To my students

You all probably have heard as much as there is to say about *it* (somehow...).

So don't ask!

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More Low-Brow fantasy

So I was putting pine tar on the roof of the lodge. It was the kind of “honest work” that father had always talked about. Of course, father’s honesty was part of why he lost his business, because he didn’t know how to grease the right palms. Well, that and the fact that he was drunk a lot of the time. The drinking was probably why mother left. That and she didn’t think that homesteading on the edge of the Darkwood was such a good idea.

The sun was getting really hot and the tar stunk something fierce. The tattoo on my arm had gotten blood poison and hurt like hell. “Hey Brannon, how ‘bout I finish this tomorrow and you let me go out on the run.”

Brannon snorted from where he was sitting. In the shade, no less. “Don’t think so, Bug. You seemed a little squeamish on that last run. Rabbit had to take out that merc for you ‘cause you flinched. One of these days you gotta learn to kill something besides greyskins. We’re gonna make a man outta you yet.” He added that last part almost to himself and he took a big drink of water and spat most of it on the ground.

Yeah, I had flinched. Partly because that merc had just been a guy doin’ his job and I had hoped he would run away, but partly because my nose still hurt where Stump had busted it a few days before. Brannon had won some money on that fight, not because he had bet against me, but because he had bet that I wouldn’t get back up once Stump hit me. Killing people wasn’t like killing greyskins. I pictured the greyskins and the way they had cut father down. I’m glad mother had been long gone by then and I’m glad that I had been out of the cabin because father was drunk.

“If I don’t go on the run, then how do I get a cut?” The ‘cut’ of my first run where I actually did take out a guard myself had been this lousy tattoo. I remember thinking when Twist was putting it on me that he could always become a butcher if this bandit thing didn’t pan out for him. It didn’t even look much like an arrow, and I think Twist kind of screwed it up on purpose when I complained. It made me an official member of the Black Arrow though, and I guess that was something.

“You’ll get a cut.” Brannon stood up as the rest of the crew filed out of the lodge. “We need that tar on before the rains come. It’s important work, and you’re just the boy to do it.”

Screw you Brannon. The rains weren’t coming. That was just something that old man had said to get you to spare his life. Now he’s dead and you think it’s going to rain. So I watched the eight of them go off on a raid and kept tarring the damn roof.

I did a good job. Father would have been proud, but I was sore and tired by the time they all got back. It had been a good raid I guess. Hawk had bought it though, which was too bad because he was the one that hit me the least. They had gotten a fur trader and Treat probably wouldn’t have any trouble fencing the goods down south, what we didn’t keep anyway. The inside of the lodge was like a castle with the loot of a hundred raids. It actually seemed kind of stupid to me to be amassing all this wealth and keep it out here in the middle of nowhere.

Everybody was picking out their share and I limped out to join them. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Stump poked an enormous finger into my chest.

“Brannon said I’d get a cut.”

“Actually,” Brannon had that smile that meant pain was coming, “It wouldn’t be fair for you to get any of this loot, since you weren’t in any danger.”

“The hell, Brannon. You said I was doing important work and I’d get a goddamn cut!”

“True, true. Tell you what, Bug, since you did work so hard, you deserve something. You can keep what’s left of the pine tar.”

Everybody burst out laughing. “That’s a load of crap! What the hell am I supposed to do with a barrel of freaking pine tar?”

“What say we show him,” said Slice, cracking his knuckles. And they were on me. Even if I hadn’t been exhausted, I wouldn’t have had a chance. They only dunked me a few times, but the roll down the hill left grass, dirt and leaves sticking to every inch of me.

It was a full month before I had managed to scrape it all off. I had lost some skin and most of my hair in the process. The tattoo had formed a pustule at the bottom that made it look like a freaking potted plant. ‘Business’ had been pretty lean for us and everybody was getting edgy.

One day Rabbit shows up and says we’ve got a mark. I actually got to gear up and head out. It was two wagons, with outriders. Me and Slice went on ahead to take out the riders and everybody else went straight for the wagons.

We sniped the first one all right and he went down, the second one got lucky and came in for us. Turns out the guy was armored under his cloak and we bounced a couple arrows off him before we figured it out. He got a little chunk of me and a bigger chunk of Slice, but we lived through his attack. I managed a good shot into his neck and Slice finished him off from behind. He spat on the corpse. “Search him, I’m gonna check the other one.” And he goes off.

I looked down at the guy. But for the fact that he was bleeding all over the grass, he could have been asleep. His mail and other gear were almost new and his clothes were fine. Looking at my own battered armor, I started to envy this guy and the spoils of his honest work. Of course, he was dead now, so, so much for that argument.

Slice screamed. Turns out rider number one was only stunned and now Slice was wriggling around on the end of this guy’s sword. I nocked an arrow and ran over, not getting too close. The rider didn’t look so good, but he was really putting it to Slice. I had a bead on the fucker’s head. Slice twisted away and was crawling around on the ground fumbling for his dropped sword. The rider stumbled a little but regained his composure and came in for seconds.

“Bug, you worthless shit! Take him out!” Slice was having trouble getting to his feet. I think I needed a little more time to aim. Rider one lunged forward and Slice’s head actually looked like it popped off. Seriously, it landed about ten feet away.

“Holy Crap!” I called to the rider. “That was fucking brilliant!”

He didn’t seem to understand my compliment and just looked at me in defeat. He could never cover the distance between us and I still had my bow drawn. “Well, go ahead and kill me.” His breath was shallow and he looked a little pale.

“Nah,” I said. “We got your pal and you got Slice. Why don’t you just ride away and we’ll call it even?”

“You’d rather shoot me in the back then?”

“I’d rather not shoot you at all, you dumb fuck. That last blow of yours was the only thing that’s made me smile in months.” Some people just don’t understand a fair trade.

So he looks confused, but gets back on his horse and rides off, slumping in his saddle. He may have died on his way to wherever he was going, but I gave him a fighting chance.

I glanced at my former companion’s body and figured we’d come back for his gear. I wasn’t bleeding where rider two had hit me, but I probably had a broken rib or two because it hurt to breathe. I jogged as best I could to where the wagons had been intercepted.

There were four dead bodies and one live one, not including the rest of the crew. Looked as if Slice was our only casualty. The live one was a girl, about my age and her life was about to become a lot less happy. I had heard the guys telling stories about the women they found on runs, but up to this point, I had not seen any. She was begging and pleading, hysterical and the crew had her surrounded.

“Just in time, Bug.” Brannon leered at me. “It’s time you became a man. You’ve been shorted lately, so I’ll tell you what. You get first shot.” Stump and Pig had her by the arms and Twist was cutting off her clothes. Every time she cried out somebody punched her. I felt sick.

“What’s the matter, you ungrateful shit? Have at.” Brannon was in my face.

I looked away and right at the unfortunate girl. I tried to find another place to look and it was right at Treat, frowning at me. I looked at the ground.

“Never had a woman, have you, Bug?” Treat chortled.

I continued to look at the ground. The blood pounding in my ears could not drown out the girl’s whimpering. The pain in my side was being outdone by the growing agony in my stomach. ”No,” I said. “And I’m not gonna. Not like this.”

I could feel Brannon’s breath. He stank.

“You take your turn on top, or you take your turn on the bottom.” There were some laughs from the crew.

I couldn’t do it. So they all took turns with her and they all took turns with me. It would have been some consolation if my degradation had somehow allowed her to be spared, but I could hear her screams from somewhere outside myself and through my own pain, I heard her death rattle when they slit her throat. I was lucky. When they were through with me, I was just beaten into unconsciousness.

It was sunset when I woke up. Aside from its own injuries, being raped hadn’t helped my ribs much. Having nowhere else to go, I headed slowly back to the lodge.

It was dark when I got back. The lodge had no windows, (Safer that way, Treat said) but I could tell from the boorish laughter that the Black Arrow was busy celebrating another hard day’s work. Mustering my courage, I went inside.

      I was greeted with jeers and blown kisses and foul laughter. Brannon stood and held a bottle up in mock salute. “Didn’t expect you back. Maybe we’ll make a man of you yet. Though I admit you make a fine woman.” The laughter was deafening.

“I want my cut,” I said, matter-of-factly. It didn’t sound as tough as I wanted because I was making wheezing sounds.

“Plenty to go around.” This was Twist. “Turns out them wagons was full of wine!”

Indeed, empty bottles littered the floor and most of the crew could barely hold up their heads. “Fine. Where’s mine?”

“You got yours earlier!” Brannon’s words were met with a chorus of guffaws. He wiped drool of his chin. “But tell you what, you can have whatever’s left outside. We’ll even let you keep the wagon!” I was screwed for the seventh time that day.

“Okay. Sure. That’s fair.” My words were hissed out so quietly that no one probably heard. I turned slowly and walked out.

Looking through the crates outside, they had been stripped. Aside from a few broken bottles, all that was left was the straw that had been used for packing.

After all these months, this was all I had to show: a sore ass, a bad tattoo, a wagon, and dozen crates of straw.

And a barrel of pine tar.

And a lodge with no windows full of a half dozen fucks that deserved to die.

It took me a while to back the wagon up to the door. I was starting to spit up blood and I ached all over. I took a little break before chocking the wheels. I was very thorough. An ox couldn’t move it after I was done.

Things had pretty much quieted down inside, so I figured everyone had passed out. I took my time with the straw and pine tar and it paid off. “the fuck?” someone mutterd from inside.

“That you, Pig?” I wheezed with as much authority as I could.

“What’s with this wagon? I can’t get out the goddamn door, Bug!”

“You sure about that, Pig?”

“Goddamn right I’m sure!” I could hear his grunts of futility as he tried his mass against it.

“Go wake everybody up, Pig. Something’s going down.” I could hear him shouting and some slaps as he did his best to rally the Black Arrow to action. I lit a torch.

“What in Nine Hells is this about, Bug?” Ah, Brannon, my fearless leader.

“I’m quitting, Brannon. I’m going to go find some honest work.” The warmth of the torch felt good on my face.

“What the-“ Brannon could be so articulate sometimes. “The fuck, Bug. Is that tar I smell? Come on, buddy. What’s this about?”

I had to switch the torch to my left hand, because I could barely hold up the other. “I tried to be part of the team, Brannon. I tried to do my part, but the payoff really sucked.” I could hear wood creaking as Brannon heaved against the wagon. Stump was probably helping too. Good luck assholes. “So anyway, I’m quitting. I wish you all the best for the future.”

“Goddamnit, Bug! This isn’t funny! When I get out of here, I’m going to kill you!”

“Okay,” I said. “That’s a deal. Just make sure you get out of there. It’s about to get really hot.”

“Bug! Fuck it! Bug, look, I’m sorry. We’re all sorry. About the way we’ve been treating you and… well… you know.”

I had poured the last bit of tar on the wagon itself. It reflected the torchlight like a beautiful mountain pool.

“Bug, I’m begging you! Don’t do this! Whatever you want, you got it! How’s that sound, eh? Double shares on our next run. Just name it. What do you want?”

“I really just want to put this torch down.” I set it in the wagon. ”Ah, that’s better. Now I’m going to get some rest.”

I had to move a good distance off, because the lodge burned really hot. It had been a good day’s work. I was so tired that the screams didn’t even keep me awake.

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Low Brow Fantasy

This is a character background e-mail for D&D that I sent to a friend of mine. It's a pleasant little tale of Hope, Friendship and Heroism.

It starts in the middle, but experienced gamers will immediately be able to fill in the blanks on the archetypical people, places,, artifacts and organisations that are mentioned.

I know that X-ago fareso is a stupid name, but it recurs throughout my gaming "career" whenever I need a Paladin of indeterminate origin

_______________________________________________

“This is it; Endgame.”

The words had a gravity, a sense of finality. For good or ill, their quest was nearly finished and the paltry remains of the once grand party paused briefly to access their situation. The conviction behind the words was hard to ascertain due to their being uttered in the shrill, chittering mockery of human speech that was the best that a woodchuck could manage.

From twenty that had entered the lair, they were down to five now. More like a little over three, actually. X-Ago Fareso surveyed the sorry state of his companions and found it difficult to maintain hope. Von Staat leaned against the wall, his great bulk heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His signature moustache, once a source of such great pride, was completely burned off on the left side, along with his eyebrows. Had their situation not been so grim, X-Ago would have teased him about it, but now he could only admire the force of will that kept the old Knight standing – or leaning in any event.

Arlaine knelt in prayer, her Holy sword pressed against her forehead. Perfect lips whispered invocations in the Old Tongue, and her countenance revealed devotion attempting to win out over fatigue and weakness. The rents in her ancient armour told a different story however, and X-Ago knew that the Solarine bore wounds deep and dire, the pain of which she refused to show. She was telling her God she would be joining Him soon.

Lord Granval Armann III, First High Captain of the Andori Elite sat cross-legged on the cold stone, picking his nose. He looked around vacantly, occasionally giggling to himself. It was obvious to all that he was out of the fight for now and they could only pray that some of their number survive to restore him later. The only awareness of his surroundings Lord Armann displayed was to occasionally point at the wizard and say, “bun-ny!”

Of course, Merrick Spellbinder was a woodchuck, not a bunny; not that one condition was favorable over the other. Though his little brown eyes still reflected the nimble mind within, they betrayed some fear as well. A lack of thumbs limited his already depleted magicks even further and his ineffable logic could divine few favorable outcomes from the current predicament. Still, the mage soldiered on and was using his remaining assets to formulate a plan of attack.

X-Ago felt strangely fortunate. He had avoided damage for the most part and during the last fight had felt several fell enchantments break harmlessly over his aura. Nonetheless, fifteen stalwart companions had fallen on this quest. He had witnessed them being beaten, slashed, burned, frozen, petrified, dissolved, blown to pieces, swallowed whole, crushed to a fine red paste, and turned inside out. Some had suffered even worse fates. Most of this had happened in the last half-hour.  They had expected casualties, of course, but not to this extent. As it was, a Warden of Baldur, a Holy Knight of Rhum, a Solarine Valiant, a rodent and an imbecile were all that remained to deactivate the Dream Engine, foiling the aspirations of the Necrophant Queen.

The assembled heroes could feel the machine’s infernal throbbing as it churned and groaned in a chamber not far away. Not quite thirty yards and but one sturdy door separated them from their quarry, yet they were unsure of quite what to do once they reached it. The Engine had been running for close to two months. At first, the effects were subtle- people in the surrounding area began suffering frequent nightmares, incidents of violent crime increased- but as time wore on, the fell device spread its dark power further and with less subtlety. Deformities and plagues were quickly followed by large scale alterations of geography and even architecture. To get this far, X-Ago and his companions had had to cross a river of festering blood and they had entered the Necrophant’s labyrinth through a gaping wound in a literal mountain of skulls.

Merrick and his peers in the Tower of a Thousand Stairs had been the first to pinpoint the source of the disturbances. The greatest wizards in the land were a mixed lot however, with mixed allegiances and most in the Tower chose to protect their own interests leaving Spellbinder to find allies in more martial quarters. Over one hundred hearty knights, priests, paladins and wizards had volunteered to face the Queen. Half of them promptly abandoned the quest when a storm of entrails broke over them on the blasted, ashen heath that spread beneath the mountain. Examination of the gory precipitation had revealed distorted faces and limbs protruding from the visceral gobbets which pulsed and writhed on the barren ground. The fetid tableau in the aftermath of the gruesome rain had been broken by hordes of diseased, misshapen carrion birds and a swarm of fist-sized flies that arrived to enjoy a horrid feast. Many saw this as a bad omen.

The Dream Engine fed on fear, Merrick explained to his companions. It drew in negativity, hatred and doubt and twisted it even further, amplifying it before sending it back out into the world. This energy became illusions and the illusions created more fear, generating an escalating cycle wherein reality itself began to change, reflecting the twisted will and sinister desires of the machine’s dark mistress. The mage had surmised that most of Engine didn’t even exist in a tangible, physical sense, as it added to itself in the collective minds of its unwilling fuel source. This made destruction of the foul apparatus particularly problematic.

“I don’t know what to do,” the woodchuck squeaked. “I don’t know what we can do. I can use the Word of Great Sunder, but most of the machine is spells and thoughts; it probably won’t work.” He chewed his armpit briefly and his tail twitched with anxiety. “All we’ve suffered, all this death …for nothing.”

Arlaine paused in her supplications. Von Staat opened his eyes briefly then resumed his labored wheezing. Lord Armann had apparently discovered his genitals and seemed quite content. X-Ago crouched near the furry little magus and spoke up. “C’mon, Merrick, don’t talk like that. You’ve made it through worse than this. “

“I have? I HAVE?! No I haven’t! None of us have!” His eyes were wide with panic. “There is no ‘worse than this’!” He spun twice and nibbled his claws. “Look at us,” he went on,”Look at us! There’s hardly anybody left. The Solarine is making peace with her god, and Von Staat can’t even stand on his own. AND, in case you haven’t noticed, genius, I. Am. A. Damned. Groundhog! We are all going to die here!”

The Knight of Rhum pushed himself away from the wall and staggered a few steps. ”No.” He swayed uncertainly. “We can’t die. Not here.” He coughed slightly, then greatly, then profusely. Thick brown mucous flecked with red and black hung in a gluey chain from his hand to the remains of his moustache. He looked at it and tears welled in his red eyes. “Oh gods!” he howled. “It’s true, we have failed! The world dies because we were not strong enough. Because - “ Another fit of coughs wracked him, interspersed now with sobs, and he stumbled back to the wall.

“It figures,” Arlaine hissed venomously. “No faith. No perseverance.” She continued to kneel but leaned heavily on her sword. Her free hand was clutched around her waist. “It’s no surprise that a wizard turns out to be a coward, but I expected better from a Holy Knight! I knew it turn out this way, that we couldn’t stick together nor follow this through to the end.” A small trickle of blood was forming at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes narrowed. “I knew that I would have to finish this alone. Go on, abandon this quest, abandon the gods and each other and all of you be damned!” Her body was visibly shaking and her sword point cut into the floor.

Granval Armann had grown bored and wandered off toward the immense double door. Ten feet tall and built of black ironwood and steel, four diabolic skulls stood out in relief on each side. He grinned and pointed at a leering rictus. “Sma…” He knitted his brow and pulled his head back. “Smaahl…” The cursed man moved his mouth silently a few times before turning back to the others and calling out triumphantly, “Smile!”

Von Staat groaned. Arlaine stared at the ground. Merrick whimpered. “Yes, “said X-Ago quietly, “it’s a smile.” Realization spread through him like a mother’s kiss.  “Happiness, not hopelessness. Look everyone, he gets it!” Three heroes continued to wallow in their misery.

“I get it!” X-Ago leapt enthusiastically to the center of his companions. “This isn’t us! This isn’t our defeat!  It’s the machine that’s doing this. Arlaine, you’ve never raised your voice in anger. Von Staat, I’ve never seen you take a wound, however grave, that you didn’t laugh off. Merrick, you figure things out, it’s what you do!” His companions gaped at him numbly. “Look at Armann!” he continued. “He has no fear, no anger or anguish.”

“Armann is an idiot!” spat the wizard.

“No, Armann is an innocent. That’s what’s protecting him now.” X-Ago walked among his companions as if rousing them from sleep. “I don’t know exactly how the Engine works, but you said it takes things in and feeds them back. He’s been wiped clean. He’s only worried about being happy and very simple things can do that. The machine has nothing to twist.”

The old Knight shook his head quickly like he was trying to sober up. “Our fears, hidden deep, brought forth and strengthened.”

“Like an echo that grows louder instead of fading,” added Arlaine. “Oh, God above, Von Staat, Merrick, I am so sorry. Those words…were mine.”

“No,” chirped Merrick, “they were illusion. The seed was within and the machine made it bear fruit. That might be the key. X-Ago, how did you escape the desperate shadow that just crossed us?”

“I don’t know; maybe because I’m not so sorely injured as any of you.” He looked thoughtful. “Maybe my fear was that we wouldn’t face her together.”

There was a lull punctuated by the machine’s vile heartbeat, then broken by an exaggerated snort from Von Staat. He hocked a great gout of tar-colored phlegm to the floor. “My insides smell like roast pork” he said with a surprisingly cheerful grin. He chuckled, tapered off into a spasm of coughs, then broke into a hearty, if raspy, guffaw.

The Solarine giggled despite herself. Still on her knees, she added mirthfully. “I can’t stand up!” Everyone laughed.

“I’m a woodchuck!” shouted the mage, in his woodchuck voice. A gleeful chorus ensued and even after the laughs faded, the glow hung around them. “This rodent has a few tricks up his sleeve still, what say you all?”

X-Ago knelt and faced Arlaine, putting his hands on her shoulders. “My strength is your strength and we share the bond of friendship and faith. The wounds of the flesh are temporary, but strength of the spirit is eternal. Rise, Solarine. Be healed in body and fight on, this day.” They stood as one. She was still badly shaken, but let out a sigh as she unclenched her jaw.

Von Staat emptied a flask and wiped his chin, looking somewhat refreshed. “What of him, then?” he gestured with his mace towards Lord Armann, who lay on his back, pumping his legs and arms as if in imitation of a dying bug.

“Let’s leave him what food and water we have,” offered Merrick. “He may have enough wits about him not to starve should none of us return.” The wizard bounded to the great doors and looked them up and down. “She probably summoned some last minute help. Von Staat, that’s the task for you and me. Open a path to the Queen for Arlaine and X-Ago. We’ll play it by ear from there. I was carrying the Key of Gnomon when I got transformed; I may be able to access some of its power.”

X-Ago felt Von Staat smack him on the back. ”Lad,“  said the old knight, “The lich knows what she’s doing. She knows she’s evil, and she knows we’re here to stop her nefarious plans. When we get in there, don’t waste your time with a sermon.” He winked and the younger man nodded with respect, if not a little disappointment.

They all stood before the portal, shoulder to shoulder, Merrick clinging to the old man’s back. This had been the most taxing struggle in their lives and one way or another, it was about to end. The woodchuck spoke. “If this is to be our grand exit, let it begin with a grand entrance.”  In his squeaky woodland voice, he spoke the Word of Great Sunder.  

The great doors bowed and creaked, wood cracking and metal reinforcements complaining loudly. Large fractures ran the length, splitting the smirks on the skeletal motif. With a thunderous crash, the doorway exploded into the room beyond, massive hinges tearing free from the stone arch. The shivered pieces blasted their way through a row of undead defenders clustered within. Severed charnel limbs filled the air briefly and shattered torsos fell to the ground, slain now a second time.

Another score of the reanimate fiends still remained and looming behind them were the enormous twisted shapes of creatures even more foul. The Necrophant had managed to bring two demons up from their dark dimension and the unwholesome beasts slavered greedily at the thought of performing their mistress’ dark whim. The lich herself observed from still further back in the massive domed chamber. Wreathed in icy shadow, her gaunt frame was wrapped tightly in a tattered hood from which two points of light gazed malevolently.

Behind her towered the Dream Engine. The base of the machine was surrounded by enormous cogs that met at odd angles and swayed ominously as they turned. From these protruded a variety of rods and armatures that rocked and twisted in a macabre dance. The entire apparatus was encircled by a strange coriolis of thick mist that swirled in through a gap in the ceiling. Added now to the damnable pulsing rhythm, a susurrus of whispering voices chanting dark litanies could be heard, punctuated now and again by what sounded to be distant strangled screams.  At the center of the nightmare device beat a heart of pure energy- a coiling mass of unhealthy colors folding into itself, sporadically revealing gruesome faces contorted into expressions of abject horror and grief.

Arlaine leapt in first, her sword held aloft, shining with silver light. The wights closed in on her quickly, and her shield, emblazoned with the Sun symbol seemed to offer a paltry defense. Standing firm, her voice rang out, “In nomina Solaru sanctu!” A halo of brilliance burst from her and the second wave of minions writhed in agony, holy fire searing their withered flesh. They fell away from her, dropped to the ground and were thereafter still. Even the demons seemed momentarily taken aback.

They had little time to prepare as Von Staat charged. His own shield had been shattered in an earlier fight, so he wielded his mace with both hands. He deftly turned a ring on the haft as he took a swing at the nearest fiend. The magic weapon lengthened and huge flanges grew from the head. It had more than tripled in mass by the time it connected with the surprised outsider who was knocked aside several feet by the impact. The knight snorted triumphantly and scythed the great weapon over his head, gaining momentum for the next blow.

Merrick had lighted to the floor with Von Staat’s attack and skittered off out of the fray. He had few spells left that he could use and fewer still that would be of use against these foes. His ace in the whole was an item of reasonable power bequeathed to him long before by his own master. Praying that the space-bending magicks of the Key of Gnomon would work from within his polymorphed form, he relaxed his tiny frame and twitched his whiskers in concentration. Invisible waves of energy filled the space between the wizard and the unwounded demon. The latter stopped mid-pounce and cursing, folded in half. It hissed and spat and continued to fold, becoming smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely with a wine-cork ‘pop’. “X-Ago!” chirped Merrick. “Change of plans. Ignore the Queen. You need to get into the machine!”

Slightly confused, yet compliant, the young warrior changed his vector to avoid the lich. He headed straight for the heart of the Dream Engine but was abruptly stopped several yards short when he ran smack into an unseen wall. The Necrophant Queen laughed. Her voice sounded like a rusty saw being pushed through a diseased cat. “Give up now,” she taunted. “You have already lost.” Undaunted, X-Ago brought his sword to bear against the wall of force. It clanged loudly and threatened to vibrate from his hands. He tightened his grip and went at it again, oblivious to the numbness spreading up his arms.

Meanwhile, the Solarine had joined the fight against the demon. With the Holy Knight they soon made short work of it before it could use any magic against them. The creature was still dissolving to nothingness when they turned to face the Necrophant Queen. Von Staat swung his mace in a great arc and charged. “Now, unholy thing, it ends.”

“Yes,” hissed the lich, “for you.” A black bolt of energy snaked from her bony hand, striking the large man full in the chest. His charge halted as his skeleton burst from the back of his body, rending his armor and sending metal plates flying. The bones rattled wetly to the floor well behind him and the remainder of his corpse sagged forward, oozing a pool of gore. His mace rolled impotently to the Queen’s feet.

“Monster!” screamed Arlaine. “You shall pay!” She aimed her sword at the lich’s head, only to have the creature nimbly dodge with supernatural swiftness, ending up behind her. Before Arlaine could turn, corpse-like claws grasped the sides of her head. In an instant, her skin grew taut, her eyes sunk, all warmth and vitality were drained from her. Without time to even scream, her body fell lifeless to the ground, crumbling to dust under the weight of her armor. The glow of her holy sword was extinguished.

X-Ago had glanced back to see the horrifying scene unfold. With no time to mourn his fallen companions he attacked the wall with renewed vigor, unaware as to whether his desperate efforts were having any effect or not. With another mighty blow, his sword shattered, yet the barrier remained intact. The lich now set her evil gaze on him when Merrick made his final play.

X-Ago looked on in confusion as it seemed the Necrophant Queen began to shrink. He shortly realized however, that she was in fact becoming further and further away. The mage was stretching the distance between them, buying him time. His arms felt like lead and his heart was just as heavy, but he would not give up. He began pummeling the wall with his mailed fists and with each blow he could feel warm blood spurting from his knuckles.

The sepulchural voice addressed Merrick. “You are annoyances. Merely a diversion.” The woodchuck was drawing his breath to make his last witty retort ever when he was struck by a cone of white light. X-Ago saw the tiny silhouette break into motes that drifted off, leaving no trace behind.

With a cataclysmic crash and a great rush of wind, the wall fell beneath his hands. Immediately, his proximity to the dread device caused an unimaginable violation of his senses. A putrescent, sick room odor filled his head. He tasted bile and rot. A thousand screams and sibilant blasphemies pierced his ears. He felt maggots gnawing the backs of his eyes. Looking at his hands, he watched as the mail rusted and crumbled, the flesh beneath boiling away leaving nothing but gnarled, yellow bone. Pain wracking his every move, he stepped forward. Though the barrier had been brought down, the air itself felt as thick as sludge, resisting his movement.

His undead foe began gliding towards him, bridging the artificial distance disconcertingly quickly. “Why do you continue to struggle?” she mocked with her funerary howl. “What purpose does it serve to prolong your agony?” X-Ago knew that she would soon be in range for one of her devastating hexes. He hoisted himself onto one of the moving platforms. Needles were shooting through his joints and he appeared to be immolated in sick green flames. “You can not win,” the lich intoned, but she had stopped just short of where the wall of force had once stood. “Give up and face your final doom.”

In a red haze, X-Ago leapt for one of the passing armatures. His heart was pumping ice-cold glass through his veins. Vermin were burrowing out of his skin. What had the mage said? “Get into the machine.” Into, not to. As the Engine made another turn, he saw the Necrophant standing there, seemingly dumbfounded and helpless. There was a quiet desperation to her inaction. He understood at last.

“You made it too well, didn’t you?” X-Ago called, his own voice sounding tiny and insubstantial in the raucous din of the device. The hooded figure seemed to cower in realization. “You thought you had no fear. You thought you were immune to it.” Each word had to be forced out. He felt like his body was breaking under the pressure of merely existing in the shadow of the abhorrent mechanism. The heart was close enough to touch now; it smelled of plague pyres and sounded like tearing flesh.

“Lies!” cried the lich, but it was her voice that sounded weak. “I fear nothing. I am fear itself.” She had pulled her claws in close to her body and was looking away. “I…am…”

X-Ago began laughing now and the illusions of torment faded somewhat. “We are your fear, villain: the indomitable spirit. Despite your horrors and our losses, we got here. And now, you are powerless against me.” Hornets buzzing in his mouth, a metallic shriek vibrating the back of his skull, X-Ago tensed his muscles to jump. “I represent that which you can’t abide. For all I know, your machine created me to be your nemesis. I can not be twisted.”

He took a deep breath and it tasted surprisingly wholesome. “What ever happens now, you will always have to face your worst nightmare. Whatever world you make, I will be a part of it. You have lost, ‘Queen,’ because the world will always have Hope.” X-Ago Fareso dove into the heart of the Dream Engine. He was smiling.

                                                 FIN

9:14 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

I don't need an effing subject line

Why are there stupid people on my TeeVee all the time? I try to get some entertainment and all I get is pundits yelling at each other or half-naked twenty somethings laughing for no good reason or this guy who's like the "President" or something who can't even speak properly.
There are too many lies, too much false enthusiasm and far too much noise.

Sounds like my weddding day *rim shot*

9:32 PM - 3 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment