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The dream of the giant cake
Posted: 27 May 2005 10:16 AM |
He stood on a desolate shiny rise overlooking a porcelain plateau. Looking over his shoulder he saw his back was to a high cliff overlooking a plain that looked strangely like a tablecloth with a giant fork on it. The earth shook and there was the sound of a womans laughter that charged the air. He caught himself thinking it sounded an awful lot like the noise missus Shalee made when he talked about .... He looked up into the sky as it decended, it was beautiful! The largest piece of chocolate cake he had ever seen, decending like a god on it's royal spatulaic throne of power. It shlopped from the spatula and settled regally on the porcelain plateau in all it's magnificent glory.
Johe stood for a moment in awe inspired reverance and then ran as fast as his little legs could carry him towards the magnificent confection. He could almost percieve angelic voices cheering him on, as the groans in his tummy turned to guffaws of glee. As he reached his chocolate goal the earth shook once more as the angelic voices swelled and a giant glass of cold milk appeared in the distance. He reached into the icing with both hands, fingers grasping at the heavenly goodness that is cake. Pulling out his hands he stood in silence for a moment contemplating the moist innerds of absolute happiness he held in his grasp, as if to offer a prayer of thanks to Gashers mom for skipping the sandwich course just this once. He drew his right hand to his mouth closing his eyes in sheer ecstasy as the fork fell on him...
He woke with a deranged scream. the mouse that had been sniffing around the base of the hat rack in the corner skittered into a small crack in the wall. Johe dragged himself from the cot and slumped towards the table looking into the bowl, on the off chance that someone had snuck in to leave some food.
"still empty", he breathed with a weak voice. His stomach roared berating him mercilessly. Stomachs aren't inclined to understand the difference between dreams and reality after all. Especially not halfling stomachs. He smirked at this thought and turned back to the cot weakly, a look of resignation wrinkling his gaunt features.
"'s bin a good run I jus' don' wanna die without my..." He looked up blearily, and there she was. He sighed and smiled as he walked to her and hugged her tightly to him.
" 's alrite cyfi, as long as we're tagetha, it'll be alrite."
He led her to the cot and laid down next to her holding her close stroking her hair as the mouse poked it's nose out of it's hiding place and absently wondered where the hat rack had gone. |
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Forever ends
Posted: 01 Jun 2005 09:17 AM |
The quickling watched the others tear around the tower, their faces contorted in a ferocious joy. This certainly was a lot of fun, but it really didn't want to play with them. It wanted to play with...with. The toothy grin gave way slightly as its mind attempted in vain to capture what was missing. Something just wasn't right, and the answer wasn't here. Somewhere out there was a person it really wanted to play with. Somewhere out there was more fun than could be had here. Without a second thought it ran off, the mischievious grin renewed.
********************************
Johe walked through the wood, his black eyes squinting into the growing darkness.
"Claudiaaaaa !!"
A flock of birds took flight from a nearby tree, twittering their annoyance at the disturbance. Johe watched them dissappear above the canopy of leaves, his left eye twitching nervously. He reached into his belt and pulled out a scroll and studied it a moment. Putting the scroll on the ground he drew his swords and read the arcane script, shivering slightly as the magics coalessed in flame around the blades. He peered at the ground in the light. No sign of anyone passing could be seen.
"where are ya cyfi?", he sighed miserably, looking pleadingly at the sky.
"please ,Gashers mom, please, she's evrythin' ta me"
It started to rain.
He walked on through the crying tree's stepping over rivulets that formed between the roots, his face growing as dark as the sky.
He froze at the sound of a series of splashes off to his right. He turned toward the sound. The light from his blades glinting off of a malicious grin, and squinting eyes.
The quickling stopped on the edge of the circle of orange light that surrounded the guyver, peering at him curiously. Johe raised his swords slightly, setting his jaw.
"wut you want then?", said Johe angrily.
A hurt look came over the quicklings face, looking very out of place.
"You don't want to play play play?", it asked petulantly.
"No", Johe said flatly ,"I'm lookin' fer sumbuddy."
The quickling grinned at him playfully,"Well I've been looking too and it's you you you!"
Johe opened his mouth to speak, a slight frown on his face, as the quickling ran toward him, arms wide, clawed fingers spread. Johe sidestepped the creature plunging both swords into it's back with a grimace. The quickling screeched in agony as the magical fire engulfed it. It fell on it's back, reaching for Johe with a gnarled hand. Magical energy lept from the body in the form of jagged blades of lightning that dissipated into a nearby tree. The quickling screamed once more in torment still reaching for him. Johe stepped closer and looked into the flames, a confused frown on his face. He shook his head at the words the quickling spoke, his mind refusing to accept what his ears heard.
"no", he breathed.
The burning form seemed to nod once.
"no"
The quickling crumbled into ashes.
"no"
The tears of the trees carried the ashes into the rivulete
"no"
Johe stood like a stricken statue, looking at something shiny on the scorched earth where the quickling had been. Suddenly he shook his head again.
"no"
He bent down and picked up the ring and tried in vain to blink away the tears to read the inscription on the inside curve, but it didn't really matter, he already knew what it said....
"Forever your guyver" |
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Re: Forever ends II
Posted: 01 Jun 2005 10:45 PM |
A small, lonely figure, dressed in a black tuxedo, Walked through the north gate of Port Royale, ignoring the quizzical looks of the guards, who chuckled quietly behind their large halberds. He frowned as an errant gust of wind blew. A piece of the hair that was wet down and plastered to his head stood straight up in the air. He licked his hand and patted it back down, crossing the moat bridge with a stoic gait. He looked down at his lapel and adjusted the white flower that was pinned there with a studious frown.
A group of children, playing kickball near the road, giggled at the strange sight. He walked on with an air of dignity that did not quite seem to fit him, the look of determination in his eyes anchoring it fast.
He walked up the hill to the signal fire mumbling to himself. The determination on his face masking an odd nervousness. As he reached the top of the hill, the signal fireman stiffened. Hiding a small skin of foul smelling liquid in his shirt, some of it trickled down his round gut making him squirm uncomfortably. The signal fireman relaxed a bit and smiled as he recognized the little man. The smile turned to a confused frown as his "supplier" walked right by, without so much as a glance, and headed towards the cliff.
The halfling stood at the edge of the cliff, looking out to sea. Slowly he took a piece of white parchment from his breast pocket, and read it in a small voice that the fireman could not hear try as he might. The fireman leaned back in his chair, the salt of the frown on his face peppered with a mild amusement. The tuxedoed figure took something out of his pocket, and placed it in the center of the parchment, carefully folding it around the object. He stood a moment longer looking at the sea as the gulls cried. He slowly knelt and placed the tightly folded parchment on the ground, and walked back to the path that led back to Port Royale. The fireman gave him a puzzled stare, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. The short fellow shot the fireman a warning glance that pushed him further back in his chair, much to the groaning displeasure of the wooden joints. The fireman watched the halfling leave, his fingers rubbing together inquisitively.
Moments later, temptation tugged the hesitant fireman to the cliff, and pushed him to his knees in front of the parchment. Slowly he unfolded it and gasped sharply as the most beautiful ring he had ever seen sang as it hit the gravely ground. His eyes wandered to the parchment and squinted slightly as he read...
"Wen ya hed inta danga an' whereva
I promise ta be there ta pertect ya
Whateva ya mite need or want
I promise ta guyver it for ya
I promise ta try reely hard ta amemba ta not fergit ta close doors ahind me cus I knows that makes ya batty
I promise ta try ta not git inta truble anymore and be good
I'm not reely sure if'n I know wut wun is
but I promise ta be a good 'usband, an' I'm sure you'll teech me wut I dunno 'bout it anyway"
The fireman smirked at this bit of ignorant wisdom and reached for the ring, pausing to look at it, as his hand edged towards his belt pouch.
"Gawds!", he breathed,"must be worth a bundle"
A seagull swooped so close to his head he ducked involuntarily. He glowered at the sky a moment before folding the parchment carefully around the ring, and placing it back on the ground with the same care as the little halfling had.
He lumbered back to his chair, grunting as he threw another log on the fire on his way. The wind picked up causing him to shield his eyes as he watched a seagull swoop down and take the parchment deftly in it's beak, without it's feet even setting down. The wind whooshed through the trees, making an almost thunderous noise. For a moment, the fireman thought he heard a voice. At the bottom of the hill, a lone guyver did hear a voice as the hand of the wind brushed a tear from his cheek. The last words she had said to him from the fire. Her eyes seemingly looking into his very soul teasing the snakes that danced there painfully.
"My guyver" |
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Never Begins
Posted: 03 Jun 2005 11:48 AM |
He put the list down on the desk and began putting on his armor. His old world was gone, nothing remained except the list. Everything on that list would be destroyed one way or another. There would be no mercy, and certainly no playing by the "rules".Those silly rules that the good placed on themselves so they could feel better about themselves when they felled an evil being. Those rules that choked progress like a beaurocratic noose. His black eyes looked at the weapons lying on an oily towel on the floor before him, a cold emptiness making them seem like bottomless pits burned by lava tears. He sheathed the weapons and clipped them into place. He turned to the mirror and practiced an innocent smile. They could never know what he was planning, and why. They had to believe he was still just an ignorant halfling roaming the world for fun. He waved at himself in the mirror with a childlike grin that was only betrayed by the dangerous embers of hate smoldering in the depths of his souless eyes.
There were no more future dreams.
No present love.
No past regrets.
Only the list.
Only the Masks.
Only the vampires.
Only Vidus Kain and his red puppets.
Only the Sisters and their minions.
Only the demons of the Netharu.
Only the deaders and Gukathul
Only that bastard Fenghuul. Oh yes his death would be slow and savage.
He tightened his boot straps, and put on his belt and walked toward the door.
He was, finally, what Rafferty had always wanted him to be.
He was singular of mind and purpose.
He was vengeance from the shadows.
He was a Guyver knight. |
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Re: Never Begins
Posted: 03 Jun 2005 01:41 PM |
| ((Excellent writing, spookifying to see Johe in such shape. Well done!)) |
WickedArtist: I think he needs a proper elf.
WickedArtist: A christmas elf!
Tasra: Any sort of elf that actually smiles ;o
Gasp! Scandalous!!! |
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The tight rope walker
Posted: 06 Jun 2005 10:25 AM |
He sat at his desk staring at the letters that refused to write themselves with a distatsteful look. His mind wandered back over the meeting. The guyvers would do what had to be done, he had confidence in them. But Brother Trenton...he frowned...what had being peaceful and merciful ever brought to the fight against evil? Except maybe more evil. He sneered at the thought, remembering Altons words in the forest...
...
Alton stood in the forest frowning slightly at the bodies of the Ettins that Johe had sliced into ribbons of grizzled flesh. Johe had seemed not to understand his admonishment, so he sighed and tried again.
"Vilyave teaches patience an' a gentle nature, not ta kill everyfin' das 'roun jus' cus it's der."
Johe turned on Alton the anger in his voice building until his voice cracked with emotion,
"I don' kill stuff cus it's there, I kills it cus it shuldn' be there!, I kills it cus if I don' kill it ferst it'll kill me! I kills it cus if I don' it'll take wut I luv an' make it sumthin' I'll kill!"
A look of confused suprise wandered over Alton's face like a homeless vagabond looking for a meal.
"where's dis cummin' frum?"
"you ain' 'eard", Johe spat.
"'eard wot?" Alton asked, the vagabond taking residence.
Johe looked at the blades in his shaking hands, " I killed Claudia," he said flatly.
"ya did wot?", Alton froze ,"dis is a bad joke Jo'e"
Johe looked up at his friend and nemisis a sneering smirk on his face,"yasee me laffin'?", he looked down again sheathing his blades with a practiced fluidity, and mumbling," bluddy Fenghuul."
Alton frowned," It's 'bout 'im, huh? Ya even know why 'e does wot 'e does?"
"I passed carin' wen I killed me fiance cus she were a quickling", Johe retorted.
Alton blinked in disbelief,"'e turned 'er?"
Johe nodded slowly, swallowing what felt like a boulder in his throat.
Alton whispered,"I cant believe it... she's gone... dang bastard... Cant believe 'e did dat... "
Johe looked up at Alton a pleading look on his face,"tha's wut we git wen we rely on uther peeple ta do our guyverin', I don' care if 'e ses 'e's tha only one wut can fite tha deemuns, we gotta start doin this stuff ourselves!"
"We still need 'im alive, 'cos da deemans will do worse", said Alton, trying to keep a calm voice.
Johe sneered again,"do I look like I give a rap 'bout tha deemuns?"
"Ya would if dey came in 'ere killin' everyone", Alton reasoned.
"evrywun I care 'bout is ded alredy Alton, it's time fer tha list ta git dun!", Johe countered.
Altons face flushed an angry red,"Aye? Wot 'bout Macha, an' Levalyer, an' Eleanor, an' everyone 'oo tried ta 'elp ya? Wot 'bout yer mates?"
Johe looked at the ground in silence.
"Der's still a lot der to protect. Da's wot da list is for." Alton pressed on,"If you forget why ya made it, den it doesn' mean anythin'!"
Johe looked up his hands shaking in little balled fists of impotent fury," and tha more we lets things mess with tha list tha greyer white gits!"
Alton raised his hands palms forward in a calming gesture," Nufin's white or black, it's jus' 'ow much white an' black we are. Even a deeman can be good, like Shezen, an' evan an' angel can be bad."
Johe's eyes squinted darkly,"well I'll wager evrywun thinks I'm tha blackest uf tha white, I'll prove 'em rite."
Alton shook his head and sighed,"It ain' no use fightin' monsters if yer plannin' to become one yerself"
...
...
Johe looked up from his reverie, noticing the big blotch of ink on the parchment he had started to write on.
He dropped the quill and closed his eyes. Sitting back in the chair he raised his hands to his face, seeing another hand dropping a quill. Was he a monster? In some ways , he supposed he was. His passion consumed him at times, made him do insane things, to achieve victory, was that really THAT bad?
He sighed, moving his hands over his face like he was trying to erase it.
Claudia had been able to calm the monster inside him with a look, or a word. But now she was gone.
Miss Meram had the same power, and now, at her request, he was gambling her life to find the Night Masks.
A strange feeling of vertigo gripped his chest and his hand moved involuntarily to his sternum, rubbing it absently. He was a tight rope walker teetering over heaven and hell. Wich way he fell depended on wich wind blew last and hardest.
He cleared his throat and stood, walking toward the door.
"need ta take a walk an' clear me mind", he mumbled to no one in particular.
the wind of the door closing behind him blew a piece of tattered parchment from the desk, it floated slowly to the floor, like a pendulum without a thread. |
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...per chance to dream
Posted: 09 Jun 2005 01:30 PM |
The bath tub gurgled and belched, but he didn't seem to notice. He was leaning against the head board of the bed, pouring over the notes and plans he had been working on for tha past few weeks. His ears pricked up slightly as a floor board creaked almost imperceptably. He smiled a secret smile and continued to look at the papers. A small wet halfling appeared out of the shadows, smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek. When he looked up with a grin, she, and his papers were gone, as if they had never been. All that remained was a drop of sweet smelling water that rolled down his chin, and "ploiped" into his belly button.
He sighed, "hunny I need those"
As if he had conjured them with those words they appeared in the air at the foot of the bed, and cartwheeled to the floor like oversized confetti.
He smiled and shook his head.
She appeared at the other side of the bed and hopped up onto it, aiming a coy smile at him. She laid next to him draping an arm over him and closed her eyes.
He looked at her a moment smiling. She made him crazy, and yet there was just something about her, that he couldn't quite put his finger on. She was wilful, and doggedly determined, to the point of being dangerous to herself. He frowned. She was...was... everything that people accused him of being. He squinted and smirked slightly. There would certainly be more arguments like the one they had had earlier that day. He sighed contentedly and snuggled deeper into the bed, putting an arm around her. Yes definitely more arguments, but if everyday ended like this, things would be alright. A small moan escaped her throat as he gave her a squeeze and closed his eyes.
Then he did something he hadn't done in a long time.
He went to sleep.
(( From here on out this thread is closely intertwined with Cora-Solace of the Shadows . Enjoy  )) |
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An unexpected journey
Posted: 23 Jun 2005 04:40 PM |
Black...
Those eyes...
They were there...
Memory slid across the inside of his eyelids. Darker ink blots on darkest parchment. he could sense he was laying on a wooden platform that was lumbering and groaning everytime it lurched. There was the distinctive smell of ox sweat on the air, and the occasional accented mutter of a surly dwarf.
"Bluddy 'arflin's always gettin' 'emselves inta trouble... Kusin'll be 'spectin' ta be paid fer this I will."
His brain commanded his eyes to open, and his body to sit up. All he managed, as the poison raced through him, was a flop of his left hand. It landed on something soft...something... black. His fevered mind began to wander down the dark path that meandered before it into... black.
What was it about that color that had drawn him his entire life? Some postulated it was a tool of his trade, that black hid things, but he had never felt that way. Black didn't hide anything. Instead, in his mind, it became everything. In so many ways, it WAS everything...
A rock under an angry wagon wheel, brought him to reality for a painful second. Red tinging his thoughts, and changing their direction, like the Aegis in a whirlwind...
Elvalia...
If she was the friend she claimed to be, one would have thought she would know better than to threaten him. It only solidified his resolve. It only went to prove what he had always suspected of the elves. They only cared about themselves. They wouldn't even flinch as the red army took the Icy Vale, and the Gladden. There were loved friends and guyvers in those places. His swollen, cracked lips move slightly, as if taking a piece of Shalee's cake. That alone was worth defending. Not to mention Shalee herself, and Chandler, and of course, his ever beloved Macha in Icy Vale. Yes, the guyvers would act against the reds. There would be no rules handed down from the haughty elves. No fear of their self righteous threats, and most certainly, NO mercy.
Something made his nose twitch. It was a smell. A terrible odor, that brought to mind the foul sulphuric denizens of the volcano he had visited with Meram, it felt like a lifetime ago...
"Gawds!", the dwarven wagon driver gasped,"Ya bluddy foul bugger. If ya want ter be eetin' ever agin, yer'll not be remindin' me what I fed yer like that...Cor blimey!"
Meram...
She was right of course. She wasn't Claudia. Nobody ever could be. Why was it that he felt so drawn to her, and yet felt so worthless when he was around her? Was it because when they had met, he had needed so much, while she wanted nothing? How was it that she managed to anger him or hurt him with almost every word she said? It seemed like she thrived on testing his patience. She would certainly have an "I told you so" lilt to her voice, when she found out about Elvalia, and her anger at the plan. Not to mention the battle that would certainly ensue when he tells her the plan is still to be carried out. What was it about Meram? Was she the flame to his moth? Was she an empty promise attached to a barbed hook? Sometimes it felt that way. The dangerous trist they were in, to take down a common enemy, could certainly land them in a far worse place than a cart pulled by an ox with intestinal problems, and (as it lurched to one side, rolling him to his left onto something soft) a broken wheel...
A gruff dwarven voice spewed dwarven words in anger. In the blackness, a part of his mind snatched the words and locked them away. He would have to ask mister Tolith what those words meant someday. He slipped slipped slowly back into the velvety blackness...It had always been so beautiful to him, he mused. So like home, so aluring, so comforting, so...black.
Somewhere, the sound of a grunting dwarf coincided with the movement of the cart. His head moved slightly, and he felt it on his cheek. Soft, warm, blackness. He felt something slithering painfully in his chest. His mind frowned at him, as his heart skipped a beat. What he was feeling was wrong. What he was thinking threw his heart into a locked cell. The difference between want and right scarring it's back with each whipstrike of reality. It WAS wrong. She was Claudia's friend. They were practically sisters. There was no way she would allow this to go on. And yet in the loss they felt at Claudia's death, they were reaching out to each other for a comfort niether of them should give. She was a member of the Hand. What about the likely day when the ideals of the guyvers parted ways with those of the Hand? This was a bad, wrong idea... and yet... Maybe Rafferty had been right, maybe he was just a bastard philanderer, but he didn't feel like one when he watched her from the corner of his eye.
The cart came to a jarring halt, rolling his angered cheek from it's velvet cradle. Rough hands hefted him from the cart. The heat suddenly vanished, and his surroundings became cool but still dry.
" Found 'em in the jungles mister Ender... Figger we work this like before, you pay me a thous'nd each, an' charge 'em whatever ya like."
"Fair enough", came the calm reply, followed by the sound of clinking coin.
There was the "ploop" of a cork being pulled from a vial, and she moaned. Then, another "ploop" and his head was lifted. Outside the tent he heard a cracking whip, his heart flinched. A gruff dwarven voice shouted, "Git!" A cool liquid ,that tasted like apples fresh from the tree, coarsed down his throat, took a detour around the slithering pain in his chest, and splashed into his stomach. A warm strength permeated his body, avoiding his still cold heart. He opened his eyes and turned his head. He almost heard his muscles command the hairs on his arms to attention and...
There they were...
Those eyes...
Black... |
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The morning after...
Posted: 24 Jun 2005 12:06 PM |
His eyelids seemed glued shut, he groaned at the effort it took to pry them open. A maniacle, laughing voice in his head suggested maybe they WERE glued shut, and that only one person could be responsible for such a heinous crime.
"dangnabit Balthor ya bluddy arse..."
He rolled over and sat up in the bed with a pained groan.
"Dam...", he winced, "gotta guyver a way not ta git beet up so much."
Images of the night before came to him, like venom squirted from a stingers tail. He nodded absently at each memory as if he was being briefed by a scribe.
Cora, Meriam, and Macha were alright.Nod. The masks had left an eviction notice in his store in the form of a poison dagger stuck in his table. Nod. He had been walking Cora to her room and seen that Verilax,(or whatever his bluddy name wus), fellow being chased by Balthor. Nod. He joined the chase, but as the Masks are often wont to do, the bugger got away. Nod. He had then realised that Cora was still in the Port and rushed back to make sure she was alright. Nod. Then the stalkers attacked and he fell...hard.
He hadn't been prepared, he made a mental note not to let that happen again looking down at the new scar he'd aquired with a grimace.
He took a deep breath and then took stock. Two arms? Check. Two legs? Check. Head still on and pointed the right way? Check. Well then today might work out alright after all. He slid out of the bed and walked over to the half full bottle of wine on the table and took a swig. So the Masks were getting uppity. This would require a visit to mister Jessup. They had to act together, they had to act strongly, and they had to do it fast. He looked at his scarred body in the mirror for a moment. The guyvers weren't going to be going anywhere until the list was complete. He would be the first to admit that the guyvers were over their head , and quite outmatched. He grinned at his reflection. That's what made them guyvers, tenacity.
He remembered one of the first times he had met Macha, and explaining to her how one Halfling just might be able to rid a whole world of evil. He chuckled at the memory...
"Yasee miss Macha, ya culd kill tha bigges' dragon in Vives with a pin if'n ya poked it enuff times, tha trick is ta keep pokin'!"
He grinned at his reflection and put on his armor. There would be more beatings to come. The trick was to keep poking. |
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War
Posted: 24 Jun 2005 06:22 PM |
He stalked into his apartment blood thundering angrily in his ears. This was it. Do or die time. Time to put off all the pretenses and be what he had always aspired to be. A guyver knight. He took off his armor and laid it on the bed, inspecting the hidden sheaths and the buckles. He looked at the cape and sneered slightly. Drawing his skinning knife he sliced it off and threw it on the floor.
He looked at himself in the mirror as he put the armor back on. Tightening the buckles with a grim determination on his face. He reached for the bow in the corner. The way the masks fought it would be better to be able to attack from afar if possible. He reached into the chest of drawers and slid a quarrel of his best arrows over his shoulder. Looking at himself in the mirror one more time he breathed.
"le's do this."
Stepping out of the door he dissapeared into the night. |
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Re: War
Posted: 24 Jun 2005 10:52 PM |
| ((...and some people say.."cool! quiver hak", but this works as well )) |
Purpose in life: finding better ways of allowing players to kill themselves. Repeatedly.
--
"...Cause he mixes it with love
And makes the world taste good."
--
<@James42> Lawful good isn't in your vocabulary, it's on your menu.
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Behind the shadows of solace...
Posted: 28 Jun 2005 11:14 PM |
He was chasing Tati Smoothfoot through the shire with a mud grenade grasped in his little hands. Her bobbing black hair conducting the symphony that swelled in his ears with a joyous crecendo. Her woodwind giggles blending with the strings of willow leaves blowing in the breeze. As the timpani of his feet accented each brass laugh that blared from his throat.
Then the ground disappeared, and they were falling like raindrops.
Tati turned in the air, her baleful eyes enchanting him to look at her, despite an urge in his head to look away. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came. He stared at her, enthralled by those engulfing obsidian eyes, until they were all he saw...Until they were his world. His heart lurched painfully in his chest, as if it were being squeezed by a vice. He realized he was at the top of a tower so tall, it almost seemed to sway to an unheard tune. He slowly turned his eyes back to Tati, who was kneeling on the flagstone floor, in a shocked pose as her face dripped off her skull like melted wax. She caught the globs of her grizzled visage in open fingered hands, and tried, pathetically to plaster it back onto her face, all the while looking into his soul with an accusatory fear. He opened his mouth to scream, but there was something in his windpipe. He felt it scrape past his throat. He looked down with abject horror, feeling vessels in his eyes burst from the stress, as the snake escaped from his gaping mouth and slithered down his chest. He looked up at Tati gasping for air but getting nothing but the emptying of his chest as the vice tightened. Tati had melted to nothing. Instead Claudia's eyes looked back at him, her skin a sickly green, and her mouth filled with jagged fangs. She smiled, her eyes with love, her gnarled maw with contempt ,and hatred.
"You killed me Johe", she wheezed at him, her voice the sizzling steam in Naruths home," I'm soooo alone", she seethed," all I have is this..."
She looked down at a blooded finger ,wrapped in blue cloth, with an odd affection, stroking it gently with a clawed hand. She looked up at him, the hatred in her voice infecting her face and eyes.
"Sssend me more!", she commanded," you know you want to", her wicked eyes flirted and flitted over his body, "you KNOW that despite the lies you tell everyone THIS is what you really do!" She held the finger out towards him driving the venom of her words deeper into his reeling mind.
A tail flicked at his lip as the snake flopped to the ground, and turned it's hungry, accusing eyes on him. He gulped in air, and wretch'd out blood and razor sharp scales as he staggered to his feet, his tears showing him mercy by blurring her hate.
He staggered backward...and he was falling again., chased by her screaming voice... "Send me more!!"
From somewhere he heard Cora scream his name, his hands automatically went to his scabbards, as his eyes looked desperately for her. Fear and pain evaporated by his passion. But there were no blades, there was no Cora, and no way to do anything, but fall.
He sobbed wretchedly, the wind of his falling ripping the tears from his eyes. A flock of black shadows raced towards him as he fell. The sound of a million voices shouting at once assaulted his ears. As he passed through the swarm of dark voices, for split seconds, some pierced his brain, etching themselves into his memory, with the sound of claws through leather, and the sensation of a carpenters chisel working the back of the head with an angry mallet....
Macha..." I can't love you"
He fell..
Luther..." You have to ask yourself...are you fighting evil? or feeding it."
He fell..
Rafferty..." No no my boy, not like this"
He fell..
Lil..." DO IT JOHE!....KILL ME!...please..."
He fell..
Eleanor..." No price was too great to get them back.."
He fell..
Balthor..." I've risked me life fer you Johe, yer like me bruther!.."
He fell..
Jubei..." Arrrrr Lad. Blow 'em ta hells hehehehe..."
He fell..
Eliana..." She's my sister...I'll kill anyone who hurts her.."
He fell..
Byron..." I'm worried about him...I fear darkness is taking him.."
He fell..
Tarik..." Wreak revenge on the insolent pup, and you will be rewarded.
He fell..
Elvalia..." You're a fool Johe Jaxon.."
He fell..
An unknown shadow..." You're going to regret this........."
He fell..
Miramil..." The Trouble-o-meter says you ARE trouble"
He fell..
Alton..." Wut good's fitin' monsta's if ya becums wun?.."
He fell..
Shihayazad..."You would let your pride kill so many.."
He fell..
Pickston..." Ya sez ya 'ates me? heh mate yer jus' loik me.."
He fell..
Blanche..." You hurt me Johe..."
He fell..
Jessup..." Gooda leetle Johez! wez showz no mercy.. HA!"
He fell..
Meram..." Yer a git Johe Jaxon, but I still luvs ya..."
He blinked as he careened through the air towards a wooden floor, his mind numbed by icy tears. A woman lay on the floor, her throat slit, and blood nestled next to her head, like a liquid lover. As he closed, her eyes opened wide, and a gout of red spewed from her throat as she gurgled, " Murderer..."
He screamed as he crashed through the beams and landed on....
*******************************************************************
He jerked awake, as if from a dream of falling. Instinctively he looked to the cieling. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes and wept quietly in ragged, hitching sobs. She moaned and placed her hand on his chest.
He felt her pulse on his skin, like a judges gavel.
He felt alone on a road paved with good intentions.
He felt numb.
"send me more"
He felt...
guilty |
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The return of the Guyver
Posted: 01 Jul 2005 07:46 AM |
He sat in the empty ale crate as the movement of Jusin's wagon rocked him gently from side to side. That bastard had lied. The Masks did worship Manarok. There was no way he could trust the word of someone like that. No. There was only one way to rescue Meram. The way he had originally planned. The liar had also promised Cora's safety. That was a promise that the guyvers would keep, with blood.
He thought of the last ride he took with Rafferty, when they had ridden off to rescue the Lady Eratia. This could very well be another "last ride" . He smirked as he thought how fitting it was that it was in a box.
His mind let the old paladins last words flow over it yet another time.
"The ends justify the means"
Today would be a day to prove that true once and for all. He would be death from the shadows, an avenging animal, he would not stop, until this was settled, until every mask lay dead, and until his guilt lay with them, drowned in their blood.
The wagon creaked to a halt. There was a sound of knocking on a door.
"Ale deliv'ry fer a mister Jessup?"
"Yez. I binz expecting thiz."
Johe put on his gloves eyes glinting in the dark crate.
Let the party begin. |
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Of Battles and Wars.
Posted: 02 Jul 2005 12:15 AM |
The mirror never lies. The eyes that look at it do sometimes. His had. Defeat was something his toughened body and mind had grown to accept, as steps to victory. But this battle had been different. Despite Siracs warnings, this battle had been all about the heart. To prove that he could. To prove that he would have, and to prove that he would. He had failed to prove anything. Meram was still captive, and most certainly being tortured to her limits, and beyond, by those cowardly bastards. All because of him. All because of his misplaced confidance in himself. Claudia was dead, by his own hand, and todays events proved that there was nothing he could have done to change her fate, even if he had not been captured by Malakai. And Cora? He couldn't even look at her when he had left her on the dock. He had failed, and she knew it. She was better off with Jessup, at least HE knew how to stay alive, instead of following some crazy half witted "guyver" to his doom.He loved her too much to send her down the road he had sent Claudia, and now Meram. He sighed and glared at his reflection in the mirror with a loathing that burned in his chest where a snake had lived and fought with fear. His reflection seethed back at him with such animosity, it made his skin crawl. Then he laughed suddenly. A bitter, angry, self depricating laugh, that hollowed out the already desperately lonely room.
"Yer pathetic!", his reflection spat at him angrily," ya'd neva be able ta pertect Cora, lookit you! Yer werthless, WERTHLESS!"
The hurled rock of his anger shattered the glass of his mind and he began to laugh again. Large hiccoughing guffaws that reddened his cheeks. He stopped suddenly, caught a glimpse of his puny form, and pointed in derision at himself and succumbed to the tumult again. He laughed until he could barely breath, little white spots dancing in his eyes like fireflies. He fell as if slain by the sword... again. This brought on another bout of laughter that took the last of his breath away, and he found himself sucking wind and breathing out wimpering sobs. But there were no tears. Instead his eyes seemed to wheeze in protest. They had nothing more to give. And... he feared... niether did he.
"Ya put too much on yerself Johe, lad", he remembered Balthors voice.
He rolled over on his back and looked at the cieling, feeling like a spent cannon ball.
"..it's gotta go sumwhere..", he mumbled in a small voice.
"We lost the battle, but we're winning the war Johe", Balthors voice chided in his head.
He chuckled to himself dryly.
"Sum battles IS wars ya crazy glass cannon", he smirked sadly.
He got up slowly and took a ring of keys from his belt pouch. He searched for a moment until he found the key for the store.
Little halfling hands, that used to pull pranks on old paladins, worked the key from the ring, as a little halfling mouth that used to laugh in mirth, twisted into a concentrated frown. Little halfling eyes that used to dance everytime they saw something new, now looked worn and fatigued, glowering at the key as it came loose from the ring. He tossed it in the fire, a melancholy smile softening the wear of worry and pain now etched in the once childlike face.
According to the priestess in a day the blood would come. Maybe it would take him somewhere where he could pay for his failures, and maybe, if a guyvers luck held true, he could start anew. Maybe even be the man that Cora deserved...maybe. He walked over to the bed and laid down on it gingerly still feeling the effects of the beatings he had taken in his laughably vain attempts to do the right thing that day.
"Lessee wut 'appens"
He closed his eyes and waited. |
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Getting up
Posted: 04 Jul 2005 08:01 AM |
He looked at the black rose in his hand, nodding slowly as the sad realization sunk into his tired mind. Maybe sir Rafferty had wanted to quit. Just take lady Eratia, and run away somewhere secret where they could be happy together. Maybe the only reason he fought so tirelessly was because he knew he couldn't. Maybe he too had recieved a "gift" from the Ebon Flame, that made it clear that the battle lines were drawn, and that the battlefield had grown so large, there was no place to retreat to.
He sighed, feeling like a jigsaw puzzle put together all wrong by a petulant child.
He had fallen three times on that island. And ,Gods bless her, Blanche had been there everytime.He smiled sadly. Each time she had revived him he had felt even more drained and weakened, but his resolve wouldn't let him stop moving on. His exhausted mind telling him he could die once he had done his job and all the guyvers were safe. Now... they were safely off that island, but none of them were safe. His responsibility to them was greater than ever.
"Falling down is not failure my boy", said an old fatherly voice he had not heard in quite sometime. He smiled at the knowledge that the old paladin hadn't left him despite his many failings.
"Not getting up, now THAT'S failure."
He smiled dryly as he stood up and put the black rose in his belt next to a black charred key that hung on a ring looped to it.
"Yessir mista Rafferty sir." he said as he walked to the door to fight for the children he and Cora didn't have yet, but would one day.
As long as he kept getting up. |
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What the blind see...
Posted: 06 Jul 2005 12:44 PM |
He rolled over on his back. A quizzical grin tatoo'd on his face, as his eyes blinked open and looked at the dawn sun caress the clouds through the small skylight above the bed. His eyes moved back and forth as if searching for a memory. Had that been a dream? He took a deep breath and let it out with a contented "Aaaaah". The slightest scent of perfume was still on the air, the scent of orchids. With a smile he nodded and put his hands behind his head. It hadn't been a dream.
"Lucky guyver", he breathed to himself happily. Last night had pushed away every worry. Every deadline, missed or pending. He laid there and enjoyed the moment, watching the light riccochet off the clouds in a dance of peek-a-boo rainbows.
"I don't trust 'er Johe, there's just somethin' not right 'bout 'er." He frowned at a thunderhead that peeked out from a corner of the skylight.
"Shaddap Balthor", he glowered,"doncha think maybe evin a derty guyver d'serves ta be 'appy fer wuns?"
He frowned at the silent reply.
"You do tend to be a bit too trusting", Siracs remembered words chided gently.
He shook his head. This was about more than trust. His fingers fiddled restlessly behind his head, making it rock like it was laying on the floor of a rolling wagon. She was a free spirit. If she didn't WANT to be here she most certainly wouldn't be. Even after he warned her of the dangers of being with a guyver hated by so many meenies, she still stayed. She still....
He blushed at a memory.
Claudia and he had waited for their wedding day that never came, but after last night, he found himself wondering how anyone could.
He grinned in defiance as the thunderhead stretched itself across the skylight, bringing with it the worries that had been banished, and blotting out the morning sun.
Yes, she hadn't said she loved him, but she would, someday.
Yes there were still a few Night Masks sneaking around delivering black roses. He scoffed. They would be found and dealt with soon enough.
Yes, his troubles in the Port had caused him to miss the opportunity to kill a bunch of reds, and ensure the safety of his friends in the Gladden and the Vale, But the hard work of setting the trap had already been done. That trap could still have it's uses. He would travel to Icy Vale to check it out today.
Things would be fine.
Yes, as long as she was with him, everything would be just fine.
He cocked his head at the black cloud. A "wut ya gots ta say 'bout that?" look on his grinning face.
It started to rain. |
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Pale shelter
Posted: 11 Jul 2005 02:31 PM |
Trust.
He sighed as he walked through the searing desert heat. Following Jusins’ cart tracks. Over the years Jusin had almost single handedly been responsible for making this rough path through the Kobai. Johe knew he wasn’t the only one who followed these tracks to be sure he made it to where he was going. A lot of travelers owed their lives to the hardy dwarf. He grimaced at an uncomfortable drop of sweat that scurried down his back. He really needed to do something about his temper. If he had been thinking straight he would have stormed off to the dock and taken a ship home, but…well. He shrugged with a dry smile, sending another drop of sweat to add to his discomfort. Well at least he was away from there. They had their bloody tear, and now they knew. Now everyone knew, that he had worked with Tarik and his people to get it.
You are a bit too trusting Johe
He frowned as the tips of his ears darkened to a furious red. Trust. Wasn’t he trusting that Jusin knew where he was going by following these tracks? Didn’t everyone else walking through the Kobai do the same? How could any relationship achieve anything without trust? The Buckshire ruins bit at the horizon in front of him with jagged broken teeth. Had someone trusted someone they should not have? Were these ruins the result? He cleared his throat angrily, and trudged on. He had performed services for Tarik. All because of his love for Macha. He supposed that was why he felt so betrayed. He had never questioned what he was asked to do for Macha, because he had never questioned her, or her intentions. He had ignored any warning that she was as much a “meenie” as any “meenie”. And…even now, he could not bring himself to concider her an enemy, a part of what was on the list. He looked up at the crumbling tower he was passing, feeling a strange empathy for it. What had he done to deserve Elrith’s betrayal? What was Tarik trying to tell him? What purpose did it serve to expose his tryst with the followers of Tarik? He closed his eyes revisiting the look of surprise on Balthors face. The confusion on Jubeis’. The infuriatingly self righteous indignation emanating from Shihayazad, and Lucifer.
“Ya gots yer bluddy teer”, he muttered angrily,”jus’ leev me alone.”
His thoughts wandered to why he had been so out of sorts to begin with. To why, even though he had had a bad feeling about the mission to Tariks heart, he had just gone on anyway. To Cora…
He walked down the road towards McGillicutty's. Ignoring the cheerful hello's of the guards followed by their confused frowns.
What was going on with her? They were both lost in their grief, in their guilt. It was what drew them together, he was sure of it, and yet... As much as he tried, she wouldn't let him in. He sighed with melancholy as his mind wandered back to the Icy Vale inn.
They were sitting at the fire warming themselves after checking on the movements of the reds. She flashed him that smile that made him feel like he'd triggered an electric trap in his chest. He reached for her hungrily, pulling her towards him and kissing her deeply. He looked into her eyes stroking her hair gently.
"yer my cyfi", he whispered.
A haunted look crossed her face so quickly it might not have been there except for the shudder that accompanied it. In that briefest moment he felt he made her uncomfortable, and that feeling hurt like no other pain he had ever experienced. He frowned.
"Wut is it luv?"
She shook her head, feigned confusion masking something else he couldn't dicern.
"What's what?" she smirked.
"Sumthin's buggin' ya, wut is it?"
She froze.
“Nothing’s bugging me”, her voice tinged with irritation.
"Yer sure? …cus ya seem ta…", he asked, his eyebrows raised with concern.
She frowned impatiently, drawing back from him slightly. Collecting herself, she placed a hand on his thigh.
“It’s nothing…now where were we?”
The seductive arch of her eyebrow gave him pause for a moment, but the question gnawing at him wouldn’t let go.
“luv…”, he persisted firmly.
She sighed and stared at him, her irritated impatience simmering on her face.
He felt like her heart was a fish he was trying to catch, slipping in and out of his desperate hands.
“Cyfi… I jus’…”
She stood abruptly flashing him a cold look.
"I'm going to get some air."
He watched her walk to the door in silence, his mind screaming for him to say something..ANYTHING... but no words came...
That was the last he had seen her... and it was making him crazy.
He pushed open the door to Doc McGillicutty’s feeling the eyes of the patrons look him over. It made him uncomfortable. He was almost tempted to slip into the shadows, but his thirst pushed him to the bar where Doc already had his cold ale poured and waiting for him. He sat, his shoulders slumped dejectedly. A sultry voice behind him made him look around.
“Well the little guyver,” Elle Placebo said with a fond smile,”What brings you to our little watering hole?”
He picked up his ale and walked to the table where the bardess sat.
“Jus’ tryin’ ta take a break is all miss,” he smiled sadly.
She looked at him with pity,”I’ve heard about some of what has happened to you Johe,” she looked down briefly and then back into his coal black eyes,” and I’m sorry.”
He sighed morosely,absently drawing shapes in the condensation on the mug with a small finger.
She looked at him with a reassuring smile. “you look like a man who needs to get things off his chest”
He nodded slowly, “maybe yer rite,” he sighed.
He started to talk haltingly at first, but as the weight of his worries started to lift his words came faster, the emotions of the past months cascading out of him as if from a broken dam. Elle listened with quiet empathy, shaking her head sadly at the hardships the poor little man had been through. When he was done he peeked at her over the collection of empty ale mugs that littered the table before him.
She sighed and spoke with a calm concern in her voice.
“Johe… no one can replace Claudia,” she reached over and placed her hand on his,”you can’t deal with Cora using Claudia’s rules. You have to let her go. You have to say goodbye.”
He looked up at her and took a deep breath, nodding sadly.
“I’ll go with you if you like”, she said gently.
He nodded again, and stood slowly, walking to the door.
She followed, sighing deeply.
A black clad halfling and a half elven woman in a flowing gown walked to the cliff overlooking the inner sea. He stood looking out over the water, as she reached into a silk bag and pulled out a lyre and began to play a soul rending melody. The cry of the seagulls seeming to harmonize in the salty air. She looked up to the sky and opened her mouth to sing…
It was only one hour ago
It was all so different then
There’s nothing yet has really sunk in
Looks like it always did
This flesh and bone
It’s just the way that you were tied in
Now there’s no-one home
I grieve for you
You leave me
‘so hard to move on
Still loving what’s gone
They say life carries on
Carries on and on and on and on
The news that truly shocks is the empty empty page
While the final rattle rocks it’s empty empty cage
And I can’t handle this
( She threw her head back her voice a cry that pierced his heart and brought the last tears he had held onto for her)
I grieve for you
You leave me
Let it out and move on
Missing what’s gone
They say life carries on
They say life carries on and on and on
(she strummed the lyre with a hopeless anger in her eyes)
Life carries on
In the people I meet
In everyone that’s out on the street
In all the dogs and cats
In the flies and rats
In the rot and the rust
In the ashes and the dust
Life carries on and on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on
It’s just the cart that we ride in
A home we reside in
The face that we hide in
The way we are tied in
And life carries on and on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on
Did I dream this belief?
Or did I believe this dream?
Now I can find relief
I grieve
She let the final chord ring as she took a deep breath and looked to the guyver. He was sitting motionless looking out to sea as she walked towards him and put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
“Come back to the tavern when you’re ready,” she said quietly, patting him on the shoulder once and turning to walk away.
He looked down a moment, listening to the gulls as they continued the song.
Looking up again, he whispered…
“Goodbye”
(( Credits: Peter Gabriel )) |
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Another scar
Posted: 12 Jul 2005 03:51 PM |
He poked at the sliver of meat pie he had sneaked from Zigzig, smiling slightly to himself as he overheard the large half-orc checking on his stash.
"...ninez...tenz...nuther wunz...nuther wunz...nuther...eh? Diz wunz brokenz..."
This was followed by the sound of a meat pie,(minus a small sliver), being crammed mercilessly into a gaping mouth. Johe smiled dryly. His raised cheeks attempting pathetically to hide the dark rings under his eyes.
The pie didn't stand a chance.
He pushed the sliver of meat pie away with a grunt, looking to his damaged armor on the floor, then, to the bandage stuck precariously to his chest. He winced as he pulled it away to see if the bleeding had stopped. He looked himself over. He was more a conglomeration of scars than a halfling these days. A shrug of acceptance moved his shoulders up towards a face that didn't seem to care.
"oh well, anutha wun fer tha collection", he stated casually to no one in particular.
The old voice that responded was a simmering pot of concern, with a dash of anger for good measure.
"That one could have been avoided my boy...you were careless."
Johe bent down to retrieve his leather chest piece, putting his fingers through the hole with a frown.
" I made it out awlrite," he grumbled," I 'ad uther things on me mind."
"Her!", the old voice chided," Do you see now why I admonished you that a knight kisses the girls on tuesdays AFTER we are victorious?"
Johe rolled his eyes.
"It don' werk like tha' mista Rafferty", he sighed shaking his head.
"Oh?", the old paladin retorted," So we're an expert on the way of such things now are we?"
If the owner of the voice could be seen, it was obvious he would be wearing a depricating frown. Johe sighed and responded in a small voice.
"No mista Raff... I jus'...", he took a deep breath and forged on," I jus' know where families cum frum now is all... I ain' as dum as ya thunk I wus."
He took a needle and black thread from the small box at his feet, and set to repairing his armor with a frown. The old knight sighed.
"My boy...You were very young when you asked me that question..and... How does a paladin of Thunder ANSWER such a question!?"
The room fell silent for a moment, except for the sound of orcish snores, and smacking lips from the next room. The guyver kept stitching, his tongue sticking out in deep concentration.
"Besides... There was a reason I kept the truth from you", the old man grunted feebly," Look at you now!... you're worthless without her, careless, directionless, what about Vives? What about your duty?!"
Johe stopped, and looked at the cieling with a glare that would have made an onlooker think a bird in the rafters had defacated on him.
"I'll git tha job dun." he smouldered.
"See that you do Johe," the knights voice was edged with urgency," The Ebon Flame will not tarry forever. If they have too many foul enemies from wich to take allies when they arrive you'll lose more than Cora."
The halfling sighed.
"I know mista Rafferty."
He put on his armor and checked his weapons, as the old man continued.
"The enemies of Vives are still many. If the clouds smile on us, the lady Eratia might yet be saved." the old voice cracked slightly.
Johe nodded, pulling on his gloves, as the voice from the other room began again...
"EH?...oh...wunz...twooz...treez..." |
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Cause and Effect
Posted: 16 Jul 2005 04:37 PM |
He sat on the edge of the bed with a grunt. Black eyes scanned the room, brows moving like the rudder of a ship with a confused helmsman. His hand absently reached for that empty place in his chest, in a futile attempt to rub the incessant ache away.
"It is something you will get used to after a while my boy," an elderly voice intoned sadly, "It's for the best Johe... Let the world mock your efforts, and label your goals impossible. What you are doing is important. She would just be another casualty."
The guyver frowned at this, reaching down to remove his boots, and empty their sandy contents onto the floor. It had been nice at least to see her, if for the briefest moment. His mind still reeled in the afterglow. But he couldn't shake the foreboding feeling that it might well have been for the last time. He shrugged morosely, putting his boots back on. It was, after all, the way of things. No one would ever be let into Ellea's heart again. Nor for that matter Macha's, or any of the girls that that bastard Hibbing had violated, and, it seemed, try as he might, Cora's heart would never understand his feelings for her.
He felt a hatred calcifying around the empty ache in his chest. A loathing for those that made this happen. There had to be some kind of recourse, some kind of recompense... something.
Balthor wanted him to throw the list away, and go back to being the ignorant halfling he had once been. There was no way back now. The road behind was gone, as if blown to smithereens by Jubei the guyver sapper.
No.
There could be no going back for him. Just as there was no way back for all those victims. The only way was forward. He stood and climbed deftly to the rafters, a determined glint in his black eyes. He disabled the trap on the sky light and opened it slowly. He climbed through and stood on the roof looking out over the city.
The list would remain.
The list would be completed. For Rafferty, for the lady Eratia, for everyone, but there would be something added to that list. Something personal. Something for him. His hard eyes squinted as he surveyed the city, his city, his world, his hunting ground. They were out there. The men who had hurt all those girls, and those who let it happen, and profited from it. The men who would hurt more. They would be taken care of with extreme prejudice. He nodded grimly taking a deep breath, pulling the stench of the city into his lungs to fuel his anger. He looked towards the waterfront a thoughtful look crossing his face. This was probably the point at wich he would clash with the Black Hand.The time he had known would come sooner or later. They did , after all, run the prostitution in the Port. This would require some serious secrecy and stealth. Possibly even an alias, like Flowbee Codswollop was in Midor, but more sinister, and far less forgiving. He peered over the edge of the roof into the alley below. Not sensing him, the rats skittered to and fro. He grimaced at the vermin. Just like those he wanted to see pay for what they had done to those he loved. They defiled the city with impunity, spreading the disease. There was a flash of orange and white, and one of the rats dissappeared with a shreak...
A tabby tail quivered with pleasure behind a barrel. The corners of the guyvers mouth rose slightly as the black eyes squinted.
Yes...that would do nicely...
He climbed through the skylight and reset the trap with a sly grin. Allies come in all shapes and sizes after all... |
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...where the heart is
Posted: 21 Jul 2005 11:05 PM |
He blinked, and cocked his head with a curious glint in his eyes that had been missing for a long while. He looked down at the small sleeping form nestled in the crook of his arm and smiled as he blew a strand of her coal black hair from his face. Gently, and with extreme care he slid his arm out from under her and laid her head on the pillow. He hopped out of the bed and padded to the kitchen with a yawn, one hand scratching his head, causing the already wild hair to stand up even straighter, the other hand rubbing his grumbling tummy.
He put the pot on to boil and frowned as he put the last of the tea in the water.
"gonna 'ave ta go ta tha Brandibuck taday an' git sum more I gess."
He froze suddenly and looked around with a bewildered smile. Something was different in the house...and since when did getting more tea even come close to making the list of things to do in a day? He scratched his head again watching the flames of the fire licking at the pot of water. There was a feeling in the house that was vaguely familiar but almost forgotten. His eyes glazed over as he concidered this. Was he a wild animal who needed someone like Cora to tame him as he had always thought? Or was it that he was still drivin to try to achieve the goals set before him, but failure could never be devastating as long as he had her with him?
He poured two cups of tea, a thoughtful look on his face. As he walked back to the bedroom to wake her. His eyes smiled as he looked around the room. Yes everything looked the same, and yet so different. He walked around the corner and grinned at the little tuft of black hair poking out from under the blankets.
She was the difference, because no matter where they were.
They would be home. |
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The List
Posted: 23 Jul 2005 03:01 AM |
He walked smiling down the road towards the Four Winds Inn. A look of mild surprise crossed his face as from nowhere he heard…
“I’d burn the list for you?”, the elderly voice had an edge to it the guyver hadn’t heard since the last time he had seen the old man strike down twelve men in a matter of minutes. But instead of the fearful respect the reprimanding tone coaxed out of the halfling, black eyebrows dove into a glowering frown as if to do battle between his eyes.
“Yeah”, Johe responded with a cocky, taunting lilt,” I reckon I wuld”
He looked into the trees behind the Four Winds, and smiled as he spotted what he had been looking for.
“There! She’ll like those.”
He trotted off towards the purple flowers growing at the edge of the tree line. Somewhere there was the unmistakable sound of an empty palm slapping a forehead and the old paladin groaned.
The old mans baritone broke the peace of the woods, “ And duty, honor, friendship, your debt to me… Forgotten? Thrown away for a girl?” The strain of trying to remain calm was evident in the knights voice, but after so many years together, he knew that no matter how powerful the one speaking was, no-one ever got anywhere with the boy with threats or anger. The black clad halfling stood suddenly and whirled on the voice, lifting his tunic to reveal a myriad of scars, as purple flowers fell from his hands to the ground
“These don’ count?!”, he spat vehemently, “I don’ see YOU swingin’ yer ole clunker sword at tha meenies I’ve dropped fer ya!”
“Johe”, the elderly voice warned darkly, the restraints on the anger pulled taut to the point of snapping.
“No reely”, the guyver pursued, his voice rising to a fevered pitch, his words like a volley of cannon fire. “ I’ve dun me duty an’ more! Fer you, fer lady Eratia, fer a ‘ole werld wut ain’ eevin mine, an’ laffs at me ahin’ me back, but I goes on! I’m sorrae ‘bout lady Eratia, I reely is, but there ain’ much I c’n do ‘bout it now is there… Tha only way we eevin gots a chance is if tha Flame cums ta us, an’ eevin then it’s a small chance. Kinda like tha chance wun ‘alflings got ta finish this bluddy list!!”
He sat on the ground with a grunt, his anger spent. Picking up the purple flowers with his small gloved hands, he sighed.
The silence flowed between the two like a dry riverbed.
“So that’s it then”, the old man breathed, “ The guyver knight no sword could keep down, defeated by love.”
Johe looked up to the clouds as if praying for a rainstorm of really large rocks.
“No mista Rafferty”, the little man replied in a small, hoarse voice,” it’s just… well… I meen… can’t I be allowed ta be ‘appy jus’ fer wuns?”
The knight sighed.
“Yes my boy. You can, and must be happy. It’s all I have ever wished for you. But do you really think these Night Masks are going to allow you two to just walk off into the sunset?”
Johe frowned tersely, and sighed.
“no”, he said.
“…and this priest of Gukathul? Will you let him use whatever the Port Royal priestess gave him to save your soul against innocents?”
The guyver shook his head, frowning at the ground
“…and the evil of the Bloodwood. You would let it hurt your friend the good grandmother Melebin, without revenge?”
“no”, Johe mouthed angrily.
‘ Vidus? The demon horde? The elemental sisters?, the vampires?, Malaki the quickling maker? All let off the hook and allowed to continue to do as they will to this world…your friends?”, The old paladin pressed on calmly, the hint of a victorious smile in his voice.
Johe shook his head slowly.
“You’re tied in Johe”, the old man said,” The list isn't just for myself or the lady Eratia… it’s for you my boy. For you and Cora.” The knight paused, then let out a sudden dry chuckle. Johe looked up confused.
“Wut?”
“You and her must endeavor to complete the list my boy. THEN you will be free. Free to live your lives the way you wish, and start that family you so desperately want.”
The old voice was tinged with a levity that caused the halflings eyebrows to knit together even tighter.
“I want this for you my boy, I really do”, the knight continued, obviously trying to hold back laughter,” …for many reasons really…The foremost being I want nothing but happiness for you, but a close second would have to be…” Hitching chuckles accented each word, “… that your deservedly sainted mother and I would dearly like for you to get a small taste of what it was like to raise you…” The chuckles turned to guffaws. The old paladin stopped to breath raggedly, then managed to wheeze,”…about twenty children should do the trick!” This was followed by another bout of raucous laughter that echoed through the woods. Johe gripped the flowers gently in his little hands, and headed back to port with his usual bouncing gait.
He frowned to himself.
“Wut’s so dam funny ‘bout tha’?” |
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Re: The List
Posted: 23 Jul 2005 04:50 AM |
| ((*lol*)) |
Purpose in life: finding better ways of allowing players to kill themselves. Repeatedly.
--
"...Cause he mixes it with love
And makes the world taste good."
--
<@James42> Lawful good isn't in your vocabulary, it's on your menu.
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Watching the dreamer
Posted: 01 Aug 2005 01:48 PM |
She rolled over, her eyelids fluttering, her brow ruffled with worry. He placed a small hand gently on her shoulder and sighed. She had assured him, it wasn't him, promised him that the nightmares were nothing. The dull ache of doubt throbbed in his head. They had laughed together the night before. She -was- happy with him... right? He kissed his finger and touched her forehead gently, then rolled over and slid quietly from the bed. Her "episodes" worried him, hells, they scared the guyver out of him, but not being able to do anything for her, not being able to kill the nightmares that plagued her was what hurt the worst. He was failing, and he knew it. Failing to do what he had promised he would. And so, instead of calling attention to it, and make her self concious of her anguish so that she would hide it more and retreat from him completely, he found himself avoiding it, and trying his utmost to ignore.
He took what was becoming one of his regular nightly walks to his desk to take his mind off of it, and glanced at the papers fanned all over the wooden surface. He smiled slightly picking up a list of names, and looking at the last three entries. Suji Do, Celia, and Akira. All good additions to the guyvers, and, if they proved themselves, good additions to the secret brotherhood, that , if he took the challenge laid before him, would be the final force needed to wipe the list clean. With Jubei installed as his second, to replace the now extinct Eliana, things were ready to proceed.
He turned, startled from his reverie by her exasperated moan. The feeling of failure twisted inside him, like a dagger in the back. It made him wince. Taking a deep breath he reached for a piece of parchment and wrote " Gone guyverin' cyfi. Be back soon... luv Johe. "
he glanced around his office and sighed. He needed to check on the Brandibuck anyway, but deep down inside, he knew why he was leaving, and a drop of self loathing plopped into his stomache like an acid blob trap.
He sighed and made his escape, locking the door behind him. |
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To the source
Posted: 03 Aug 2005 01:06 PM |
He sat at his desk looking at the list of supplies the sapper had requested, and the map of Maldovia. So... it was the vampires in the Bloodwood. Some slug so big, it had a underground city named after it, or some such meenie nonsense. He wasn't inclined to care much about such things. He sneered with disdain at the memory of biguns and dwarves taking it on themselves to "decide what was best" for the Hin.
"Not bluddy likely", he seethed.
This wasn't for common folk to have to deal with. You don't just let the worlds "greatest evil" (as Lex had called it), march through a shire and tell the kids to stay inside and not to be afraid. His eyes flared with anger. Such an idea was best left lying behind Jusin's ox, in all its piled up steaming glory for the flies to enjoy.
No.
After everyone except Cora had left, he had stepped from the shadows to speak with the strange minstrel. His childlike curiosity almost winning out to ask Lex to play a song. After all his boney hand gave him five natural picks, it could sound very interesting. His anger and concern kept that request at bay, however.
Lex would not change the portal. Thus allowing the shadows to use it, and therefore not have to walk through the Brandibuck. But the only way to keep them from returning across the bridge of Syn in massive attacking numbers, was to plan and pull off the biggest guyver mission ever. Remove one of the more difficult targets from the list. He looked again at the number of powder kegs Jubei needed, and couldn't help but smile with excitement. It was time. Time for those who concidered themselves fighters for good to put up or shut up, and not put the danger on a shire full of innocent women and children. Time to choose a side and stand there instead of hiding behind the cowardly excuse of "maintaining the balance". He sneered in disgust. Balance. Whatever.
He thought of the look on Cora's face as he had told her his plan, and he beamed proudly. This wasn't just for the people of the Brandibuck. This was for her, for them, for their future children.
"All twenny uf 'em", he smirked over his shoulder at the old knight he knew must be there, watching with vicarious pride.
He turned his head to look at the map of Maldovia, and breathed a single word his eyes glinting.
"Booom" |
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Alone with the lonely..
Posted: 05 Aug 2005 04:46 PM |
In the deep recesses of a small halflings mind, an elderly paladin of a god who either didn’t exist, or was long forgotten, sat in contemplation. The magiks used against them on that fateful night so long ago, had either been temporal or destructive. Both possibilities carried with them terrible consequences. Was it temporal magik? The old man searched his mind for the little he had learned of the arcane in the seminary…
Well, if the magiks used against them had been temporal, they were either so far in the past his god didn’t exist yet, or so far in the future, his god was long gone. Either possibility notwithstanding, he had had no contact with the god of rain and thunder since that night. This scenario did, however, have one advantage. If they could find a way back, they might be able to manipulate the return so that they could go back to before the lady Eratia was taken, and prevent it from happening at all.
Or, perhaps the magik had been destructive, and somehow…possibly divine intervention itself…they found themselves here. Perhaps this place was beyond the veil? The fact that the Ebon Flame knew they were here, however, made this hard to believe.
The Ebon Flame were coming, of that there could be no doubt. They were certainly a force of evil not known for idle threats. And now he found himself in the mind of his squire and friend, because his aged body could not make the journey.
And so he sat here, helpless and idle, listening to the occasional morose sigh of a heartbroken halfling as he sat in front of the fireplace in the living quarters of the guyver store, and pined for a mentally unstable, self proclaimed ex-prostitute, with a knack for getting whatever she wanted from men. The old man huffed angrily, and frowned as best an incorporeal thought can. Especially the little childlike man, who’s head he called his prison home. All the while the evil, would be allies, of the Ebon Flame were flourishing outside that locked wooden door.
A low growl emitted from his throat, as he watched the young guyvers thoughts whiz by in the form of moving pictures on a backdrop of velvety black, shimmering like an aurora borealis.
A picture of Johe finding her, and explaining everything in his heart and mind, in such a way that she understood, and ran to him with arms wide. Of course, unfortunately, the words he spoke were a cacophony of garbled sounds…
A picture of the two halflings in a field of purple flowers laughing joyfully…
And a picture of Fat Sam having that ugly smirk literally ripped from his face by a small black gloved hand.
These were interspersed with many pictures of her sultry black eyes as she smiled at him, or as she cried and said goodbye.
“Curse that girl”, the paladin thought to himself grimly. Had she gotten all she wanted from the little man? Was that why? No… it wasn’t like that. Rafferty had seen her face too when she had left. She was submitting to a darker force, unwillingly, but submitting nonetheless, proving, (at least to the satisfaction of the protective knight), that she never did love his guyver friend.
“For that matter curse Johe”, His mind frowned silently. Was it not he, Rafferty, who had raised the boy since that day he had rescued him from that foul denizen of death? Had he not warned the guyver that this was not their place or time? That all that mattered here was the task at hand? That they, someday would have to go back?! And still! The young man, eyes full of wonder, traipses across the land, falling in love with not one…not two… but FIVE different women!! Now to be fair, he was young, and naïve at first, but he almost married Claudia. And from his vantage point, the paladin knew Johe had intended the same for Cora.
The old man sighed almost in unison with the sad guyver. It was indeed a distant memory, but Rafferty remembered being young once. He supposed he couldn’t fault the lad too much . Something happens to a young man when pretty eyes are batted at him…But for Cora to take his heart and throw it away like so much garbage over a misunderstanding…for her to hurt him like that…it angered him…he found himself hating her…
His heart slumped…
He breathed a prayer of ashamed repentance to a god that couldn’t hear it. Here he was, a devout paladin, hating a little girl, while the boy she had hurt sat in anguish by the fire, loving her completely. He watched one of the pictures of her smiling eyes woosh by with guilt, thinking.
Still…there was a task to be done. What of the vampires? The innocents of the Brandibuck? He frowned again. These dramatics, and emotional thrusts and parries were disruptive to the plan! They were being foolish. They were being slothful. But above all, they were being selfish.
…selfish
The old knight smirked at himself deprecatingly.
…Selfish?
Selfish like a bitter old knight trapped in a halflings head, but still lucky, and blessed to exist at all?
“The boy loves her”, he whispered to himself chidingly. He stood slowly, wondering if indeed he was right in thinking there was no connection to the rain giver here. A sad smile crossed his face as he went to do what a true knight does, no matter how dire the situation might be, or what sacrifices might be needed.
He went to comfort a friend. |
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