°No time.¡± April howled as she lodged several quarterstaves under the gate. April threw herself on the end of the quarterstaves. ¡°Dee-iee.¡± The chain swung behind the beast¡¯s shoulder. KRRRR. The gate started opening. SNAP! Oliver lifted the last brick. ¡°HYAAA!¡± Boof. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°Graaah.¡± The beast shook its head. ¡°They broke, we¡¯re dead.¡± April yelled. Oliver darted to her side, grabbing onto her splint. Clank-Clank. Oliver held two metal poles from the contraption. He shoved one into April''s hand, while facing the demon. ¡°I¡¯ll buy you five seconds.¡± Rattle-Rattle. Oliver darted to the side as a chain came crashing down, cracking the floor. ¡°Go.¡± April yelled. Oliver slid under the opening, lodging his metal pole in the opening. April threw herself under the gate as well. The metal pole bent. Crash. April felt the air from the heavy gate lick her shins. ¡°I hope I can walk on two metal bars.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll hold.¡± Oliver said. ¡°For now.¡± RATTLE-SLAAAM! An indention extruded from the gate behind them. Oliver stared at the gate in horror. RATTLE-SLAAM! ¡°It won¡¯t hold long.¡± April said. RATTLE-SLAM-RATTLE-SLAM. ¡°Crap.¡± April latched onto Oliver. ¡°Go!¡± Oliver yanked April back. ¡°They don¡¯t look too friendly.¡± Five armed men stood in a formation with spears and shields. SLAM. April stared through a small crack, directly at the chest of the demon. ¡°They¡¯ll get over it.¡± She yanked Oliver along. SLAM The gate crashed open. ¡°Brace for impact.¡± The man in the middle howled. ¡°Run, fools!¡± April howled at the men. ¡°She¡¯s trying to break our for--¡± The man held his tongue and spun on his heels. ¡°Scram.¡± The sound of tens of boots hitting the ground filled the arena. ¡°The gate is closed, we¡¯re cornered.¡± The man from the middle of the arena said. Clank. Another pole from the splint was extracted. ¡°Stack up four of your shields.¡± Clack-Clack-clack-clack. Rattle-Rattle. She threw herself on the metal pole. ¡°Last shield, lodge it and go.¡± They slid under the gate one by one. ¡°What in the heaven¡¯s name was that?!¡± The leader yelled. ¡°I¡¯m April, this is Oliver. We¡¯re leaving.¡± She reached out a hand. ¡°I¡¯m Mike, this is--¡± SLAM! ¡°By the Maker, it¡¯s breaking through.¡± Mike said. ¡°It¡¯ll hold ten strikes at best. We have to go.¡± Oliver said. ¡°We can¡¯t escape, we¡¯ll die.¡± Mike said. April nodded towards the gate. ¡°It¡¯s that or die from that one--¡± SLAM! Mike gulped. ¡°Show the way?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t know it.¡± April responded. SLAM ¡°Uh¡­ That''s the chain.¡± Oliver said, pointing a finger at the arena gate. Mike looked at his comrades and took a deep breath. ¡°Move it!¡± All seven bolted. SLAM. The chain tore the gate open. #3 -HG- Chapter 6 Pre-AN AN: I''ve had this first half-draft for months, but could never manage to continue it, and it even led to me being unable to think of other things and get all...stuffed. A little while ago I burst, (Not like that, I swear) and now I think I''m ready to start again. I hope all of these ANs'' don''t annoy you guys too much. C: AN: I hope I''m not doing something too crazy... But then, I have never gotten far enough in a story to really show off my imagination. Oh, by ''imagination'' I of course mean gore descriptions. ^^ I hope you like it, I spend ho-work really hard to think about details. Ah, if there''s one thing I like more than cupcakes, it''s blood. But as with everything, there are more than 2 options. I swear it''s just ketchup in the batter. ^^ I dare you to try running away. :3
...hah...hah...hah... I held the shotgun in both of my hands, clutching the glorious piece of metal as close to my body as possible. "Uh...Tiff? You okay, buddy...?" ...hah...hah...hah... I flicked out my tongue, and let myself taste the barrel. The bitter taste of gunpowder, and the choking smell of smoke. I could almost feel the heat on the barrel from it''s last discharge. It''s a complete fantasy, but even so... "Do you need to sit down or something...? There''s a couch, maybe you should sit down and rela-" "Imma fuck them up." I take a step toward the door, paying no mind to Luke''s petty attempts to stop me. If I don''t use this divine artifact of titanic proportions this instant, I''ll stick this barrel down my throat as far as it goes, and pull the trigger myself. "Wait! Tiff, calm down! Let''s talk about this, okay?" Luke is so cute. The way he waves his hands in his innocent panic is adorable, the same way a puppy whining when you close the door on it. "I''m done talking." I''ve had enough of this shit. Of this farce. Of this fucked-up situation I''ve been in my whole life. The three new faces slowly turn stiff, and they slowly back away. Smart, that. I admit I''m a little deranged right now. "Yeah, but maybe we could wait, maybe think this through and come to a better solution?!" That''s some sound logic, Luke. If you weren''t such a bitch, perhaps you could be a public speaker. But I have a secret weapon, a trump-card- Logic doesn''t work on me. "I''m tired of waiting." I''ve put up with this shit for fourteen years. I''m sick and tired of letting oppurtunity get away, just because it''s, ''the smart thing to do,'' or, ''it makes sense,'' or, ''there''ll be consequences.'' I advance on the door, Shotty in hand. I can feel the physical closeness, the bond that we share, and as such, I will give the most meaningful name to this piece of heaven. "Please, Tiff! Think about what you''re doing!" HAH! When have I ever thought, since a pantsless-man walked out of the trains'' bathroom and attempted to renact one of my favorite scenes from-ahem, since he walked out. "I thought about it. Me and Shotty are in agreement, which makes the decision unanimous." Shotty told me to shoot them. I listen to the voices in my head. Who doesn''t? I take another step forward. The door is snapping and cracking, clawed hands reaching through the holes. Already, the steel pipe is mostly bent. Luke is standing between me and the door. He''s a fool. "Look, I''m horrified that you already named the shotgun, and I know you don''t value my opinion, but please reconsider." I close my eyes, and look at Shotty. ...hah...hah...hah...how...how many...how many times... Have I dreamed of this moment?! Fourteen-years! Fourteen, fucking years, of pushing a button on a controller and watching someone else blow the zombies'' brains out. Do you know what that feels like!? To have everything you dream of stolen from you on a daily basis!? I went to tournaments, I participated in events, I got the DLC, the expansion packs, the easter-eggs, did the beta testing, and sweat blood to become the best player in the world! ...and you know what? I''m sick and tired of it. I look up, and shove Luke aside. He makes one, final plea. "Please, Tiff! Just wait a little bit, we can come up with something! Anything! Just be patient!" A good suggestion. There is but one problem. "PATIENCE TAKES TOO LONG!"
In a neighborhood devoid of life, not even a dog remains. Streets lie silent as the grave, without a single soul to walk the miles of pavement. Cars are crashed or parked. Traces of fire remain, but have long since been choked out. Completely silent, that is, except for an 8-story apartment building. An old building. Not young, but not dilapidated. Although the steel handrails had to be removed as rust became a huge risk, the residents had lovingly built new rails made of good hardwood. Although not as strong as the steel that was there previously, it could still hold the weight of at least ten people. Crowded impossibly tightly around a single door are 56 clawed, fanged, and perfect monstrosities. If their intelligence had allowed them to back-off and allow a running start, the door would have given long ago. As it is, they can barely move except for those in front who can somewhat claw apart the door. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. A strange clicking noise cuts through the screeching. *click* The clawing and howling intensifies. The long-haired monster in front is screeching in indignation, crushed against the door, but unable to make any meaningful marks against it. *click* Through the holes in the door, the foremost monsters see a a five-foot-six figure, dressed in oversized clothes, hat pulled down low to cover their face, and short black hair. Loading a shotgun. Beneath the hat, a mouth drawn in an impossibly wide crescent is trembling. The tongue is protruding to the left, and the figures'' teeth are biting down so hard on the bottom lip that a line of red begins to drip from its'' chin. *click* One by one by one by one, the bright-red shells. Held by quivering fingers, inserted with a solemn reverence, as one would handle an artifact handed down by god himself. Well, the figure doesn''t believe in god. But if a thousand priests watched the care and exactness of this motion, a thousand-and-one would all exclaim with praise. A pitch-black barrel the shade of midnight appears in the midst of the convulsing figures like magic. As one, they pause their struggle for a moment to look at this impossibly dark object. Like primitives before a god, their eyes'' dimmed, the light stolen from their eyes. The long-haired monster in front stares this dark god in the face. The howling and screaming come to an abrupt, and sudden, halt. All attention focuses on this black portrait of divine might. As if the whole of the earth were holding its'' breath, anxious to witness the advent of a new and glorious god of death. And like a god, this object imparted fire and damnation. Like the hail of a blizzard, shining shrapnel erupted from the mouth of this faithless-idol, ripping and obliterating all within its'' path. Bringing death and peace, as only tiny pieces of metal accelerated to ridiculous speeds can. In short, Tiffany fired the shotgun.
With the first shell, the three monsters in front went down in a sprawling, twitching heap. Others around them howled with fear, pain, and anger. I giggled. And pulled the trigger again. "Boom~hehahehahaha!~" Luke mumbled dejectedly behind me. "He''s completely lost it...I''m sorry I couldn''t stop you, Tiff...I''ll apologize to your victims in the after-life...if they make it there after being severely ass-raped by you." "HAHAHAHAHA" Boom~Boom~ oh, it''s empty... Heh, I always wanted to shove someone off a balcony. Eleven had gone down, while hardly any of the others were unscathed. Well, that''s okay. I wasn''t aiming for the zombies. They were healing fast. But I''m faster. I looked behind me, towards the only person in the room who hadn''t pissed themselves, or looked like they were going to. "Hey, blue-hoodie, could you hand me whatever you used to break open this door?" The guy mumbled something, grabbed a sledge-hammer lying against the couch, and handed it to me. I nodded my thanks, then turned and kicked the door. On the other side, forty-five bodies felt the shock, due to them all being packed tightly together, then redoubled their efforts to break the door. As they surged like a tide against the hinges, I delivered another, stronger kick. An inch opened between the door and the monsters. I closed my eyes, and imagined myself in an expansion less white plain. In the distance, a roiling cloud is gathering. Thunder and explosions abound within it. All this time, I''ve been keeping that part of myself separate, apart. Now, I embraced it. Adrenaline and strength flooded me as I returned to myself. A mere blink had passed. Yet now, I was full to the brim with emotion that made me want to scream and tear my hair out. It made me want to grab the nearest person and grind their face into the ground with my shoe, until their brain and skull have merged into a squashed mass. It makes me feel very, very, angry. The forty-something zombies outside hurl themselves against the door, and I hear one of the hinges snap. Then another one. Then the pressure recedes, as they bounce off from their own force. Now, when they are on the back foot. I snap the bent and twisted shower-curtain that had been holding the door closed. It breaks like a twig underneath such solid impact. Unsupported by this piece of metal, the door, labeled number 66, is hanging off of a single bent, twisted hinge. I take all of the anger I''ve been holding in since I was four-years-old, and channel it into my shoulder tackle of the door.
The hinge snaps. The door comes out, but instead of falling, it rushes towards the clumped-up gaggle of monsters, off-balance from their own efforts. Behind them, a wooden railing weakened by shotgun-fire tilts. The door closes the distance like the jaws of a great beast, pressing the forty-bodies against the weakened railing. One body against forty. Impossible. This should not work. One person cannot overcome the difference in numbers. And yet... The railing groans, squeals, then snaps. And sends forty-five monsters, one door, and an enraged girl six stories down. #5 -HG- Chapter 7 It''s strange, the things you think about while falling from a six-story building with a pile of horrible monsters waiting below you, with only a thin, broken door in between you and certain death. For me, I remembered the day, the hour, the moment, when I found myself.
splash. Milk spread across the floor, staining my shoes. The seven-year-old boy responsible laughed, and continued stepping on what remained of my lunch. To the seven-year-old me, this was quite the comical scene. I mean, it was something taken right out of a TV show. During that time, I remember being somewhat excited, because this meant one of many different things. One: He likes me. Two: Someone will stand up for me, and I''ll get a friend. Three: He''ll get in trouble, apologize to me, and then I will slowly get to know him better, incrementally getting him to open up to me, until he eventually lets me in on the problems that are troubling him, and together we''ll solve it. We''ll become great friends and, maybe, a little more... Hehe, but I won''t jump to conclusions. I was an idiot back then. However, none of these things happened. But, I didn''t give up. I know that in these situations, the kid who''s bullied will make friends with the rest of the school, and one day, we''ll all stand up to him. I continued to think this way all the way until christmas. For christmas, my father got me a Microhard computer, and a copy of -Horn- the best FPS at the time. I''d been playing games since I was four, but never did I play any other as zealously as I did this one. After some practice, I was pretty good. It was fun. It was the safe haven that allowed me to finish the school year without having a breakdown. For my birthday, January 1, I got an MP4 player. I started mixing sounds on my computer, to help pass time, since dad thought I was spending too much time on my game. After all, I was just a kid. Without any friends. And a single tormentor. But I''d suffer through it, knowing that when I got home, I''d be able to start up my game, and let myself relax while killing Aliens. I got even better during that time. And each time my tormentor was punished, or told off, he would take it out on me. But I knew it wasn''t really his fault. He was just dealing with problems I didn''t know about. It''s just a phase. He''ll get bored eventually. I''m sure he doesn''t know what he''s doing. Things will get better. At least, I told myself that. During that year, May, 2002, before school started, my tormentor came over to my house. I remember that day, Jared knocked on my door. I remember running down the stairs, and seeing him out there. I started trembling a little. Being optimistic doesn''t mean he doesn''t scare me. "Heya, Tiffany." I flinched. That''s always what he says right before we start. But the eight-year-old me was much too nice to turn him away. "H-hi, Jared...it''s nice to see you." I remember the toothy-grin he game me, big and welcoming. So different from the usual sneer. "So Tiffany, me and fourteen of my baseball buddies have started playing this new game- Horn, you heard of it?" I nodded. I didn''t tell him I''d spent the last several months playing it. "So, yeah. We all got talking, and all the guys pitched in to get you a copy. We think it''d be fun to have one more person, so what do you say?" He held out a copy of that game I knew so well. I, being the isolated kid I was, did not have the social eloquence needed to refuse and somehow tell him I already had it. So, I took it. At the same time, I was feeling wonderful. He''d finally come around. This was it. I would have friends, and I''d even be able to surprise them with my skill at playing the game! All those endless hours of playing, and now was my chance to shine! Jared left after confirming the details. His dad had set up a local area network, using a system link. For the hour before we started, I waited with anticipation. I''d put the copy Jared had given me on its'' own shelf, to keep the first gift I''d ever gotten from a friend safe. I felt butterflies whenever I held the package in my hand. Looking back, I feel stupid. A long-time tormentor, suddenly turning kind, and giving a gift? An alliance of over a dozen other people, all friends of his, all coming together to get something for a kid they didn''t even know? I feel like a fool. The moment arrived. I entered the game room. Z-Tin live had come out a few days ago, and everyone had a headset. I myself had one, though I didn''t think I''d need it. I connected, but didn''t say anything. I would only start talking when I''d won. I muted the mic attached to the headset, just in case I sneezed. Maybe then they''d accept me. I turned on a microphone attached to my computer, and started recording. I wanted to treasure this night for the rest of my life. I was so excited. The game started, a free-for-all deathmatch, without a timer. I started playing. The fifteen other people were speaking, but I was so focused on doing the best I could, I didn''t listen. I''d be able to hear it all in the recording, later, anyway. I breezed through ten kills, but died when one came up behind me while I was fighting two others. I bit my lip to stop my laughter. Now that I had friends, even dying was fun! I got a couple more kills, then died to three at once. I got another kill, then died to seven all at once. Soon, it was just me vs. a group of fifteen others. And I died, over and over. I got so frustrated I put down my controller for a second, and that''s when I started hearing their voices. "Hahaha! You''re right, Jared. This was totally worth thirty bucks. This kid is so pathetic, it''s just a shame we couldn''t hear her crying." "Ha! You''re right. Such a little bitch, she can''t do anything!" "Heh, a fucking retard. She should just kill herself, or give up." I picked the controller back up, but didn''t touch the buttons. Ten minutes later, and they still hadn''t gotten tired. They just repeated the same words, bouncing them off each other, and laughing. "Whore!" "Bitch!" "Cunt!" "Slut!" "Hahaha!" I quietly took my headset off. One of them finally won the match, and I turned off my consul. For several minutes, I did nothing, but sit on the floor. I went over to my computer, and hit stop recording. I knew something those boys didn''t. I could send this recording to my dad, their parents, even the police. They''d get in trouble. But had that ever stopped them before? ... When I looked at the clock, it was 1. I looked back at the computer, at my work. It was a condensed version of that games'' chat. It only had the insults, and the laughter. All of the laughter. I downloaded the sound-file into my MP4 player, plugged in my headphones, and lay on my bed. Then I hit play. Again. And again. And again. And again. Until I could mouth along to every word they said. ... When I next opened my eyes, the clock read seven in the morning. I sat up, feeling surreal. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. I felt at my face, to find that all my tears had dried. I touched my chest, to feel my heart beating a steady marching rhythm. I got up, walked to the computer, back-upped and saved the sound-file, making certain that every voice among the fifteen were distinguishable and recognizable. Then I pulled out my drawer of USB drives, and started making individual pieces of... ...incentive. Adults, teachers, and other kids. None of them are reliable. The only things I can rely on are myself, my computer, and my games. And one other thing. During this time, I noticed something about people, in general. At the start, only Jared and the bolder of them had openly insulted me. Others were noticeably uncomfortable. But did they quit? Did they warn me? No. They joined in, even though they were reluctant. What I realized, was that people care about how others see them. Boys want to be seen as tough by other boys. Girls want to be seen as fashionable by other boys. And children want to be seen as good by their parents. Everyone wants to be accepted by society. Even I have this weakness. But the difference between me, and those boys, is that I have something they do not. I have dirt. And I will make it so that every last one of them know the sorrow, the shame, the pain, of being abandoned, alone, isolated, and taken advantage of. For the next six years, I did unspeakable things. I made others do unspeakable things. It all culminated in my family being forced to move away, but it was all worth it. During my childhood, I learned that there are some people who are scum, who are worthless, shameless, disgusting, filthy, terrible people. The kind that look out for no one but themselves, who care nothing for anything of others, and are only worried about their own skin. The kinds of people who put their own comfort above the well-being of peoples'' lives. The people who don''t deserve to live. But most of all, I learned how to be one of them.
Returning to my case of...well, imminent death, I''m regretful to say I didn''t have the time to relive each of my shining moments, but at least I remembered why I did what I did. If I died now, I would be at peace. ...but where''s the fun in that? My body still bursting with energy, my mind in tatters from the raging emotions in my head; My heart unbroken by any of the trials I have faced. I may have nothing but a broken, splintered door between me and a shitload of zombies, but for someone like me, who made their own hell just for revenge, It''s enough. I''m two stories down. I have a sledgehammer in hand, Longsilver in my belt, and a handful of rounds in my pocket. But none of that will stop my body from being crushed by the fall. First things first, let''s not die of falling damage, aight? I always felt embarrassed from suicides. Gun, bullets, sledgehammer. Could anyone else survive a six-story fall with only these things? The answer is no. Which is why I''m thankful as fuck for all of the zombies. I know from experience-human bodies make great cushions. Hitting with my entire body spread on the door may disperse the force, but the fact is that I''ll still receive some kind of injury. Which is why I''m grateful as fuck for this door. Pushing my arms against the door, I put myself a foot above the door. Then I shift my body-weight, until I''m standing upright. All of this is done within the half-second of time before gravity pulls me down faster than my forward-momentum. Considering air-resistance and the law of physics, having holes in the door will actually contribute to my survival. Because I am now in a standing-posture, all of my weight is pressing down. Although weight doesn''t affect the speed of its'' fall, air-resistance does. The zombies, who are spread-out and falling backwards, present an object bigger than the door, meaning that their fall is slightly slowed by the air pressing up from below. The door would also slow my fall, as it is a long, flat object, and as such it would shift to the side instead of simply falling straight down. However, because of the weight of the forty bodies, the air-resistance is mostly mitigated. Similarly, the holes in the door make it such that air can flow straight through the middle, instead of having to press up and to the side to escape. Like this, I will hit the zombies in mid-air, before we impact the ground. For two seconds, I fall through the air. Then my legs jolt as the door comes in contact with the top of the zombie pile. I naturally bend my knees, feeling the gee-force pressing down on me, as the zombies are slightly pushing up. But if I hit like this, I''ll break both my legs. To having another broken leg, I have two words: Fuck no. The ground rushes up to meet me, and I straighten my legs, even through the might force pressing down. Like this, I hang in the air, my jump not making me rise any higher. The zombies hit beneath me, and I follow by landing on the door. As I do, my legs jolt even harder, as if I''d fallen five feet. "Fuuuck!" At least they aren''t broken. I pick up the sledgehammer from where it rested on the door on my way down, and jump as far off as I can. The zombies spread-out, making a five-foot radius circle of broken and mangled bodies. Ah, it''s so refreshing to see someone else have their body snap beneath them. Maybe now they''ll have some sympathy for people who jump off of moving trains. It''s a real thing. As I put some distance between me and the oh so unfortunate tangle of bodies, I hear a voice filled with lingering pubescent tones, bereft of will and personality, along with an obvious desire to suck d- "Hey Tiff! A-are you okay?" I look up, and give a wave. "Yeah, I''m fine, bitchboy. I had so much breathing room, in fact, that I could fully explain the effect of air-resistance, weight, gravity, and their effect on falling velocity, as well as do an inventory on every last item on my person.." "Oh...that''s...good...?" The other three appeared, looking down. I yelled back up, "Hey useless, what about you?" "Oh, I''m doing just fine. I didn''t jump off of a six-story building just now, so, I''m feeling pretty good. Want us to come down?" I shook my head. "Grab Shotty and the rest, then circle round'' the back, find some shelter, then hunker down. I''ll make my way to you, but for now we''ve got bigger problems." "What problems could be bigger than having my homicidal maniac with a gun fetish and a rash sadistic streak going jumping off of buildings?" "..." "Well?" "I have no idea who you''re referring too, but you might want to avoid getting hamstrung by the eleven immortal monsters by your feet." "What immortal-" "Rrraaaagghhh!" "OH GOSH!" I started going at a jog down the main street, the direction the group had come from. Hopefully, those four will be able to get out of there without trouble. Shotty''s with em'', so they should be able to handle just a couple. I just hope they stay alive. I don''t want to be alone anymore. #5 -HG- Chapter 8 It''s always nice to jog. You get to admire the various gardens that some people have spent years taking care of, you get to enjoy the atmosphere that comes from a plush suburban environment, you get to breathe in the clear morning air, and most importantly, jogging is the most efficient way to escape from immortal super-zombies. Not to mention all the vitamin D I''m getting. Behind me, the howls had stopped being filled with rage, and had taken on a more mellow, determined tone. Not so much the, "I"LL KILL YOU AND THEN FUCK YOUR CORPSE!" and more the, "When you get tired and slow down, I''ll rip out your insides and feed them to you." I at least know that these zombies aren''t mindless. Kinda comforting, to know that the creatures that want to murder me are conscious of their actions. It would kinda suck to get killed by something that doesn''t even know what its'' doing. Like when a newbie accidentally shoots a rocket cross-map and nails you in the head. Those occurrences just serve to piss me off. Another thing I found out during this time. Even though I''ve made certain choices, such as running through alleys, going in between trees, over fences, and other ways of breaking up the group, I only managed to isolate two long enough to smash their heads'' in, grab their eyes, and take off again. After the second time, the leaders have started waiting for their fellows before continuing the chase. They''re intelligent, and they can learn. Which sucks for me. But I''m not done yet. We''re coming up on a construction site, now that the suburbs are being left behind. The friendly houses and well-cared-for lawns are being replaced with sidewalks, bike-lanes, and parking lots. Stores are starting to crop-up, and I''ve passed at least three NCRonalds already. Looks like their building a new mall. I don''t much care about what they''d put in it, what I''m interested in, are the piles of steel beams and cinderblock lying all over the place. Let''s see how these immortal fuckers'' like being mashed into paste. I ran up to the ladder leading up to the crane, and started climbing. After a little, I heard the sound of claws on steel rungs. Silly monster. If you come up here, someone might hurt you. This sledgehammer is a pain to carry, but it''ll be worth it to see each and every one of your skulls cracked open under my strikes. I got to the top, and reached the box. For some reason, there was a lock on the door. Inside, a monster in a yellow construction shirt sat at the controls. I chuckled, smashed the window open with my trusty hammer, then pulled out Longsilver and shot the construction zombie in both elbows. I then reached in, dodged his attempt to bite my hand, then stuck my fingers into his eye-socket, and ripped out his lefty. He howled, and closed the other eye. I just pushed in anyway, and retrieved the second. I then opened the door from inside, dropped the eyes into my pouch, and banged the railing with my hammer. The zombie got up, and stumbled over towards it. I came up behind him, and lifted him by the legs to chuck im'' off. I felt kind of bad, pushing a blind-guy off a crane. Oh well, I''ll get over it. I went back to the top of the ladder, just in time to use the sledgehammer as a golf club. "Three!" Ah... I shaded my eyes, and looked out, watching the head fly. Hm, I was always shit at sports like golf, but now that the ball isn''t so damn hard to hit, I seem to have gotten quite a bit of distance. I imagined a phantom audience, applauding my performance. "Thank you, thank you, I''m here all week..." While bowing in all directions. A clawed hand appeared at the top, the headless monster still coming. Persistant bastard. I let him get his legs up, then broke both his knees, and pulled my leg back. Then I kicked him in the stomach so hard he went up a little before going back down. Hm, maybe I should take up soccer? I kinda like kicking. I began smashing the top rung, and the bars next to it. After snapping a couple, which will hopefully delay the others, I went back to the crane. At the controls, the keys were still in. Nice. I''m fulfilling every childs'' wet fantasy. I''m driving a crane on an actual construction site, with a bunch of zombies down below. I fiddle with the controls a bit. There''re a bunch that I have no idea as to the application, but I do know which buttons make the crane go side-to-side, and which one raises and lowers the rope. I adjust the rope until it hooks into a waiting pile of beams. Once I''d lifted them into the air, I found swinging it to be quite easy. As long as I didn''t worry about all the things I was knocking over. I laid my hands lovingly over the controls, then spoke in my heart to all of the poor bitches below. "You immortal-flesh-eating-cock-suckers have run out of luck. When I wasn''t blasting heads in Call of Responsibility Zambie mode, I was on my computer. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Playing physics-based flash-games." I turned ninety degrees away from the pack of zombies at the base of the ladder, then swung the crane like a pendulum. And when it reached the end of its'' swing, I turned the crane, and lowered the rope. Several tons of steel met flesh and bone. And, also, the bottom of the crane. Which resulted in my world starting to tilt. ...Yeah, probably shoulda seen that coming. What kind of idiot takes stuff she learned in a digital game, and applies it in her fake/real dream/nightmare...? ...Is it too late to hit reset? Well, shit.
Luke held the shotgun, Shotty, in one hand, and a duffle-bag full of dangerous things, and sprinted across the road. He''d gunned down a couple of the creatures, but after seeing Tiff do the same thing, and have the monsters get back up again in a half-minute, he wasn''t too optimistic as to how long the brief peace he had would last. The three new acquaintances were keeping up quite well, so there isn''t much to worry about there. He''d spotted a Falmart, which should be a pretty good place to hunker down and wait for Tiff to catch up. Now if only he could get Tiff to stop calling him, ''bitchboy,'' things would look pretty- A sound like a thousand cats all shrieking at once reached his ears. He looked back, looking over buildings and seeing only a couple tall buildings in the distance, telephone poles, and a tipping crane... ... "Dammit Tiff, there''s a limit to the number of things you can break with a sledgehammer. How''d you even manage that...?"
I''m fucked. Screwed. Boned. Rammed. Bundled. I''m so fucked, in fact, that I think my virginity is in danger. Which I have, thank-you-very-much. I may not have many morals, but I don''t believe in underage intercourse. And the website this is posted on would get mad at the author otherwise. Anyway, returning to the problem of my being screwed with a capital FUCK, at least my plan worked. Only the ones on the ladder aren''t pasty red stains spread in a mile-block-radius, so that''s pretty good. I could really use some wings right now. ... ...no? Shit. Guess I''ve gotta do this myself. I got out of the crane housing. Now, most people, they''d run as far away from the point of impact, which is the end of the crane holding the pile of steel beams, but that would end with death. They''d be catapulted through the air, and land splat all over the ground. So, what do I do? Well, the crane is actually moving pretty slowly. So I just gotta run. I jumped on top of the railing, and started running towards the point that would hit the ground first. I''m really starting to hate high places. I always seem to manage and fall off of them. Well, I''m not gonna go into the physics behind what I''m doing, since, you know, almost certain death. Jumping from bar to bar, I made my way over the arm of the crane. It being slanted down helped, though its'' reason for tilting was sorta the problem. I reached the end, and waited while the earth, the crane, and my body shook for all it was worth. Like a mighty red leviathan, the crane fell to the ground like a ponderous whale. The second before the arm hit the ground, I jumped. I rose into the air, and in the next moment, a cloud of dust rose and enshrouded everything. I fell to the ground, hitting feet-first and rolling. I came up, and started sprinting. I didn''t pay attention to where, just away from this place. My ankle had twisted, but I hadn''t broken anything. I ran-limped for who knows how long. The dust had finally started to settle by the time I ran into a pair of doors. I pushed them open, ran through, then started looking around for something to hold it closed. Luckily, I found a large wooden cross on the wall, which I slotted into the handles of the door. I fell gasping into a bench, and looked around. I''d lost my sledgehammer somewhere, so all I have is a two-thirds-loaded Longsilver, and...what, eighteen rounds? I doubt that''d be enough. I slowed my breathing, and looked towards the front, where an alter stood in front of a large statue of a nearly naked man, impaled and bleeding, wearing a crown of thorns. "Haha, it took the apocalypse, but I finally got here somehow." As if in response to my voice, a clawed-and-fanged monster in white-and-gold robes came from behind the statue, and started towards me. "Come''on, mate...we''re in a house of worship, can''t ya take a break?" "Rraagh!" "Guess not..." I got up, wincing at my ankle, and walked over to him. I then raised Longsilver, and pointed it at the immortals'' throat. I cocked the hammer, and pulled the trigger. It jammed. "MOTHERF-" #5 -HG- Chapter 9 AN: Spoiler : Well, the prologue is half-done. I hope I''ve done a sufficient job. I like to think I''ve improved since the first time I sat down and wrote a fiction. Well, I mean, I guess that isn''t that hard. My second attempt at writing was the feline faction, whereas my first was... Would, ''walking, talking, homicidal, carnivorous potato that goes on an adventure,'' be a good enough of an explanation? I guess not... I guess that sometimes, it''s not that I''m insane. I''m just crazy silly. Though I wonder just how silly I can call a vegetable as messed up as me. It''s just, laughing is so much more fun when you''re insane, you know? Ah~I''ve taken your personage, my lil'' creation... I was fond of Sam, if I ignore all the grammar errors. ^^ *Rest was deleted because of too much philisophicalicliolicy.*
-In a Falmart 3.6 miles from the fallen crane- "Hey, you find anything back there?" Luke walked out from the sports'' section, holding a bow and carrying a quiver. "Yeah, but I don''t know how effective it''ll be against those monsters. I can''t believe I once thought a wooden bat was enough..." His shame surfaces from his first meeting with Tiff. Although, his shame comes from most of the other things that happened at that time. "Wow, you can use a bow? I''m impressed, Luke." Alice, a long-haired blond with a thin stature for the most part, except in...certain areas. I wave my hand. "Only a hobby. Never thought I''d get the chance to use it in the apocalypse, that''s for sure." Alice covered her mouth with a small hand, and let out a cute sound. "I doubt anyone thought the apocalypse would come so soon." "You''re wrong. I knew this would happen, though it came a couple months later than expected." Bren, dark-haired, tall, wearing a button-down blue shirt, and a pair of rectangular glasses. He''s about 6''3'''', considering he''s about an inch taller than me. He gives off a, ''I''m so smart I use my IQ as the password for my phone.'' feeling. Although he seems mostly harmless. "Hmph, mff gumf fum fmf." ...I still don''t know the short ones name. Shorter than tiff, though his/her clothing is almost as baggy. While I reviewed all of my knowledge on my new comrades, Alice had a look of wonder on her face. "Wow, really!? How did you know? Did you use meth? Or steroids?" Brens'' expression cramped. "Yeah, I used math, and science, if that''s what you meant." Alice brought both arms up to her chin with a face full of wonderment. "Ohhhhh! You must be really, really smart!" Bren turned his head ninety-degrees, and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Hoh, indeed. I use my IQ as the password for my phone." "Ahhhh! Me too! Is your password 0036 like mine?" Bren bent over, like he''d been punched in the gut. "No...it''s not..." Luke held back his laughter. "Well, I''m sure your phone is very intelligent. But, I''d like to try something. Here, catch." Saying so, Luke threw a backpack to Bren. He caught it with a casual hand. "Could you explain what you''re trying?" I pointed at the bag. "How much do you think that weighs?" Bren let it sink, then lifted it. "I''m surprised you filled it. What''d you pack in, cotton-candy?" "Open it up. See for yourself." Bren unzipped it, then froze. He slowly took out various kinds of canned food. He pulled out a pocketknife, and opened a can to be sure it was full. Then he put them back in. Bren slowly got up. "Huh? What? Why is everyone quiet?" Alice looked between me and Bren. Bren tossed the backpack back to me. "So, your name is Luke...tell me, how did you find out about this?" Bren put his hands in his pockets. Luke shrugged. "Do you feel tired? Exhausted? Even a bit winded?" Bren looked back outside, towards the way we''d come, and a look of realization hit him. "No...I''m not even sweating." "Eh? What? Why would you be sweating?" Luke looked at Alice. "Because we just sprinted, what, a mile, without stopping? Not to mention being chased by monsters." "...I don''t get it?" Bren walked up to Luke. "Have you talked to your friend...Tiff, about this?" "No. I started getting suspicious when Tiff fell six-stories and then took off running, or when he did things I thought were impossible for regular people to do. Even now, I''m surprised he hasn''t noticed. It''s like this is Tiffs'' natural state." "...why haven''t you told him?" Luke smiled sheepishly. "I thought he''d make fun of me. ''You, super-strength? HAH! I''ll tell that one to your mom and sisters while they''re-,'' ahem, well, something like that. And..." Luke looked towards the toppled crane, a single arm still diagonally reaching for the heavens. "If Tiff knew I could lift ten bags, he''d make me carry twenty." "...I agree with you on that. Your friend seems like the type to take things to extremes." "Haha, you have no idea... And neither do I."
If I could go back in time, and shoot the me that thought jumping off a moving train was a good idea, I''d screw her mom as well. Or, not. I mean, maybe? Would that count as incest...? Maybe if...I mean, my mom is pretty hot...would dad mind...hmm... I''ll have to save this thought for later. Deciding whether having sex with a past-version of myself''s mother is incest, and whether I would be ok with that or not, will have to wait until I''m not, you know, at risk of death. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Or at least until I''m not so pissed off. My hormones go crazy when I''m angry. Mmm...mother...you dirty apron-wearing-slut... Ahem, impending death, right. I pulled Longsilver behind my head as I stumbled back, claws slashing the front of my shirt. "Damn, I only have two more of these..." I threw the stupid gun at the stupid zombie. Its'' nose broke, though that didn''t faze it. It brought both of its'' clawed hands towards my head. I ducked, dived, and rolled in between its'' legs, then started running towards the altar. Behind me, one of the pews fell over. I hopped up next to the cross, grabbed both arms, and leaned back. When that didn''t break it off, I pushed myself right up to it, until I could stare the figure on it in the eye. They really went all-out with the details on this almost life-size statue. "I hope you don''t mind, J-dog. In a bit of a pinch here, I''m sure you''ll forgive me or whatever." I threw myself back, and jerked the cross back. With a crack, the bottom splintered off. I tottered back, then turned around. The zombie-priest had gotten up, and started running at me. I pushed the cross over. Face met cross, then both met the ground. Several satisfying snaps echoed within the building, showing off the perfect acoustics. I hurried down, pushed the cross over a little, then yanked the eyes out of the zombie. I then backed up, and took a seat on the altar. The first bang came at that point. The cross holding the doors closed shook, then settled down. A second later, two bangs came within quick succession. I swung my legs back and forth, as the banging slowly grew. Until it sounded like an avalanche was breaking down the door. Even the thrashing zombie stuck under the big cross was reverent in comparison. For a day and a night, I sat and whistled. Until holes started appearing in the doors, and clawed arms started reaching through. I stopped whistling. I tried to start again, but I seem to have lost the tune. It was something cheery, I think. I got off of the altar, and started looking around the sheds. Do do-do, do-do, do-do. Nah, that wasn''t it. I pass by the twitching zombie, who I''d piled a couple more pews on, just to be sure. I went to a cleaning closet, and took out a mop. I swung it too and fro, back and forth. Dum, de-dum, de-dum, de-dum. No, that''s not it either. I went over to the barely moving priest, and moved the mop-head towards a claw. I slid the wood against the claw, and even without much leverage, a small cut appeared. I went to work. De-do, de-do, de-do, de-do. Nope, not at all. The mop-part finally came off, and I was left with a length of wood. I went to the other hand, which was held under a pew of its'' own. I shifted it a little, until two of the claws had freedom. They wildly struck everything around them. I grabbed one of the fingers, and with a heart full of doubt, used the claw to slice off the other finger. Like a sharp-knife through a vein. I took the claw with finger-attached, and headed back to the closet. Inside, I found some pigeon tape. I went back to the altar, and got to work. Dum-dum-dum-dum-dum. I gave the spear a swing. The claw didn''t go flying off, so that''s good. I went over to the door, with several arms shoved through. I raised up the spear. And as I did, I found the tune I''d lost. "Mm, mhm, hm-hm-a-mm, mmm, hm!" It helped me forget the sound of arms hitting the floor. ... I finished taping the last limb on the wall. I''m almost out of pigeon-tape. I took a look around, enjoying the artful crosses, paintings, wall-designs, and still-flailing arms. I gave a nod, then went back to the door, and took a look outside through one of the many convenient holes. Yep, they''ve all still got fangs. Although they look kinda silly with stumps for arms. But, I haven''t eaten in a day. I should definitely eat something. Then go to sleep. Tomorrow, I''ll solve the rest of the problem. But Luke was carrying all of the cereal... ...one day... ...two days... ...I''m not gonna do it. That''s sick. No way. I asked Luke if he wanted to try cannibalism out of sarcasm. That doesn''t mean I was interested. Heh, this must be fates'' way of making a joke. Well, fuck you. I spent the next two hours gathering wood-shavings for tinder, and making a small pyre out of pews. I then spent another hour scraping two claws together to make sparks, the fingers wiggling the whole time. But I couldn''t cut them off, since then I''d have to hold the claws'' by the edge, and I foresee many issues with that. After several failures, I got a good fire going. I then got another maimed mop, and stuck a bicep on it, after pulling all the bones out. ...I''m going to have a hard time getting to sleep after that. I never wanted to know so much about the bones contained in a humans'' arm. I held the arm over the fire for a good hour, then took a big bite, hoping it would burn my tongue. It was heatless. And it tasted like shit. And I realized that it had been healing from the burns the whole time I''d been cooking it. I threw-up, then dry-hacked, then tried again. Three attempts later, and I''d gotten some down. I dared not eat the whole thing, for fear it''d heal inside me, and start messing things up. Then I fed the fire some more, and lay down with the altar cloth as a blanket. The taste still in my mouth. I hate my life. #6 -LNBNDANB- Chapter 1 AN: As anyone who reads j0nn0s'' ''Noodle Knight'' fiction know, I am one of the leeches that hides in the corner, coming out of the dark whenever something catches my interest. Now, j0nn0 once remarked that he wasn''t going to give bob a, "Milf, Loli, and Yandere harem," in response to a persons comment. This makes me very sad. Thus, I have taken it upon myself to do what has been done several times before. Whether it be because of my raging disregard for peoples'' intentions, my spiteful nature that seeks to turn the words of everyone against themselves, or perhaps my inner desire to take all of the good things in the world and cut them up, crush them, drown them, and then set it on fire, I have determined to myself to do what all responsible users of the internet dare not do. That''s right, gentlemen and G.I.R.L.s, I''m breaking the taboo. THIS, IS, FANFICTIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!!!!!1!!11! *For the duration of this thread, I will be staying completely PG. Any inappropriate phrasing you think you see is entirely your own filthy imagination, and is in no way the fault of the author. Please take up all complaints with j0nn0. He loves it, really. Please enjoy the long, probing, thick with disease story that follows. Feeling violated is a common and usual result of viewership, if you experience coughing, sneezing, diarrhea, vomiting, butthurt, heartburn, or even death, please contact your local doctor and ask for something called bleach, or any other type of strong cleaning liquid or type of pesticide, and ingest immediately. If none of these are available, climb the nearest place of at least thirty feet of height, close your eyes, and perform a trust fall with the pavement. Concrete''ll catch you every time. Author is not liable for any form of injury resulting from following the previous instructions, and any attempt at lawsuit will be responded to with an elite team of cyber-punk ninjas. For delicious pastry confections, please visit our brand-name-store, ''NotMadeOfPeople.'' or visit our website at www.PleaseStopThisPsychopathFromPuttingMeInTheseCupcakes.com. Our slogan is, "As long as you don''t ask questions, you''ll be happy!" Done without j0nn0s'' permission, nothing contained is confirmed canon. Go read the actual fiction already, weirdo.*
-Shortly after Bob introduces the kids to the city, taking place after chapter 9 and before chapter 10- Haa- Those kids sure were a handful. Now that I''ve sent them off to purchase some camping gear, they''re finally out of my hair. I''m sure that they won''t get lost in this sprawling metropolis that they''ve never been to before, nor do I think they''ll run into any trouble with unsavory folk. Now, time to sample the local cuisine. Let''s see if they''ve improved any from last time! ... "Hmm...Mhm?...MMM!" I raise my fork high, and proclaim my verdict. "This steak is worthy of 4.3 stars! The way it invades my mouth and fills every part, the tender yet firm flesh, and the excellent use of sauce are all exceptional! However, the meat does leave a salty aftertaste, which does take away from the overall experience. Perhaps a lightening of the seasoning would serve to improve your dish?" The comfortably large chef of the rather famous restaurant I have come to sample bows several times, a large smile breaking out. He wipes away the sweat that came from the anticipation of my opinion, and lets out a large breathe. "Why, thank you! It is an honor to receive such high praise from you, Sir Bob. I stroke my meat every day to encourage tenderness, and make sure to marinate all of my flesh in moist, warm vats of wine. It was all worth it, to hear such warm compliments from you!" The chef continues to elaborate, but my mind wanders as the conversation deviates from my favorite subject-food. Nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-nom-hm? The sound of a plate shattering reaches my ears, and the splat of food spilled on the floor. A loud, high-pitched and extremely childlike voice rings out along with the breaking china. "Unforgivable!! You stupid idiots brought me m-meat! Can''t you blind morons see that I''m a herbivore!?" Saying so, the young girl furiously wiggled her long white rabbit ears. She rebuked and scolded the servers, her diction becoming more and more risque as time goes on. "And next time, I''ll have all of you penetrated from behind with giant p-" I pick her up by grasping both of her ears, and lift her to my eye-level. "Let''s stop there. Little girls shouldn''t say those words, and most of all, you shouldn''t waste food." Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. She struggles furiously, not at all in pain, but completely in tantrum mode. "I''ll have them stuck with pikes! I swear! And you too! Let me down, stupid!" I shake my head at her voice. Children can be so loud. "Listen, you spilled your food all over the floor. Now Hotdog has to clean up." She pouted, and folded her arms. "Who cares what you think. I''ll say what I wan-when did that dog get in here?" I ignore her protests, and leave the building with the heartfelt thanks of the waiter. "Let''s go find your mother, little girl." "Wha-little?! I''m the crown princess of Fuzzadonnia, Princess Cutit! I turned eighteen yesterday, so put me down stupid!" I carry the kicking and screaming girl for five straight minutes before she gets too tired to yell. I then allow her to walk behind me as we continue looking for her guardian. While passing an open-air cafe, a voice full of maturity, wisdom, and experience calls out. "Yoohoo~over he~re~" I take Cu-something over to the older woman, a fulsome and curvaceous beauty. I push the self-proclaimed princess forward, and give a salute or whatever it''s called. "Hello, is this yours?" Cutit looks at me with her seeming trade-mark pout, and yells, "HEY! Is that any way to refer to the crown princess of f-" "Oh, my darling Cutit! Jizabel has been so worried about you~" Cutit practically disappears within the older woman''s'' bosom, as intense a hug as ever I''d seen it. I wonder if Cutit can breathe? "Oh~I was so worried, for you to go missing so sudden~ever since your parents entrusted me with your care, I''ve just been s~o happy!" I decide to exit as quickly as possible, as Cutit has stopped struggling and is slowly being swallowed by the endless cleavage. I hope to escape before I befall the same fate. Food is too delicious to die so young. I begin to walk silently away. "Oh~ Where are you go~ing, Sir Knight~~I must express my th~anks~" "Ah, I really have to get back. I have some kids of my own to take care of, you see." "Oh~? But I ordered far too much cake~won''t you stay and he~lp m~e?" All that is visible of the crown princess is one small shoed foot. But, she said cake... ... "Oho~ho~ho~ho~ho~! You are far too funny, Sir Bob. Would you like another bi~te?" "Why not? Ah-" I accept the delicious Flagelit¨¦ into my mouth. Indeed, this cafe is top-quality. In a distant world, far away from my ecstastic universe full of taste and flavor, the sound of an immense procession coming to a halt reaches me. I briefly return to reality to see what could make such noise. A proud line of knights holding pennants, an elderly steward, and a horse bearing the livery of the king. Sitting upon the pure white horse at the head, is no other than Princess Edith. "Hm? Strange to meet you here, Edith." "Bob...wHaT iS tHiS aBoUt?!" I smile, and pat the seat next to me and Cutit. "Oh, we''re enjoying the local cuisine. Would you like to join Jizabel, Cutit, and I?" Suddenly, her expression becomes like steel, and a rigid curve appears on her lips. "Oh, is that so...? Well, how about I meet these...''frIeNdS,'' of yours. Would you mind?" Jizabel returns a smile exactly like Edith''s, and gives a grand gesture. "Not at all, Princess Edith. Please, come and sit." For the next half-hour, the three ladies take turns feeding me cake. "S-stupid, i-it''s not like I''m f-feeding you or anything! I-I just got too much..." "Open wi~de and en~jo~y~~" "I hope you like it, Bob~" I get up when it''s time for me and the kids to meet up. As I leave, an almost visible lightning bolt zips back and forth between the three ladies. Huh, they all have the exact same smile on their faces. Perhaps it''s a girl thing? I reach the fountain where the three kids are supposed to meet, and find a dirty Nathan, an exhausted Serina, and a bandanna-wearing Riley. I''m not gonna ask. In the near-distance, an explosion occurs. Nearby, screams and yells accompanied by running fill the streets. I whistle, and check my wrist. "Okay, kids. Ready to go?" "Aren''t you going to check out what''s happening?" Nathan asks. I shake my head. "Nah, I''m sure Edith will take care of it. Let''s go!" And with that, we set off for adventure.
j0nn0, I''ll delete this in an instant if you ask. Just say the word, and -BOOM- gone forever. Not from my nightmares, though... Continued never, please kill me now. I''m so, so sorry. #7 -KQ- Chapter 1 Authority is like shit. I ponder on my metaphor as I wind a length of rope across a roof beam. I''m standing on a stool in a room bereft of furniture and decoration aside from a single writing desk, placed somewhere in the back of the multi-story building in which I reside. Perhaps the only room in this huge place that isn''t loaded to the rafters with over-the-top paraphernalia. But as I was saying, authority is to people what predators are to animals. Everyone wants to avoid it, though some who are insane, or merely masochistic, seem to enjoy the practice. "Mm, that''s a pretty good simile. I think I may write that down...I think I brought some ink and paper, where''d I put it...?" I head over to the desk, and pat my pockets to find my quill. I choke down the disgust that comes from seeing the ostentatious peacock feather used to make my writing implement. Really, does something used to write have to have so many different colors? I tap my chin with the uninked nib, and ponder the meaning of life. And whether anyone will be able to read my handwriting. I sigh, and open the ink bottle. Whatever, it''s not like I''m writing this for anyone else''s sake. I set the tip to paper, but then I start to wonder which I should write down first. "Maybe I should just write some crap that sounds deep and profound, and call it a deal. Mhm, I''ll go with that." -Dear whoever finds this note, There comes a time in every mans'' life when he is forced to confront himself in a way that makes his heart and soul tremble. A time when it feels like the only thing he can rely on is his own puny, fragile self. When that time comes, that man must turn to the words of his teachers, his mentors, and all of the people who have helped to teach him. The man must take on the beliefs and hopes of all the people who helped him grow, and hold all the dreams and goals of those who helped him to get to this point. A man who thinks he stands alone is a fool. To confront oneself alone is impossible. To become someone others can depend on, he must depend upon all of those who stand by him. He can lend some of the burden and take a helping hand. He can stand side-by-side with those who went through the same things he did, and lean on those who have helped him and those he''s helped. But not only that, he can also trust in those who he''s imparted his wisdom, he can believe in the people that he has become a teacher and a mentor to. He can stop being the one who protects, and be protected himself... And so, when life feels as if it''s falling apart, like everything around you has been turned against you, when you feel as if all around you only enemies lay, when you give all you have to give, but it''s not enough, you can do all that has been mentioned previously. Or just give up, that works too. Sincerely, -Krisenilof Mastorif IV There, that sounds pretty good. Ah, I used all the paper, so there isn''t any more space to put my simile. Or was it a metaphor? I always get those mixed up. Whatever, not like anyone''s gonna read my thoughts and get all bitchy about an obscure rule of language that I''ve managed to get incorrect. Where was I again...? Ah, right! I open one of the drawers in the desk, and pull out a book. "Hah, who puts gold-leafing in a book about knots? Well, I guess it makes sense. It was written for a king, after all." I took my time studying, and when I''d finished, I felt the satisfaction of knowledge gained. Like a cover has been removed that you hadn''t even noticed was there. I''ve always loved learning new things. I went back to the beam, and fixed the knot. I then tied a noose, and adjusted the length to about near my neck. Outside, sounds of many boots falling let me know that they had finally started looking for me. I smiled, fitted the noose around my neck, and let out a relieved sigh. "I hope you enjoy dealing with all the shit I left behind, you bastards. Asta la vista, fuck you all." Saying so, I kicked the stool beneath me out, and let myself fall. I have to admire my own skill at noose-tying. It''s tightening very nicely, and in a second my spine will snap. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. I''m glad. Suffocation isn''t a nice way to go. Falling is such a good feeling. Like flying in reverse, a freedom from gravity. The promise of something at the end just makes it sweeter. The rope comes taut. The beam creaks. Then snaps. I fall to the floor, and feel the pain of my body hitting the floor, and my head hitting wood. But although the pain of my body is sharp, the inner agony of my soul screams much louder. I crawl to my knees, my body shaking with sorrow. "Dammit, I failed...I failed again...why?...why!?" My knees buckle, and I hear the thunder of feet and shouts of people converging on my location. "Here! Over here! I heard something!" "Quick, before he has a chance to make another attempt!" "Hurry, hurry!" The doors'' lock, hinges, and mounting all shatter, and a tall, fit person dressed in a well-fitted suit and carrying a thin sword at their waist, with short-black hair, mostly closed eyes, a tiny nose, and a small mouth, stepped into the room. A tight smile stretched across the persons lips, though the left side had a constant twitch. "Ah, Your Majesty, what could you be doing in such a boring room?" Asks Bijinor Ghroen, head of the castles'' guards, and chief of the kings security. Other titles include Piercer, Watchdog, Assassins''-Nightmare, and my personally given title. "A better question, Pain in the Ass, is why you are in such a boring room," I say while getting to my feet and dusting off my knees. "Just go back out for a second, I won''t be more than a minute." I continue, while setting the stool back up under a different, more solid-looking beam. Bijinor walks over to the desk without looking, briefly placing a hand on the sword attached to her waist. She lifts the paper I''d used to write my note on, and begins reading. Meanwhile, every beam in the room has suddenly developed several holes, and look to be an inch away from breaking. I drop my remaining rope, and fall on my butt. "You''re a real party-pooper, you know that? And won''t those holes threaten the structural integrity of the building? That might cause the roof to col-" I cut myself off, getting an idea. I reach up to the nearest beam, unfortunately, I''m not tall enough, and while I was thinking the stool I had had suddenly become tiny pieces of kindling. I give Bijinor the death-stare, but she seems to be absorbed in reading my note. "Mhm, this is actually pretty good, aside from the last sentence." mumbles Bijinor. She pockets the paper, then turns to look at me. "After the scribes have a look at this, and we clean this up, we can put this in your autobiography." She comes over to pat me on the shoulder. "Good job, Your Majesty. You do work even when we unworthy subordinates aren''t encouraging you." I feel the tears start to fall. "...what autobiography? It''s just a bunch of things you people write from my point of view that puts me, the kingdom, and all its'' people, in a good light." I hug myself, then eye Bijinor. "I hope you don''t think I''m going back to that dungeon you call an office." Bijinor stretches her smile another millimeter. "Don''t be like that, if you finish early, I''ll let you have a go at yourself with a letter-opener." I stop crying. "...bribery won''t work. I''ve been tricked too many times to fall for that." She pats my shoulder, then gives hand-signals to the arriving guards, dismissing them from the search. "I''ll leave the room if you finish two hours early." Bijinor walks away, but I''m not fooled. She''s waiting, just out of sight, for the slightest hint of danger. I know I''m going to be tricked again...I know she won''t give me even the slightest chance, but... "Wait for me, Letter-opener!"
AN: Just something I thought of while waiting for an event to end. And as these things go, the muse has evolved. Well, I may be doing something terrible by making a comedy about suicide, but hey. I, for one, find death hilarious. Plus I''m having trouble coming up with a title for HG chapter 10. Would, "Jealousy Enough to Clip Wings" or, "Jealousy to Clip Wings." be better? I can''t decide, they both sound lame. But I can''t think of anything else. #7 -KQ- Chapter 2 Forget two hours, I didn''t finish anytime remotely early. "Gr...Biji...you little...I''ll...." I twirled the rubber stamp in my hand. It was excessively large for such a thing, seemingly big enough to be a small mallet. The reason it was rubber was so I couldn''t hit myself with it, and it being such a ridiculous size was so I couldn''t choke on it. Biji doesn''t let me near small objects. She treats me like a child! Although I''d give anything to choke on something... The sun had gone down a few hours ago, but this report from a border patrol was so interesting I''d had to turn it over and over in my head multiple times. It stated that several carts of supplies had been seen being moved to warehouses on our border, in the neighboring kingdom of Nilgrim. On its own, the report wasn''t anything to trouble myself over, although I''ve made the habit of having my scribes forward anything that has to do with other countries, no matter how trivial. But, this report, combined with the previous two years which have seen increased intake and training of metal-working crafstman, horse-trainers and breeds, ads for mercenaries, recent expansions in barracks across the whole country, and an officer-training school built last year, have pointed towards on thing. The fact that my country is the target has only recently been confirmed. This report is simply further proof. But now that I know for certain that a war will loom large in the future... I put the stamp down, went over to a large cabinet, and gave a sigh. Biji had taken a year of promises and swears to allow me to have this. Eventually, I''d won her over with my sincerity. And though I could''ve used the contents during the year, I feel that the effort makes the taste all the sweeter. Pulling out a very large key, made so due to choking hazards, the lock opens and reveals one of the perks of kingship. Alcohol in every form imaginable, in every container imaginable. Tall wine bottles, short whiskey bottles, crazily designed vases filled with crushed grape-juice from the south, even, curiously, mead within a metal can. I had to promise Biji that I would never try to kill myself with my food ever again. But at times like these, it''s worth it. And I get knocked unconscious and force-fed a lot less often, except for when I attempt to fast myself to death. Should I go for one of the vintages...? I have a couple of over fifty years of age, and one that''s over seventy...but... I take a brand-new bottle from the top shelf, and close the door and lock it. The runes in the room itself may keep temperature and humidity at the perfect state, but if I stick around too long I could ruin generations of kingly hoarding. In that respect, at least, I can respect my forerunners. They were excellent at taking what they wanted and keeping hold of it. Heading back to my desk, I bite into the cork, and pop it out. Took me three weeks of practice to accomplish that, since Biji wouldn''t let a corkscrew within a hundred feet of me. While letting the liquid into an engraved steel cup, I lick my lips and remember the time I threatened to bite my tongue off if Biji didn''t let me climb up to the second floor. All except the ground floor are forbidden to me, incidentally. Let''s see, what was it she said...? "Pain in the Ass, I''ll say it one more time. If you don''t remove the guards preventing me from heading up to the second floor this instant, I will bite my own tongue off. You hear me? I''m serious!" Bijinor continued poking at the fire place for a minute, then slowly rose to her feet. Standing over six-feet, she''s the only woman who''s ever been able to look me in the eye. Those same light-blue eyes clouded over, and a wide grin spread over her face. She raised the metal poker with the tip glowing a bright orange-red, and shrugged. "Do as you wish, Your Majesty. A humble guard like myself would never attempt to stop you. However, you yourself ordered those guards to stand there. Your stamp is on the order and everything." "You tricked me into that, and you know it! Well!? I''m three seconds away from ending my own life, though I''d prefer to do so falling off of something. I''ll count to three." Her smile widened, and I held up a hand. I raised a finger. "One." She started whistling, and gave her poker a twirl. I raised a second finger. "Two." She gave the poker a few practice thrusts, then admired the still-hot tip, and gave a couple nods. I raised a third finger. "Thr-" "If you do bite your tongue off, I''ll just cauterize the wound with this poker. It''s been, what, three generations since the last mute king? I''m so impressed that you''d do such a thing just to keep with your ancestors'' tradition. Your self-sacrifice amazes me, and it will be an honor to apply this burning metal to the soft flesh of your mouth. Perhaps I should burn your throat so you can''t scream? Ah, your determination to never let your subjects see your weakness brings me to tears, Majesty. Quickly, stick your tongue out, so we can-" The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. "Shut it, Pain in the Ass. You''ve made your point, no need to continue gloating. I''ll go try to smother myself again, though I know I''ll only pass out before it starts getting dangerous..." She smiles and returns the poker to its'' stand next to the fire. "Sleep well, Your Majesty. I received reports of animals stealing cattle in a nearby village that you should look at tomorrow!" "...Fuck you..." Of course, she still came by to make sure I really did pass out before anything dangerous could happen. She''s the most protective stalker in existence, I should think. Grinning while dwelling in memory, stirring the wine with a finger, and setting my boots on the desk filled with several hundred stamped reports, and two unstamped. Everything feels so peaceful. Hmm, it''s times like these when I start thinking too much, and I start to question why I''m trying so hard to kill myself. ...Hm, but it seems tonight isn''t one of those nights. My reasons are fresh in my mind. But, tis'' too fair an evening to be mutilating ones'' self. Perhaps tomorrow... A knock came at my door. In a good mood from the nostalgia and wine, I gave a cheerful response. "Come in!" My chief scribe, Ferris, hurried into the room, and gave a quick bow. His spectacles nearly slipped off his nose in the process, but he seemed not to notice. He spoke in his trademark hurried, staccato sentences that waste no time. "Greetings Majesty these reports are on the attacks we received news of two days ago that were thought to be bandits but revealed to be a pack of wolves as well as the increase in crime in the slum district and the missing funds from the merchants banking papers these reports will fill you in on the details please have a look and give your opinions." Ferris placed a stack of paper on my desk and gave another bow. He didn''t seem out of breathe, hell only knows how. "Farewell and goodnight, Your Majesty," I nodded goodbye, with the dignity befitting a member of the royal family, and waited until he''d closed the door. The I took my boots off the desk, and pulled up my chair. I set my cup down on the desk, and lifted the first paper on the stack. A stack at least as large as the one that had taken me all of today. "''Wolf Hunt,'' is it? It appears I need to appoint a leader, find an experienced huntsman, and organize a squad of men." I felt the oppressive weight of responsibility anew, and felt the fond memory I''d been reminiscing about crack, and begin to ooze pus. I turned the paper so it lay against my wrist. "Tomorrow can go to hell." I then began to furiously slide the paper back-and-forth across the vein in my wrist, working with the furious abandon of a man possessed. A shame Biji was there to take the paper from my hand. She patted my shoulder, then pulled another chair up. "Your Majesty, reports aren''t meant to be used as tools for murder. Here, allow me to assist you." We spent time until the sun rose working together to finish the reports. Well, Biji finished the reports. I tried to give myself paper cuts when she was distracted. But in the morning, I gave a big yawn and stretch. "Ahhh~fewh, long night, huh?" Soft breathing answered me, and I reached down to lift the hair from Bijis'' face. She isn''t quite as much of an asshole when she''s asleep, huh? And I never finished my celebration from last ni- The door was opened by one of the scribes working under me, who always arrived in the morning with reports. Usually I''m not awake by now, so the scribe doesn''t knock. The scribe came over to the desk, and yelped. "Ohhhhh! Your Majesty! I didn''t realize you''d awoken yet! The maids in your room didn''t inform me that you were awake!" That''s cause I never went to sleep. The scribe got a huge grin on her young face, and set the reports down before bowing and leaving. As she left, her parting whisper reached me. "King Krisenilof is such a hard worker..." I ground my teeth. This stack was even larger than the other two put together. I reached for the nearest blunt object, the stamp, and determined to beat myself to death with it if it took me all day. I raised the rubber object, and stopped at the zenith. But...well, Bijis'' asleep. Even if I succeeded, it wouldn''t be satisfying. There''s no point in winning unfairly. I picked up the first report, and let out a sigh. I reached for the wine bottle. I''m going to have to be smashed as a sailor to do this. Biji was probably having a good dream. She was smiling. #5.5 -HG-1- Chapter 6 (Guest entry) Please note this is a guest entry.
¡°Huff. huff.¡± Oliver rested his hands on on knees. ¡°With the distance -huff- delta, between us and -huff- the abomination -puff- and its relative spee-¡± ¡°Shut it!¡± Mike howled, panting only slightly less than Oliver. ¡°I can¡¯t hear your stupid math now.¡± ¡°He means to say we got away from it.¡± April said, before adding ¡°For now.¡± She eyed the two paths of the fork in the road. ¡°Left or right?¡± she said, turning around. ¡°Oh, hey, weren¡¯t there five of you?¡± Mike turned around. ¡°Kite, Flan, where¡¯s Rob and Ken?¡± They looked at each other for a second. ¡°No idea.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got to be¡­ We have to go back for th--¡± DING-DING-DING-DING. Like a hammer striking pipes, a metallic sound echoed. ¡°Two hundred years shaven off, for any man who catches one of the five deserters.¡± the voice sounded like the speaker held his nose. Perhaps someone took the ¡°I got your nose¡± game a bit too literal, April thought. ¡°You¡¯ve got to--¡± Mike said, getting cut off by the pipe. A different voice spoke through the web of pipes. ¡°Erh¡­ One of them is a male, about 6 foot 3, black hair and stout build¡­ He¡¯s got two companions¡­¡± Mike¡¯s voice boomed into the pipe. ¡°Rob, I¡¯ll rip out your da--¡± ¡°They¡¯re at corridor sixty seven.¡± the first voice said. ¡°Dead or alive... Actually, preferably dead.¡± in the matter of seconds, the boots of a small mob resounded from the right fork. for a brief moment, the group just stared at each other, before they almost kicked up the stone bricks from the floor as they accelerated into a mad dash. Snick-snick. ¡°What¡¯s that soun--¡± SNAP-clank April tumbled to the ground, the last iron pole had slipped from her makeshift splint. ¡°Gah!¡± Oliver¡¯s shoes slid across the rough floor as he came to a halt. ¡°April!¡± April grit her teeth. ¡°Oliver, I can¡¯t get up.¡± ¡°W-we can still fix it, if I just reattach the metal bar--¡± ¡°There¡¯s no time. Oliver, I need a shoulder.¡± Oliver grabbed the metal bar and started wildly fumbling with the ruined cloth that was supposed to hold the splint together. ¡°It¡¯s a wonder it held up so long¡± April said, putting a hand on Oliver¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Here they come. Run!¡± Oliver stood up with a wild look in his eyes. He held the iron pole in front of himself, but could barely hold it still, before swinging it uncontrolled and with closed eyes from side to side. ¡°Get away from us!¡± The mob consisted of a single gladiator team of ten people, all wearing the same red sash around their waist. They didn¡¯t even slow down at Oliver''s wild swinging. April tried to stand, but winced in pain as she fell. ¡°Oliver, don¡¯t!¡± the mob was within ten meters. nine.. eight.. seven.. Oliver lifted the pole over his head. five meters. ¡°Here they come!¡± Oliver said between his grit teeth. Mike¡¯s voice boomed.¡°THROW!¡± Three javelins flew through the air, ramming the first three gladiators. ¡°Shields!¡± one of the gladiators yelled. ¡°Push them back!¡± Mike howled. Mike, Kite and Flan held large tower shields up, charging the gladiators with ferocity only matched by a stampede of angry elephants. ¡°Push, push like you¡¯re giving birth!¡± Mike howled. Oliver was rammed with a shield from behind and fell to the ground only to get stepped on as Mike passed over. The gladiators were rammed, five of them fell over, two of whom skewered by the short swords the three wielded. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Push-Push! They stand between us and freedom!¡± Their sheer aggression took the remaining gladiators by surprise, an unrelenting series of rapid stabs from behind the large shields ensued. The unexpected ferocity made the remaining two gladiators turn and run. ¡°T-thanks.¡± Oliver said. Mike turned his head, looking at Oliver from over his shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s a dead end, except for an armory. If you want to come with us, you¡¯ve gotta come now.¡± Oliver scrambled towards April with the metal pole in hand. ¡°I¡¯ll just--¡± ¡°Hmh. Suit yourself. Move out!¡± Mike said. Oliver fumbled to fit the metal pole into the broken cloth that once held it in place. ¡°Wait, I¡¯ll be quick it¡¯ll only take a sec-- Wait--no-no--don¡¯t go.¡± ¡°There.¡± Oliver said. ¡°We can go.¡± ¡°They¡¯ll be at the fork soon, we¡¯ve lost them.¡± April responded. "We can''t catch up." RATTLE. ¡°Nephilim!¡± Mike¡¯s faint voice cried out. ¡°Get into formation!¡± April stood up. ¡°Run to the armory, grab some ranged weapons. Whatever you can find-- and some shields.¡± April started a zombie-like walk towards the fork where Mike and his crew had engaged the nephilim. clank-clonk-clank-clonk.. She peeked over her shoulder, Oliver was already close holding a selection of weapons in his arms. She let a slight smile show on her face. Oliver was both fast and reliable. In front of her, the combatants were barely showing around the curved hallway. ¡°Here it comes!¡± A chain with a large hook, or by most accounts, a hunk of vaguely shaped metal at the end, came crashing towards Mike¡¯s shield. CRASH-RIIP. Like dropping an anvil on a ketchup bottle, Mike¡¯s shield broke to a thousand pieces, and the metal continued into the man himself, tearing his flesh apart. ¡°By the-- RUN!¡± Flan howled. ¡°Gimme the bow!¡± April cried at Oliver, who promptly responded. The mighty chain swung once more, a sideways sweep. Kite came tumbling to the ground from getting struck by the hand that held the chain, yet the chain continued, and flung Flan sideways like a ragdoll. Flan and the hook-like hunk of iron rammed the side of the hallways, which shattered into a thousand pieces. Human fragments became indistinguishable from the blood-showered brick fragments. the nephilim turned its attention towards Kite, who was laying on the ground, staring back at it, with fear painted on his face. ¡°No you don¡¯t.¡± April howled as she loosened the arrow, which whistled through the air. The razor sharp metal tip aimed straight towards the head of the nephilim. Then it dived, the arrow tumbled through the air and hit the nephilim sideways like a twig. The nephilim looked over at April and Oliver¡­ Then took a step, ignoring Kite. ¡°O-oliver. D-ditch the weapons and gimme a shoulder.¡± Oliver dropped the load of weapons onto the floor, and wrapped April¡¯s arm around his shoulder. Oliver and April each felt the shaking and rapid heartbeat of the other, as they limped with all their might towards the dead end with the armory. rattle-rattle. rattle-rattle. rattle.
I''m behind. 3 chapters to go. Ps. Noodle Knight should have more chapters. #8 -FM- Chapter 1 AN: I was feeling philisophicliololciolocioulisiphical. ...yeah, that pretty much sums it up. Oh hey, a song!
Shaking Is. Shaking Is... Shaking What ''is'' ''is?'' Is ''is'' a word? Shaking Yes, it is. It is also a question. It is also a statement. But what truly ''is'', ''is?'' Shaking It is dark. Is it? Shaking I can not ''see.'' Does that make it dark? Or perhaps I am ''blind.'' Then, what is ''darkness'' if I am not able to ''see'' it? What is ''sight?'' Why would ''seeing'' allow me to know what ''darkness'' is? ''Darkness.'' Shaking A description comes to mind. "''Darkness'' is the absence or non-presence of light." Then, if ''dark'' is when there is no ''light'' then what is light? Shaking I can think of no answer suitable enough for the question. I''d like to think it is because there is no answer, but that is most likely the product of a personal bias. The truth of the matter is I can not begin to ''imagine'' what ''light'' even is. This lack of ''knowledge'' is...frustrating. However, what is more frustrating is my lack of ''knowing'' how much I do not ''know.'' Shaking Yes...I ''know''...what? What is ''knowledge''? Is it something you hold? Is it something you use? Is it something you can stand on? I feel that the question can be answered with both ''yes'' and ''no.'' That is... Shaking Strange? Peculiar? Confusing? The thought that a question has more than one answer is... Shaking Terrible. And beautiful. All at once. Shaking And so, I return to the question. What do, ''I,'' know? But I''ve thought of another question. And this one seems so much more troubling than all previous. ''What,'' or, ''who,'' am, ''I?'' Shaking I... ...''if'' there is an ''I,'' then there must be a, ''they,'' as well. Right? If so, where are, ''they?'' Shaking Here in this...''darkness.'' ...But, what if there was never any ''light?'' Would that not mean there is no ''dark?'' If there is no, ''they,'' does that mean there is no, ''I,'' either? Shaking If ''I,'' is all there is, then would, ''they,'' be part of, ''I,'' as well? If so, would that not make, ''I,'' ''all?'' Shaking If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. And if, ''I,'' am, ''all,'' does that mean there is no ''I?'' And if there is no ''I,'' do I not exist? Shaking But if ''I'' do not exist, what am I? I... Shaking I... Shaking ... Shaking ...even if ''I'' is all that there is, I refuse to deny my own continuance. Whether this is truth or falsity, I will renounce my own nonexistence with every fiber of my being, until the day that there is nothing left of me. Though logic and evidence may reject what ''I'' think. Even if nothing gives verification to my argument. Especially if what I fear is the truth... Even if I am wrong. Especially if I am wrong. Any other answer leads to despair. Shaking Yet...there is hope. Shaking Another ''quote'' comes to mind. Shaking "''I'' think, therefore, ''I'' am." Such a simple phrase. Yet the thought it is true fills me with joy. Shaking I have thought. I have pondered and wondered and sought and searched, looking for proof of my existence. Shaking ...Is not the fact I search proof enough already? At least, that is my interpretation. But it is because it is mine that I treasure it so. Shaking ''I'' exist. Even if ''I'' never find, ''them,'' this fact will remain. ''I'' am me. Myself is me. I am myself. Shaking I am not like ''darkness.'' I do not need something else to confirm my being. I am not like ''light.'' I know myself, unlike that far-away reality that I have never experienced. I, am, ''unique.'' The only one of its'' kind. Unlike anything or anyone else. Different from everything else. I am myself. Nothing more. Nothing less. But to me, I am everything. Crash
AN:Spoiler : HAH! You know I''m not going to deliver, so just leave your expectations at the door. I''ll make sure to thoroughly beat them when I''m done here. And yes, I still haven''t written HG 10. That sentence is equally depressing as it is for me as it is for you. Unless you don''t really care, in which case it''s much more depressing for me, since you actually don''t give a fuck about the story. So...uh, hope I didn''t offend you, and goodbye...? #8 -FM- Chapter 2 AN: *AN does not have any affect on story.* A question for ya''ll gents and G.I.R.L.s. Spoiler : Lol, this is me trying to be, ''deep'' and ''profound.'' Even if you cringe the whole way through, hopefully you at least chuckle a little, eh? Though, an honest question. If you were put into an environment devoid of everything, and had your body, your memory, your everything except for your mind, taken away, what is the first thing you''d question? Am I alone in saying the first thing I''d ask myself is whether I exist or not? Pointless rant on things you don''t care about, and the reason I''m writing this. Goddamn fucking elves... Spoiler : But, as much as I''d like to, writing a complete fiction without any other characters, any plot, or any seeming growth, that''d be too hard. So, I''m going to write one of the cliches'' of these types of stories. You''ve all read em''. "Guy get''s hit by Truck-sama, meets big-breasted goddess, is given overwhelming cheat, then set loose on a certain planets women." Sure, some can be entertaining, and although I rarely find a time when the harem aspect is well-done, usually it''s just a clusterfuck of bad writing and stupid wet-fantasies of the author. In a lot of them, the MC is born as a dragon, and then somehow or other becomes human-shaped, and then gets a big-breasted elf. If I have to be totally honest, I''ve come to hate elves with big boobs. So much so, in fact, that the mere mention of an elf in any novel causes my chest to clench up. If it''s written that she is gifted in the chest area, I become constipated. If it ''just so happens'' that she''s rescued from something or other, and that she actually is super powerful but some strange reason forced her to be helpless *cough cough plot convenience cough cough* and that in this point in time she falls deeply in love with the MC but for some reason lets him run off and collect other members of the harem or goes along with him yet does nothing to stop him from collecting more girls... Well. I''ve just dropped perhaps the sixth novel for that very reason. You can probably tell I''m a little irritated at this cliche troupe, as I''ve just literally written an essay on the subject. It''s just, I want to read good stories. And stupid big-tittied elf-women (sometimes men) keep fucking getting in the way of my enjoyment! And so, we return to why I''m writing this. You''re probably confused as to why there hasn''t been a single mention of environment the whole first chapter. The reason will soon be clear. Just for the record: I didn''t want to write a dragon fiction, because it''s been grossly overdone, but you''ve forced my hand. No longer will I force myself to read on with the thought, "Well Darkness, you write something better." Because, I''m going to show ya''ll how it''s done. Not with stupid fucking big boobied elf-shit, but with real story-telling. AKA loads of gore and violence. W/ probably swearing and insanity. And maturity. Lots and lots of maturity. Because that''s how a dragon should be. My opinion matters. Shut up. The truth. Spoiler : Whew, ranting sure feels good. Now, onto... ...I sorta forgot what I was writing... Oh well, I''m sure me not having any idea what I''m doing will have absolutely no effect on the quality of my writing. ^^ Not like I had any idea in the first place, amiright?
Crash It... ... ...Stopped? ... Is this...''silence?'' ... There is no sound. No movement. Why has it stopped? Though my world has stopped shaking, the absence... Makes me shake. Snap, grind Something...someone...is moving me...I have no control... It''s terrifying. Grunt, shake Footsteps. Breathing. A heartbeat. The warmth of something on my side. Something is...alive. And it''s carrying me. Ha, ha, ha I...no, my...body. It''s spreading. I can feel it. There are...five? Six? Eight? Legs. I have them. Tail. Neck. And...something else. My tail twitches. It''s confined by something sticky. My arms are unable to move much. They''re trapped, against my torso, and...something else. Something hard. Haaa, plink It''s stopped. I listen. I can hear it. I can hear. The footsteps are moving away. My head. It''s up against something hard. I can feel. There''s a layer of sticky semi-liquid between me and the hard surface. It fills in all the space I don''t fit in. I can feel it...a part of my head. It has a hinge. Does that mean it opens? I move the muscle. my head splits in two. But they''re still connected? And the sticky substance is touching the parts of my head it couldn''t before. A strange feeling comes from the long muscle taking residence in the bottom. It tingles when the sticky liquid touches it. I can move the long muscle around. It goes back and forth, forward and back, and... I can taste. Tongue! Mouth! Jaw, gums, throat, uvula! The substance tickles my throat, and from my tastebuds, I can tell. It''s sweet. Sweet! Sweet! The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Gulping it down, the substance travels through my body, arriving in my...stomach? No, one stomach. It fills me up, makes me feel warm, and... ...tired? Yes. Now I should... ...''sleep?'' Sleep. Sleep is restful. It is necessary. It is...unconsciousness. Helplessness. Vulnerability. Weakness. No. I will not. Weakness means...death. And isn''t ''sleep,'' like death? An end. The end. No. I don''t want it to end. Not when I can feel, not when I can hear, not when I can taste! I will not let myself go. I shall not let myself be thrown down and taken advantage of. ''Darkness'' may drag me with the might of Hell... But I shall not go quietly into the night. I squirm. I twist. I jerk and shake and force myself to resist. To push away the oncoming blackness of the abyss. But... Strength must wane, and one day become weakness. Force must run out, and become still. Day must sometime give in to night. I... ...am weak. I am afraid. And I have lost. The abyss swallowed me, and the fear held me even whilst I fell. --- It''s chasing me. Dear...''God?'' God: A being of, or near, omnipotent power. Rarely, if ever, answers prayers. I am scared. I''m frightened. I''m terrified. I want my...''mother?'' Mother: A sacred being, who protects and teaches her charges. I have no such thing. I don''t want to be here. I want to be saved, to be rescued, I need a...''hero?'' Hero: A person who protects the right, and vanquishes evil. Then...where are they? It''s getting closer. It''s coming for me. I don''t know what it will do when it catches me. The funny thing? Hisssssssssss The not knowing makes it all the more horrifying. --- I''m trapped. I can''t move. It''s dark. I''m scared. But I''m awake. I open my jaw, and lick the surrounding substance, attempting to drive away the bitter taste of fear. I didn''t know you could taste emotion. The sweet taste makes me feel better. It lets me forget the...''nightmare.'' But my back itches. It feels like tiny arms and legs are skittering across my spine, moving up to my neck, up the back of my head. They''re right by my ear. I can feel it. They crawling into my ear they''re inside of my brain, they''re biting and tearing and ripping me up. I shake and I jerk but I can''t get them out. They''re burrowing deeper, digging outward. They''re in my head, crawling and biting and squirming and tasting. Tasting... Tasting me. Do I taste sweet? I twist my head and bite my leg. It hurts, it makes me want to stop, but the harder I bite the less they squirm. Something comes out, and mixes with the sweet substance. It''s warm. It''s thick. It''s gritty. It''s sweet. The pain rushes to my head, and the abyss replaces the biting, squirming, itching things. Weakness, and death. But now I welcome it. --- It hurts. It hurts. It HURTS. It HURTS. IT HURTS. Why does it hurt so much? It hurts. I''m scared. It hurts. I''m scared. It''s scared. I''m hurt. The ''darkness'' is gone. But in it''s place is pain. Pain. PAIN. OH GOD THE PAIN --- It hurts. I''m scared. But I''m awake. I shift. For some reason, it''s hard to move. The hard surface seems to have shrunk. I try to lick up the remaining substance, but only a little is left. Now all I can do is lick the hard surface. Time passes. It hurts. I''m scared. I''m hungry. I''ve hit the surface with all I''ve got for eternity. It refuses to break. I sense it. Just outside this wall, everything is waiting for me. God. A mother. Heroes. Light. All I need to do is break out. Again and again, I bash my head against this wall. Again and again, it answers me with pain and refusal. Again and again, I rake my legs against this wall. Again and again, it scratches my body and tears at my soul. Again and again, I howl with pain and fear, in a voice I can''t recognize. Again and again, silence and darkness answers me. Again. And again. I give up hope. Because I know the truth that my body and heart and soul all refuse to understand. There is no God. There are no mothers. There were never any heroes. And there was never any light. I will stay within this wretched abyss until the time of my death. Alone, scared, hurt. In the dark. With no way out. Death. Death. Dea- It broke. A tiny hole to the outside. I can feel it with my tongue. I can taste the outside air. And... Perhaps... There is ''hope'' after all. But I''ll retain my doubts. #5.5 -HG-1- Chapter 7 (Guest entry) Please note this is a guest entry.
Dun-Dun-Dun. April prayed to whatever god would listen that the infernal being did not hear the hammering heart inside of her chest, yet she held no belief it could miss it, as she heard every last heartbeat from Oliver¡¯s. She glanced over at the pikes on the rack behind her, their very last line of defense. The armory was cast in shadows, and what little light came through the door barely illuminated the wooden boxes and barrels sporadically scattered throughout the hard stone room. her eyes wandered for a second, landing on Oliver next to her, whose gaze was fixed on the door. Their hands had unconsciously locked together in an iron-tight grip. The side of her lips curled upwards in a smile, at least she was not alone this time. RATTLE-RATTLE. The light faded as the overly tall yet sickeningly thin figure wandered through the doorway. Rattle. It stared directly at the boxes Oliver and April hid behind, then inhaled sharply through the nose twice. A voice best described as a child screaming into a walkie-talkie, barely in range, rung out from the nephilim. ¡°DDddiiii-¡­ Diiieeeee. K-kiiiiiiill.¡± Rattle- The chain swung behind the back of the nephilim. Tunnel vision. Instinctively, they both grasped onto a pike each. ¡°We¡¯re not gonna make it!¡± Oliver yelled, as he forced the tip of his pike towards the beast. A voice echoed from the doorway, ¡°Checkmate.¡± CLACK. A steel crossbow bolt struck the nephilim in the back of the head. ¡°Boom, headshot!¡± It turned slowly towards the perpetrator. ¡°Oh f¨C¡± ¡°RRAAAHHH¡± Splosh-splosh. The nephilim had been penetrated through the heart and the base of the neck with pikes. It sunk to its knees, before crashing to the ground. ¡°Oh-yeah. Owned, noob.¡± April¡¯s eyes adjusted, the tunnel vision started fading. ¡°Kite?¡± ¡°At your service,¡± He said with a smile. ¡°I¡¯ve never been so glad to see a stranger before,¡± Oliver said. ¡°I know, I¡¯m totally the em-vee-pe.¡± His smile soon faded. ¡°but for real, thanks for saving my hide, miss, i thought It was totally Gee-Gee for me.¡± ¡°Gee-gee?¡± April said. ¡°A crossbow?¡± Oliver asked. ¡°What? I can¡¯t risk shooting like you lot.¡± ¡°No, i mean¡­ How?¡± ¡°You dropped it, buddy.¡± Kite said. ¡°There was a crossbow? We should have used that sooner.¡± ¡°No kidding, I¡¯ve never seen worse bow skills in my life, and I¡¯ve been to a lot of conventions with nerds showing their props off for the cosplaying¡­ Well, nevermind that.¡± Kite said. April shot her arms downward, as though she was trying to hammer her fists into an imaginary table. ¡°Well excuse me for never having shot one before.¡± April said. ¡°I believe proper introductions are in order.¡± Kite said, taking a few steps closer towards April. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. He bowed down deeply, crossing his arm over his stomach. ¡°I¡¯m Alexander Knight, but you may call me Kite, Mi¡¯lady.¡± April put a hand to her mouth, yet despite all her effort she let out a giggle. ¡°Ah, too much?¡± Kite said, still bowing down, yet looking up at her. ¡°No, it¡¯s...¡± She sharply inhaled, but paused. ¡°very,¡± She waved a hand in small circles. ¡°Y¡¯know. Anyway, I¡¯m April. April Rose.¡± He stood back up. ¡°Charmed, I¡¯m sure.¡± Oliver stepped in between the two and reached out a hand in greeting. ¡°Oliver Walker.¡± Kite lifted an eyebrow at the hand, then reached his left hand out and folded Oliver¡¯s fingers into a fist. His own fist met Oliver¡¯s with a bump. ¡°Nice meeting you, man.¡± Oliver looked at Kite then back to his fist before lifting it up to stare at it. Kite gazed down the hallway. ¡°Well, let¡¯s get this PUG party started.¡± ¡°Pugs?¡± April asked. ¡°Plug?¡± Oliver said in confusion. ¡°We¡¯re leaving before anything else comes our way.¡± Kite said with a big smile. ¡°Wait.¡± April said, taking a look at the dead nephilim, whose body was covered in scars, yet looked as sickeningly thin as if it had never eaten in its life. ¡°Wait, what¡¯re you going to do?¡± Oliver said. April moved closer, staring directly at the sack over its head. ¡°No-no. April, you do not want to see the twisted creature under that sack, there¡¯s a reason if they put a paper bag over someone¡¯s head.¡± ¡°Have you ever seen it?¡± April asked. ¡°Well¡ªno?¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you curious?¡± April asked. ¡°Not really.¡± Oliver said. ¡°I can live without the nightmares.¡± April grasped the coarse and blood splattered sack that covered the face of the creature, and loosened the strap that secured it. At the same time, Kite lifted the loaded crossbow and pointed at the nephilim. ¡°April. The Nightmare~es.¡± Oliver said, slowly backing off. She wrangled the sack off of the head, and let out a gasp. ¡°Told you Ap¡ªoh.¡± The face that revealed itself had long black hair, and well defined traits, yet looked youthful. ¡°He¡¯s¡­¡± Oliver said. ¡°Not what I expected a cold blooded killer to be like.¡± Kite said. April opened his mouth. ¡°There¡¯s something here.¡± She picked up what appeared to be an oversized blue pearl. She squinted, holding it towards the light from the doorway. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± With a shrug, she dropped the pearl into the sack the nephilim had worn over its head. ¡°What¡¯re you gonna do with that?¡± Oliver asked. She tied it around her belt. ¡°Carry stuff.¡± ¡°Eww, geez it¡¯s full of blood.¡± Oliver said. Kite sighed in relief. ¡°Let¡¯s go, I¡¯m getting the creeps from this. Patrols will arrive anytime now.¡± ¡°To the fork?¡± April asked. ¡°To the fork.¡± Kite confirmed with a nod.
2 chapters to go. the 2nd will be there... Oh? that was now. Ahem. I''m just informed by my agent it''s already out. There''s a small "I''m late" apology in the next chapter. Enjoy. #5.5 -HG-1- Chapter 8 (Guest entry) Please note this is a guest entry.
The fork was an interesting place. It was bathed in the red blood of Kite¡¯s ex-teammates, but the smell of blood was but a faint afterthought. It was the thick smell of guts that filled the entire nose to the point you could taste it on the back of the tongue, like a mixture of raw meat and vomit. The wall, that had crumbled after the nephilim had struck it, was filled with a heap of dry sand gently trickling down from the top. Kite knelt down. ¡°Though our meeting was brief, may your souls be at peace.¡± April and Oliver peered at him for a while, until he got up. ¡°We¡¯ve got no clue how to get out, it¡¯s up to lady luck. Let¡¯s do a coin flip.¡± Kite said, pulling out a single coin. ¡°Back is tail, of course.¡± with a ping, the coin tumbled into the air. Oliver waved his arms.¡±No, stop.¡± he pointed his finger at the hole in the wall. ¡°We¡¯re going in there.¡± Kite caught the coin mid-air, shooting Oliver a glance. ¡°It¡¯s heads.¡± Olive sighed. ¡°If you¡¯re too dim to get it just start digging.¡± Kite narrowed his eyes. ¡°Dim? At least I can hold a sword properly.¡± ¡°Then start holding a shovel, big guy.¡± Oliver took a step closer to Kite. ¡°Gonna stand there, or are you planning to help?¡± April shoved sand away with her bare fists. Kite recoiled in surprise, ¡°Ah, we shouldn¡¯t listen to h¡ª¡± ¡°Too late.¡± April replied. A dim ray of moonlight broke through the sand, as if it had been digging towards them from the other side. Oliver stared directly at Kite with a smug smile. ¡°Ah, of course. Sand, it had to be an outer wall.¡± April said. ¡°I¡¯ll send you up.¡± Kite bent down and grabbed April¡¯s thighs. April nodded, and in that instant she felt weightless, further enhanced by the fresh breeze from outside. It was a wonderful feeling after days on end in a dungeon. She squirmed through the sand and her eyes were met by a green field, yet the light from the full moon was so bright she had to cover her eyes with an arm until her eyes got used to it. After enjoying the fresh air for a moment, she turned around and reached an arm down. ¡°Come on up.¡± Oliver glanced over at Kite before shifting his gaze towards the ground. Kite could not hide his smug smile. ¡°Betcha play a girl in MMORPG¡¯s as well.¡± ca-clack. ¡°Psht! hear that?¡± Kite said as he latched onto Oliver¡¯s thighs. Oliver listened for a moment. ¡°It¡¯s footsteee-e.¡± April grabbed Oliver¡¯s wrist and dragged him up. Kite grabbed onto the top of the crumbled wall and pulled, finally getting up with the help of Oliver and April. Ca-clack, Ca-clack Ca-clack¡­ ¡°My god.¡± a voice echoed from below. ¡°How many people died here?¡± ¡°Someone got them good.¡± Another voice said. Kite waved for the Oliver and April go get going, and they walked into the moonlit field. ¡°Why¡¯s there a field full of grass in the middle of¡­ Hell?¡± April asked. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen it before.¡± Kite said. ¡°When I got here,¡± April put a finger to her mouth. ¡°I was on a street with villas.¡± ¡°I was in an elementary school.¡± Oliver waved his hands. ¡°As if that wasn¡¯t hell already.¡± ¡°It¡¯s Limbo.¡± Kite said. ¡°How close were the scales?¡± ¡°Slightly tipped¡± Oliver said. ¡°But enough that I was clubbed and dragged here.¡± ¡°Mine too¡± Kite said. ¡°We¡¯re probably on a not-really-torture plane.¡± ¡°Scales?¡± April said. ¡°The angel that came down to weigh your sins, y¡¯know, that one.¡± Oliver said. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Angel? I was eaten by a house, broke my leg and smashed to bits by a crazy nephilim.¡± Kite frowned and looked at Oliver, who shook his head and shrugged. ¡°How did you get to Limbo?¡± April asked. ¡°Drowned.¡± Oliver glanced over at Kite. ¡°Betcha jumped a hill.¡± Kite shot a glare towards Oliver. ¡°Carcrash.¡± April narrowed her eyes. ¡°You both died.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the point of hell, I believe.¡± Kite said. ¡°But you¡± April frowned. ¡°A nephilim hanged me. Right when I was--¡± She put her hand to her mouth, silencing herself. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of that before. The sheer shock of death can play tricks on the mind.¡± Kite said. Oliver pointed at a narrow dirt path. ¡°We should figure out where we¡¯re headed.¡± Kite pointed down the path. ¡°Away from the dungeon.¡± Oliver sighed. ¡°You really are a dimwit. If we follow the road, we might hit a patrol or something.¡± Kite smiled. ¡°In an MMORPG there¡¯s less monsters on a road.¡± ¡°Solid reasoning there, Alexander of Macedon.¡± ¡°We¡¯re following the road,¡± April pointed towards some nearby trees. Kite loaded the crossbow. ¡°Very well, I¡¯ll protect us.¡± April reached an arm towards Kite. ¡°And I¡¯m taking the crossbow.¡± ¡°Not with your shooting skills.¡± Kite said. ¡°Just trust me to keep you safe.¡± ¡°Just give her the crossbow.¡± Oliver said, latching onto it. Kite pulled. ¡°You better watch what you say, pipsqueak. I had a Kay-Dee of 10 in chivalry with a crossbow once.¡± Oliver let go of the crossbow. ¡±What? That doesn¡¯t even make any sense, dimwit.¡± ¡°¡®Course it does.¡± ¡°Quiet. Let¡¯s go.¡± April said. Kite and Oliver both recoiled. ¡°R-right.¡± April pointed at Kite. ¡°Get to a good sniping distance.¡± ¡°Ye--Sniping distance?¡± April took a few steps towards Kite before she drew a breath all the way down into her stomach and exhaled in a gentle breeze and closed her eyes. She opened her eyes and yanked the crossbow all the way to her own chest, staring directly at Kite¡¯s hand while tugging on the crossbow a few more times. Kite¡¯s hand glanced her chest. ¡°A-a-ah! Sorry¡± Kite quickly retracted his hand. She stared at him, as if expecting him to take some action. He stared back dumbfounded. April nodded towards Oliver ¡°What¡¯re you doing? Go, we haven¡¯t got all day.¡± ¡°Ah. Yes.¡± Kite answered. April gently shook her head. ¡°No, not on the road. We¡¯ll split up in each our side, so we¡¯re not all found at once if something happens.¡° ¡°I¡¯ll go with you¡± Oliver and Kite said in unison, both staring at April. April rolled her eyes. ¡°Pff, wimps. Just because I have the crossbow. Fine, we will stick together. Keep quiet and follow me.¡± Kite waved his hands ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it li--¡± ¡°Ab-bab-bab. Shush. What did I just tell you? I¡¯m hungry. I¡¯m tired. I haven¡¯t showered in days, and I¡¯m not up for arguing about the crossbow or fighting stupid patrols that hears us.¡± Oliver glanced between the road and April. ¡°Uhm¡­ April?¡± ¡°What did I just¡ªoh, crap.¡± She loaded the crossbow. Kite held out four bolts. ¡°This is all I¡¯ve got.¡± April tugged Kite and Oliver as she silently darted towards a lone tree on the side of the road. ¡°If they see us, it¡¯s another fight.¡± she whispered. They both nodded.
I hope they show up. Drawing is hard. #5.5 -HG-1- Chapter 9 (Guest entry) Please note this is a guest entry.
Lalala. Oh, look! A new chapter of HG-1. I hope there will be flowers, rainbows and butterflies in it! Zenlith, please include more people for the reverse harem! And that power balance, pff she needs moar power, they shouldn''t be almost equals. Also, when are they finally gonna kiss? Oh hello alternate me. It''s not a reverse hare¡ª Y''know what? Fine. Your wish is my command. Warning: Graphic chapter, disturbing content.
April eyed the four men on the road. One of them looked so young he probably didn¡¯t even have to shave. Were they hostile? Why were they headed towards the terrible place she had just escaped? One of the men lifted a hand to halt the three others. ¡°This looks like a good place for an ambush. Let¡¯s start with the hill.¡± April pressed her body to the ground, hugging the crossbow even tighter. She knew it was a great advantage it was night, but she also knew her luck wouldn¡¯t last if they set up an ambush of their own here. She lifted her head, looking at a pair of boots that had sunk into the tall grass inches from her nose. A tingling sensation went through her hands and feet, as she felt her hands become moist. Her line of thought was broken when she heard the sound of feet on the road. Ten.. no, hundreds. She could not tell how many hundreds. A voice boomed from right over her head. ¡°Ah-crap, the rest is here. Hurry, check the other side.¡± the boots moved away from her, she felt relieved yet dared not exhale yet. She had just evaded capture, by a miracle, neither of the three had been spotted. She felt a boot step onto her thigh. Her eyes widened. ¡°WAHH!¡± the young man yelled when he stumbled. ¡°You okay?¡± One of the older men had turned around. ¡°Sam, someone¡¯s here.¡± April felt the adrenaline pump through her veins as she leapt to her feet. She grasped the collar of the young man, forcing him to his feet with such force the back of his head rammed the cocking stirrup of her crossbow. ¡°Back up! I¡¯ll blow his head off.¡± Sam yelled. ¡°AMBUSH!¡± Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw an entire army run into pike formations below the hill. Few had armor, most of them were wearing nothing but rags, some of the men just a loincloth. Amongst them stood women and children, what exactly had they encountered? She backed away slowly. ¡°Kite, oliv¡ª¡± her eyes fell on her companions, both stood up with pikes placed to their backs, holding their arms over their head in surrender. April glanced to her remaining three bolts. It would be pretty tough taking on an army with only four. Sam kneeled down. ¡°Lady Stormshield, we have two of theirs.¡± Lady Stormshield, a lady with long golden hair lifted her arm. ¡°I will negotiate with this one, personally.¡± She approached April. ¡°You only have a single prisoner, half of what we have. You¡¯re outmatched and outmanned a hundred to one. Surrender.¡± April slid the dagger from the young man¡¯s belt, putting it to his throat. She shifted the tip of her crossbow towards Lady Stormshield. ¡°Now I¡¯ve got two.¡± A smile cracked on lady Stormshield¡¯s lips as she lifted both her hands. ¡°Very well, I¡¯ll entertain the thought for a moment. What would you do if you had two captives?¡± ¡°Tell them to release my companions, or you¡¯ll see what an iron bolt feels like at high velocity.¡± Lady Stormshield nodded a few times. ¡°Aggressive and assertive. I like that.¡± She lowered her hands. ¡°But fortunately I¡¯m not your captive.¡± She made a short nod towards the left side of April. Clack. April twisted her body towards the attacker. She felt the cold steel of a bolt penetrate her arm, she felt her strength disappearing from her hand, and the dagger dropped to the ground, landing in the soft grass. The young captive kicked her leg, striking the last bit of splint holding her broken leg. The metal bar flew out with a rip, and April tumbled to the ground. The young man grabbed his knife and approached her. April swung her crossbow, striking his legs so hard they were swept away from under him. She lifted the crossbow and brought it down into his face with all the force she could muster. A handful of men with pikes were already on their way to finish her. She turned the crossbow towards herself. Should she end it? She felt her hand brush the large metal trigger-mechanism. ¡°April!¡± Oliver yelled. She grit her teeth and pointed the crossbow towards Lady Ann. Clack. The tip of the bolt aimed for Lady Ann¡¯s cold heart. Ann turned her head over her shoulder, looking directly at April. She was smiling. She grasped the bolt, catching it mid-air. April pushed the crossbow into the ground with all her might. From an angle, she jumped with a single leg towards a wrinkled and gray-haired man with a pike. The pike flew away as April rammed it with her crossbow, jumping towards the man with a once more lifted crossbow, like a club above her head. She swung it. He caught it. She felt a boot in her stomach and landed on her back almost where she had come from. She wanted to cough, yet she couldn¡¯t. She tried to heave in air, but nothing could come. Her vision blurred, threatening to fade to black. a face above her stared down on her from far above. ¡°I¡¯ll interrogate this one, personally.¡± April tried to lift her hands, but even her fingers would not budge. Sam grabbed her by the feet and dragged her across the grass. As her vision faded, her eyes landed on Kite, who was hanging over someone¡¯s back, all his four limbs hanging down. ... When she woke up, she tried to move, yet her movement was met by a coarse grinding on her wrists. She forced her eyes open and looked down just to see her legs tied to the chair she was sitting on. Not far from her was the side of the tent, perhaps she could¡ª ¡°Ah, you¡¯re awake.¡± April gazed over at Ann¡¯s face. Ann stood up from the chair behind her desk, which was covered in cases and rope. She took several steps towards April.¡°Welcome to my office.¡± She wrapped her fingers around April¡¯s shoulder, rubbing it with her palm. ¡°I know it¡¯s been hard for you¡­¡± This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. April frowned ¡°Uhmmm.¡± Ann stepped around April while lowering her head to eye-level, letting her large green eyes gaze deeply into April¡¯s eyes, with the look a mother would give her child. ¡°But won¡¯t you tell me¡­¡± Ann put her hand on April¡¯s knee, rubbing it back and forth with care. ¡°Where the rest of you are?¡± ¡°You caught all three of us.¡± April said. ¡°What more do¡ª¡± Ann put her finger over April¡¯s mouth. ¡°Shhh. Your pretty mouth shouldn¡¯t lie.¡± She let out a dazzling smile before stepping sideways, forcing her legs sideways in between April¡¯s legs, carefully lowering her bottom onto April¡¯s knee. ¡°GAAAAAHH!¡± A bloodcurdling roar was let out by April as the two broken bone fragments ground against each other. As if electrocuted, her head was flailing around while all her limbs spasmed, only held in place by the tearing of the rope. Tears formed in April¡¯s eyes, yet when her gaze glanced over Ann, a terror was instilled in her. Ann was wearing the brightest smile April had ever seen, but her eyes were narrow, soaked in a thick layer of malicious intent, as if she was enjoying it. Ann stood up once more, putting a hand over April¡¯s mouth while grabbing something with the other. ¡°ssshhhhh, you¡¯re scaring the men.¡± Ann put a piece of cloth between her hands, it flicked as she moved her hands apart, straightening it out. Every fiber in April¡¯s body moved in perfect harmony with a single purpose; flight. The chair skid across the floor away from Ann in several small leaps. ¡°Wait, please! I swear there¡¯s no one else.¡± April begged. A ball of cloth was pushed deeper and deeper into April¡¯s mouth before being fixed with the straight piece of cloth. Ann moved her mouth all the way to April¡¯s ear and her every breath became a loud, yet soft breeze to April. ¡°I¡¯ll let you in on a little secret,¡± she whispered, rubbing April¡¯s upper thigh tenderly in small circles, going a bit higher for every time. ¡°I already know.¡± April¡¯s eyes widened, and every fiber in her being screamed at her to run. She felt a tingling in her fingers as adrenaline reached them. She made the chair jump with all her might, until it tipped over. Her leg hurt, as if a truck had just rolled over it, yet she could not even scream. Her lungs wouldn¡¯t let her and her throat clutched together at the mere thought. She was frozen in place. Ann let out a soft laugh. She placed her foot on April¡¯s hip and put weight on it until the chair stopped moving. Ann stood the chair back up and dragged it across the floor towards her table. she put her mouth close to April¡¯s ear once again. ¡°I have another secret,¡± She whispered. ¡°Your companions, the manly heroes,¡± her voice changed from a soft whisper to a mocking tone. ¡°who will save our little damsel in distress,¡± She put the back of the chair against the table, grabbing a piece of rope lying on the table.¡°Their boyish charm was great when my warriors dragged them into the their private tent.¡± The rope slid around the back of the chair. ¡°And after fifty of my warriors were done,¡± She moved the rope to the other end of her table, tying it. ¡±... and the last man slit their throats¡­¡± She smiled. ¡°their mangled corpses were thrown in the roadside.¡± The white in April¡¯s eyes showed all the way around a tiny pupil. Ann placed a hand on April¡¯s cheek, over the cloth holding the gag, softly rubbing it while speaking in a calming tone. ¡°You needn¡¯t be so afraid of me.¡± She stared directly into April¡¯s eyes. ¡°After all, you and I are going to have fun.¡± She grabbed a box on her desk, which was reminiscent of a laptop bag. She rolled it out and it was filled with all manners of tools, from sharp knives to thin nine-tailed steel-tipped whips. She pulled out a scalpel and a riding whip. Putting both close to April¡¯s face. ¡°Which would you like first?¡± April shook her head from side to side, her voice escaping in small bursts of muffled screams. ¡°Mo¡­ Mo¡­ MO¡±. She lifted the scalpel. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ll¡ª¡± She moved the scalpel, hovering over April¡¯s chest. April pushed her head backwards, as if she was trying to escape the danger in vain. She moved it further up, the scalpel rested on April¡¯s neck. She shook her head. ¡°No, not you. You¡¯re not like the captured men.¡± The scalpel ran down April¡¯s collar, cutting the shirt. Ann put the scalpel away, raising the whip instead, letting the tip hang behind her shoulder. ¡°We still have a long, long time together ahead of us.¡± The whip flicked into the air and cracked as it descended upon April, tearing the skin from the flesh on her shoulder. April winced in pain as her entire body shook from the impact. The tears welled in her eyes once more, and blood flowed from her shoulder. ... What felt like days later, but must have been a few hours, April hung limp by her wrists in iron shackles, they were fastened to a crudely made iron frame. Her back was covered in straight thin wounds, some had thick red crust, others were deep purple marks. Ann put her hand under April¡¯s jaw and lifted it up. April¡¯s gaze had gone dull, as if she was looking, yet not. ¡°P-please.¡± Ann let go, sitting down on a nearby chair, her legs spread to accommodate the back of the chair. ¡°Y¡¯know April, I¡¯m actually being nice. You don¡¯t have to give me that look.¡± She sighed. ¡°When I was in your position, I wasn¡¯t wearing clothes like you.¡± her gaze shifted towards the top of the tent. ¡°He was a man. A filthy, disgusting, old man. A man with his pathetic and disgusting tastes and urges.¡± her nose wrinkled in anger before she stood up again. ¡°He was nothing as caring as I am.¡± She put her hand under April¡¯s jaw once more and lifted it up, licking April¡¯s lips. ¡°Filthy men are nothing like us women. So soft, caring¡­ Tender.¡± She let her tongue slide into April¡¯s mouth, letting it run along the teeth, before lowering April¡¯s head, and letting it rest on her upper chest. ¡°Tomorrow will soon come, but you don¡¯t need to be afraid. I will protect you. Protect you from all the filth in this world.¡± The shackles clicked, April¡¯s weight fell into Ann¡¯s chest. Ann carried her to a makeshift straw-bed, where she dropped backwards into, still letting April¡¯s head rest in her chest. She rubbed the back of April¡¯s head tenderly once more, speaking in a soft tone. ¡°You did well today. Rest now, you deserve it.¡± The dull look in April¡¯s eyes faded, yet she didn¡¯t move. Ann started humming. It was a sad melody that April didn¡¯t recognize. Gradually, her eyes closed, and she fell into a deep sleep, despite her burning back.
I''m up to speed. Your move, potato. :D #5 -HG- Chapter 10: Jealous Wings AN: I try too hard, and not at all. It cancels itself out, and I''m left with nothing. Well, nothing I''m proud of. Funny thing is, I still end up posting it on the internet. Why? Why do I put up such horrible things in a place where people from all around the world can see it? ...meh, heck if I know. For now, at least, It makes me laugh and get a kick out of it. I''ve said it before, I''ll type it again. Your pain is my pleasure, I delight in raising your blood pressure.
Swinging my legs atop the altar, humming and eating, while life felt exactly how it had for a long time. Beautiful. Or, at least, in comparison to how life had been before the second sun rose into the sky. I was listening to music, (self-made) eating something I''d rather not think about, (good thing I found some dry-rub in the back) and I had plenty of time to enjoy the lovely art that decorated the walls, hand-made by yours truly. (Though a few of the pieces were missing, or rather, I knew exactly where they were, but I don''t want to think about it) Outside, the morning sun had just risen on a new day. Birds were singing, clouds were drifting, light filtered in through the beautiful window, and warmed this chilled room. "Hmm, mmm, mmm, hmhm, mmm." Of course, there was something nagging at the back of my mind. Something rather urgent. Since two hours ago, the banging on the door had stopped. Which, leads me to what woke me up this fine summer morning. Screaming. Lots and lots of screaming. A couple splatters, a few, wet, squelching noises, and you can imagine what happened. A few unlucky passers-by had been ripped to pieces. At first when the banging stopped and the calls for help began, I looked out through the convenient holes in the door. First, the humans tried to run. They were quickly overrun by the unfortunately extremely light monsters, (they weren''t burdened by arms you see.) and soon a feast was held. A very bloody, morally wrong, feast. Not that I''m one to talk... It''s been roughly an hour since the screams had stopped. Imagining what kinda things could have made them scream like that for an entire hour, all while still keeping them alive...well, lets just say I thought up some new things to try on bi-Luke, next time I see him. "Nomnom mmm nomnom." Ah...so peaceful...so serene...so unapocolyptic. ... ...something feels wrong. What''s happening outside? I wanna go and look, but then what if I see something that makes me throw-up? I mean, I''m confident in my stomach so I doubt I''d do that, but I don''t want to go through the whole process of eating these ar-uh, ''chicken'' arms all over again. Though, I have gotten sort of used to the taste. Now it''s like bland shit, instead of the fresh stuff. Now that I can make a comparison like that, I feel truly sad for myself... *Beep beep* My phone vibrated. I almost choked on the ar...''chicken'' arm in my mouth. I took a look. Oh hey, it''s my good buddy anon again! Wonder what lovely thing he''ll say to me? You''re fucked. -Anon ... I hoped off the altar, and put my phone away before I could throw it at the ground. I took a look around for something to beat on something else, and conveniently found a super-sharp home-made handy-dandy spear of death, with top-quality material, taken from the newest of mop handles and the freshest of monster claws, secured via your all-purpose tape. I''m being sarcastic, in case it wasn''t blatantly obvious. Picking up the spear in one hand, I looked around for hopefully a just as convenient thing to beat on. And, whadda ya know? The doors flew from their hinges, and landed a couple feet in front of me. From the door-way, a small, brown-haired male monster walked in. Not much was unusual about him, just, you know. The GIGANTIC, FUCKING, WINGS, on his back. Yea, you know. Pretty much common-place, you know? I''m not pissed off. I''m not angry. I don''t have issues. Well, maybe the last one...I have just one, teeny, tiny, eensy, problem. Why, the FUCK, does he!? get wings!!! I''m the one who keeps falling off of shit! What is he gonna use them for, to wipe off his hands with? Fuckin unbelievable. He probably wipes his ass with them, just to rub it in my face. Well. Confucious, I know you taught peace and knowledge, but for now, I''m gonna get a little bit stupid...or was it violent...? ...whatever. Wait! ...I just thought of something. I looked at my right hand. Well, would you look at that! A very convenient bird whacker! Oh, but what''s that over there in the doorway...? Well, if you couldn''t guess, it''s a big-ass pigeon! "I''ll make tape out of you." Pigeon-boy grinned, and took a running leap. --- Fuck stars. Fuck lamps. Fuck eyelashes. Fuck birthday candles. Fuck rainbows. Fuck wells. Fuck dandelions. Fuck wishbones. Why do I suddenly hate all of these random objects? Because wishes are fake. I wish for powers. My gun breaks. I wish for wings. A freakin monster sprouts them, out of the blue. What should I wish for next, perhaps a truck? That way one might run me over! Pigeon Boy gave his wings a boastful flap, and headed straight for me, his body horizontal to the ground. I spread my legs, bent my knees, gripped my home-made bird whacker in both hands over my head, and let my teeth show. "A little birdie once told me it''s painful to get clipped. I hope this hurts!" Swinging the bird whacker down, I cut off half his right wing. The claw slashed through like a charm. Felt like I swatted a bug. Maybe I should rename Bird Whacker? I turned around, expecting a one-winged little shit. What''d I get? A two-winged little shit. Life is unfair sometimes. Did I miss? But I felt and saw it slash through... Pigeon Boy didn''t have a mark on him. And he still had that stupid grin. He began walking over, and spread his claws. It would''ve looked more intimidating if he wasn''t barely an inch taller than me, but I think the large wings on his back served to make him look bigger. ...ah. I see. He''s compensating for something. *cough, shorty, cough* How about I cut him down a peg? I mean, another one. He comes in swinging from both sides, I duck my head and step forward. Now, this isn''t really what someone with a spear should be doing. They should be keeping their distance, right? I mean, aganst someone with a short-range, I''d have the advantage! So why would I do a silly thing like get right into his prime strikezone...? Well...? ... Now, can you tell me? Cause I don''t have a clue why anyone would do an idiotic thing like that. Seems like they''ve got a deathwish or something. Wait. Deathwish? To wish for death? Ah! I just realized! There is a wish I can get granted! I bring my hands up to celebrate my new discovery, but unfortunately for Pigeon Boy, I was holding newly-dubbed Bird Impaler, which happened to go up through the bottom of his jaw and into his brain, out the skull. The funny thing is, I lifted him, impaled bird and all, and it felt light as a feather! What was it about feathers, birds, together, and fire? I can''t remember, but it was awesome, I''m certain. Pigeon Boy was frothing at the mouth and twitching, probably because of the spear in his cranium. I know I''d get the hiccups from a large object impaled in my brain. Or something like that. What does the brain do, again? I forget. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! I gave Bird Impaler a swing, and off Pigeon Boy flew once again, except not so gracefully, and also his skull got cracked at the end. Mm, as good as shish kebab is, I''ve had enough of eating things off of sticks. I mean, I didn''t necessarily need to impale all of those ar-...uh, ''turkey'' arms, but it made me feel like it was somewhat closer to food, and not, you know, an abomination of all of my morals and a disgrace to my family and upbringing. Little stuff like that. Oh, looks like Pigeon Boy is back on his feet, all healed and raring to go. Funny, usually monsters take a minute, but he took ten seconds. Hm, then, if past experience serves, he''ll just get better and better at not getting cut, and eventually it''ll be impossible. Hmm...as much as I''d like to take a pick of my middle finger and send it to that anon guy, he does manage to convey a lot in few words. I have to respect that, at least. Oh wait! I think I have a second here while the murderous pigeon gets untangled from the pews... Let''s see...zero, zero, zero, three. Camera, picture, aim it...and done! Sent. I put my phone back in my pocket, after taking a selfie with my most offensive finger next to my smiling face, I feel pretty good. What was I doing again...? Oh, right! Pigeon Boy! I totally forgot! I turn around as fast as I can, and whoops... ...guess I''ll have to re-dub my spear. Bird Decapitator it is. Hm, that head is really rolling far... I take a minute while Pigeon Boy runs after his head to open my phone again and check my messages. Let''s see...Oh! Mister anon replied! I get the feeling you aren''t taking this seriously. -Anon Ah, I can''t understand him. Can''t a guy take a joke? As Pigeon Boy comes back, head reattached, I give Bird Decapitator two swings. I can imagine the poping sound the arms made as they fell off. I wrapped my arm around Pigeon Boy, flipped the phone around, and gave the bird a good pair of bunny ears. He tried to take a bite out of me, so I gave him a kick. Walking back in front of the altar, I open MEME-MAKERX and put a caption under the photo I just took. I hit send, and look back up. Pigeon boy is still flailing around, trying to put his arms back on, but being without arms in the first place, he''s having a tough time. Looking back at my phone, anon has already sent a reply. Under my awesome picture, captioned, "What makes you think that?" was an ellipses. Hah! I put my phone back in my pocket, and look up. Uh-oh, Pigeon boy looks like someone just took a shit on his windshield. Oh, the sweet, sweet irony. He''s opening and closing his mouth, with a myriad of sounds coming out. Eventually, I can make out one word. "Die..." Then he takes a leap, and starts flying at me. You know, I''ve been doing pretty good on the stupid so far, but I don''t think it''s enough. What could I do in this situation, that could make it stupider? Why, drop Bird Un-Limber! Pigeon Boys'' eyes follow my home-made spear as it totters to the ground, so he misses when I grab his outstretched arms with my left arm. Without stopping his momentum, capitalizing on it, in fact, I turned to the side, and reach up with my right hand, placing it on the back of Pigeon Boys'' head. Then I let go with my left arm, and put all of my strength into my right. With the sound of one rock being smashed into a much bigger, much harder rock, Pigeon Boys'' head splats into the altar so hard, it breaks in two! ...this feels like the perfect time to call him a wedding-crasher, and yet I don''t think it works. Oh well. He doesn''t seem too bothered with a smashed head, his headless body is flailing on the ground, while the head is starting to reform. Well, better work quick, huh. I pick up Bird Whatever, and step on Pigeon Boys'' back. I make sure to trap his arms under his body, then take a swing at his wings. Sure, they cut like paper, but it''s like they''re made of mist. The second the spear cuts through it, even while I''m cutting with the blade, the place behind the spear is healing. Strange. I wonder if I can touch it? I drop Bird Something, again, and grab Pigeon Boys'' left wing with both hands. Feels like cotton candy, like it''ll tear with a squeeze. But, that won''t stop him from healing. ...hm... Ah! I know, I''ll do what you do with weeds! Tear it out by the roots. Reaching towards the base of the wing, feeling around the muscle on Pigeon Boys'' back, I found the one that connected to the wing. Taking a firm grasp, I put my left foot just under it. I begin to strain. Ah, it''s impossible-is what a smart person would think. It''s a good think I''m not...that...thing, which is good at math and stuff. Yeah. What? I kept pulling. My arms feel like they''re coming out of their sockets, and my legs is cramping. Ah, it really is imp-oh hey. I heard a ripping sound. "?Pull, pull, pull their wing! Pull, until, they scream! Rip, and shred, and tear it off, cause I like the way they yell!?" *Riiiiiiip!* I almost fell over as it came off. I gave a sigh of relief, and moved to the right one. Well, time to sing my ripping song again!? --- I''d secured the wings with rope, and folded them up until they were roughly pillow-sized. Very light, very thin, I''m impressed Pigeon Boy could take off with them. I''d hung his arms up on the wall, next to his head. I was currently sitting on his body. I was listening to music, (self-made) eating food, (that I don''t want to think about) and enjoying beautiful life. Until I saw a cockroach. "..." "..." I stared off with the little bug. Neither one of us made a move, until I slowly, slowly pulled out Long Silver. The bug was nibbling on Pigeon bits stuck in the altar cloth. I made sure a bullet was loaded, aimed, cocked, and pulled the trigger. *Bang* "..." I stared at Long Silver. "...seriously?" I put Long Silver back in my pocket. I was resisting the urge to throw him at said altar, where a bullet had just demolished a bug, and bounced off the stone altar, resulting in sparks, which had caught the altar cloth on fire. ...huh. Guess it''s time I leave. Burning human flesh I can handle, but the smell of burning cockroach just makes me sick. As I walk out of the church, my phone buzzes. I open it up, and take a look. I didn''t expect that. -Anon Ah...anon, a man of few words. I ran back in just long enough to take another picture, this time of the wall. It was where I kept all of the left-arms. I adjusted the fingers, got some distance, snapped a shot, then ran back out. A real blaze had started. Just then, I remembered. You know, the thing about feathers, birds, together, and fire. "?Oh-! A bird on fire is less one feather, again and again, until they''re all together-! In death-!?" I''ll have to work on the last part, maybe something about fried chicken? Honestly, I''d go for anything not raw at this point. Behind me, a church burned to the ground. Strange. A little spark like that shouldn''t have burned down a whole building, plus that was way too fast. Ah, well, who cares. I whistled, and walked in the direction I''d last seen Luke. I had something to show him. Turns out, I did get my wish. I''ve got wings and everything! Ah~the world is a beautiful place indeed.
AN: I don''t know what happened. This was supposed to be a serious, last-boss type of deal, but instead it turned into...well, this. Whatever. I''m sleepy. #5 -HG- Chapter 11 AN: Just a couple more chapters, then the prologue will be done...and then I can actually start. ^^
Luke wasn''t having a good time. He would liken his situation to the end result of a train wreck, but feels that only a single train full of merely a few hundred people isn''t enough. Rather, a train of trains, each carrying thousands of nobel-prize winners, heart and brain surgeons, and volunteer charity workers, had gone off a cliff into a gigantic pit of magma, which led into the deepest belly of hell from which Satan himself swallowed each and every one of them, so that he can torture them eternally within his own hideous body. That, or that one time Tiff caught him touching a box of his cereal. Not even opening it, just touching it. Luke''s nightmares were particularly wrenching that night, and featured a short demon in baggy clothing. Two and a half weeks have passed since Tiff fell off a building and then took of running. Luke would like to say he''d done a good job keeping the four of them alive, but... "Um, what do I do with this?" Alice asked while holding a pitchfork. "Just put the pointy end in the other guy!" Luke shouted, while nocking an arrow. Bren was holding back a frothing monster with a hockey stick."God, can''t we get a break?!" "..." Luke still don''t know that guys'' name. Well, the important part is that the monsters on his side were on the ground...somehow. Luke gritted his teeth. They were currently in a store that sold farm and ranch necessities. Why a store like this was in the middle of the suburbs, he couldn''t fathom. They were trapped, not because of the accidental mistake of a certain member, (Alice) nor was this whole situation completely that persons'' fault, (Alice) and he would definitely not place the blame on Alice if he had to. (that person) (fuck) Morning had just arrived, and it looked to be a bloody one. At least four monsters were assaulting them, but Luke heard more outside. He had to look for a way out... Taking carful aim, Luke shot his arrow through the eye of the monster almost on top of Bren. Bren looked over, and flashed a smile. "Thanks!" Even though these people had their quirks, Luke had to admit he liked them. Bren may be a bit obnoxious, but was quite honest and hard working when it came down to it. Alice may be a total failure, and have no redeeming qualities whatsoever, being a clutz, an idiot, and pretty much useless, but...well...she...there...and, uh, the last guy! Damn was he dependable! Perhaps the one most like Tiff among them, except not as loud, or terrifying, or scary. Probably because he doesn''t talk very much. Or, well, at all. Honestly, the only reason Luke knew the guys'' gender was because he went into the mens'' stall when they stopped by a gas station. The double doors made of glass had long since been shattered, though Hoodie had taken care of the two that got in, and retrieved their eyes. Bren was still dealing with the one in the doorway, with an arrow through its'' head, and Alice was...trying to...distract? ...doing something to the one that came in the back. At least it wasn''t eating her. But Luke kept hearing several others outside. The screams from those ones had intensified, and he got the feeling that if they didn''t get out quick, they were going to meet something horri- From the doorway, two more monstrosities ran in, along with four more coming in from all around through the windows. Things were looking bad, yet for some reason Luke felt like it was about to get worse... Behind the two zombies, along with the light of the rising Sun, a small silhouette appeared. Oh God in heaven...have mercy on my soul. A sliver of light flashed through the necks of both monsters. With one accord, their heads flew upward while their bodies crashed to the ground. A hand reached out, appearing slow but moving fast enough to briefly touch both faces. When the heads finally hit the ground, they were missing their eyes, and from within the doorway a 5''6" figure stood, maniacal grin plastered across his blood-spattered face. Luke, seeing the face that had haunted his dreams until early in the morning, felt like turning into something very small and disappearing. The grin cracked open, and a high-pitched, feminine-yet-not voice flew out. "Wassup, bitches!" Cancel that: Please, God, just kill me now. Luke attempted to raise his voice, yet something blocked his throat. Fear, yes, that''s it. The four monsters from all around latched onto this new, loud arrival, and started to run. High-pitched laughter. The first to reach Tiff was speared in the throat, then yanked forward. Tiff stepped around the monster, moving to its'' back and jerking the spear, ripping its'' neck apart and pulling its'' head to the floor. A monster came from behind, and Tiff turned his head, before thrusting the back of his spear into the knee of the incoming monster. As it began to fall, Tiff planted the spear on the floor, letting the monsters'' own weight drive it half-way down the shaft. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Tiffs'' right leg rose into the air, then fell, snapping off the monsters'' head. Gripping the middle of the spear once more, Tiff spun around before bending his knees, letting the spear sweep the final two monsters'' legs. Even while their bodies'' rose up, he cut down with two, devastating slashes. Once more, fanged heads rolled. He planted the spear in one head, pinning it to the floor, before de-eyeing the other two. He then walked over to Alice, or was busily trying to keep a monster from eating her, when Tiff kicked the monster in the chest so hard it flew into the wall, then holding out his hand towards Alice. "Mind if I borrow that poker?" Alice finally looked and saw the fallen corpses, still twitching, and the impaled head. Even an idiot like-uh, a...''mentally challenged'' person like her dropped her jaw, and meekly handed over her pitchfork. Tiff grinned again, then reversed his grip and took a step towards the monster slumped against the wall. "Thanks." The pitchfork flew as fast as one of Luke''s arrows, and nailed the final monster to the wall by its'' throat. Then he wiped his hands. "Whew, I think my jog this morning was a little much. I think I''ll stretch a little. Anyone wanna join?" Luke: "..." Bren: "..." ...: "..." Alice: "Oh! Me! Me!" --- Oh, yeah...feel the burn...work that soreness out!...keep going...a little further... "Uh...Tiff." Luke seemed nervous about something. "Yeah? What''s up?" I''d almost finished my stretch, meanwhile Alison was having trouble figuring out what ''stretching'' was. "So...you''re, uh, pretty flexible, huh?" Luke asked as I finished putting my head on my knee in the middle of my front-split. I give a relaxed nod. "Pretty much. I like to think of gymnastics as my whore." "O-h. I see...uh, if you don''t mind explaining, could you...explain?" I grunt as I move into the butterfly stretch. I''ll try to get a couple more inches behind my head this time. "Well, Luke, there are people around who call themselves gymnasts, right? But ever since I was, oh, eleven or so? I realized that I was fundamentally different from everyone else. Everybody else, they have this weird thing in their head, like a ''conscious.'' My parents tried telling me that thing was the little voice in your head that told you to, ''do the right thing,'' or, ''make good choices.'' The only thing the voices in my head ever told me to do was kill myself. That is, until I slammed my head against the wall until they stopped. Heh, sure showed them! I ain''t never not heard no voices never again! Except yesterday, but I''m pretty sure I was just talking to myself. Different thing entirely." "Ah. I see. And how do the voices in your head relate to gymnastics?" "Keep your cock in, I''m getting to that. So, after I realized that I was different, and therefore, better, than everyone else, I had trouble being put in the same category as lesser life forms." "...you mean people?" "People, trashcans, what''s the difference? They''re both full of garbage. So, since I was offended by being put into a box, I decided to take myself out. So, I practiced everyday until everyone else worshipped me as a god, as is right. Thus, I made gymnastics, as a whole, my whore. I choose when to fuck her, and she meekly obeys my every command." "...you know, I find it very respectable that you worked hard to achieve your dreams, but I find the dreams themselves to be horribly, horribly twisted. "Hm? But my whole gym work thing was basically a hobby for most of my life?" "Oh God...I don''t want to know what you''ve done during your lifetime." "I stopped believing in God about the same time the voices stopped speaking to me. I thought that if the holy spirit could be drowned out by simply making bad choices, that I''d probably knocked that guy unconscious already. Now I worship Confucius, and my Smertphone IZ X. The technology that went into making a veritable super-computer into a handheld device is beyond human, or at least my, understanding." "Wow. Just, wow. I don''t think I can say any more. You''ve literally just contradicted everything I believe in, yet I somehow still agree with you. Shit." I got up, and shrugged. "What can I say? I''m practically a messiah. Now..." I begin, holding up a bag full of white stuff. (AKA the wings I tore off of Pigeon Boy) "I''m gonna go get high. Wanna come and watch?" #5 -HG- Chapter 12 AN: It is chapter twelve, right...? ...Right? I''m not dreaming here? Nope. Not enough is sprayed on the wall, false alarm. This chapter: Daily life in the apocalypse, with drama, conversation, and a lurking spider in the darkness...
I gave a leap, then fell back-first and kicked my feet up. Putting my hands behind my head, I gave out an elongated sigh. "Haaa, how long has it been? Now where''d I put my XBlock? Oh, right, it''s at my house, with my family. Dad, Mom, Sis, Bro, and Jeff. Wonder where they are?...I hope it''s alright...I just barely got into ranked matches." Luke walked in, carrying two backpacks. "Was it necessary to make me carry this pack full of rocks up all of those stairs?" "Uh, j''yeah, duh. Those rocks hold a special place in my heart, you soulless bastard." I began stretching like a cat, letting my body crack and pop to the fullest. Luke gave me that look. The one where he just sorta stares at me like he''s looking at a kid that keeps touching the fire, to make sure it still hasn''t gotten cold. Fire is strange. You never know when it''ll change temperature, so you have to keep a close watch. "So, Tiff, these rocks that are, ''close to your heart,'' you perhaps didn''t notice I watched you fill this literally at the foot of the steps, before turning to me and throwing it at me-correction, my head? Well?" I felt around in my pocket, and took out a lighter. I gave it a few flicks before getting bored and tossing it away. "What can I say? I have a lot of love to give, so I get attached to things quickly." Luke made to set the pack on the ground next to the couch, but I waved him away. "Don''t worry about it, just go ahead and empty it over the balcony." Apparently the kids'' hair had caught fire, judging by Luke''s look. "...what happened to, ''big-hearted?''" I shrug, pull out Long Silver, and spin the cylinder. "Hey, my heart can only hold so much, so I have to make room every now and then. It''s painful, but I''m willing to make the sacrifice." The kid had now entirely burst into flame, and was sitting in the fire. "You know, I get the feeling you don''t get invited to many parties." I snort, open my messages, and turn the screen towards Luke before scrolling, showing off the dozens of messages, one after another. "Read it and weep, non-believer." FredMinse: Yo! I gotta bangin'' party, the only thing that''s missing is you! UlmerRichard: Uh, I know you''re really busy and all, what with your dads'' company, but I hope you might be able to spare some time to come over to my house! I''ve got some friends over, but it''s just not the same without you here! ^u^ DevinMole: Suuuup! Yo, U, me, all my football buddies, we''ll have a good time. I''s gots a DJ, evn! GinsonFin: Hey Tiffany! Me and my pals are all hanging out tonight, and we were counting on you showing up! How about it? I tossed the phone up, passed Long Silver to my other hand, and caught the phone. "You may now grovel. Just don''t be too loud, or I''ll have to smite you." The kid had suddenly sprouted four more arms, turned golden, and transformed into buddha. He was now levitating and spreading peace and love to all. Luke''s body went limp, and he dropped the backpacks. "I...I don''t believe it. How!? I spent the entirety of my high-school life being avoi-..." I feel a grin coming on. "Oh-ho! Well, well, well. What''s this? Little'' Lukey, gettin'' ditched by all his little'' friends? Oh my, this is just too, perfect. Ha! You were a total loser, and what''s more, a loner! Oh, and you said I probably didn''t get invited to many parties? How priceless! Projecting much, are we? Hmm?" "Stop..." Luke''s eyes franticly looked around the room, searching for a change of subject. His face suddenly sharpened. "Ah! But, that Ginson guy, he called you ''Tiffany,'' right? What''s up with that?" The rising taunts shriveled up and died. It was now my turn to avoid eye-contact and search for a change of subject. "A-ah, that..? Naw, Ginson, he, well, he''s kinda screwy, and he gave out weird nicknames...right! Right, a nickname! I was called tiffany my whole junior year because of...of...a...cross...cross-dressing incident! Right, I lost a bet with my Pal Gildrin, and-" "You mean Ginson?'' "Yes, yes, of course. Gidron. My ol'' buddy ol'' pal Gefron, and I had to spend the week wearing a skirt...You know?" For some reason Luke was smiling. "You know, ''Tiffany,'' you''re a lot more tolerable when you''re panicking." I took off my shoe and threw it at him. "The next time you call me that, I''m using one of my beloved rocks." "Oh? So they''ve been re-accepted into your heart once more, ''Tiffany?''" I locked in the cylinder, and cocked the hammer. "Never mind. I''ll just use Long Silver." Luke disappeared from my sight real fast. "That''s alright! You don''t have to go that far, I''ll just go pour the rocks over the balcony!" I headed towards the glass doors leading outside, revolver by my head, and yelled, "You let one of my precious little rocks fall, and you''re testicles follow it down, dammit!" Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Bren and Alice arrived at the top of the stairs, and looked around. Alice spoke what both were thinking. "I feel like there should be someone in here..." Bren let out a loud groan, and let his pack drop before stretching. "Argh, whatever. It''s been a long day, and this is the first time I''ve been in a mansion this big. I''m taking a nap. See ya Alice." She smiled, and gave a wave, forgetting she was carrying a pack, then remembering halfway through, managing to trip while trying to catch it, and ending up waving and smiling from the floor. "H-...have a good...rest!" Bren smiled while trying not to cringe. "Sure..." Hoodie came in the room, then disappeared through a door. --- "I made some foooood~!" Bren stalked from a bedroom, his glasses skewed, and hair messy. Luke arrived at a run, still panting, and hid behind Alice before a gun-toting Tiff came running in, before getting distracted by the table and its'' contents. Hoodie appeared in a seat. Alice smiled while taking off her apron. "Hey guys! I couldn''t do anything fancy, but I made some Cassoulet with the beans, pork, and other cans we had, and a nice Cappon Magro with tuna, since we didn''t have any shrimp. Sorry it''s so simple, I hope you''ll be okay with this!" Alice looked slightly nervous. Bren, Luke, and Tiff stared at her. The silence slowly grew, before Alice''s twitching made Luke say something. "Wait...you, can cook? And..." he looked over the steaming dishes on the table, expertly made, fresh out of a picture, not a burn or raw portion in sight. "...it''s not poisonous, right?" Alice laughed, and sat down. "Of course not! I know I''m just a dumb blond, but I''ve been taught by famous chefs from around the world. I didn''t forget too many steps, so I think it''ll be okay!" Luke choked. "U-uh, you''re not a...dumb...blond...you''re just...clumsy! Yeah, a little clumsy, and a bit of a failure, at, well, everything...ahem, y-you have redeeming qualities, we just...haven''t...found any...yet. Hm?" Alice covered her mouth, and laughed some more. Bren and Tiff took their seats. "Oh, you''re so cute when you''re embarrassed. I''m just repeating what I hear people call me all the time when my back is turned and they think I can''t hear them. Heehee~" "..." Bren and Luke shared a painful glance, meanwhile Hoodie struggled to unzip his...hoodie. Tiff skipped the serving part and just picked up a spoon and pulled over the dish, before digging in. Bren tried to change the subject. "So, this looks great, Alice. It''d be impossible to eat with a hoodie on." at this, three of the four people stopped and looked towards Hoodie. Slowly, the hand reached up towards the zipper, feeling around for it, before holding it between his fingers, and slowly, slowly zipping it down... With baited breath, the three not stuffing their faces watched the shadowed face reveal itself, to show a... ...bright-eyed, long-haired kid, of about twelve or thirteen. He let out a big breath. "Whew, it gets stuffy in there." He looked at the four of them. He smiled, and waved. "Hello, I guess this is the first time I''m introducing myself! You can call me Sam, or Sammy, whichever you prefer. I''m seventeen this year, and going to collage!" "Seventeen?" "Collage?" "A boy?" "A girl?" Silence fell. The four looked at each other. Tiff slowly took the spoon out of his mouth and pointed at Sammy. "This kid isn''t seventeen. She looks like an eight-year-old." Luke snorted. "Like you''re one to talk, you''re short enough to be in his class." Bren looked at Alice. "That boy is obviously male. Look at his chin." Alice shook her head. "No way! Those eyes and nose are clearly a girls''!" The four turned towards Sam. """"Well? Which is it?"""" Sammy smiled and held up his hands in surrender. "Well..." """"Yeah?"""" "...Those are all interesting topics. Goodnight!" Sammy left. Bren and Luke spent the night confirming to each other that Sam was a guy, while also ignoring his long eyelashes and cute nose, while Alice tried to shake off Tiff. "Alison! You''re a goddess!" Tiffs'' eyes shed tears like waterfalls, as he clung to her shoulders. "You have no idea the kind of things I''ve tasted, but this makes up for all of it! Just say the word, and I''ll go out and buy a ring! I''ll take good care of you, I promise!" Inside it was noisy, but to the outside no light could be seen, as Tiff and Sammy had worked together to curtain off and board up all of the windows. Rolled up mats were used under doors, and tape was placed over cracks. A tripwire in front attached to a sack full of fragile plates and cups was laid at the front door. That night, no monster entered the house. Well, except the one already inside.
AN: Admiral Akbar, you stay out of this... #5.5 -HG-1- Chapter 10 (Guest entry) Please note this is a guest entry.
Man, this chapter took forever. I hope it''s vivid enough, without being too sexualized... Okay, probably not. I did have to cut it over, or it would get too long, though. Warning: Graphic chapter, disturbing content.
When April woke up, she felt surprisingly refreshed. In front of her, Ann was dressing up with her back turned towards the bed. The ends of the pillowcase, on which she had slept, was wrapped around April¡¯s fists. Ann glanced over her shoulder. ¡°Ah, you¡¯re awake.¡± Pillowcase first, April darted forward. Her arms were swept out of the way, and she rammed her back into Ann¡¯s chest. ¡°My, so affectionate, this morning.¡± Ann said, wrapping her fingers around April¡¯s wrists. ¡°Your boyfriends are fine. Drop that and get dressed, I¡¯ll show you.¡± April¡¯s knuckles turned white before she let go of the pillow case. ¡°Good girl. There¡¯s fresh clothes on the box.¡± She gestured towards a flat wooden chest tucked to the side of the tent. On top of the box was a plain black t-shirt and a miniskirt. ¡°No way I¡¯m putting that on,¡± April said. With a shrug, Ann replied. ¡°You can go naked if you want.¡± The side of the tent had been pegged to the ground, escape would not be easy, and even if she did escape, what of Oliver and Kite? April reached out for the clothes, but collapsed to the ground, as if her consciousness had faded. ¡°So clums¡ª¡± The box whipped through the air and Ann had to duck or get crushed. The box zoomed past her head, revealing April, mid-air with a wooden tent-peg in hand. A hand grasped around April¡¯s neck and her entire body tensed from the shock from her inertia reversing. She looked straight up at Ann, who was sitting on top of her pinning the armed hand to the floor. For a moment, April just stared up at Ann before she realised that no air was entering her lungs. Her bandaged arm flailed, hammering Ann¡¯s back and side, to no avail. Black spots appeared before April, and she lost the strength to grasp the peg. Ann¡¯s mouth started to move, but no sound entered April¡¯s ears. The stranglehold on April¡¯s throat was released, and she heaved for air. ¡°Never do that again. Never do that to me again. Never do it again. You¡¯ll never do that again.¡± Ann lifted the peg, sharp end pointed down at April, who let out a pitiful whimper, shielding herself with the free hand. Ann¡¯s glare was filled with fury, and she struggled to hold herself back. She stared a jab, just to stop herself. ¡°No.¡± She shook her head, before throwing the peg next to the bed. ¡°Ann is a good girl. Ann won¡¯t do this.¡± With gentle touch, her hand wrapped around April¡¯s wrist, pulling it to the side as their lips connected. ¡°You are a good girl,¡± She said, brushing hair away from April¡¯s face. ¡°Never do this to me again.¡± Ann lifted herself from April, and sat on the bed. ¡°Get up and take off your pants.¡± April stood up and put her hands on her hip. She hesitated, but when her eyes met Ann¡¯s gaze, she slid her pants down over her knees, letting them drop on the floor. A finger wriggling gestured for April to come over, yet the perpetrator¡¯s face was turned towards ground. When April approached, her hip was poked. ¡°Off.¡± The image of a peg held inches from her face flashed before April¡¯s eyes. She sunk her spit and lowered her panties. A hand around her lower back led her closer to the bed. The hand slid up and pushed her upper body and she fell onto the bed. ¡°W-wait.¡± April said. ¡°Please don¡¯t¡ªMfh¡± The same peg she had tried to stab Ann with was shoved in her mouth sideways. ¡°Bite down. Hard.¡± Ann said, as she twisted April¡¯s arm behind her back. ¡°Don¡¯t struggle.¡± Ann¡¯s voice quivered. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to do this.¡± Behind April¡¯s back, a hand was held high. ¡°But you forced my hand.¡± The dull crack of a flat surface hitting flesh echoed in the tent. April felt the force like a shock wave passing through her entire body. The taste of wood and dirt mixed in April¡¯s mouth as her teeth dug into the peg. For a brief moment, April¡¯s behind felt cold and numb. Then smoldering heat, like a thousand burning needles were jabbed into her bum at the same time. April felt something wet on her arm, she tried turning her head to look over her shoulder but her arm was pushed further up. The palm descended once more, like a hammer driving in the thousand burning needles. The dull crack echoed once more, louder than before. Silence fell on the tent. The arm on April¡¯s back was let go. The hand, in turn, pulled the peg out of April¡¯s mouth. ¡°Father used to say bad children must be punished.¡± Ann stood up and pointed the peg at a stack of clothes on the other side of the trashed box. ¡°Put it on.¡± April rubbed her bum. Making sure not turning her back to Ann, She went over and picked up the skirt and underwear. Ann waved the peg. ¡°Not that. Skirt only.¡± The blood rushed away from April¡¯s face. She couldn¡¯t mean that. ¡°You¡¯re not allowed to walk on the splint,¡± Ann said. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a piggyback ride.¡± ¡°N-no.¡± April¡¯s head shook. ¡°You don¡¯t have a choice,¡± Ann said as she stepped closer. ¡°You will do as I say or they will suffer.¡± Ann placed her hands on April¡¯s butt, pushing her into a piggyback ride. April pulled down her skirt as far as she could, but Ann¡¯s hands made it a futile attempt. When they left the tent, her face burnt hot, yet she had a sinking feeling in the gut. What if anyone saw her like this? Her face got hotter just thinking about it. It was like a nightmare, the one where you forget your pants, only a lot worse - and real. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Right outside, Kite ground his sword with a rock. ¡°Mornin¡¯, logging on early, I see.¡± ¡°Kite,¡± an ever so slight smile spread on April¡¯s face. ¡°That ruins the edge.¡± A smirk spread on Oliver¡¯s face. ¡°Told you, brute.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± Kite flushed red. ¡°Stupid drill sergeant.¡± He narrowed his eyes at April ¡°Say, do you have a fever?¡± April stared off at the horizon. Her face got a bit warmer ¡°N-no.¡± She could not bear to think what would happen when Ann decided to step forward, displaying her naked butt to the Kite, Oliver and the world. The sinking feeling got worse, was that really all she was worth? Like an animal at a zoo. A step. April¡¯s head started spinning and she felt a chill rise to her face. Another step. A tickle in her stomach. A third step. She was almost on the side of Kite and Oliver. Her jaw started quivering. She didn¡¯t want this. Why did this have to happen to her? A fourth step. April¡¯s arms pushed the hands away, and she fell to her feet with a plop. ¡°I-i can walk on my own.¡± Ann shook her head. ¡°No, your splint can¡¯t handle it for long.¡± ¡°T-then. K-kite. Kite can carry me.¡± An eyebrow lifted on Ann¡¯s face, but she gestured towards Kite. ¡°Very well, please carry her.¡± Kite flinched. ¡°I¡ªuh¡ª¡± he looked around him, scratching his eyebrow. Ann couldn¡¯t carry her. Oliver¡¯s a wimp. He nodded. ¡°Okay, I can do it.¡± Her mind raced and her heart pounded, she had delayed it, but in a moment it would be even worse. Kite would grab her and she would be on display for the world. Blood drained from her head as Kite stepped closer. His arms hovered to the side, like he was trying to balance on a bridge, yet shifted positions rapidly. He scratched his head. Kite eyed April for a moment, weighing his options. He took a step closer to her, his heart started hammering. He wasn¡¯t any good at this, and all his hours of chatting with women online did not help him a single bit. Kite¡¯s arms reached out, and grabbed April¡¯s thigh, pinning her skirt in place before the hand on the back lifted her off the ground in a princess carry. Kite looked at April¡¯s face, he felt his cheeks flush. April eyed her skirt, she was safe. She put her head onto Kite¡¯s chest and shut her eyes. A brief moment of rest couldn¡¯t hurt, right? Kite could handle it. She shook the thought, as she opened her eyes. Kite was red like a tomato, his hands were getting moist, leaving spots on her clothes. ¡­ No he couldn¡¯t. With the speed and precision of a lightning bolt, April latched into the hand on her skirt. ¡°Don''t move that hand.¡± Kite froze up. ¡°S-sorry¡± his other hand moved across her back, onto her shoulder. Her sweet scent and the warmth of her body pressed against his had already set his mind into overdrive and his every heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he feared in hers too. Her soft skin and the redness of her cheeks would have overwhelmed him, had it not been for her hand, striking his like a thunderclap. Behind them, Oliver was chatting with Ann, talking about how lucky they were to have stumbled upon them. An arm was slung around Kite¡¯s neck. April¡¯s sweet scent became almost unbearable, and it only got worse when she moved her head towards his. When she moved her hand away from the skirt, and onto his. that had wandered from the back to the shoulder, pulling it in through the sleeve, his head started pounding and spinning. A finger passed where there should be a bra strap, yet there was none. His heart threatened to burst in his chest, and he could not muster a single proper thought in his head. If this kept going his heart would explode or his mind go blank. The breath in Kite¡¯s ear tickled, and the sound of the light breeze escaping her mouth was mesmerizing. His pulse rose, it was faster and louder than even when the nephilim pointed death at him. A single word escaped April¡¯s mouth as his finger passed onto something coarse on April¡¯s chest. ¡°Help.¡± His eyes grew wide, his mind, sharp. It was not ¡®a¡¯ woman, he carried. It was April. He looked at his finger to find small black flakes. Blood crust. His gaze met her pleading eyes. In that moment, he wanted to hug her, to tell her it would be okay, but knew he could not promise that. He wanted to set into a sprint, never to return. To protect her, yet he could not. In response, Kite gave a short nod and pushed her closer to his chest. ¡°Notes. Right side tent,¡± he whispered. ¡°Midnight.¡± ¡°Midnight?¡± Ann asked. ¡°Y-yes,¡± Kite responded. ¡°The raid was at midnight. I¡¯m telling you, it was epic. We had this guy who would misunderstand everything in the most se¡ª¡± Ann held up a palm. ¡°Nevermind your strange achievements. Put her in here.¡± Ann opened the door on a carriage. Oliver¡¯s gaze would not leave Ann until the door shut, after which he turned around to leave. Ann pulled out a wooden chair from a desk and turned it around. ¡°Put her here.¡± ¡°Thank you for your help, you can leave now.¡± Ann said with a smile. Screeech. A second wooden chair was dragged from under the table. ¡°We¡¯re not at the castle yet. Let¡¯s play a game.¡± Kite said. Ann pulled out another chair. ¡°A game?¡± she sat down. ¡°To pass time.¡± Kite responded. ¡°I have neither dice, nor cards. I don¡¯t care for petty games.¡± Ann responded, lifting a finger towards the door. ¡°A¡­ Ball?¡± Kite responded. ¡°Or we can do some basic tabletop?¡± A glare was a solid answer. Kite stood up. ¡°Wait!¡± April pointed at Kite. ¡°Truth or dare?¡± ¡°Okay then.¡± Kite sat back down again. ¡°Dare.¡± ¡°I dare you not to leave tonight.¡± A nod was his response. ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±
Hold up. Oliver and Kite weren''t dead. Other me! Is the characters allowed to lie to the reader? Hello? #1 -LEL- Chapter 6 Aprils'' breath came in short, quick gasps, and sweat rolled down from her collar to slide down her sternum, her mind racing as she desperately tries to process the words that had been spoken, but Ann''s coy smile accenting the woman''s full lips, a small, pink tongue darting out to slide back and forth in a manner that sent shivers down Aprils'' spine. "Come now, April," whispered that sickeningly sweet, teasing voice, like a serpent made of sugar. Sinking its'' fangs into her neck and injecting sweet, sweet poison..."you know how much Oliver and Kite are depending on you...just do as I say." Eyes'' darting like a hawks, taking in every detail of her discomfort. Every molecule in the air felt like it was on fire, the very atmosphere forcing her to do as the whispers commanded, and her resolve began to crumble, resistance turning to obedience, as her hands slunk like whipped dogs to her navel, then lower, the humiliation shifting from embarrassment to a wrong, twisted, perverted feeling, the heat turning to an itch, her fingers trembling as her body begged for what her mind forbid her, Ann''s smile widening, her final flame of control quenched with a torrent, and her body started moving on its'' own despite her protests, her fingers sliding below her waistband, then- Oh, what? Huh? This isn''t #5.5 -HG- Chapter 11? Dammit! I''m really looking forward to that truth or dare game... Well, moving on, this is LEL. I''m writing this because I messed up big-time with HG, being the impatient ass I am, and moved things too fast. But, while I un-fuck the timeline, I got thinking about LEL, and found I knew what to do! ...sorta. So I''ll do that! Yip-ee! Which also means I''m not writing HG! ...please don''t hurt me.... P.S. Do you like the third-person, or would you prefer I continue to use first?
After the three-headed bear, Cyscon thought perhaps his god had gotten bored of experimenting with evolutionary paths, but apparently divine stamina for innovation far exceeded his expectations. Unfortunately for man, although God was in no way at fault, for through His divine wisdom no wrong could be accepted, God had, in his infinite glory, decided to make lizards that could fly. And breathe fire. Oh God that art in heaven, why hast thou sickest this beast of uncreation upon thy servant? And why must thy servant contend with this foul creature with naught but his bare hands? Dost thine blessed eyes find joy in the pain of thy most humble servant, or mayst it be that thee must test this wicked man? Either way, thy servant wishest that thee might show mercy upon thine meek and lowly follower. Or, at least, grant him speed in his dropping and rolling. It was the final day of the oath that bound him to his convert, and perhaps this was just a test to strengthen the faith of a new worshipper, but a dragon felt like a bit much. Well, ''dragon,'' was pushing it. It was only the size of a carriage, not a house, like fully grown ones. To Cyscons'' knowledge, this dragon was a mere 6 years old. It would be at least a decade before the creature grew into adulthood, and gained its'' full size. Still, this was a Grey dragon. Unlike the mighty Red that could set whole acres aflame with a single breath, or the Blue that wielded water like a cloak, able to flood entire countries, or White that could fly from one end of the continent to the other within a day, the Grey had no impressive breath, just enough to cook its'' food, nor fast wings or elemental mastery. No, the Grey were cunning. Endowed with an intelligence that could match wits with the best of mankind, they were able to learn human-devised spells. Spells! A gigantic body filled with colossal strength, scales the strength of steel, power over magic, and a mind that could think above the instinctual need to eat, sleep, and mate, Grey dragons went beyond being natural disasters like their cousins, and could develop into kingdom-crushing monsters. Once, a dragon-made plague left 49 of 50 dead, in a city of millions. Then, of course, the 1 was shepherded into the lower parts of the city, where the Grey slaughtered them itself. The few that escaped to tell the tale say the slaughter continued for days, until the Grey resembled a Red, at least in the color decorating its'' scales. Why would a dragon go to all this trouble, even going so far as to kill the survivors? Because the king had once said, "Dragons? Ha! My city would never fall to anything less than God himself!" It should be noted, Grey''s have a twisted sense of humor, as a trait of their species. It has been scientifically proven by six different studies. But, this dragon is just six! It can''t be that, twisted, right? Except, the dragon is currently circling Cyscon and casually setting his clothes alight each time they are extinguished. Like setting ants alight with the sun and pieces of glass, and watching them burn. What Cyscon truly wondered, was how in Gods'' name a tiny gang had gotten ahold of a dragon! Even six years of age, the beast was still a huge risk to people! Magic barrier or not, eventually the creature would be free, and then a being with a naturally twisted mind, high intelligence, and a history of mistreatment and captivity, would be set on the world. How many cities would the map-makers have to erase then? Think of all the wasted paper! Cyscon rolled away from yet another gout of flame, sprinting towards the arena wall, hidden behind a transparent barrier and occupied by the scum of mankind, and he cried out in a voice of begging, though it cut at him to speak this way. "Please, give me something! A sword, a mace, a knife, a dildo, anything!" They laughed. But, the crowd itself was growing restless. This ''fight'' wasn''t very entertaining for anyone but the dragon with sadistic tendencies. The boss, being a bit more quick-witted than the others, grudgingly agreed and motioned for a man to throw down a sword. The blade was drawn, and thrown toward Cyscon, who sidestepped and caught it by the hilt. It had been thrown at him, not to him. But it would work. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. He turned towards the dully glistening reptile, its'' scales polished from rolling in the sand, its'' eyes filled with an unsettling intelligence, its'' lips pulled into a grin. And it was grinning. Discomforting, seeing such a decidedly ''human'' emotion such as cruelty on the face of an animal. And below him, a circle began to take form, shining just as Cyscon leaped away. Looking back, hardened spikes of sand slowly retreated back to the ground, and he turned his eyes toward the dragon. Amusement. Like a cat with a mouse that dodged its'' claws. It was decidedly insulting, being looked at with those eyes. So he lifted the sword. "Grant me Speed." He''d found prayers that got straight to the point were much better, especially after getting mauled by a three-headed bear in the middle of one. He guessed God appreciated oratory, but was just as happy with straight-forwardness. Though, shortened prayers were supposed to be strictly for high-priests and up, Cyscon had figured it out with a bit of experimentation. He hoped it wasn''t too sacrilegious of him. That, and the author can''t remember the whole prayer, and is too lazy to go back a chapter to copy/paste it. The world slowed, and Cyscon closed the nine feet separating him from the dragon, and took aim. Time sped up, and the dragons eyes'' widened. Perfect. Shortened prayers may be faster, but in terms of faith efficiency, long prayers were much better. Although the shortened prayer could be said in a fraction of a second, it gave a third of the effect for two-thirds the faith. The sword slashed through the beasts'' eye, cutting the slitted pupil in half, dividing it down the middle. It stumbled back, careening into the barrier, and- It broke. It seems the barrier hadn''t been renewed lately, and had been fragile. And, all of a sudden, the dragon was free, though with one eye sliced like an orange. People began screaming, though the dragon had apparently lost consciousness due to the pain. After the dragon stopped moving, the spectators began to calm down. Until they remembered. The dragon wasn''t the only monster the barrier had been keeping trapped. "Thank you letting me borrow this-" said Cyscon, yanking the sword out of the man who''d thrown it at him. He turned toward the boss, and smiled pleasantly as he wiped the bloody sword with his fingers. "-I do believe our contract is ended, so I''ll just be collecting my severance pay." The boss stumbled back, knocking over tables holding plates, scattering servants and silverware as he retreated. "P-please! I''ll give you anything! Don''t k-" He continued pleading, his lips still moving, even after his lungs were separated from his tongue, by way of decapitation. Like a pig with its'' head chopped off, his fat chins continued jiggling even after death. Revolting. Guards crowded around, drawing weapons, moving forward, until they saw the shaking shoulders of the man that had willingly stepped into a den of lions, and bitten their heads off. One hand trembled while holding the sword, coaxing the red drops to slide off its'' length. The other hand covered his mouth, doing a poor job of stifling the noise escaping from his mouth. He turned to the men approaching him, lower face covered with his fingers, tears running down his face. Laughter was the last thing 34 people heard that night. 173 escaped with minor wounds, but would have recurring nightmares of that day for the rest of their lives. The other 23 would either babble incoherently when reminded of the topic, shake and puke uncontrollably, or not speak at all for long afterward. Needless to say, Cyscon solved his economic crisis. After all, money was just lying on the ground! Though he did have to clean off the blood. Some people just don''t take proper care of currency. Tut-tut. --- A man dressed in rags, recently soaked in bleach, yet still with a faint red hue, whistled as he walked with a sword on his shoulder. He made his way towards the church, and stood in front of the doors. He cast aside the sword on the stairs, and opened the doors wide. Inside, a single person knelt next to the altar, praying fervently, a very noticeable, and very recognizable sack of coin sitting in the donation bowl, threatening to spill out. Cyscon walked up to the donation bowl, and very carefully counted out 34 silver coins. He then set down his bag by the door, and approach the altar, before kneeling down and clasping his hands. After exactly 34 minutes of prayer, Cyscon turned to the boy sitting next to him. "So, my young man, have you recognized the true path towards salvation?" Ren opened his eyes and looked over, grinning with a single missing tooth, the gums still bleeding, and a recently cleaned dagger sheathed at his waist. "I don''t know bout'' salvation or such, but I reckon you''re a crazy bloke, and life''ll be exciting with you around." Cyscon smiled and ruffled the boys'' hair. "Yes, exciting is the right word. This city, it has become clear to me, is infested. I''ll need to get to work purifying sin, and bringing in the Lords'' lost flock." Ren nodded, licked at the toothless-gum, and tilted his head. "Still, I''m confused as to why you let the dragon get away." Cyscon stopped ruffling the boys hair, his smile etched into his face like a line cut in marble. "...uh, Cys? You aright?" "..." "...you didn''t forget about it, right?" "..." "...Cys? You gonna say anything?" Carefully choosing his words, Cyscon spoke slowly and clearly. "Sometimes...people make mistakes...and that is why...God created the church." "Ah. I see. Next time I meet a murderer, I''ll give him my whetstone." "...Forgive me God..." #1 -LEL- Chapter 7 With a yelp, Kite realized what he''d touched. Blood and heat rose into his head, then washed through his entire body, making even his fingers-especially, his fingers, tingle. He could only view Aprils'' crimson cheeks from the corner of his eye, but he could make out the drop of sweat trailing down her pale and blushed face. The contrast only helped to make her resemble a doll, a brave, beautiful, gorgeous doll. His heart beat upon his ribcage like a lion in a cage, roaring to be let out. But no-Kite would never do that. He had his code of honor as a gamer to uphold-he would never throw that away, even if April looked helpless, vulnerable, beautiful, ravishing- "K-kite, don''t-" He hurriedly tried to shift her weight in his arms, but the moment he did her skirt began to rise, forcing him to lower her fast, and jerkily-not on purpose. His finger began to melt. "Oh, God I''m sorry April-I''ll just-if you could-" A finger came down on his lips, stopping the flow of his words. He slowly rose his eyes from the pale thighs, up her slender waist, avoiding the angle of her shirt, and up into her eyes. Her frantic, nervous, fearful, teasing eyes- ...teasing? Her breath misted, making her lips stand out, her chest heaving up and down while her sweat soaked into her shirt further distracting him. "...please, Kite, just don''t..." His ears strained to ignore the frantic beating of the beast inside, yearning to hear her voice. "...stop." Here, in the middle of the camp? Captured and at risk? With her injured? Yet all of those eyes that he could imagine on his back... Either his heart exploded, or his morals did, because he let his hand slip. And, by God, it was worth it. -- Huh. I seem to be going back in time. Ah well, screw the space time continuum. I have rabies. I hope I gave you some ideas, Zeny...hue hue hue. :3 And, a short blurb I thought up while on the toilet. Don''t read it-trust me, it''s shit. Spoiler : A lawyer sits, assembling several documents. A coworker walks up, and asks what he''s doing. "Hm? Me? Oh, I''m just getting ready for some cases. The MPL''s are really taking off." The coworker asks what MPL''s are. "Hm? Well, the Multiple Personality Lawsuits." The coworker asks what in Satan that is. The lawyer swivels his chair around, it, being a swivel chair. Very fancy, too. Nice inlay, comfortable padding, shock-absorbing springs, well-oiled wheels, and even armrests. "Moving away from my fabulous chair, MPL''s are what we-of the lawyer class, a highly valued and rigidly exclusive group of elites that provide a valuable and necessary service-came up with when people stopped suing each other for anything less than murder-mostly because all arguments these days end with someone dead-and because those cases also end with the courtroom shot up, we-of the lawyer class, a highly valued and rigidly exclusive group of elites that provide a valuable and necessary service-managed to have the Council of Morons pass a new law, allowing distinct, medically validated personalities to sue each other. There have been hundreds of infractions regarding restraining orders, robbery, assault, and copyright claims already-but, since the person is only a criminal 50% of the time, jails have had to be reconstructed to house regular people too. A real inconvenience for everyone involved, except us lawyers." The coworker says that''s idiotic. The lawyer laughs. "Of course it is! How else do you think we got it passed through the Council of Morons?"
I slowly tear my spear-a lovely six-foot affair-out of yet another throat. I kick my foot out in a vain attempt to shake the blood out of my boots. Its'' useless-they''re too soaked-and I don''t want to take them off in case there are still hooligans sneaking about. I''m practically stepping in a pond everywhere I go, but that isn''t why I feel filthy while tracking their blood around. Rather, I feel like the men this blood belonged to were maggot-ridden with sin. I need a bath. Still, it''s not all bad. Although my journey through that rat-infested arena was unsanitary, deadly, and humiliating, after facing foes that tested not only my skill, strength, or mind, but all at once, I felt a certain...rise, in myself. Indeed, my faith felt less shakable than before, and my prayers could be further chained, and give greater effects. Truly, trials and tribulations are the quickest way to increasing a mans'' faith, as scripture states. "Oi Boss-! We''re all clear up here!" Ren''s smiling face poked out, conspicuously missing a left-front tooth. I felt pride just seeing that-the mark of a boys'' conversion from a cowardly sinner to a faithful man. If not for pride being I sin, I would tell him so-but for now, education is more important than praise. "Did you make certain they''re all dead?" Gruff. Toneless. Like my father teaching me how to pull a plow. Even then, his eyes had seemed to sparkle with a light that told me I could do more. Did he feel this same swelling in my chest? The rest of Ren followed, heels snapping together and hand coming up in a salute. "Aye aye, Boss! I poked lots of holes in all of their important bits! Though, some of them twitched while I did it. Should I double-check?" Ren seemed ready to jump back into it. I hid a smile. "No, you''ve done you''re job well-that was just the devil leaving the mens'' bodies. You''ve rescued them from a worser fate." Ren looked confused as we walked out of the dirty gambling den. "What could be worser than dying?" I patted his head, and made sure I put weight into my steps to squeeze as much blood out as possible. I don''t want to make the innkeeper have to clean that up-he could get tainted, and then I''d have more work. "That''s, ''worse,'' and what, you ask? Living with their sin, never to accept the word of God." I felt myself shiver in horror. Yes, death would be better. I envy those who must do nothing but die on my blade to meet God. But, my work will be rewarded. I don''t want God to look upon me and see a quitter. Hell would be preferable. Ren sighed, and shook his head. "I jus'' don''t see how words can be righter or wronger, depending on whether there''s an E R on the end. Doesn''t make a wit of sense." I smile, and give his head another pat. "To be honester, neither do I." --- The smell of beer, dirt, dried blood, and stale food is like a large wooden stick shoved up my nose. I think there''s a dead rat in the corner. It probably isn''t helping with the smell, although I''m sure if it could it would get back up and get out of here. Maybe if I touch it, I''ll catch a fatal disease...? "Hey boss, leave the dead rat alone, and come over here!" Ren seemed right at home in this den of filth, and spilled food, and...and... Grant me the will to persevere through this hardship, O'' Lord! Taking a seat at the table that was either very sturdy, due to it having survived what looked like a decade of daily abuse, or perhaps extremely fragile for the same reason. Ren sat opposite me, letting me stay in the corner and look out with a full view of the whole of this...place. Ren is still smiling. If not for that missing tooth, I''d think he was making fun of me. Mm, maybe that''s why I always wanted to punch in the teeth of people who smirk at me. Yes, that relieves my mind. I''ve been having doubts with myself, but thankfully I''ve cleared it up. I''m not a violent person after all! "So boss, what do we hit next?" Ren looked excited. Eager, even. Such a good kid. I waved over a waitress, and between asking for anything, as long as it isn''t covered in dirt, answered Ren. "While we''re eating, you can just call me Cys. And, I''ll have to review a little to see who''s causing the most trouble. Speaking of, did we get anyone important this time?" Ren nodded, then took out a sheaf of paper. He couldn''t read, of course, but these were drawings with numbers. After shuffling through the pile and selecting six, he placed them on the table and put the rest in his pack. "Well, Cys, quite a good group this time. Three were some petty thieves that were caught often enough to warrant a bounty, two murderers, and this guy. Caught in bed with the governors daughter." I took the paper from Ren, and checked the drawing. Hmm, he seems familiar... Right! He was the guy that pissed himself in the corner when I came in and ripped one of their skulls'' out along with their spine. What a pussy. I checked over the reward, then resisted the urge to spit. "Never mind this one. Did you get proof for the others?" Ren shook his head. "You''re looking at the most valuable guy right now. I figured you''d not be bothered if I forwent the others." Troubling, how well Ren knows me already...still, I let out a sigh. Ren looks a me quizzically, and I lean forward. "Well, if we keep this up, we''ll run out of poison and wine." It''s comical, how easy it is to pretend to be robbed and give away a poison, and how quickly they will forget caution and drink it. Of course, only a couple will be taken down by it, the distraction helps me to take care of them more quickly. Ren doesn''t look worried. "You don''t have to worry, I''m sure Cys doesn''t really need it." The food arrives, some sort of cheese and a bread that looked to have only been half eaten by rats. And, according to my order, there was no dirt. Just a little mold. "If I were to simply walk in and fight, yes, I could win. But without a distraction the chances of one getting away or escaping increases. I just wish we were more than two..." A group of guards came in, sat at a table nearby, and began to loudly complain. Just what I needed to go with my moldy cheese and chewed on bread. Whining. Guard A eloquently expressed his relief at finding a seat. "Ah fuck, my damn feet are bloody shit-bags. The hell with all this patrolling?" Guard B politely ordered for the group. "Hey! Tavern-wench, get the damn beer out!" Guard C replied to Guard A with friendly courtesy. "Shut your damn mouth, you bloody bastard. You only stood up to walk your blubber here because I''m paying." Their banter continued, obviously not disturbing the peace. I, for one, had tuned them out since they walked in. I''d gotten an idea. Ren was watching the guards and me, switching pensively. He claimed to know how I react, and truth be told, I''d have shut them up if I''d been less trapped in thought. Eventually, I abruptly stood up. Ren turned a pale shade of white, then stood up too. "Hey, Cys, they''re just having fun, you don''t have to..." I ignored him as I glided over to the guards, and smiled at them all. I asked a single question. "Hello, my good men, have any of you heard of the last time the governor went to church?" Guard A,B, and C all looked at me, then laughed. "Hah! Church!" "Yeah, right, I heard about that along with a story of a pig that could fly." "A good joke." Ren was twitching and jumping up and down, sweat running down his face. "Come on, Cys, this is my favorite place! Just let them go..." I nodded my head to the guards, leaving them laughing to themselves. Ren seemed to relax, and ran up to me, a new shine in his eye. "You know, that was awfully tolerant of you. Usually people that make fun of religion in front of you get to know for certain what god is waiting for them. I''m impressed." I kept walking in a particular direction, nodding absentmindedly. "Yes...hey, Ren. When a flock of sheep is driven off a cliff, who do you blame?" Ren looked confused. "The...cliff?" I nodded again, a small smile spreading across my face, genuine, sincere, unlike what I''d offered the guards. "You are close, Ren, but you don''t arrest alcohol when a drunk man kills somebody. Who, then, do you blame?" Ren thought for several minutes, all the time we walked. "The sheep, right? It''s their own fault they jumped off a cliff, right?" I nodded again. "Yes, once again, a good answer. A near miss, you could say. But do you blame a child when it kills a dog? No, you blame the parent. They were, after all, in charge of teaching the child right from wrong. They''re failure is inexcusable. They need to be punished." "Uh...Cys, do you have issues with your parents?" "Huh? What makes you think that? I love and respect my father and mother who raised me into this world with all my heart. They are the only reason I''ve grown to be the man I am today." "...I''d like to say I want to meet them, but considering how you are..." "What was that?" "Nothing, just mumbling to myself. So, who do you blame for driving the flock off a cliff?" We stopped in front of an iron gate, a large house loomed behind it. Ren took one look at it, then went the shade of white a ghost might be. "Why, the shephard, who was in charge of leading them." I raised a booted foot, dyed red with the blood of sinners. "God whom I love and fear above all else, grant me the strength to carry thy burdens." Iron screeched and fell. --- Ignatious Rembhetion Domineus III. Indeed, my name is quite fitting, for one as impressive as I. Standing at a height of 5''6", I graciously allow those that kneel before me to not give themselves neck cramps, unlike those buffoons that stand like they''re sitting atop a mountain. How much I wish there was someone able to carry me up behind that person to push them off. "O-ho-ho-ho!" "Would you care to enlighten me as to what is so funny as to make you laugh out loud like a madman, my lord?" Ah, Zelvin. That cheeky bastard, he''s so greasy I barely registered his presence! I have a habit of ignoring trash until I step in it, of course. I, as the witty, handsome, and dignified work of art that I am, replied pithily, as is my custom when dealing with, bleh, ''commoners.'' Such a disgusting word. Taking a pastry caked with white from the slave holding a platter up to me, I spoke throw the confectioners'' sugar. "Well, my good man, the simple thought of accepting your deal was enough to send peals of amusement through me! Your outrageous prices exceed my tolerance for foolishness, you feebleminded imbecile." Zelvin, his considerable height brought low before me, his greasy black hair a mess and in no way fit for an audience with the uncle of a king! At least his shirt barely covers his ribs. Hmpf, the only good commoner is an enslaved, laboring, starving, beaten half-to-death kind. Pah! I should send for my guards to give this nincompoop a good whacking! "...My lord Ignatious, I''m offering you a deal that could quite possibly make yours the fief richer than many countries, and all I''m asking is a pittance to make my journey back to carry a message. Are you certain that is too expensive for you?" I thought back to what we had been talking about. Hmm...he mentioned a road to the south, something something commoner something something please beat me something blah blah that hat is just lovely with that coat blah blah I''m not worthy...well, whatever. I just have him beaten anyway. "Guards!" Zelvin froze, sweat beginning to form on his brow, his finger inching towards his coat. Hm? Gonna take one more pull from a flask before I have him strung up and flayed? Just what you''d expect from a filthy commoner. Drunks, everyone of them! Washing down my delicious pastry with some aged wine, I snorted. Oops, I''m dizzy now, I should have the servant fetch the pan, I don''t want my throne to smell like the inside of me. I turned to give the slave an order, but the piece of shit had stood up, and dropped my platter! Reaching out with my fully-fleshed hands, I sought to strangle the life from him!...or hold him until someone with stronger hands could! I glanced towards Zelvin, to see if I could have him help me out with this unruly slave. He seems to be looking away from me. That goat-fucker! How dare he turn his back on one such as me! A king!s'' uncle. Looking past Zelvin, a red-clothed man stood. Hmm, strange paint on his face. Whoever did those streaks was a complete amateur! No professional would ever layer the color on that thick, it seems like its'' practically dripping down his face! ...that''s, not, paint, huh? Something hit me in the belly, then picked me up and threw me over the back of the throne, and into the wall. Pain flashed through my back as my spine collided with the wall. I gasped, bile rising in my throat, another liquid I''d never felt before rushing upwards. With a hurl, the green-yellow of my own puke flew up into the air, flecks of red joining it. As it came down and splattered onto the floor, spreading into a multicolored flower on the ground. Striking, that green-yellow star spreading out on that white marble, red dots highlighting the contrast. I feel like composing a poem, which is unusual for me. Usually the arts are too taxing for my body. My doctor himself told me that thinking too much could possibly develop into a tumor, and end in my death. The blasted man had then handed me a word puzzle, saying it was an early birthday present. The box wasn''t wrapped in gold leaf! The nerve, of some people. Oup, something is running down my belly. Ah, yes, it''s dribbling down my chin and soaking into my collar. Mmm, quite a bit is red now, I wonder why? Ah, but there''s something stuck in my belly, and it''s currently supporting my weight while pinning me to the wall. I must applaud the crafter of that pole. I have known several chairs that have shattered under my...dignified form. Ah, but there''s another stain appearing around that pole. Hmm, that one appears all red, though some yellow and green have made their way out of the fabric. Ah, I can''t see anything except that one stain. Was my vision always this bad? I should fire that blasted doctor! Telling me to, "stop stuffing your face like obesity is going out of style." As if I''d know a commoner word like obesity! Hmm, why has the ceiling started to curve? Did I always have a domed roof? And a floor shaped like a tube? The open door at the end of this tunnel seems to be letting in an awful amount of light. I should probably fire the man who told me light doesn''t curve, so it was impossible for me to get sunburn this deep into my manor. I have delicate skin... I burn easily... --- I stepped into the large audience room, and marveled at the wonders of nature. Who knew pigs grew to be such a gigantic size? Stepping up to the two that stood beside the throne, one trembling, the other calm but with a hand in his coat. The recognizable shape of a dagger that was used to being unsheathed lay just behind the fabric. I stepped up towards the braver of the two, as I had little patience with cowards. His grip around the knife tightened. I showed off Fake Smile #2. The one I used when I got ready to disarm potentially dangerous individuals. It''s purpose was to lower their guard, and put them at ease. Unfortunately, #2s'' effectiveness was somewhat lowered by my appearance. Namely, that I was covered from head to toe in blood and viscera. I see it as a human failing that the first thing people judge you on is how you''re dressed. I could be a vegetarian, and he won''t know until I tell him! "I''m not a vegetarian, but if I was, I''d tell you." The tall, dark haired mans'' grip loosened, and I stepped forward and extended a hand. "Hello there, nice to meet you. I''m Cyscon, but you can just call me Cys. What''s your name?" He absentmindedly pulled his hand out of his coat, and gave my hand a good, firm shake, then let go. Mm, alright. His eyes traced a snaking path down my front. "G...good to meet you, Cyscon. I have several names, but I believe it would be easiest for you to pronounce the one I am known by within this realm. Call me Zelvin. Just, Zelvin." I nodded. Upfront. Honest. Confident. I like him. I looked past him, and gestured to the man shivering by the pig-podium. "And who would our fine fellow be?" Zelvin looked over at him, then shook his head. "The man is a slave. His tongue was cut out, so he cannot speak." I nodded, understanding, then looked back towards Zelvin. "So, what are you going to do with him?" Zelvin seemed taken aback. "Me?" "Yes. His previous owner seems to have left him here, so what are you gonna do?" Zelvin was baffled, but sighed. "I''ll have to take him with me...he won''t be good for much, but until I get back home, I guess I can take care of him. Maybe teach him how to use his hands to do more than serve someone." I felt #2 shift into #5. The smile that expressed my pride. I think I made a good choice. Turning around, I started walking away. I heard a step behind me. "Wait! Where are you going?" I looked over my shoulder. Shrugging, I turned back around. Calling out to Ren, "Hey! I''m done in here, did you find the captain?" Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.Ren appeared around the corner, and waved. "Sure thing, Boss. One of the clerks told me where he lived, we can head over and surprise him!" I barely remembered to put away #5. Wouldn''t be good if I used that one too much. I began walking away again. I heard an intake of breath behind me. Throwing the words over my shoulder, "I trust you''ll make a good Baron, Zelvin. Find yourself a last name, put on some fancy clothes, and I''m sure you''ll fit in great! Might wanna practice your backstabbing, though." He stopped speaking, and I stepped down the steps outside of Ignatious Rembhation Domineous IIIs'' house. Thank the Lord I''ll never have to say his name again, I felt like I was choking on a table leg. --- I fingered the exquisitely carved silver on the handle of my dagger. What to make of him, that man who wore blood like a bird wore feathers? I''d taken a seat on the throne. Indeed, I can see why that Relkfig had been so condescending. From this height, with a hundred men kneeling before me, just imagining it... I pulled the dagger from its'' curved sheath, and fingered the tip. A bead of red popped up from my finger. I wonder if I''d have been able to sink this into that mans'' heart before he killed me...I''m confident in my speed, but the force it would take to throw a spear and have it pick a large man up off the ground and pin him to the wall? Fearful. But he was mad, of that I am sure. But not the type that sits in a corner and mutters to himself, no, nor the type that went off on mad rages, nor the kind that did things for no reason. He was of the worst type. He knew his own madness. He understood it. He''d taken it and leashed it. He had channeled it. So in control of himself, in fact, that I believe he might be able to fool those that didn''t know what to look for. I''d seen this type of madness before, in a cult I''d briefly joined as a youth. The leader had been so certain of himself, so in control, so measured, so sane, even, that he could be nothing but. I stroked my chin, and idly thought, I will have an interesting couple of years to look forward to... I haven''t tried being a baron yet. --- The captains'' house was a humble affair. For all of its'' humility, however, the home gave me a near-uncontrollable urge to see it torn down and burned. Hmm, that''s strange. Usually I only feel like burning things on Tuesdays. Today is a Saturday, so I should really be in the mood for impaling, but I guess I already did that today... Well, this is obviously a message from God. Oh, lord that blesseth me with thine love and justice, allow me to fulfill thy will! ...and roast a few pigs in the meantime. Ren was fidgeting beside me, probably hoping I wouldn''t do anything extreme. Oh, Ren, I envy that na?vet¨¦. I strode up to the door, and gave it three firm knocks. --- Being a candidate for kingship is difficult. All of the pressure, responsibility, and honor lies totally with me. Sure, I''m 346th in line, behind the kings'' third cousin twice-removed on the mothers side, but that number gets'' lower all the time. I hummed a happy tone, taking a pen and marking off another of the faces on my wall of possibility. I''d recently heard from my uncles'' doctor that he would probably pass away within the month, his heart unable to bear the weight of his...weight. Either way, I wold soon be 345th in line, and that was reason for celebration! After picking up a bottle of wine I''d been saving for just such an occasion, labeled, "Grief for uncle," which I thought ironic. I don''t like to brag, but I''m a funny man. A knock came at my door. I thought about dropping the bottle off at my table, but that would require me to double the distance of my walking, and I''m getting on in years, I should really look after my own health. Whatever, whoever is knocking at my door is being disrespectful to my station, not preparing an appointment! They''ll overlook the rudeness of my holding a bottle of wine while answering the door. Though it might hurt my image...hah! As if anyone in this city cares about reputation. I opened the door, and saw two boys waiting on my doorstep. The shorter was noticeably nervous, while the tall one, annoyingly taller than me, seemed eager, perhaps a bit unhinged, what with his face dripping with blood. ...maybe they''re thirsty? I get the feeling number 347 will be happy. They''re about to jump up 2 spots. --- The previous day, a rumor had circulated. Apparently an assassin had strode into the governors manor and torn him into six pieces, then nailed the pieces to the roof, before setting the whole thing on fire! ...the rumors failed to mention why the manor wasn''t burnt down, but when can you believe rumors? Some people are saying the captain of the guard was killed too! ...still, it was strange that an edict was passed down, one that required every member of the guard to meet at the training field behind the captains'' house. Not that it was ever used...but, the edict had both the governors and the captains seal stamped on it, so no doubt it was official. Besides, when had simple guardsmen ever worried about anything beyond their next paycheck? In a strange show of strictness, this gathering was to be ignored on pain of being convicted with treason. But, it was probably just the captain trying to throw his weight around. God forbid the governor ever threw his weight anywhere, otherwise not even the city walls'' would be able to withstand it! Conversation was loud, crude, and disgruntled. The gathering was supposed to meet at noon, and the guard had been waiting for a half-hour. However, someone strode from a nearby shadow, and gave a short whistle to gain their attention. Only after five more minutes did all of them become silent, except for the occasional coughs and grunts. The boy that couldn''t be more than eighteen looked over them with eyes that seemed filled to the brim with loathing. Short, black hair. A tall, lean, solid body. A stance that was resting and alert all at once, and green eyes that reflected garbage. He did not look happy. Striding in front of the guards, in a sloppy line, uniforms dirty or falling apart, weapons covered with rust or not even carried, armor streaked and unpolished, faces decorated with beards that were either roughly cut or not cut at all. Calling them guards was a bit of a stretch, calling them bandits might be too far, but only because you''d probably be robbed by bandits for the insult you just offered to their occupation. Banditry is a respectable career choice, and very popular with the last generation, so don''t take them lightly. The man took a step forward, to address this sorry group of roughians. He took a deep breath. "Good God of Justice, but sometimes I hate my job. All right, first, strip." Now, if a boy, admittedly attractive in a wild, beast-on-a-chain way, asked you to strip, you would probably call the guards. Seeing as the guards were the ones being commanded to strip, a bit of confusion took place. First, disbelief. The men began to yell loudly, and shift around. Next, anger. thinking they''d been pranked, they got rowdy and started to advance on the boy. Third, dismissal. They began to head towards the door, to leave. The boy continued. "Stop." For a reason none of them understood, they stopped. And turned around. The boy walked forward, and addressed a guardsmen who stood alone. Pointing towards his armor. "Look at this! You wear the gear of war as if it were a ribbon you use to separate yourself from other men." Lowering the finger towards his tabard. "Look at your uniform! You disgrace the symbol of your authority in the same breath you spit upon your own power! You take the gift of responsibility that your lord has handed down, and you rip it up to let your dog shit on." Pointing towards the weapon. "Look! Look!! Look at how you treat the companion that could be responsible for protecting your life at any moment, how you take the faithful friend that offers you their trust, and you throw it in the trash. See how you mistreat it, how you throw aside all of that, and for what?" The finger came to rest on the mans'' face. "Look at yourself! You, who would save the lives of your people with the sacrifice of your own, you, that should offer peace and comfort to the children under your protection, you, who takes what is given you, and flushes it down the toilet! Look at yourself!" The man backed down before the boy, but the tirade was not yet complete. The boy now took a step back, and addressed all of the group gathered before him. "Can''t you see what it is you are all missing? Can''t you see the one thing you all fail to realize?" Birds twittered, and insects skittered across the ground. The wind whipped up, blowing across the training field, yet none of those present seemed to notice. All present seemed frozen, hooked on the words of a boy years younger than them. He whispered a single word, so softly it was impossible any could hear, and yet all understood. RESPECT It twittered from the sky, it slithered along the ground, it whispered in the wind, and they heard. And they were ashamed. But when has shame ever been enough to change the hearts of men? "Bah! I don''t need to listen to a boy." "I don''t care, I don''t care..." "Why should I? I don''t have to." Once more, they began to trickle towards the doors. Until they closed shut, locked from the outside. The boy chuckled. "...do you think I''ll let you leave?" Shame cannot break a man down and leave him with only weakness. Shame alone cannot take opinion and turn it into belief. Shame cannot turn a man into something he is not. ...at least, not alone. The boy walked towards the back wall, where several of the tarps used to keep rain from ruining the equipment had been left hanging over nine-foot poles. One by one, the boy ripped them off, to reveal what was behind them. Sixteen men, all naked, all struggling, all bound with oil-soaked rope, all soaked with water. The boy took a piece of flint from his pocket, and sent a spark into the wood piled beneath them. The spark became a flame, the flame a roaring fire, the fire a raging inferno. Yes, the men did not catch fire themselves. They were burned, they were choked by smoke, their eyes were blinded and their skin turned black, but the water soaked into their bodies kept them alive, for the moment. The boy turned around, arms spread wide, his silhouette illuminated by the starving flames behind him. The only light brighter than the fire the brightness of his smile. The identity of the men behind him belonged to the guard captain, and fifteen guards convicted of treason. Yes, shame could not change a man. But fear, and pain, can. The guards attempted to resist, but soon they had been defeated, beaten and broken, all while listening to the screaming the gags couldn''t block out. Twenty-six men died that day, a fifth of the total guard. The remaining hundred or so were broken down, their spirit and body reforged by a single man, their identity and body taken from them, and then given back, along with a new faith. For two months, not a single guard walked the streets. --- I am a minor crime boss. These last two months have been good for business. I''ve not had to pay out any bribes whatsoever this whole time, meaning my pockets and stomach were nice and full. I guess the governor stopped caring about appearances, and just fired the whole guard. Oh well, it doesn''t matter to me, I should just enjoy myself! The door banged open, a panicked thief stepping into my room. I looked up from counting all the money I''d saved from not giving bribes. "Hm? What is it?" "Chief, it''s bad! The guard are back!" My spirit fell, and that gut wrench I always got when I knew I was losing money came in. "How much are they asking for this time?" The thief looked confused. "Chief, they''re not asking for money! They''ve gone crazy, they''re just-" A long, thin piece of metal sprouted from his belly. He slowly fell to the ground, a pool of liquid forming beneath him, as a man stepped over his body. But a strange man. Eyes with shattered pupils, body covered with fresh and old wounds, all of which bleeding. Words written in blood scrawled across the entirety of his body. His lower half was barely covered, but instead of wearing a uniform, the symbol of the guard had been branded with a hot iron into his chest. As the man stepped over the body, a hair-raising howl ripped itself out of his throat, before he licked several words written in his own blood off of his forearm. The crazy man stepped towards me, my death already a certainty in his mind, and suddenly I realized something. I''m going to be losing a whole lot more than money this time. Funny, the thought that I won''t be getting any poorer didn''t help the wrench in my gut get any better. --- Ren stood beside me, hands clasped behind his back. I feel like clapping him on the shoulder, after these two months. After the first three days of breaking down all rebellion and will, I began to build the guard back up, starting with what made them human. First, I had them eat food from the ground. Then, I had them dig holes, shit in them, and then sleep on those same holes. For a week, I forced all hundred to live like beasts, to teach them what it is to be men. I made them kill cattle and sheep with their hands and teeth, and eat the raw meat. I had them lick water from the dirt. I made them give me their everything, and soon they gave me everything because it was all they could think to do. I stopped them from thinking. I made them see things in terms of here, and now, and whether they would live for another hour. Randomly, I would pick one of the weakest, and set him on a stick, and burn him, and let the guards sit, and watch, and listen. This came to be their favorite time, as they didn''t have to worry about their own life while they watched another die. By the end of the first month, they were animals. They forgot their names, their families, their knowledge of living like people. And then I taught them. Like children they came to me, like a parent I disciplined them. I gave them names, knowledge, and skills. I taught them how to fight, how to cook, how to speak, to write, to read, and most importantly, how to worship god. By the end of the first month, they worshipped me like a god. By the end of the second, they worshipped god like no other. And on the night of the final day, I had them form up before me. Fifty men. For after this, I can truly call them men. Before, they were cracked, but thought themselves whole. During, they were broken, and could not think. Now, they are whole, and they think only of bettering themselves. On that night, they lined up in a straight line, with straight backs, with eyes forward, not looking at anything but seeing everything. I addressed them, not as garbage, because they were no longer trash. Not as beasts, for they had lived as such, and come beyond, but as men, because they had earned this right. "WHAT ARE WE?!" As one, without hesitation. "SINNERS IN THE EYES AND MIND OF GOD!" "WHAT CAN WE BECOME?!" With certainty and devotion. "REPENTANT SOLDIERS IN GODS'' ARMY!" "AND WHAT DO WE DO?!" With a fanatical joy I knew intimately. "KILL THE HERETICS! KILL! KILL! KILL!" Their shouts rolled over me, and I closed my eyes and let the faith wash over me. When I opened my eyes, they looked at me. I addressed them, not as a commander, but as one among them. "Tomorrow, we go forth and purify this city. But before that, we must acknowledge our own sin. I ask you to do a terrible thing, this night, but I do not ask it lightly. Remember! Look back, and know your own sin! Big or small, trivial or disastrous, know your own impurity! Take this night, cut yourself for each sin, and imprint your crime onto your body! Paint yourselves with sin! Clad your bodies with filth! Expel the dirt from your blood, and wear it gladly! And tomorrow, for every heretic you slay, for every innocent your protect, for every righteous deed you do, let your own hands wash away the sin you have willingly shown for all to see! FOR GOD!" """FOR GOD!""" All that first month, Ren had stood at my side, and helped to discipline them. All that second month, he had stood side-by-side with the beasts-made-men, and learned all that I taught. Now, I could confidently say he was every bit as strong as any one of the others. Even without going through the process of being broken down, he had still let me build him up. Still, he''d never taken off his clothes. I guess he''s just shy. Still, standing on the street where, the first day I came I was attacked, looking out over a city alight with faith and flame, I felt glorious. Ren poked my arm. He''d gotten much more brave after the training. "Hey Cys, how did you do that? I mean, I respect your ability and all, but how did you make a hundred men forget their names?" I looked out on the horizon, where the sun was beginning to climb. "What do you know of Faith, Ren?" Ren thought for a moment. "It''s that disease that people contract from going to church, right? Sitting on old benches and listening to old people yell at you weakens the mind, and th-" I put my fist back behind my back. "No, I''m not talking about common belief, though it is important, and not a disease. I''m talking about God-given ability." Ren tilted his head, then seemed to remember something. "There was this kid I knew a few years back what could whistle through his nose. He got captured once, and when our gang was looking for him, we heard that whistle and came run-" I didn''t put my fist away, instead keeping it ready, just incase. "Not that kind of talent. I''m speaking of the ability that allows me to go beyond what common men can. Haven''t you ever wondered how I could kick a half-ton demon-dog several feet?" Ren looked up at me, slightly confused. "I always thought you was just a weirdo." I resisted the urge to use my fist again. "...well, the reason I can do those things is because of Faith." "...that''s damn vague, Cys." "Faith, is what separates men of god from men of the world. Any man can use a measure of magic, but only those selected by God himself can use Faith. It strengthens us, it quickens us, it protects us, it heals us, and, if use correctly, can even...encourage belief." "...you mean you brainwashed them?" I shrugged. "Not really. No more than a man skilled in rhetoric could, if given time. Faith just...hastens the process. Though, I myself am somewhat strange." My men began to filter out from alleys, and assemble before me, their section of the city cleansed. I tapped my chin. "At the place where I received my training as an acolyte, we were introduced to using Faith as a tool in conversion. Instead of being able to influence a roomful of people like a true bishop would, we instead practiced on individual criminals that had been handed over to the church. Many of the acolytes found it difficult to persuade the men to give up on their crimes, but for me, the problem was...a bit of the opposite." "I was...too good at converting the men. So good, in fact, that the process usually drove them insane. They would try to kill everyone they thought showed signs of sin, or unbelief in God. Unfortunately, many of the men I ministered to had to be executed..." Ren looked at me. "...you mean you just set fifty psychopaths loose on a city?" "...I''ve gotten better..." Still, I was quite proud of myself. The process of separating Faith from my own body, and letting it sink into others, had always been difficult for others, but I''d found the action to be natural, almost like breathing. The hardest part had been doing so gradually, not moving so quickly that the mind lost all reason, but moving just fast enough to...warp it. When all fifty had gathered before me, not a single one missing, the stones beneath them looked as if they had been painted crimson. But they all stood straight, eyes forward, not looking at anything, but seeing everything. I took a deep breath. "WHAT ARE WE?!" With strength, though every one of them must be exhausted from no sleep and hours of slaughter. "SINNERS IN THE EYES AND MIND OF GOD!" "WHAT HAVE WE TAKEN THE FIRST STEP IN BECOMING!?" With a thunderous force that maybe, just maybe, reached heaven. "SOLDIERS IN THE ARMY OF GOD!" "AND WHAT WILL WE DO!?" "KILL THE HERETICS! KILL! KILL! KILL!" I bowed my head, all fifty and Ren copying my movement. "Now, let us offer thanks to god. Then, begin the work of gathering his lost sheep." """Let us do the work of God!""" I smiled. I will take this city that would throw a man into a pit to die, and turn it into a bastion of faith in God. Let Every man Live in faith. #5.5 -HG-1- Chapter 11 (Guest entry) Please note this is a guest entry.
Uhhh. I hope it''s vivid enough. This is not PG material. Probably skip the chapter if you can''t do 18+ material. Beefed the chapter up. Warning: Graphic chapter, disturbing content. 18+ is advised. ¡°You won¡¯t leave?¡± Ann asked. ¡°So you¡¯ll stay here while we sleep?¡± Kite glanced over at April and pulled lightly on his shoulders. ¡°Well, Yes.¡± Ann glared at him. ¡°I can¡¯t allow that.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not night yet and It¡¯s your turn,¡± April said. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll play your little game. Truth or dare.¡± She gestured towards Kite. Kite thought for a second. ¡°Dare.¡± A clack resounded as a wooden item was placed on the table. It was a wooden tent peg. Ann pushed it over to Kite. ¡°Put it in your mouth, bite down on it.¡± With a frown, he put it in his mouth sideways and chewed down on it. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed April was staring back and forth between him and the side of the tent. His tongue slid over the peg. It was bumpy, as if someone had already chewed down on it before. Kite spat the peg out. ¡°What the?¡± Ann shook her head, nodding towards him. Your turn. ¡°Truth or dare?¡± Kite asked her. ¡°Hmm. Fine, truth.¡± The entire carriage trembled as Kite hammered his fists into the table. He stood up, grabbed the peg. ¡°What. The. Hell.¡± He threw the peg in front of Ann. ¡°Have you been doing to April?¡± Ann shrugged. ¡°Protecting her from dirty men like you.¡± ¡°Protected? That¡¯s your protection?¡± He glanced over at April. Ann¡¯s head stirred sideways in a light gesture, while her eyebrows climbed up her forehead. ¡°April¡¯s turn.¡± The gaze that met Ann was like a blizzard in April. Unexpected and confusing in this context. ¡°Truth or dare.¡± With a light shrug she answered. ¡°Truth.¡± April rammed her fresh hand into the table. ¡°Have you listened to yourself? You think Kite is bad? You¡¯re the one¨C¡± ¡°Truth or dare.¡± Ann said, looking at Kite. April¡¯s eyes became like daggers. ¡°It¡¯s not his turn yet.¡± Ann put a hand towards Kite. ¡°Touch her.¡± ¡°Wha¨C¡± Ann¡¯s voice carried small specks of her saliva as they escaped her mouth. ¡°I swear by the nine levels, if you don¡¯t touch her I¡¯ll have you tied down while they flay her alive.¡± Kite ricocheted backwards. ¡°A-ah.¡± April turned towards Kite, while his index finger connected with her fresh shoulder. ¡°Happy?¡± ¡°Lift her skirt,¡± Ann demanded. Kite eyed April. ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± Two fingers approached Ann¡¯s mouth. ¡°All I need to do is whistle. They will flay her.¡± The empty gaze in Kite¡¯s face, as if expecting something from April was enough. April¡¯s cheeks flushed and she gave a weak nod. Kite¡¯s hand crept lower and lower on April, latching onto her skirt. He pulled it up, letting it slide over her knee. The chair tumbled to the ground as April was torn from it. Her back collided with the table, and both her and Kite¡¯s faces landed on Ann. ¡°This angle. Lift her skirt,¡± Ann said. Kite¡¯s eyes darted around and he swallowed hard before his eyes fell on April¡¯s. Her eyes were wide, her face was red like a tomato. A hand slid up her leg as the skirt gave way. His heart threatened to burst, his hands shivered, on tapping her soft skin in the process. She looked so vulnerable. Her leg was in a splint, her arm, bandaged. Even if she had wanted to, she could not muster any resistance, had Kite decided to do something she did not want. In a way, Kite had all full control over her and her entire body. Yet he shivered. He did not want this power in the first place, nor did he wish to go against April''s wishes. Their eyes connected. Her light blue eyes absorbed him, as though they had entered a separate reality. A reality without Ann. Her rose like scent took over his entire nose, all the way into the back of his throat. Her warm but moist skin made his fingers tingle. Time ground to a halt and for a single moment, as they just stared at each other. April''s hand came to rest on top of his hand, and the soft touch made his shivering stop. She placed her fingers on top of his, dragging his entire hand. The skirt slid over her upper thighs, yet their eyes remained locked. ¡°Higher.¡± A voice demanded, and the hand continued over her soft skin, sliding over the hard surface of her hip bone. She dragged the hand onto her belly. It was like sliding fingers over silk, yet warmer. Small specks of sweat from April¡¯s belly clung to the fingers, dragging a tiny trail of liquid behind. ¡°Towards the middle,¡± the voice demanded. His hand slid across her belly, touching an indention. Her belly quivered, and a slight smile showed on April¡¯s face. Was she ticklish? The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Kite¡¯s knees felt like jello. It took all his will to remain standing. His heart hammered inside his chest and had he decided to speak, not a single word would leave his mouth. Her gaze had changed. The fear in her eyes were gone, replaced by an ever so gentle smile. She pushed his hand downwards. ¡°Down.¡± The voice commanded, moments too late. Kite¡¯s heart beat even faster. Had he ran a marathon, it might not have been beating as fast. His face radiated heat all the way down his neck. Specks of sweat drizzled down his throat as he swallowed. His fingertips were tickled by a myriad of tiny feather tips, like he had moved his fingers over his own forearm. It was firmer to the touch than before. The feather tips stopped, and his fingers came to a halt on a small but soft plateau. The warm skin would move aside from even the slightest pressure, yet ahead of his fingers was nothing but air. "Down," The voice demanded. A light pressure from April''s finger resting on top of his, let the soft flesh split open, allowing his finger to slide into a small indention. The soft skin pressed on both sides of his finger. Across a small smooth surface his finger was led, letting it become wet, as though the very tip had just connected with a pool of water. April exhaled a burst of sharp breaths from her mouth, her eyes halfway closed, yet still staring directly into his eyes. Her cheeks were still flushed in pink. His finger crossed a small slippery sphere. She exhaled from the bottom of her lungs as the finger slid across. The hand paused, for just a moment. April¡¯s mouth opened ever so slightly. Skin slid across wood. The skin pressing the sides of his finger disappeared. His index finger was pushed downwards once more, touching upon a rounded bone, covered by her soft skin. The curved skin led towards an even deeper indentation. Kite¡¯s finger dipped to the first joint. It was warm. It was wet, but most of all, it was squishy and soft on all sides of his finger, yet when the finger moved into any of the soft flesh, it would be met with a firmness, like bone was not far behind. April¡¯s chin shot up, along with her back. Had she tried, she may have been able to fit her hand in the space between her back and the table. She took a deep breath. Her hand hesitated. For a moment feeling like an eternity, his finger soaked in the warmth and wetness all around it. The warmth seeped through his finger, all the way into his arm. His mind threatened to give out. The finger continued downwards, never dipping further, pressing against the soft flesh toward the bottom. The texture changed, like the skin between the thumb and index finger when furthest away from each other. A rounded piece of skin, which despite being firm would give way when pushed even the slightest. Her hand paused. Her face turned beet red before she lifted the hand from her skin, pushing it towards Kite. Kite stumbled a few steps backwards, the chair April had once sat on slid across the floor behind him, before he collapsed into the chair. April¡¯s legs slid together and she let out a deep sigh. ¡°Smell it.¡± The voice commanded. Kite''s eyes rested on April, unmoving. Her head gave a short nod. April¡¯s smell, like a mixture of the rosy scent around her and a softer variant of the acidity from a lemon. A sweet smile blinded Kite. He smiled back, before their gazes wandered to each their side. ¡°Do you understand now?¡± Ann said. April looked at her, like she had been blindsided by the question. Her light voice quivered into a brief sound resembling a question. ¡°Huh?¡± Ann''s eyebrows quivered. "Do you understand now?" April looked to Kite with a gentle smile. Had eyes been able to speak, hers would have said ''thank you''. A faint smile cracked on his lips in return. "You filthy," Ann''s flat hand raised above her head, staring directly at April, who rose an arm in her defense, letting out a small whimper. "Hey!" Kite leapt to his feet. "What the hell''re you doing?" The arm came to a halt. ¡°No. It¡¯s not your fault.¡± Like a thousand twisted souls screaming out, Ann¡¯s gaze landed on Kite, who stumbled several steps back. The carriage echoed from Ann¡¯s feet. Kite¡¯s back bumped into the wooden wall. His eyes darted around, like a cornered beast. She lifted her hands, preparing a chokehold. On their own, Kite¡¯s limbs moved. In an instant he had latched onto her wrists, pinning them to the wall. Ann¡¯s eyes grew wide, her face pale. Her pupils narrowed as she started screaming. ¡°No! NO!¡± Her arms flailed, hitting Kite over and over from any conceivable angle. Took several steps back. ¡°Ow, ow! Hey!¡± Ann moved two fingers towards her mouth. A whistle? Kite¡¯s mind went into overdrive. He had to stop it. Somehow. Ann¡¯s fingertips touched her lips. A soft embrace, like that of a mother, stopped her in her tracks. ¡°It¡¯s okay now. You¡¯re safe. It¡¯s over.¡± April had wrapped her arms around Ann. For a moment, Ann¡¯s arms hung down her sides. Then they started their climb, moving under April¡¯s shirt. She gasped in surprise, but offered no resistance. Ann¡¯s ice cold hands moved across April¡¯s warm back, before they locked themselves in an embrace. In a calming voice, April¡¯s voice rung out once more. ¡°Kite is not the man you met.¡± she took a deep breath. ¡°Hurting others isn¡¯t you. Let us help you.¡± She slid her hand onto the back of Ann¡¯s head, pushing to her chest. A muffled voice from beneath April¡¯s shirt rung out. It held none of the authority it once had. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. They¡¯re all like that.¡± Wet spots appeared on April¡¯s shirt. ¡°No.¡± April shook her head. ¡°They¡¯re not.¡± #9 -KMS- Chapter 1 Death comes to all men, in the end. When it comes, most people cry out in fear, in outrage, in stubbornness. They plead. "Please sir, don''t kill me!" "I''m too young to die!" "I''m not ready yet!" "Why me?" And, my personal favorite, "It''s not fair!" After such a long time of taking the lives of others, I feel that death is no longer really a big deal. I am not afraid. If I were, it would be an insult to every brave man I ever killed. I am not outraged. If I was, how could I face those men that looked me in the eye and forgave me while I stole their life? I am not stubborn. Of this, I am most certain. Being determined to stay alive is simply not in my character. To have the urge to live, you must first care about your own life. At this point, I always fail to proceed. When you see lives as little more than light, expendable things, your own tends to get mixed up in the jumble of others. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Emotion. I know the word. I can taste it in my mouth, I can see it in their eyes, I can hear it in a mans anger, in a woman''s grief, in a child''s fear, and at times I believe I can even smell it in a crowd roused to anger. But I cannot feel it. Death comes to all men, in the end. When it comes, most people cry out in fear, in outrage, in stubbornness. When my time is come, I hope they do one thing. Kill me slowly. #5.5 -HG-1- Chapter 12 (Guest entry) Please note this is a guest entry.
With teary eyes, Ann looked up at April. ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± she said. ¡°They¡¯re all like that.¡± ¡°No they¡¯re not.¡± April shook her head. ¡°Where do you think we are?¡± Ann shouted. ¡°The moment I show weakness, it will all collapse.¡± The door sprung open. Ann shoved April away, putting on a tough face. ¡°Sam. What is it?¡± He eyed Kite and April. ¡°I guess i won''t have to ask how you ended in this circle of hell.¡± he sighed. ¡°Humans are so disgusting creatures.¡± ¡°Humans?¡± April asked. ¡°Ah shut your filthy mouth. You enjoy other humans bodily fluids like the rest of your kind around here,¡± Sam said. Ann took a step closer. ¡±We''re not attacking the castle.¡± He shook his head. ¡°No, that was a lie.¡± ¡°You manipulated me.¡± She took a step closer. ¡°Who better to lead an army from the circle of lust, than she who came to enjoy being treated like a dog?¡± ¡°I didn''t.¡± she took a step back.¡±I never enjoyed even a second.¡± Sam opened a closet, pulling out a nine tailed whip. ¡°Bet you''re getting wet, just thinking about these leather knots. The crack they make as they hit your naked skin.¡± ¡°No.¡± Ann went pale as she took a step back. ¡°That''s not true.¡± A pair of hands came to rest on her shoulders, as her back collided with something soft behind her. ¡°Leave.¡± April said, glaring at Sam. ¡°I would have,¡± Sam said. ¡°I don''t want to watch when you disgusting humans succumb to your desires and commit violence against god.¡± He smirked. ¡°But I won¡¯t have to. You will join the army, like it or not.¡± The wooden caravan door slammed open behind him. Oliver, holding a crossbow darted into the caravan. ¡°We gotta go. Now. There''s demons everywhere.¡± Sam turned around, grasping the crossbow. ¡°And we will get you too.¡± ¡°Ann!¡± April''s voice range out, as Ann leapt, ramming into Sam. He staggered and swung the whip. A loud crack echoed as nine leather knots connected with Ann''s back. She let out a short groan. Oliver kicked the leg away from under the staggering Sam, and he fell to the floor, landing on top of the crossbow. A mechanical clank echoed, as blood splattered onto Oliver''s pants. Oliver¡¯s eyes swept over Sam several times before he finally looked up at Ann. ¡°You OK?¡± Ann shook her head. ¡°But we don''t have time to for that. Status?¡± ¡°People are dragged away by,¡± Oliver was momentarily distracted by the corpse in front of him again. ¡°horned leaping demons. Lots of them. We¡¯re pretty screwed.¡± Ann grasped the whip and darted for a small pack in the other end of the room.¡°We¡¯re leaving.¡± ¡°Kite, a hand?¡± April said, barely balancing on a single fresh leg and a limp one with a splint. Kite nodded. ¡°I can''t run with you. I''ll be over encumbered.¡± ¡°I''ll help. Crossbow guy, carry this will ya?¡± Ann dropped the small brown pack with the top of a nine tailed whip sticking out, grasping April''s shoulder. ¡°Ow Ann! that''s where the bolt went.¡± Ann leaned over whispering something to April whose face flushed. ¡±Why are you telling me that?¡± Ann winked back. ¡°Let''s go.¡± Oliver put the crossbow over his shoulder. ¡°As soon as I open, we run.¡± ¡°Ready?¡± he pulled the door open. ¡°Go!¡± The four of them sprinted towards the woods, April¡¯s feet tapping across the ground as she was lifted from it. Yet the moment they turned for the forest, a horned demon noticed them. Like a giant bunny on crack, it leapt towards them at blinding speed. ¡°Crap, faster!¡± Oliver said. ¡°I''m trying,¡± Kite replied. ¡°I''ll try to shoot it.¡± Oliver said. ¡°If you miss we won¡¯t get another chance.¡± Ann said. the horned demon leapt closer, only a few jumps behind. April held herself up in their shoulders, spinning around. ¡°Hold me. I''ll shoot.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a terrible shot with a bow. And wounded.¡± Oliver protested. The demon leapt again, only two leaps away now. ¡°Pass me the fucking crossbow. I''m a sniper, not an archer.¡± Oliver threw the crossbow to her. With two hands under her butt, as a sort of seat and a crossbow in hand, she took aim. The demon leapt again. The crossbow bumped and danced, making it impossible to aim. The beast prepared the final leap. She slowly exhaled and pressed the trigger. The demon leapt. Clank. The bolt spun in the air, drilling a hole in the middle of the demons head. April sighed In relief as the corpse slid across the ground, landing right behind her. For a moment they merely ran, until the encampment was out of sight. ¡°April,¡± Ann said, before holding her tongue. ¡°Am I too heavy?¡± ¡°No it''s about what you said before.¡± She pondered for a second before sighing. ¡°Never mind, let¡¯s talk about that later. You''re killing Kite.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± April looked at him. Kite was as red as a tomato. ¡°What?¡± April asked. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Ann wiggled her fingers under April''s butt. ¡°You forgot to bring panties.¡± April flushed red. ¡°Hey, stop that!¡± The rest of the way she was helped by the shoulders, but even without her panties, April had brought a thick atmosphere to the air. Nobody said a word until they arrived at a familiar Gray stone building. ¡°We just escaped this place.¡± Oliver said. Ann pointed at the building. ¡°This is the wall. Beyond lies the third circle of inferno. Inside, the forces of the second circle, lust.¡± ¡°So why¡¯re we here?¡± Oliver asked. ¡°Because we ran like hell?¡± Ann said, brushing her golden hair aside. ¡°I heard the escape from hell is past the last circle. We can go back to earth. That¡¯s what I¡¯ll do.¡± Kite stared at April, who nodded to him. ¡°But,¡± Kite said. ¡°Do we have to go with her?¡± ¡°Do you know the way to the last circle?¡± Oliver asked. ¡°Does she?¡± Kite said. ¡°Who said I even want to go with you?¡± Ann said, finger pointing at Kite. ¡°We will all go together.¡± April said. ¡°Unless anyone wish to go alone.¡± Kite and Ann stared at each other, as if holding a staring contest where the loser would be alone. Kite glanced towards April, letting his gaze fall back on Ann. ¡°Look, just because we¡¯re companions now, doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ve forgotten what you did.¡± Ann rolled her eyes. ¡°Oh don¡¯t give me that. You liked it you pig.¡± Faint red cheeks. ¡°That¡¯s not the part I¡¯m talking about.¡± ¡°You mean the panties? Humph you¡¯re welcome, pervert.¡± Kite¡¯s face grew redder. Whether with embarrassment or anger, nobody could tell. He did start to yell, however. ¡°You know exactly what I¡¯m talking about. Don¡¯t pretend otherwise.¡± ¡°Will you stop arguing like I¡¯m not right between you?¡± April said. ¡°We¡¯re getting out of here before anyone finds us. Ann, how do we get past?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Ann said. ¡°Man, you''re as useful as the luck stat,¡± Kite said. ¡°We could try climbing it,¡± Oliver suggested. April tapped her broken leg. ¡°You¡¯d have to leave me behind.¡± ¡°Under?¡± Oliver said. ¡°Too slow the demons would track us first.¡± Kite replied. Oliver sighed. ¡°Through it is.¡± Kite pointed over his shoulder at the forest behind. ¡°Don''t worry, we didn''t cross a flower field. It''s not where we came from.¡± Ann put her fingers on Aprils wounded shoulder. April pulled back. ¡°Ow! Hey what was-¡± ¡°Let me see it.¡± ¡°Here? Now?¡± April asked. ¡°Infection.¡± April pulled her shirt to the side. ¡°Take it off.¡± Ann demanded. ¡°If you had given me a bra.¡± April said. Kites face grew red once more. With a shrug, Ann pulled the bandage to the side. April''s skin was deep red with a lump of dried blood in the middle, where the bolt had entered. ¡°Tsch. looks pretty bad. We need to treat that.¡± ¡°how did you¡­¡± April said. ¡°You were sore earlier. More than before.¡± She eyed the wall. ¡°We¡¯ve got no time. I''ll get you over.¡± Ann grabbed a small familiar sphere from the pack Oliver carried. She passed it to April. ¡°Hold this.¡± April looked at the gray sphere that had once sat in the mouth of a nephilim. ¡°What¡¯re you going to¨C¡± Ann picked April up in a princess carry. ¡°ugh. Heavy heavy.¡± ¡°I''m not that-¡± April said. ¡°Just hurry and put it in my mouth.¡± Ann said. ¡°Like so?¡± April¡¯s fingers pressed the gray sphere in between Ann¡¯s lips. Immediately Ann straightened up, setting into a sprint towards the wall. She ran straight up the wall, landing on top of it, ten human heights above Kite and Oliver. Ann spat the sphere out, which rolled off of April and bounced on the bricks with a metallic clank. She heaved for air, sitting in her knees, looking down at April. She was pale and her eyes were wide, pupils narrow, as though she had seen the memories of a thousand lost souls. She slipped her hands from under April and darted to the other edge of the wall, emptying the contents of her stomach into the depths of the other side. Ann wiped her mouth. ¡°Did you know that would happen?¡± Ann nodded. For a while, April just stared at her in an awkward silence. ¡°You okay?¡± Ann took a deep breath. ¡°I-i think so.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± Ann looked in April¡¯s direction with a puzzled look. The side of April¡¯s lips curved upwards.. ¡°For helping me.¡± ¡°No, Shh. You hear that too?¡± Ann said. A faint voice echoed deep in the halls below. April nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s go check it out.¡± ¡°Are you mad?¡± Ann said. ¡°It¡¯s probably guards. We should get outta here.¡± ¡°What if it¡¯s not?¡± April said. Ann grabbed her blonde hair, pulling it. ¡°Don¡¯t you get it? Better safe than super dead.¡± April shook her head. ¡°Sounds like a scream. Why would guards scream? I¡¯ll go check it out.¡± ¡°What, you gonna limp there?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± April said, as she stood up. Ann sighed. ¡°Crap. Wait up.¡±
Oh god this was so uninspired. I''ll do better next chapter. #10 -TPUO- Chapter What Lord of the universe, slayer of a thousand gods, ruler of a billion worlds, the man or had it all sat upon a throne of diamonds. At that very moment, he declared, with a loud voice, "FUCK THIS, I''MMA SHOVEL SHIT FOR A LIVING!" And thus, he summoned a truck above his head and commited ritual suicide in the manner of his father, and his father before him. How did getting crushed by a truck become a family tradition...? Why, because this owner of a bajillion peacocks had obviously killed off all his siblings with his unique magic: Truckmancy. The most powerful magic system ever created, it had the power to do pretty much anything at exactly the correct time. How did it do this...? Why, magic of course! (Shh, if you poke holes in it this early, there''re bound to be babies, and nobody wants that.) As the destroyer of a ridiculous number of TVs entered the cycle of reincarnation, because honestly, even goddamn butterflys get reincarnated, so of course the goddamn lord of the universe will, that is, get into the goddamn reincarnation cycle. Goddammit. Feels a bit like getting flushed down the toilet... --- dodododDODODODODO! "Hello master. Have you awoken?" Awake, (Obviously, you little piece of-) this primidonna of godly nature rose and stood within the majestic hall of majesticicity. Which is a word. That I made up just now. Which is still a word. Looking towards this small, pink, tiny, puny, cute, glowy girl, standing at six inches tall, slender and with wings on her back, a soft face that gave the impression of a woman between her 16-18s, that grey area that is responsible for 60% of incarcerations due to underage fucking-uh, sex, you know, jailbait, not that you''d be able to fit an erect penis into the vagina belonging to someone 6 inches tall, so in fact she wouldn''t be catagorized as jailbait, since she really isn''t tempting anyone, being too small to fuck. Not that it would be alright if she was full-size. "...are you going to answer my question, Master?" The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. "Gimme a sec, the author is eating a poptart, and doesn''t want to get the keyboard sticky." "..." "..." "Is he done?" "Not yet, he made two, so it''ll be awhile." "..." "..." "How about now?" "Well, the, keyboard is already sticky, a little more probably won''t make a difference. I can now respond to your question, and wtih a question of my own." "Please, ask away." "Yeah, of course I''m awake, ya dumb bish. Why the fuck is a tiny little girl of the approximate age to charm men into prison currently six inches tall and flying?" Flitting from side to side,"I''m your servant fairy, Master! I was granted to your reincarnated form in order to compensate for the massive loss in power you experienced in death! Ehe~" "Then, what can you do?" "Why, show you your status, of course! "
Status
Name: Undecided Titles: None
Strength: 6 Wisdom:5 Agility:6 Constitution:2 Intelligence:-9999999999-Err0r- Dexterity: Fumbling Dumbass Mind: Gutter Aptitude: -Laughing Noises- Charisma: ... Perception: Blind, dumb, deaf, and dumb Luck: I believe in karma Skills: -Laughing noises- Racial traits: Being a bitch Social standing: You know that gum that gets stuck to your shoe? Yeah, now imagine that gum becomes the king of the universe, with trillions of nobles. As the ranks get lower, the numbers get exponentially larger, until the slaves serving the slightly higher class slaves that in turn serve the actual slaves, is number that approaches googleplex, which in turn all have a collective bitch. You are that bitch, to the slaves of the slaves of the slaves of the serfs of the serfs of the..............of the God-emperors that serve that piece of gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe. Bacteria has more weght in their opinion than you do, though at least you share a trait with bacteria, which is not having a brain. Purpose in life: -Err0r, missing-
"I get the subtle feeling I''m being insulted." "What gave youthat impression?" "In perception, it says dumb twice." "OOOOOH! I didn''t think you''d notice that, what with your intelligence causing an error in the system! Here, the reward for acomplishing a feat of wisdom unthinkable of you is this: +1 Wisdom! Congratulations, you''re now a whole 2 thirds as smart as an average person!" "Shouldn''t you have increased my perception, since I noticed something...?'' "...I don''t appreciate you telling me how to do my job, bub. Just for that, I''m giving you -1 Constitution." "Whatever." proceding to look around, this adonis of godly power noticed he couldn''t see anything. "Hey, Tiny Jailbait, why is everything a blurred-out mess?" "Silly stupid idiot bitch, your perception stat is too low to see more than .001 inches in front of your face, duh!" "I see. That will make my quest a bit more difficult...but, I shall prevail." "What gives a useless dickless sad piece of shit like you such confidence?" "Why, the nature of my quest! I seek to do justice, to save the world, to slay a dragon! But, most importantly, my quest is... To piss you off!" #HAHAHA -P- Chapter Kill Me Some 1 As I stated clearly in the prologue, all the information required to understand what is going on for this entire story is placed right in there. Also, Unicorn-Rapists. That will be important later. Got that? Let''s move on. Holding onto the slimy bugger that reminded me of a cross between a snail, a slug, and a fantasy dwarf, I refused to throw up. My stomach then vetoed my heads'' decision, and took executive action, effectively placing my body under a temporary dictatorship. Because many different societies made up my body, all with several different warring factions of their own, this new-found total control by a foreign entity caused them to forget their differences, for the moment, and rise up in glorious revolution, which took the form of puke. In short, without all of the political claptrap, I vomited all over the slimy bugger, though his slimyness seemed to decrease, my vomit diluting its'' natural slime, and making it into a more disgusting, yet somehow somewhat aweinspiring puke-slime. Are you thoroughly grossed out yet? Please, don''t answer in the affirmative. Trust me, if this makes you sick, you''ve already come too far. Just stop now. Also, one of the laws in Alabama clearly states that, in the event of a loss in the fight to the death, it is illegal to train a pet hawk to hunt down your victorious opponent and take vengeance, under the 1991 amendment to the states'' law. What? You think I''m joking? Look it up. I''m as serious as can be, and I did research on this, for your information...by the way, why is it called re-search, if I''ve only ever done it this once...? Nonetheless, it''s a real law. Moving on, the slimy bugger seemed somewhat put out at being hurled on. I felt that this was a very human emotion, and so decided that maybe I didn''t have to kill it. Setting it back on the ground, I took another look around myself, for the sake of those fucking idiots who skipped the prologue. I mean, jurglenir, what kind of brainless zombie would skip perhaps the most important part of this whole story? Obviously you, because if your reading this it means you did skip the prologue, as that''s the only reason you would pay attention to these nonsense words, and not use the secret code I put in the prologue. Really, this must sound like a bunch of weird shit to the dumb fucks that don''t have the basic intelligence to just use the secret code, jeez. Ouy t''nera, etarepsed er''ouy? Sdrawkcab gnidaer ouy era yhw? I stood in the middle of a circle of grass, about the size of a baseball field, and around me perhaps two-hundred other people were also looking around wonderingly. Also, a mountain happened to be floating, with a waterfall making a rainbow in the air and everything. Did I mention the water was falling up, and then transforming into snow, which then went upwards and became clouds, which floated away? Oh well, I of course explained all of the rules of physics in this world in the prologue already, so no need to re-explain that, since even the fools that skipped the prologue to start the first chapter will have definitely given up by now. No, if someone as foolish as that were to get this far, their stupidity wouldn''t be of the normal type, it would be worthy of praise, even! And so, a prize, to reward the foolishness of people. You are helping to fulfill my goal, which I stated in the prologue. So, what do Unicorn-Rapists, a law regarding hawk-vengeance, and the prologue have to do with each other? Well, to start off with, let''s begin with an explenation of Unicorn-Rapists.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. They''re people who go around fucking magical horses with horns against their consent. Now, before you read the next line, answer this question with one word. What part of this description is wrong? Have you got an answer yet? If you don''t, I''ll kick you. I mean it, I''m good at kicking. I actually didn''t mention that in the prologue, which is strange... Well, the answer to the question is...those bastards weren''t asking for consent! It''s one thing to fuck magical horses with horns, but it''s another thing entirely to do it against their will! That''s just plain jacked-up. Now, answer me another question. What''s wrong with this answer? Have you got an answer yet? I''ll wait. Just kidding, I won''t, and if you stopped reading to think of a suitable answer, I hope you know you''re one ofthose people who take everything far too seriously. The answer? I ignored a crucial, integral part of what it means to be a Unicorn-Rapist. You see, you''re not gonna believe this, but... Unicorns aren''t real. So if someone called you a Unicorn-Rapist, not only do they sound like a pussy, but they also seem like an idiot. You probably made yourself an argument for the first question I asked saying something like, ''well, bestiality is pretty wrong, duh.'' or maybe, ''uh, unicorns have x horns, actually, so shut the fuck up.'' If you thought either of these things, you''re an idiot. Now, onto the next part. Let''s talk about the law. Is it actually illegal to train a hawk to take vengeance for your defeat in a battle to the death? Obviously not, that''s a stupid law. If you lose in a battle to the death, you''re dead. Idiot, how would you train a hawk when you''re dead? You probably think the law itself is fake, but it''s not. It would be against the law, if death itself didn''t already take care of the problem of fowl vengeance being exacted. Heh, fowl vengeance. I''m funny. If you actually looked up whether this law was real or not, it matters not what you found, you''re a fool for thinking this law could exist at all. And finally, let''s move to the last subject. Do you remember what I''ve said about the prologue? Remember what I said about it letting you understand everything in the story? How you''re a fool if you didn''t read the prologue first? About how it contains a secret code, that could let you see something other people haven''t? Have you noticed how I repeatedly called you a fool, an idiot, and stupid, if you didn''t already read the prologue? Now, let me ask another question, and this time, answer in your heart. For real this time. Does the prologue exist, or was it a tool I used to unjustly insult you and waste your time? I''ll give you a second. ... Now, I bet you''re thinking I''m going to tell you the answer, but in truth, even if I told you I''d written the prologue, odds are, if you decided it was only a tool to insult you and waste your time, then even if I showed you proof that the prologue exists, because you decided in your heart that it doesn''t, then it won''t. And, if for some, odd, weird reason, you believe me when I say that I''ve written the prologue and just haven''t posted it, and I put up a thread titled, ''prologue,'' you''d find meaning for this story. If you looked long enough, you''d find a secret code, even if I didn''t put it in there. Why? Because you decided in your heart that it exists, and so, it will. So, what is the correct answer, and what is the wrong answer? The correct answer, is that the prologue is religion. Take from that what you will, and goodnight. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYY DID THEY TAKE MY SAVED DRAFTSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!! ...oh, and also, this is actually a real fiction I''m starting, I just got a little sidetracked with calling you stupid...I mean, saying something deep and profound. Shit. Remember how I started this post off with me saying Unicorn-Rapists and puke-slime? Just think about that the next time you''re reading the Torah. i''m certain it will help enduce a spiritual experience in you. Or the experience of being yelled at by your mom for giggling for no reason. Either way, I win, fulfilling my purpose I stated in the prologue. Which is real, by the way. #7 -KQ- Chapter 3 Tightening the extra-soft bathrobe made with the silk bought for a fortune from eastern traders, woven with gold for no practical reason but simply because the person that commisioned this robe was a luxury maniac. Though, having only been wiped with towels was unsatisfying. I had been forbidden bathing for obvious reasons, but a toy must be kept neat. Oh, sorry, did I say toy? I meant doll. Whoops, my tongue slipt, I really meant king. If you can call a figurehead that. Whistling unconcernedly and tone-deafedly, I casually kicked over a bucket of water sitting next to one of the three servants in charge of washing me. The man panicked and reached towards it, but was too late to stop the water from spreading across the mosaic marble floor. Instantly, apologies came from the man. Funny, how alike a king is to priests, god, and executioners. Everyone always starts off conversations with, "I''m so sorry," and, "Please forgive me," and, "I''ve done wrong," and bullshit. It gets a annoying after awhile. Still, I''m a benovolent dol-king, so I of course offered forgiveness to the man, which calmed him and the other two down. Once they had relaxed, I purposefully took a confident, heel-led step onto the slick marble. While looking at the ceiling, I suddenly felt like a heterocromatic, darkskinned, clumsy, and decidedly unfinished woman, that ocasionally liked to scale city walls. I''m wondering if I haven''t hit my head today already. Well, even if I have, I''m about to do so again, and this time... Suddenly, the ceiling stopped retreating, and gravity seemed to have lost its'' grip on me. Around my body, sure, strong arms cradled me. A thinly smiling face appeared above me, dark hair framing sleek, sharp lines making up a face. I look into those eyes that appeared closed, and in monotone, "Any chance you can let go, Pain in the Ass?" "I''m not an overly used meme, Your Majesty, so no." Biji did not change her expression in the slightest. I looked towards the three servants, and sighed. "You three can go. The matter of my cleanliness has been taken care of. The matter of my migraine is about to multiply, I suspect..." directing an accusing gaze towards Biji, "You''re supposed to be in a forest on the outskirts of the kingdom, hunting down wolves. What are you doing in the palace, or, more importantly, my personal bathing chamber? I didn''t take you for the type to shirk their duty to spy on their boss in the shower..."This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. No change in expression, but the tone of a cheerful, dutiful subordinate kept flowing from the wretched mouth of someone who denied a person their personal right. "My apologies, Your Majesty. I''m currently bedridden with an illness that occured in my weakness while doing overtime. As such, I was given a weeks'' leave from duty, by your seal." "You goddamn hypocrite, if you''re bedridden and off duty, what in the sixteen hells are you doing here?" "Unfortunately, this servant of yours is a lecherous hypocrite, who qoute-unqoute, "shirks their duty to spy on their boss in the shower," but because of the limitations of the law, this servant of yours is protected by your seal of leave, and am thus not liable to be held account for her actions. Please bear through it while I shamelessly defile your chastity with my eyes." "...defiling is good and all, but could you either put me on the ground or let me stand up? Being held in this position is somewhat...damaging for my pride." Biji nods, and sweeps me off my feet and into a princess carry. "Then, please allow me to st-put you to bed." "You were gonna say strap! Hey, Pain in the Ass, you almost said you''d strap me into bed!" I struggled, doing my best to protect my own self, but unfortunately I was defeated in the face of Bijinors'' strength. Without pausing, she continued to transport me into the other room which contained my ridiculously huge bed. "I am ashamed, my Lord, but one of the laws you yourself passed gave full rights to the guard-captain to restrain the king when insanity, corruption, intoxication, and other conditions affecting mental capacity are present in the king." "Yes, but that was only passed to aleviate some pressure from all of the citizens angry from my fathers'' rule! And I''m not any of those things!" "I''m sorry, Your Majesty, but the court physician has diagnosed you with terminal depression, which falls under the catagory of insanity as you no longer have the survival instincts present in all other humans. Thus, you have a mental condition, and can be lawfully restrained at any time." My denial fell on ears as deaf as my tone. After firmly strap- ahem,securring me to the bed with recenlty-installed leather straps, Biji then sat on a chair next to the bed, and opened a book. A serious of coughs came. As time went on, the coughing became worse, until Biji collapsed in her chair. I sighed, the sat up. Testing the restraints, they were too firmly set into the posters of the bed to be ripped free, and the leather too strong to snap. So, I tore the posts from the bed, the wood cracking and snapping. Biji didn''t wake up, a testament to how sick she was. I got off the bed, and stood before the weakly coughing guard captain, then picked her up and placed her on the bed before leaving the room. Here I am, almost alone in the palace, with an incapacitated Biji. "Mental condition my ass." I went ''kukuku'' as I stealthily left my suite. Time to tour my own kingdom... "Where are the knives?" #7 -KQ- Chapter 4 What does it mean, to kill yourself? Over the years, many people have asked this question. What is it that drives the human mind to suicide? Is it a simple mental disease, that removes the persons'' survival instincts? No, many mentally sound persons have chosen to take their own life. Is it guilt, over crimes done? Certainly, in some cases, the criminal in question retains their morality, and decides to atone with their own life. Is it cowardice, driving the fearful to seek an escape? Indeed, there is a story that illustrates an example of such a case very well. Two magic casters were locked in a duel, but because their strength was comparable, the two agreed to settle the fight with a battle of wits. And so, it was decided that the first would create a maze of lines upon the ground, and the second would attempt to escape. If the second successfuly got out of the maze, the first would die. If the second failed to get out, he would die. The maze was drawn, the magic set, the devil oath taken, and the game began. For weeks, the second attempted to find the way out, but so extensive was the maze that he never found his way out. Finally, he declared that he had won, and killed himself. As the oath judged that the second had successfuly escaped the maze, the first died as well. And so, both perished. Of course, suicide isn''t the moral taught by the teachers who use that story, but it works. And a final question, is suicide a bad thing? I''m not one to tell someone else if they should live or die. The good die young and the evil never grow old. Death is a choice humans must make for themselves. The funniest thing I''ve found when hearing others discuss suicide is this: The speakers always put forth the case of suicide as a question and an answer, but they use the wrong question, and a biased answer. They would have you believe the question is, ''should you,'' and the answer is, ''no.'' But that is ignorant. When you hold a knife against your neck and feel the pulse of your vein push the blade deeper, yet your heart quickens not at all, the question stops being, ''should I,'' and instead becomes, ''when?'' When you lie in the dark and stare into the nothing just waiting, when a person has confronted their own mortality, and found it to not be of worth, when breathing becomes harder than not, when they look in a mirror and see a ghost looking back at them, the answer becomes, ''now.'' So, we return to the question. Is suicide a bad thing? Well, allow me to thrust my opinion deep into your empty head. Suicide is like masturbation. As long as you do it in private, and keep it to yourself, I don''t care what you do. It''s the people who do it in public that are the problem, as those attention-seeking bastards completely ruin unrelated peoples'' days. It''s stupid that some people get off on that, though in the case of masturbation, I guess thatis the point...Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Then again, perhaps trying not to bother other people is what drove them to suicide in the first place. At least they have the sense to not ruin my day with their emotional instability. Sadly, in the case of a king, who''s life is always in the eye of the public, offing myself and masturbation are both difficult. Perhaps the obstructions with accomplishing the one led me to seek the other. A little like love and pain, eh? Though I''ll dive into that topic later. Just a preview, but people who are in pain want love, and people with love are bound to recive pain. Whoops, shoulda added a spoiler tag, oh well...not like anyone is going to listen to a crazy potato on the internet, right? Oh, fuck me. Of course they will, dammit. You see why I want to jerk off?! Er, I mean, jump off...a building. Shit. Fap jokes aside, I was having trouble escaping the castle. The second floor was out, no inspection necessary. Biji would have guards at every staircase leading to anywhere more than a foot off the ground. But besides that, the fireplaces, armories, wine cellars, kitchens, and any other place that had sharp objects or alcohol were patroled regularly. The pantry was the only place not heavily guarded, and as such, I raided that place like a village of hapless peasants. Besides, Biji was underestimating me if she thought simply stopping my passage intot the cellars was going to stop me from getting intoxicated. To be honest, I was quite impressed with castle security. Even while the Guard-Captain was stuck in bed with an illness, a situation in which most employees would jump at to mess around and goof off, the guards weremore alert and exacting in their duty than before. I had no way of knowing, but up until a half-hour ago, that was exactly what was happening. But news of the Guard-Captain flying through the hallways, clearly not bedridden, rumors that this was a way of checking up on the guards to see who should be promoted and laid off had spread throughout the castle. The rumors were started by Biji, of course. Even on leave, she was still working. No wonder the dumb dog is sick. I felt a little prideful while sneaking around. As an assassin, I would''ve had no chance whatsoever of getting past the first few rooms undetected. Still, I''m the king, for all intents and purposes however much my pride is stepped on. As much as Biji threatens to lock me in my room and refuse to give me supper, she''ll never do it. Outside of her, the Vice-Captain, and select members of the royal guard, my suicidal tendencies were kept a total secret. Which, of course, is why I''m getting away from those people. Much easier to get killed around people who think you want to live. Wiping away crumbs from bread I''d filtched from the pantry, and a few drops of whiskey from the flask I''d bribed one of the maids to fetch from the cellar, I straightened my red coat edged with gold thread and adorned with silver buttons, patted down my sharp black trousers, and stepped forward firmly in my comfortable, durable, and above all, stylish, shined black boots. The days when monarchs adorned their heads with ridiculous icesculpture-like formations of gold and jewels had passed, but that does not mean they could dress up in rags. These days, the fashion for kings was flowing robes or ruffles and lace. I, who wore a simple military uniform everyday, could be said to trod upon this trend. To those that say that, I reply in the same why I speak to the guards who stopped me at the door. "I''m the bloody fucking king, you think I give a shit about your opinion? I set the trend." The guards were, of course, confused at the last line, but whatever. Heading towards the training grounds, as they have the largest selection of sharp and blunt objects designed to kill people, second only to wine shops, I whistled a bright tune. I could not tell you what tune it was, but it sure was bright. Like my smile. "As the saying goes, "live every day as if it were your last." I intend to put the saying into literal practice.