I am going to die.
Agamemnon perched awkwardly on the throne, his feet hooked into the elaborate arms of the chair, his back braced against the force cage. He stared down into the dead face of Severin Aerim. Ambient light, filtered through the damned red mist, played off his too-old eyes, making them seem like shimmering portals into the hellish planes.
The cleric looked around the room. Betty, turning her back on the shuddering door she'd barred with her axe, gored at a banshee whirling like a dervish above her; Joq was bouncing off any surface he could find, including the cage of force energy, hurling himself through the air at the undead horror. The banshee, potent though it was, was actually (finally!) having some trouble finding a way to adapt to the bizarre combination of airborne flurry and pure canny might that it found itself in the midst of. Across the cluttered library space Shades had barred the door near him and was surveying the room, his sharp eyes glinting with that by-now familiar combination of fear and cunning: back against the wall, facing overwhelming odds, the Lord of Mosswood's adrenaline-fueled opportunism had kicked in, ready to strike at the first crack in the enemy's defenses. Killingsworth was stood in place, his face slack and strained at the same time - the classic visage of a mind struggling for control of its own body. He was still ambulatory, so it could be Justin had possessed the magus. Agamemnon smirked at the thought of how obstreperous the ghost would find his friend's mind, and at the thought of how desperate the would-be king must be. Agamemnon realised he was right: destroy Severin and the day was theirs.
Agamemnon looked down at the face of the old man. There was a slight smirk on Severin's cracked lips, which moved as if he were trying to speak. Agamemnon felt no surprised as a devouring mist extruded itself into the chamber. He made a token effort to avoid inhalation but he knew it didn't matter. He'd never really expected to leave the confines of the cage. The devouring mist would take him, but not immediately, not in time to stop him destroying the parasitic Justin's anchor, and source of his power and the seat of his sanity.
Even as he felt his body shuddering under the sapping onslaught, as he felt his vitality ebbing away, he grinned even as he grimaced in pain, raised his sword and drove it into the head of the one-king of Skor.
I am going to die.
~~~~~~~~~~
Agamemnon opened his eyes and sat up stiffly. His body was aching. He looked around. He was in a glade, young birch trees swaying in a light breeze, early-morning sun filtering through the slight clouds, making the world pale. He rubbed his head gingerly. He and Snooks had gone drinking one night in the Salty Sabaton. The next morning he'd felt like this. At least this time Snooks wasn't standing beside his bed yelling at him to eat fried pork and drink more beer. Usually when you took rest on the Astral before passing to the place of your ending you felt no pain, but the last few times he had been here Agamemnon had increasingly felt the pain and the injury of his death. He idly wondered why; maybe it was something to do with the weakening of the planar boundaries.
A few minutes passed and he realised the aching and the nausea were not going to diminish. He rolled painfully to his feet and looked around. He didn't feel like he was alone. "Darach? Are you here?"
"I'm here Grazh." The Father of Elves smiled as he approached. Once again he was a relatively average-looking elf, handsome but not beautiful, with tousled fawn-coloured hair and simple green spun clothing.
Agamemnon smiled back. "I'm thinking of building a little cabin here. Somewhere to entertain when I visit."
Darach-Albith nodded. "I hear the Mirrax Marines offer fairly good death insurance. Maybe you should consider it."
The orc laughed, but the mention of Mirrax brought to mind Killingsworth. "Are my friends okay? Did we win the battle?"
"Justin has been dispersed and the undead armies have stood down. You can ask your compatriots for the details when you get back."
Agamemnon nodded, and examined the sky. You could never see the sun in Limbo. Sunlight, sure, but never the sun.
In the distance he saw, out the corner of his eye, a faint movement, a shadow that wasn't a shadow moving delicately between the almost completely still trees. He tried to focus on the movement, but couldn't. It was peripheral, ephemeral. It was something he could always feel near him but never see coming.
"Why is she here?"
Darach Albith inclined his head in her direction. "She is interested in you." He seemed about to say more, then didn't. After a moment he stepped up and placed a hand on the half-orc's shoulder. "Grazh, what's going on?"
Agamemnon shrugged uncomfortably. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. Why do you keep dying?"
Agamemnon laughed, but it sounded forced even to his own ears. "Rappan Athuk is a dangerous place."
"You weren't in Rappan Athuk."
"That's a technicality."
"Yes, and you're a liar." The god was in front of him now, leaning down from a terrible height, looking directly into his eyes. "What are you doing down there Grazh?"
Agamemnon tried to break his god's gaze, but couldn't. Out the corner of his eye he could still see the Pale Lady flitting about between the trees, watching him, listening, taking an interest. "It's scary down there, you know?"
"So what, you're killing yourself out of fear? I don't buy it. Grazh ul'Kesh doesn't flee."
"But it's nice up here. We're all going to be destroyed anyway; I may as well end it up here, away from that place. Dying to Orcus will be torturous, but up here?" He looked around. This fragment of the Astral lacked vitality but it wasn't unpleasant. "Here we can just ... quietly cease."
"Fatalism? Really? Grazh ul'Kesh is not a fatalist."
"You seem to know a lot about what Grazh ul'Kesh is and isn't, elf." Agamemnon was angry. He got up and started pacing. "If you know me so well, dear Father, why don't you stop patronising me and just tell me what the problem is?"
"Fine." Darach-Albith was angry too. The priest tried not to be scared by that. "There is only one thing that Grazh ul'Kesh has ever fled, and that's himself."
Agamemnon blinked. "Is that it? That's all you've got? Some metaphysical bullshit about the self? I expected better."
"Really? You expected better of me? What sort of pathetic greenskin runs out on his friends because he's a widdle bit scared, eh? Is that heroic behaviour? Does that sound heroic to you, orc?"
"I never said I was heroic you son of a bitch," Agamemnon was trying to control his anger, but for the first time since his personal revelation back at Greenhome in the Dales it was taking him over. "I was fine without you. I was a half-orc eking out a living on the outskirts of society until you stuck your nose into my life and fucked everything up."
"Really? You were fine without me, were you? Tell me again what happened to Emi?"
"... you cunt." Before he knew what he was doing Agamemnon had thrown a punch at Darach-Albith. He wasn't even conscious of what he was doing, it was just happening, like it did before, he felt removed from himself, like he was watching for the back of a long, dark hall as his body acted on its own.
"I see you've remembered how to be vile, half-man. I see you've remembered how to be violent." Agamemnon kept swinging as the elf talked, but he was nowhere near connecting any of his punches. "Now try to remember what happened when you did nothing." An image of Emi's beautiful face popped into his mind. He didn't even know who he was punching any more, he just kept charging the elf-god who stepped nimbly past him every time. "Your inaction kills people Grazh. Do you remember that? Do you remember people dying because you wouldn't do anything to save them?" Agamemnon could taste salt on his lips. He was crying. He thought he might be screaming as well.
"Now tell me why you keep dying!"
"WHERE'S MORT?!" The cleric finally landed a punch to the god's chest as Darach-Albith stopped moving and stood there, staring at him, staring into him. "Why did Mort leave me down here alone! Where the fuck is Mort?!" Agamemnon slumped to the ground. He was vaguely aware of Darach-Albith moving to sit next to him. "He was the orc I couldn't be. He was strong, and noble, and then ... he left. He just left. I can't do what he does. We need him. I need him.
"And Snooks. I'm not a good man. I can try, but ... I'm not a good man. Snooks ... Snooks was a good man. And he died. And then Kruin died, and left. They all die, Darach! They all die, or they leave. It's hell down there! You have no idea. It's constant, never-ending horror, and pain, and fear, and I could do it, for a while I could do it, I thought I could survive, I could keep going, I could honour the fallen and protect the living, I could be that man, but then Mort left us, and we were trapped down there in the Bloodways and Darach I'm scared, it's just me and Shades now and then it'll be just me and I'll be alone and I don't want to be alone down there!"
~~~
The two men sat in the glade, looking at the vacant, peaceful sky.
"I'm not going to pretend I didn't point you in the direction of Rappan Athuk. But I've never compelled you to go in. I'm not that sort of god. My friendship doesn't require your obedience, as should be apparent by now. If you don't want to go back, don't. Stay here. Come to my Great Tree and don't return. You will always be welcome there. Or go back and be with your friends, and fight with your friends to try to stop what's happening. It's your decision, Grazh."
Agamemnon nodded. "Grazh ul'Kesh doesn't abandon his friends."
"If you're going back, go back to fight, and to win. Don't be the weak link that the forces of destruction can use to tear apart the Great Downwards Engineering Company. Do you understand?"
Agamemnon nodded again. He lay down on the ground in the centre of the glade. It was peaceful here. He closed his eyes and listened to the faint rustling of the almost completely still leaves. "Thank you Darach. I couldn't see the problem until you showed me." He paused. "Again." He listened for the approaching light that signaled the passage through the planes created by the divine magic of resurrection and let himself fall into it. "I want to be with my friends."
~~~
I am not going to die.
~~~
The two gods stood side by side in the centre of the eternal glade, looking at the Astral sun that only they could see.
"He was obsessed with death."
"He was."
"He could have come to me."
"He could."
"You would not let him."
"No."
"Why?"
Darach-Albith turned to the Pale Lady and smiled. "He's my friend."
She studied his face for an eternity. "A good reason."
Yey or neigh?
Tabitha dropped the blank scroll and sat back with a sigh. "It is done"
Both she and Mort waited a few moments, watching in avid anticipation
Crusher slowly raised his glossy black head, and turned to look at them. Eerily, his lips parted with deliberate intelligence, his mouth opening slowly and a silken voice emerged
"Heed my words, mortals. You would do well to mark this day, for this was the day I ascended.
Know that Devils will think back to this day and prostrate themselves in fear. Angels shall weep blood and tear at their wings. Men will remember me with loosened bowels. Elves will stop in their tracks and sing their songs of mourning. Ogres will hold each other and wail. All will know of me, and that knowledge shall bring terror."
Crushers voice raised strongly, spittle flying everywhere
"I will walk all of the lands on all of the worlds. Trees will wither and die in my wake. Rivers will dry up. Mountains will tear asunder. Gods shall avert their gaze, as not to draw my attention. My merest touch shall destroy, and every breath shall kill.
All life in all the universes will gather to pay me homage. Mares shall line up to receive my seed, and my spawn shall form an army of hoof and flame. They will crush the spirit of all life ever. They will control it all, and they shall shape it and form it into something worthy of me."
Crusher dropped down into a conspiratorial whisper
"Consider yourselves fortunate, for you were the first to know of my glory. You two shall be amongst my most favoured servants."
Mort and Tabitha looked incredulously at each other for a long, awkward moment, before Mort abruptly landed a mighty blow to Crushers head.
"Shut up you stupid horse! Horses don't do stuff like that. You're going to carry me around and maybe bite people I tell you to, that's it"
Tabitha started to softly laugh "Sorry Mort, there is a reason why I don't dabble in the Druidic arts."
"I wanted Crusher to be cool and smart like that parrot Killingsworth has. You turned Crusher into a MASSIVE dick" Mort was arm-waving to emphasise
Tabitha was belly laughing by this point "Well, maybe it's just a bad first impression"
"Well, TURN HIM BACK!" Morts green face was turning a shade of purple.
"Whats done is done Mort. Channel that energy he has towards something useful and maybe he will turn out alright"
Mort sighed heavily before grabbing Crushers reigns. "Come on boy, it's time for you to poop"
"You shall yet live to regret your thoughtless words and actions, mortal" Crusher threatened
"Shutup. You used to be cool"
Both she and Mort waited a few moments, watching in avid anticipation
Crusher slowly raised his glossy black head, and turned to look at them. Eerily, his lips parted with deliberate intelligence, his mouth opening slowly and a silken voice emerged
"Heed my words, mortals. You would do well to mark this day, for this was the day I ascended.
Know that Devils will think back to this day and prostrate themselves in fear. Angels shall weep blood and tear at their wings. Men will remember me with loosened bowels. Elves will stop in their tracks and sing their songs of mourning. Ogres will hold each other and wail. All will know of me, and that knowledge shall bring terror."
Crushers voice raised strongly, spittle flying everywhere
"I will walk all of the lands on all of the worlds. Trees will wither and die in my wake. Rivers will dry up. Mountains will tear asunder. Gods shall avert their gaze, as not to draw my attention. My merest touch shall destroy, and every breath shall kill.
All life in all the universes will gather to pay me homage. Mares shall line up to receive my seed, and my spawn shall form an army of hoof and flame. They will crush the spirit of all life ever. They will control it all, and they shall shape it and form it into something worthy of me."
Crusher dropped down into a conspiratorial whisper
"Consider yourselves fortunate, for you were the first to know of my glory. You two shall be amongst my most favoured servants."
Mort and Tabitha looked incredulously at each other for a long, awkward moment, before Mort abruptly landed a mighty blow to Crushers head.
"Shut up you stupid horse! Horses don't do stuff like that. You're going to carry me around and maybe bite people I tell you to, that's it"
Tabitha started to softly laugh "Sorry Mort, there is a reason why I don't dabble in the Druidic arts."
"I wanted Crusher to be cool and smart like that parrot Killingsworth has. You turned Crusher into a MASSIVE dick" Mort was arm-waving to emphasise
Tabitha was belly laughing by this point "Well, maybe it's just a bad first impression"
"Well, TURN HIM BACK!" Morts green face was turning a shade of purple.
"Whats done is done Mort. Channel that energy he has towards something useful and maybe he will turn out alright"
Mort sighed heavily before grabbing Crushers reigns. "Come on boy, it's time for you to poop"
"You shall yet live to regret your thoughtless words and actions, mortal" Crusher threatened
"Shutup. You used to be cool"
Mr LoverLover
"Hi my name is MORTIMER! Here have these flowers ILikeToEatDoYouLikeToEatLetsEatAtTheSameTimeSometimeIHaveKRERKYAnd...URGHH"
Mortimer awakened to find himself sprawled awkwardly on the ground. A bemused Lady Tolah was looking down at him.
"North gate, an hour before dusk. Remember to breathe next time, pretty boy"
She walks off, trying to contain her mirth
——
Ser Mortimer and the Lady Tolah were a short walk north of the city of Skor. They had found a secluded spot amongst some trees, and were silently enjoying the sounds of nature settling down for the night. The last rays of sunlight were filtering down through the leaves which were rustling gently in the quickly chilling breeze. The pair were enjoying a light dinner of krerky and aside from the soft sound of chewing they were sitting silently.
As the last of the light disappeared, the pair moved closer, the cold making them want to share body heat. Slowly they leaned in, faces almost touching.
“Lady Tolah?” Mortimer whispered
“Yes, Ser Mortimer?” Her reply was barely more than a breath
“Wanna arm wrestle?”
——
"I beat her 4-1 Aggy!” Mortimers face beamed with excitement. After a moment he dropped his voice to barely audible “I let her win that once, I felt bad for her”
Aggy studied his face for a few long moments before replying. “I wish that were somehow a euphemism. Are you seeing her again?”
Mort shrugged “Maybe. She said she might come visit our neck of the woods. I think she just wants to wrestle more. She isn’t very good at it though”
“Your mother has a lot to answer for…” Aggy said with a sigh
“WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY MOTHER?"
Who is that scruffy dwarf?
Not much good gets said of a dwarf who hears the call of the earth. Not even one with a mighty historical name like Dain Stoneheart. "Grashk'ruch' is what the other younglings called him in the wee mining schools, where he refused to swing his pick. Roughly translated into common it means " rockhead", or possibly "stonefish". Dwarfish is a tough language but what's important is the sentiment. Dwarves can convey a lot of meaning with a glance or a nod, neither of which were ever directed at Dain until he was nearly 50 and had been demoted so far that his lot was guiding tourists around the Hold. Not that his clan was thrilled at that either; he spent far too much time talking about the rocks and caves and didn't point out the masterful stonework of the central chasm bridge, or even discuss the golden filigree gates of the temple.
It didn't matter to his kin that Dain could move the earth with a thought; that's undwarfish. It didn't matter that he could hear the wishes of the stones; rocks were for breaking or carving. Dain found himself alone in the foreign land that was his home.
One might call it fate then, when during a tour attended by a Tsarian diplomat, there was an Aberration attack. Jumping quickly in front of the confused group, Dain coaxed the tunnel's rock walls into action and sealed off the passage, crushing the monsters that had almost reached him. The grateful envoy mentioned this to the Hold's Chief Engineer, who certainly didn’t keep his rank by missing opportunities. Dain was quickly promoted to Special Permanent Attache to the Tsarian Council of Magi and the next day found himself on the surface for the first time, headed for Tsar.
After a few weeks of travel sickness and sore hindquarters, Dain found himself even further out of his depth in the city of Tsar. Given no special duties by the clan and all but forgotten by the envoy, Dain was drawn to the sewers below the city, searching for a connection to the earth. These being the infamous catacombs of Tsar that he had wandered into, he was quickly set upon by an Aboleth. During the difficult battle, Dain found and drew upon the same power that he had felt back at home; the earth's power. As he channeled Nature's hatred of the foul creature into the pulsing stone walls of the sewer, something clicked inside him and he felt bizarrely peaceful.
Later, a guard patrol sent to investigate a possible cave-in dug his unconscious form out of the rubble. Captain Tolah remarked that she had never seen a smiling dwarf before, and that it was creepy. After they found the smeared remains of the particularly dangerous foe along the passage floor, Dain was quickly offered a new career that he took to with gusto.
Dain went back to that cave-in during his next day off and cleaned it up good as 'new'. He kept one small pebble, however, and hung it around his neck. When questioned about it, he just says that it keeps him safe.
Bettytaur making choices
---
All who walk under Mitras Sun are Blessed. Treat them with kindness and humility. Listen to their story and do not judge
---
You like it here, don't you dear?
BEST. THRONE. EVER. NEED MORE MURALS. ALL MUST KNOW MY GLORY
What do you think about this throne? Is it grand enough to match your majesty? Will you be happy to sit here for a while and let others bask in your glory?
I WILL SIT HERE UNTIL MY ARSE WEARS A COMFORTABLE RUT. I AM KING OF INFINITE. I CAN SEE INFINITE. BEST KING EVER.
That's probably true dear. You probably will be the best King this place has ever seen.
---
Walk in the darkness where-ever you can, for you are Mitras torch.
---
You know, this really is a big place. Its pretty amazing isn't it? What a grand kingdom you now have. Would you... suffer an old fools selfish request and let me stay here with you? I want to explore and find everyone. Plus, all kings need their trusted advisors you know. Its part of being King.
INFINITE PLANE. INFINITE PEOPLE. FIND THEM ALL. TELL THEM OF MY MAJESTY. ALL WILL KNOW OF MY GREATNESS
That's right. The more people I find and help, the more people you will rule!
---
Help those that ask for it. Offer help to those who need it. Understand that people are capable of solving their own problems, they might just need support
---
And after a while, who knows, maybe some of these people will want to leave and tell others of your benevolent rule. People will see how happy and healthy your subjects are, and they will want to come here and be your subjects too. Every day you will be the king of more people and they will all sing your praises.
YOU ARE A GOOD ADVISOR. I PROMOTE YOU TO CHIEF ADVISOR. YOU MAY HAVE A LITTLE THRONE.
---
Spread Mitras light to those who cannot see it. Let them bask in it, but do not force it upon them. Redemption is a choice. You can illuminate the path, but they are the ones that need to walk it.
---
I might even be able to help you too, dear. With a bit of work I could help you become healthy and well . There are other things in life aside from thrones and mur...
YOU SPEAK BLASPHEMY. I HAVE CHANGED MY MIND. YOU MAY NOT HAVE A LITTLE THRONE. I WILL USE IT AS A FOOT STOOL
Well perhaps that's something we can talk about later. For now, how about we let my companions out of here? They need to spread the word that the Bloodways have a new King, after all.
SO IT SHALL BE DECREED. SPEAK TO THEM
Anger is an energy
"I WILL ALLOW YOU TO RETURN KRUIN, BUT YOU MUST GIVE ME ONE THING"
The pale lady intoned in her eery hollow voice.
"Ok, what ya want from me then?"
"THE MORTALS HAVE LITTLE WE CANNOT MAKE OURSELVES, BUT THE FEELINGS SUCH FEEBLE BEINGS SUCH AS YOURSELVES EXPERIENCE CAN SOMETIMES BE USEFUL. IN YOUR CASE, YOU HAVE MORE ANGER THAN ANY MORTAL HAS A RIGHT TO, AND I WANT IT."
"You want ma anger? Fuck, if that'll stop this hurtin then take it."
With that the pale lady placed her hands upon Kruin's head and a vivid red flame burst forth from it, and from Skrillex, the tiefling appearing to be consumed by it. The flames swirled until they materialised into a form identical to Kruin, demon arm and all.
"What tha fu...what tha...what is that thing?" The original Kruin spluttered, seeming to stumble upon her words, struggling to form a sentence.
"A SHADE OF YOUR ANGER. YOUR BODY WAS OCCUPIED BY TWO SOULS AS IT WAS, I'VE TAKEN BITS OF BOTH KRUIN AND SCRILLEX AND MADE THIS. IT SHALL STAY HERE IN THE DIVINE REALMS UNTIL I HAVE A USE FOR IT."
"Wha...wha...why can't ah speak anymore, you...did....you...di...you take that away?"
"NO, ALL I TOOK WAS YOUR ANGER, AND THE MURDROUS PARTS OF SKRILLEX. YOU CAN TALK FINE, YOU JUST NEED TO FIND A NEW WAY TO EMOTE."
"I...ahhh....bleh..."
"BEST YOU BE GOING NOW, AGAMEMNON IS EXPECTING YOU."
And with that the mysterious dark world around Kruin faded, to be replaced by a flash of white light and the rough stones of the inside of Rappun Athuck. There was Aggy, looking concerned, always such a good friend. "What, did I just think that." Kruin wondered. There were the others, mostly useless, but at least they tried. "No, this isn't how I think." Kruin said to herself....calmly?
Then she noticed the look on everyone's faces, terror at seeing Kruin. She felt hurt. "Why are my friends scared of me?" But then she noticed the strange gossamer imaged around her, one of Erika's illusions, making Kruin look like a demon it seemed. "Sill Erika" Kruin thought, the look on her companions faces as the illusion dropped was amusing though.
The party made their way out of Rappan Athuck, Kruin saying very little. Once they reached the surface she gave a throwaway excuse and stalked off. "What now?" she thought. "I traded my anger so I could live, but my anger was all I was. It was how I fought, it was how I performed magic. What of me now?" She felt powerless, for the first time in her life, though looking back she thought that she should have maybe felt that way more often.
"Where to now?" She thought. "No one really respects me, I've not done anything to deserve that. Why did I not realise that until now. They just fear me or mock me, what kind of existence is that?"
The glass island, surely the work she'd begun there was worthy of respect. She headed to Tarrens Junction, paid a fishing boat to divert to near the islands shores and swam the last few hundred feat. As she scrambled up onto the muddy shore, she smiled. She had done something worthwhile at least. Amongst what had once been blasted fused sand, small plants now sprouted, some in rows of crops, other just growing with irrepressible abundance of nature.
The forest people greeted her in their own odd ways, such a pleasant group of misfits. Up on a cliff next to one of Erika's illusionary watch towers she found Bogbrew swearing at a patch of seedlings. "Grow you fucken useless weeds, grow you bastards or I'll rip ya out by the roots and chuck you into the brine!" Kruin knew it would be effective. He had even more of a way with anger than she did.
"Ahh, Kruin, ya came back I see. What ya bought us this time?"
Kruin felt guilty, these people sacrificed a lot to be out here, and they were used to being rewarded when Kruin visted. Guilty? That was new.
"Sorry Bogbrew, I haven't bought anything with me, Aggy and Erika didn't come, I got a boat, I'm...I'm sick."
"Sick, the slack ass weak little gods'll fix you up in no time. Oi, you little shits!" He shouted at the air around him. "Kill whatver bug this woman's let get inta her!"
"It's not that kind of sickness I'm afraid. I..." and she started to sob.
"What the fuck you playing at? Stop being a weak little baby!"
"Bogbrew, I've lost my anger. I just can't feel angry anymore, no matter how hard I try. And I can't do magic, I can't fight. What can I do without it?"
"Hah?. Well, we'll just have to give it back to ya" With that Bogbrew threw his arms forward with a quick vulgarity and torrent or water sprung from the air smashing into Kruin, who stumbled perilously close to the edge of the sea cliff. He ran forward and shoved her before she could regain her balance and she tumbled off the edge. "Get mad fast and learn ta fly!" he bellowed.
Kruin began to plummet but quickly turned her fall into a graceful arc, rising back up into air to land back on the cliff.
"See, I knew I could get you your anger back."
"Nahh, I'm not angry though, I know you wanted to help. I just think it's hilarious that you managed to do something useful with that spell. Every time I've done it it's failed horribly." And she laughed.
"What the fuck? Did you just cast magic by laughing?"
"Seems I did. Maybe I don't need anger after all, maybe there's other ways to do this stuff..."
The pale lady intoned in her eery hollow voice.
"Ok, what ya want from me then?"
"THE MORTALS HAVE LITTLE WE CANNOT MAKE OURSELVES, BUT THE FEELINGS SUCH FEEBLE BEINGS SUCH AS YOURSELVES EXPERIENCE CAN SOMETIMES BE USEFUL. IN YOUR CASE, YOU HAVE MORE ANGER THAN ANY MORTAL HAS A RIGHT TO, AND I WANT IT."
"You want ma anger? Fuck, if that'll stop this hurtin then take it."
With that the pale lady placed her hands upon Kruin's head and a vivid red flame burst forth from it, and from Skrillex, the tiefling appearing to be consumed by it. The flames swirled until they materialised into a form identical to Kruin, demon arm and all.
"What tha fu...what tha...what is that thing?" The original Kruin spluttered, seeming to stumble upon her words, struggling to form a sentence.
"A SHADE OF YOUR ANGER. YOUR BODY WAS OCCUPIED BY TWO SOULS AS IT WAS, I'VE TAKEN BITS OF BOTH KRUIN AND SCRILLEX AND MADE THIS. IT SHALL STAY HERE IN THE DIVINE REALMS UNTIL I HAVE A USE FOR IT."
"Wha...wha...why can't ah speak anymore, you...did....you...di...you take that away?"
"NO, ALL I TOOK WAS YOUR ANGER, AND THE MURDROUS PARTS OF SKRILLEX. YOU CAN TALK FINE, YOU JUST NEED TO FIND A NEW WAY TO EMOTE."
"I...ahhh....bleh..."
"BEST YOU BE GOING NOW, AGAMEMNON IS EXPECTING YOU."
And with that the mysterious dark world around Kruin faded, to be replaced by a flash of white light and the rough stones of the inside of Rappun Athuck. There was Aggy, looking concerned, always such a good friend. "What, did I just think that." Kruin wondered. There were the others, mostly useless, but at least they tried. "No, this isn't how I think." Kruin said to herself....calmly?
Then she noticed the look on everyone's faces, terror at seeing Kruin. She felt hurt. "Why are my friends scared of me?" But then she noticed the strange gossamer imaged around her, one of Erika's illusions, making Kruin look like a demon it seemed. "Sill Erika" Kruin thought, the look on her companions faces as the illusion dropped was amusing though.
The party made their way out of Rappan Athuck, Kruin saying very little. Once they reached the surface she gave a throwaway excuse and stalked off. "What now?" she thought. "I traded my anger so I could live, but my anger was all I was. It was how I fought, it was how I performed magic. What of me now?" She felt powerless, for the first time in her life, though looking back she thought that she should have maybe felt that way more often.
"Where to now?" She thought. "No one really respects me, I've not done anything to deserve that. Why did I not realise that until now. They just fear me or mock me, what kind of existence is that?"
The glass island, surely the work she'd begun there was worthy of respect. She headed to Tarrens Junction, paid a fishing boat to divert to near the islands shores and swam the last few hundred feat. As she scrambled up onto the muddy shore, she smiled. She had done something worthwhile at least. Amongst what had once been blasted fused sand, small plants now sprouted, some in rows of crops, other just growing with irrepressible abundance of nature.
The forest people greeted her in their own odd ways, such a pleasant group of misfits. Up on a cliff next to one of Erika's illusionary watch towers she found Bogbrew swearing at a patch of seedlings. "Grow you fucken useless weeds, grow you bastards or I'll rip ya out by the roots and chuck you into the brine!" Kruin knew it would be effective. He had even more of a way with anger than she did.
"Ahh, Kruin, ya came back I see. What ya bought us this time?"
Kruin felt guilty, these people sacrificed a lot to be out here, and they were used to being rewarded when Kruin visted. Guilty? That was new.
"Sorry Bogbrew, I haven't bought anything with me, Aggy and Erika didn't come, I got a boat, I'm...I'm sick."
"Sick, the slack ass weak little gods'll fix you up in no time. Oi, you little shits!" He shouted at the air around him. "Kill whatver bug this woman's let get inta her!"
"It's not that kind of sickness I'm afraid. I..." and she started to sob.
"What the fuck you playing at? Stop being a weak little baby!"
"Bogbrew, I've lost my anger. I just can't feel angry anymore, no matter how hard I try. And I can't do magic, I can't fight. What can I do without it?"
"Hah?. Well, we'll just have to give it back to ya" With that Bogbrew threw his arms forward with a quick vulgarity and torrent or water sprung from the air smashing into Kruin, who stumbled perilously close to the edge of the sea cliff. He ran forward and shoved her before she could regain her balance and she tumbled off the edge. "Get mad fast and learn ta fly!" he bellowed.
Kruin began to plummet but quickly turned her fall into a graceful arc, rising back up into air to land back on the cliff.
"See, I knew I could get you your anger back."
"Nahh, I'm not angry though, I know you wanted to help. I just think it's hilarious that you managed to do something useful with that spell. Every time I've done it it's failed horribly." And she laughed.
"What the fuck? Did you just cast magic by laughing?"
"Seems I did. Maybe I don't need anger after all, maybe there's other ways to do this stuff..."
The trials of Ser Marrin
We're under attack!
Maxim, rally to me! To me! Mountain formation!
Balthazars balls, are those demons?
Where are they coming from?
Lets just get orientated first. Lieutenant, headcount!
We're down 3, Marrin!
Okay, not too bad. Anyone see the enemy?
Not me.
No sir
Not anymore
Alright. Square formation! Crabwalk towards Tabithas tent. Lieutenant, its dark, so you take the lead!
Yessir!
Uhh sir, I think I can see Tabitha. She's writhing on the ground, a couple of dozen yards to the east.
Does she look hurt?
Uhh no Sir, I think she's laughing
Oh Gods...
Sir? Does this mean I can go back to bed?
Maxim, rally to me! To me! Mountain formation!
Balthazars balls, are those demons?
Where are they coming from?
Lets just get orientated first. Lieutenant, headcount!
We're down 3, Marrin!
Okay, not too bad. Anyone see the enemy?
Not me.
No sir
Not anymore
Alright. Square formation! Crabwalk towards Tabithas tent. Lieutenant, its dark, so you take the lead!
Yessir!
Uhh sir, I think I can see Tabitha. She's writhing on the ground, a couple of dozen yards to the east.
Does she look hurt?
Uhh no Sir, I think she's laughing
Oh Gods...
Sir? Does this mean I can go back to bed?
Romance or something like it
"What in the 9 hells was that? I had him! What got me?"
Killingsworth looked around in an all-too-common mix of shock and anger.
"You should choose your allies more carefully" said the familiar-looking woman who...had always been there.
"Don't I know you?"
"Yes Mark, we met once before, when you were training under your first arcane master"
"Oh? Oh! Right. My first scorching ray spell. Good thing that master was rich, it made up for his failings as a teacher."
He sat down and immediately fell through the stool.
"Will anyone be collecting you this time?" She inquired politely.
"I should hope so, my current employer offers death insurance as one of her few benefits." Killingsworth busied himself trying to find his reflection in the mirror on the wall.
"Did you want me to stay with you until then?"
Having straightened his jacked over the gaping chest wound, Killingsworth turned to her and winked. "Sure, it's not often I get to spend time with such an attractive lady"
A fleeting blush on her cheek shone like a touch of sunlight on snow.
-------------------------------
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrgggghhhhhh gedditawayfrommeaaaaaaaaaagh"
"Hush Mark, it's ok. You're ok... Well, I mean, for a given value of ok."
"Aaaa- Oh, it's you again. Hello there, m'lady! You almost make that horrible death worthwhile"
"'Almost'? You tease!" She giggled like the clattering of coffin lids. "At least you have a good lot of friends with you this time"
"M'lady flatters me with her attention. Have you been watching me all this time?"
"Well, your new companions do keep me busy"
" Of that I have no doubt, now be a darling and fetch the brandy from my left jacket pocket"
-------------------------------
Once the pain stopped, Killingsworth opened his eyes and smiled. There she was again.
"Did you miss me?"
"Oh Mark, hopefully we have more time together now. Your companions look quite lost down here."
"Hah! Well let's make the most of it!"
Killingsworth embraced her, feeling her cool body against his, her hip bones digging into his waist.
-------------------------------
"You nearly had that dragon, you know?"
"Ah m'lady, you always know how to cheer me up. Twas a tough fight and my friends shall yet triumph."
"It looks like they are settling in to loot the island now. Did they not think to recall you to life first?"
"I'm sure they know what they are doing, securing the prize first. It's a solid plan."
"Now they've stuffed your corpse in the bag too!"
"Well, aaah how else would they get my body home..."
"But now they are unpacking and planning a feast!"
"Hmm, maybe they have forgotten me this time..."
"Ah there we go. Til next time, my love!"
"Adieu, my Lady!"
-------------------------------
This time she looked positively grim. "I'm not sure how I feel about this one. Does she really need to die?" She said while Killingsworth picked himself up off the floor.
"You know me, my dear, I wouldn't risk life and limb for someone that didn't deserve it." He brushed some dust from his uniform sleeve.
Her laughter rang out like funeral bells. Killingsworth always enjoyed his time with her, though he feared one day he may go broke and be stuck here.
"Oh, look Mark, that's new", she said, "This time an old woman is bringing you back, with the help of that birdman"
-------------------------------
"Back so soon, my love?"
"Ah, yes. I missed you! Nothing to do at all with being eaten by a wurm."
"Well maybe we will get some time togeth-WAIT come back!"
-------------------------------
To be continued?
Unidentified
"I wanted to be a wizard, once," said Agamemnon, staring down at the bones of another Agamemnon. This one had the unmistakable markings of spell misfires down one arm, the sort of wounding all wizards carried, if they lived long enough, or faced danger often enough.
"Just to fuck with people?" There was an elf standing in the corner of the small mausoleum, with his hands in his pockets, leaning casually against the wall. He was a fairly average-looking elf, shorter than Agamemnon, with blonde hair and grey eyes, dressed in simple yet very finely crafted linens.
"To prove I could." The priest grinned. "Although the thought of my fellow apprentices having to share rooms with an orc, the looks of horror on their faces at the indignity of it all ..." He laughed.
"You would have made a good wizard." His second companion, a short, human woman in a black robe, who stood in the doorway to the crypt, looking out at the trees.
"Absolutely," said he elf. "I would have been fine with wizard." He thought for a moment, chewing on his lip. "It would have been less trouble, that's for damn sure." He stepped up beside Agamemnon, peering into the simple stone casket at the cloth-wrapped skeleton that lay within. "Not thinking of resurrecting him, are you?" the elf whispered confidentially. "Only we've talked about that."
"Fuck off, you," laughed Agamemnon. The elf lightly skipped out of the way of the punch aimed at him and bowed in mock politeness, spinning and, in one fluid motion, taking a swig from a hip flask before making his way to the open doorway, alongside the woman, offering her a drink. She declined, but the two entered into quiet conversation. Agamemnon didn't bother trying to listen in - it wouldn't have worked anyway, but he had other things on his mind. So the mausoleum bore his name, true, a very uncommon name, shared by only four people in history, so far as he could tell: himself, first and foremost; the Agamemnon who was a soldier in the Righteous March; the portrait of the man he found in the historical text; and now this fellow, dead in a crypt that he probably fabricated for himself using arcane power. What was the connection? One Agamemnon was his namesake, a man he had named himself after deliberately, and the one in the book looked a lot like him. But this wizard? Clearly this man was not him - he was only a quarter orc, for starters, and had a very different face. And yet here he was, buried a thousand years in the Stoneheart Valley and still here. What were the chances that Mortimer and Fairweather would stumble across this tomb when falling onto the prime material? Did something draw them here?
"It will be dark, soon." It was the woman speaking. Agamemnon hadn't heard her approaching but she was standing beside him, her porcelain fingers tapping him on the arm.
"It's only just past noon, isn't it?"
"That's not what she means, friend," said the elf, sounding more solemn than the priest had ever heard him. He cleared his throat, rocking on his feet like he was eager to get going.
"If you're worried," the half-orc said, "why don't you help me?"
The elf reached up and patted him on the shoulder. "You think I haven't?"
Agamemnon shrugged it off. "Do you know who this is?" he asked, pointing at the bones. The elf looked out the door at a bird flying past, not answering. "What, do you need me to cast a divination? Am I not pursuing the proper channels?"
The man looked across at the woman. Some understanding passed between them, and he looked at the floor. "I'm really not the person you should be asking."
"You mean you don't know?"
"It's ... more complicated than that."
"It's always more complicated than that," said Agamemnon.
"Yes," the elf said, angrily. "It is always more complicated than that."
The half-orc felt he should be angry too, but he just couldn't find it in himself. The puzzle was too intriguing, and he knew that if his friend could help him further he would already have done so.
The three spent some time - maybe hours, maybe less, maybe more - in the crypt, Agamemnon studying the bones for any missed clue, waiting for them to talk to him, to tell him who they were; the elf, sitting cross-legged in the corner, drawing spirals in the dust; the woman, standing in the doorway, watching as the sun moved across the sky.
Their reverie was broken when a small boy, playing too far from his parents' passing caravan, chased a lost ball into the crypt, tripping on the woman's dress and tumbling across the stonework until he crashed into Agamemnon's legs. He rubbed his head, then looked up, terrified. The elf reached out, picked up the ball, smiled to the child and tossed it to him. The ball glowed golden in the air as it fell to be caught by the boy, who muttered a thank you and darted back out into the trees as quickly as he could.
Agamemnon grinned, then burst out laughing, and the elf joined in. Even the woman smiled. The poor boy had no idea with whom he had just shared a room.
"Just to fuck with people?" There was an elf standing in the corner of the small mausoleum, with his hands in his pockets, leaning casually against the wall. He was a fairly average-looking elf, shorter than Agamemnon, with blonde hair and grey eyes, dressed in simple yet very finely crafted linens.
"To prove I could." The priest grinned. "Although the thought of my fellow apprentices having to share rooms with an orc, the looks of horror on their faces at the indignity of it all ..." He laughed.
"You would have made a good wizard." His second companion, a short, human woman in a black robe, who stood in the doorway to the crypt, looking out at the trees.
"Absolutely," said he elf. "I would have been fine with wizard." He thought for a moment, chewing on his lip. "It would have been less trouble, that's for damn sure." He stepped up beside Agamemnon, peering into the simple stone casket at the cloth-wrapped skeleton that lay within. "Not thinking of resurrecting him, are you?" the elf whispered confidentially. "Only we've talked about that."
"Fuck off, you," laughed Agamemnon. The elf lightly skipped out of the way of the punch aimed at him and bowed in mock politeness, spinning and, in one fluid motion, taking a swig from a hip flask before making his way to the open doorway, alongside the woman, offering her a drink. She declined, but the two entered into quiet conversation. Agamemnon didn't bother trying to listen in - it wouldn't have worked anyway, but he had other things on his mind. So the mausoleum bore his name, true, a very uncommon name, shared by only four people in history, so far as he could tell: himself, first and foremost; the Agamemnon who was a soldier in the Righteous March; the portrait of the man he found in the historical text; and now this fellow, dead in a crypt that he probably fabricated for himself using arcane power. What was the connection? One Agamemnon was his namesake, a man he had named himself after deliberately, and the one in the book looked a lot like him. But this wizard? Clearly this man was not him - he was only a quarter orc, for starters, and had a very different face. And yet here he was, buried a thousand years in the Stoneheart Valley and still here. What were the chances that Mortimer and Fairweather would stumble across this tomb when falling onto the prime material? Did something draw them here?
"It will be dark, soon." It was the woman speaking. Agamemnon hadn't heard her approaching but she was standing beside him, her porcelain fingers tapping him on the arm.
"It's only just past noon, isn't it?"
"That's not what she means, friend," said the elf, sounding more solemn than the priest had ever heard him. He cleared his throat, rocking on his feet like he was eager to get going.
"If you're worried," the half-orc said, "why don't you help me?"
The elf reached up and patted him on the shoulder. "You think I haven't?"
Agamemnon shrugged it off. "Do you know who this is?" he asked, pointing at the bones. The elf looked out the door at a bird flying past, not answering. "What, do you need me to cast a divination? Am I not pursuing the proper channels?"
The man looked across at the woman. Some understanding passed between them, and he looked at the floor. "I'm really not the person you should be asking."
"You mean you don't know?"
"It's ... more complicated than that."
"It's always more complicated than that," said Agamemnon.
"Yes," the elf said, angrily. "It is always more complicated than that."
The half-orc felt he should be angry too, but he just couldn't find it in himself. The puzzle was too intriguing, and he knew that if his friend could help him further he would already have done so.
The three spent some time - maybe hours, maybe less, maybe more - in the crypt, Agamemnon studying the bones for any missed clue, waiting for them to talk to him, to tell him who they were; the elf, sitting cross-legged in the corner, drawing spirals in the dust; the woman, standing in the doorway, watching as the sun moved across the sky.
Their reverie was broken when a small boy, playing too far from his parents' passing caravan, chased a lost ball into the crypt, tripping on the woman's dress and tumbling across the stonework until he crashed into Agamemnon's legs. He rubbed his head, then looked up, terrified. The elf reached out, picked up the ball, smiled to the child and tossed it to him. The ball glowed golden in the air as it fell to be caught by the boy, who muttered a thank you and darted back out into the trees as quickly as he could.
Agamemnon grinned, then burst out laughing, and the elf joined in. Even the woman smiled. The poor boy had no idea with whom he had just shared a room.
Ad Vitam
Kubler closed his eyes.
~~~~~~
Kubler felt sunlight on his face, warming him. There was a sound, in the distance; he would make it out soon, but the sound already made him happy. The next sensation was the rough prickle of hay beneath him, and he crunched it in his hands. He was sitting on a bale of hay, in the sun, and there was ... a sound, people, playing. He would identify the sound soon, but he was already happy. There was a scent in the air, hay, of course, and grass, long country grass, freshly scythed, and something ... buttercups. They had such a subtle scent but at this time of the year, if you closed your eyes and let the tamed wind blow over you, you could inhale lungs full of cut grass and hay, and delicate buttercups.
Kubler opened his eyes. It was early autumn. The sun was still warm in the Stoneheart Valley this year. There was work to be done to prepare for the winter, but for now he could relax - they could all relax and enjoy one of the beautiful days at the end of the growing season when everything was ripe and you could be satisfied with the harvest, knowing your hard work had paid off.
He identified the sound, and it was beautiful, but it also made him sad. He looked out over the field. Emi and Jez were chasing a rabbit. The rabbit was quick, darting about. Emi tripped on her skirt and rolled to a soft landing in the cushioning grass, causing both mother and daughter to burst into giggles. The delicate sound of their laughter hit him right in the heart, and lifted him up. It was a beautiful sound, and it made Kubler smile, and made him sad.
"Why don't you go to them?"
Kubler shook his head. He watched his family scampering after the rabbit again. They were never going to catch it, but it was fun to try. "That's not how it works."
"I decide how it works."
Kubler slowly managed to take his eyes off the scene in the field and turned to regard the speaker, a tall woman in a black robe, her face bone white. She was beautiful, and she made him sad. "No. You decide how death works. You don't decide how life works."
The Pale Lady was closer, though Kubler hadn't seen her move. "This is a window into what happens next. This is where they are, in the endless fields. They are happy here. You could be happy here."
Kubler stared at his wife, Emi. She was beautiful. She wasn't more beautiful than she was in life. She was as beautiful. She was full of life, so vital, so happy. He watched her face. She wasn't perfectly happy, but she was happy, as happy as she had been in life. It wasn't some idealised version of his wife, it wasn't some facsimile lacking the soul of his wife; it was her, and she was beautiful, and she made him sad. As he watched a shadow crossed her face, and she looked around, searching. She knew he was here, that he was watching. She could never see him, but she could feel him, feel that he was watching her. He ached to go to her, to run into the field, to pick up Jez and run with her, to hold his wife, to help them chase the rabbit, to fall down in the grass and lie in the sun and be happy.
"Kay!"
It was Agamemnon's voice. He felt a hole open up behind him, a warping of the plane that tunneled back down to the prime material. All he had to do was close his eyes, lie back down on the newly-baled hay, and fall back to the world. All he had to do was stop looking at his beautiful family and be sad again.
"You don't have to go. You know you don't. Just die. Die, and go to them."
Kubler shook his head. He felt the cold fingers of the Lady on his shoulder but ignored them, wiping the tears from his eyes. He took one last look at his beautiful family, and it made him sad. "You don't die for the ones you love," he said, lying down on the prickly hay. "You live for them."
Kubler closed his eyes.
~~~~~
Kubler opened his eyes.
~~~~~~
Kubler felt sunlight on his face, warming him. There was a sound, in the distance; he would make it out soon, but the sound already made him happy. The next sensation was the rough prickle of hay beneath him, and he crunched it in his hands. He was sitting on a bale of hay, in the sun, and there was ... a sound, people, playing. He would identify the sound soon, but he was already happy. There was a scent in the air, hay, of course, and grass, long country grass, freshly scythed, and something ... buttercups. They had such a subtle scent but at this time of the year, if you closed your eyes and let the tamed wind blow over you, you could inhale lungs full of cut grass and hay, and delicate buttercups.
Kubler opened his eyes. It was early autumn. The sun was still warm in the Stoneheart Valley this year. There was work to be done to prepare for the winter, but for now he could relax - they could all relax and enjoy one of the beautiful days at the end of the growing season when everything was ripe and you could be satisfied with the harvest, knowing your hard work had paid off.
He identified the sound, and it was beautiful, but it also made him sad. He looked out over the field. Emi and Jez were chasing a rabbit. The rabbit was quick, darting about. Emi tripped on her skirt and rolled to a soft landing in the cushioning grass, causing both mother and daughter to burst into giggles. The delicate sound of their laughter hit him right in the heart, and lifted him up. It was a beautiful sound, and it made Kubler smile, and made him sad.
"Why don't you go to them?"
Kubler shook his head. He watched his family scampering after the rabbit again. They were never going to catch it, but it was fun to try. "That's not how it works."
"I decide how it works."
Kubler slowly managed to take his eyes off the scene in the field and turned to regard the speaker, a tall woman in a black robe, her face bone white. She was beautiful, and she made him sad. "No. You decide how death works. You don't decide how life works."
The Pale Lady was closer, though Kubler hadn't seen her move. "This is a window into what happens next. This is where they are, in the endless fields. They are happy here. You could be happy here."
Kubler stared at his wife, Emi. She was beautiful. She wasn't more beautiful than she was in life. She was as beautiful. She was full of life, so vital, so happy. He watched her face. She wasn't perfectly happy, but she was happy, as happy as she had been in life. It wasn't some idealised version of his wife, it wasn't some facsimile lacking the soul of his wife; it was her, and she was beautiful, and she made him sad. As he watched a shadow crossed her face, and she looked around, searching. She knew he was here, that he was watching. She could never see him, but she could feel him, feel that he was watching her. He ached to go to her, to run into the field, to pick up Jez and run with her, to hold his wife, to help them chase the rabbit, to fall down in the grass and lie in the sun and be happy.
"Kay!"
It was Agamemnon's voice. He felt a hole open up behind him, a warping of the plane that tunneled back down to the prime material. All he had to do was close his eyes, lie back down on the newly-baled hay, and fall back to the world. All he had to do was stop looking at his beautiful family and be sad again.
"You don't have to go. You know you don't. Just die. Die, and go to them."
Kubler shook his head. He felt the cold fingers of the Lady on his shoulder but ignored them, wiping the tears from his eyes. He took one last look at his beautiful family, and it made him sad. "You don't die for the ones you love," he said, lying down on the prickly hay. "You live for them."
Kubler closed his eyes.
~~~~~
Kubler opened his eyes.
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