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 Random Fantasy Fun (Scavenged!)

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Posts : 146
Join date : 2010-10-13
Age : 30
Location : Auburn, CA

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PostSubject: Random Fantasy Fun (Scavenged!)   Random Fantasy Fun (Scavenged!) I_icon_minitimeTue Nov 30, 2010 6:04 pm

Here's Wolf's description of the project:

"Here's the deal, friends and family. This here is a story-RPG. What that means is that we each make our own characters, and that we will be the ones using our own peeps most of the time (although for pacing reasons, it is okay for some puppetteering.) That is ground rule #1. #2 is don't kill off anyone else's characters without discussing it with them first. #3 is your characters can't be god characters... make them interesting. #4 is no editing things unless we discuss it, which should basically be reserved for continuity issues we find along the way.

The world - A random fantasy environment, probably Earth-like. Make it up as we go. Magic should have boundries, instant death spells would be a no-no.. yada yada..."


Chapter THE FIRST (Wolf)

"Hey fuckhead, wake up!" Brovon yelled into Zyle's tent, nearly making Zyle jump out of the tent. With his heart racing, he realized he was clutching his sword, and was about ready to stab Brovon in between the eyes. He still wanted to, but Brovon's grin worked in its own way to calm Zyle.

"First thing I'm going to do when we're discharged is kick your ass," Zyle told his best friend. "Then I'm going to fuck your sister, just for waking me up like that, you ass!"

"Good luck with the second part, now that you've pissed yourself!" he roared with laughter, and several of their fellow soldiers behind them joined in. Zyle scowled, about to defend himself, since he most certainly didn't piss himself, but Brovon continued to speak. "Come on bud, let's go eat. Three more days and we'll be home." Brovon extended his hand into the tent to pull Zyle out. As the early daylight met Zyle's purple eyes, he temporarily lost the world in the glare. He understood that most people weren't as sensitive to the light as he was, but he had learned to cope with it over the years. Zyle untied the extra strip of blue cloth at his waist and wrapped it around his head, giving his eyes a bit of shade. It also got him fewer stares - purple was not a common eye color in Aldihym, although he had heard that it was slightly more likely in other countries.

They all perched around the cook fires, each receiving half a loaf of bread and a bowl with some egg soup. The pillaging had been fantastic on the way back from Garindius, and the supply carts had been restocked with fresh livestock before reaching the Aldihym border.

Zyle readjusted his cloth, pulling his brown hair out from against his forehead. With a brief snort of a laugh, he realized he still had his sword in his left hand. He stabbed it into the ground next to him and began devouring his bread and soup, making crude jokes and longing for home - so near - just like everyone else. It had been two years since this army had been sent out to fight the Garindians. 'And I really am going to fuck Brovon's sister, too,' he thought, grinning at the man, his best friend, his comrade, but refusing to tell him his thoughts. 'After I marry her, of course.'


Perched on a nearby cliff side, a man and a woman watched the army. "Ten thousand souls, was it?" the man asked, his mouth barely visible inside the hood of his black cloak.

"That is what he said," the woman replied, handing the man a short silver rod, about two feet long. "There should be enough down there to begin the ritual."

"Well, then let us begin," the man said, laughing as he accepted the rod and flung himself down the cliff, flaring his cloak out around him. He hit the ground lightly, and seconds later, the woman joined him. They both struck the ground with the silver rods, and the earth began to split apart.


"What was that?" Zyle asked, standing up slowly and gazing west.

"Still spooked from waking up?" Brovon asked, sneering.

"I'm serious," Zyle replied. "There!" He pointed at a rippling in the ground near the horizon. "Everyone take cover!" he yelled, but the ripple was moving fast, like a tidal wave of earth and stone rushing to swallow them all whole. By the time the sight registered in the nearby soldiers' heads, the wave was nearly upon them. Then, Zyle realized there was no cover to be had against something like that, anyways.

Before they were devoured by the vengeful rock-wave, two serpentine forms erupted to life from the wave.

Then the massacre began.


The man in Garandius surveyed the ruin that his city had become. "My lord!" he cried, "my city has become a pile of ruins!" And so it had.
"No!" he shouted, and shouted some more. In fact, his shout was timed and it was generally agreed upon as a whole that it was far too lengthy, and would have had no chance at competing in any sort of shouting contest for being grotesquely over done. For shame, dear man!
'Revenge!' he shouted. He stomped his foot upon the ground angrily. 'I shall have revenge against...' one second dear man, as I scroll upwards... 'Revenge against Aldihym!' Well said, my provoked protagonist! There aren't nearly enough vowels in the middle of that nations name.
He stomped some more. Seeing that his stomping was doing very little good, he began to grind his teeth, and seething in anger. The man boiled in the fluids of his rage. He reached a high temperature of 102 degrees, and then had to go have a lie down after catching a fever.

Two days later....

After recovering, the man decided he needed to go take revenge against the invading army. 'They killed my dearest,'
'And my daughter...'
ol' whats her face?
That one!
His name was Jed, and he was ready to make some nasty old Aldihymiantans pay dearly. He had heard from the other survivors that there was an army approaching their borders. Well, he'd catch them unawares. And maybe fuck their sisters!
'After I've married them of course.'
Of course!
Me and Jed, (I being the omniscient narrator who just happens to follow him around,) made our way across the Sandskrit desert towards the borderlines, when suddenly a bright flash could be seen on the horizon.
'What witchery hath the Aldimiantanssons on their side, to cause such a natural disturbance?' he quoth! Little was he prepared for the massacre that had just begun.
Jed! Whatever shall you see?!

CHAPTER THE THIRD (That one guy)

" head..."

The man finally came to after who-knows-how-long. He didn't remember much, but he did know that the rubble that surrounded him was not supposed to be there. He looked up and saw nothing but a dust-blotted orange sky, sending a quick chill down his spine. Night was coming. Then he saw: he was laying in the middle of a ruined building, the ceiling caved in around him and shattered into pieces; this was definitely not anything that man can do by himself...or could they?

Startled but groggy, the man slowly gained his bearings and began to stand up. Immediately, a sharp pain shot up his left leg. A large gash along the upper leg was visible through his leather armor. After getting my leg looked at, I think I should patch that up, he thought as he hobbled through the wreckage and made his way to the dilapidated town center. No one seemed to be walking around or checking out the damage of the buildings. The man seemed to be all alone...

A slight gust kicked up a cloud of dust. It wasn't very large, but it came straight for the crippled man. He began to cough and sputter--he needed water, and quickly! Luckily, a well was set up a few feet in front of him. He clasped the bucket with a tight grip and drank the cool water. It felt great as the water slid down his parched throat. How good it feels to drink again!

He put down the bucket and stared into the leftover water--what was staring back at him was not what he remembered: his skin looked leathery and reddish-tan; his eyes were now blood-red, with no iris or pupil; two large horns now protruded from his forehead; and a few small, jagged bone fragments pierced his chin. Frightened, he gave a yelp as he violently knocked the bucket from the well. What was he? Did he always look like this?

As if the earth underneath him was responding to his pain, it began to tremble, albeit slightly. A bright light was seen far to the west, and then more trembling followed, this time a bit more violent. He was knocked down once again. Falling on his rear end, he yelped again as he sat on the tip of what appeared to be a large, red snake...however, when he followed it around, he saw that it was no snake, but a tail coming out of his lower back. What has happened to him?

All he could remember was a single name: Dis. Without anything else to go on, he made his way toward the trembling and the light. His pack was heavy, his leg gravely injured, and his head was still spinning at the strange turn of events; he grabbed at his chest and produced a small dagger--this small weapon had two humans engraved onto the blade: a father and daughter. The blade was surprisingly clean, as if he had taken great care of this blade in the past. He would make sure that it continued to stay clean, even after whatever was in store for him.

"Dis...My name is Dis...My name is Dis..." he repeated to himself as he continued his way to the west.


The moon was high above the cracked and forsaken landscape as Dis hobbled into the campsite. A few humans had their backs turned to him, a small fire blazing in what appeared to be the center of the camp. They were the watch at this time of the night, and it seemed that they were just about ready to fall asleep themselves.

Just staring at the distracted soldiers filled Dis with a certain unease that he couldn't describe. Each was armed with a shortsword, and two had small crossbows placed within arm's reach. It appeared that the soldiers had received some training in using their weapons, but their alertness was probably somewhat hampered due to their fatigue during the night watch.


The silence was unusually still, even for this time of night. Not even a breeze whispered through the campsite. The crackling flames even seemed to be muted. It was unsettling. Something didn't seem right about it...

Suddenly, a hand shot out from behind the intruder, clasping it over his mouth. With a flash of silver, Dis found a dagger at his throat. "To arms, maggots!" a voice bellowed--the source of the shouting was the woman clutching her blade against his throat--"It seems an intruder has found his way to our camp!"

Surprised by the sudden commotion, the startled watchmen turned around to find an odd sight: their leader had single-handedly captured what appeared to be a demon from right under their noses. Two of the guards quickly grabbed their crossbows and trained them onto their intruder, while the other two produced their swords from their sheaths--just in case.

The woman holding the intruder hostage shoved him into the guards, who then took their turn to restrain his arms to his side. He seemed to have no idea what was going on--this is how the ambush was supposed to work. Although...something about this one seemed different: the leader looked over her quarry with a keen interest, something she rarely ever did, as her quarry got a good look at her as well.

Dis had never before seen a woman quite like this before. Her jet-black hair was fashioned into dreadlocks and then tied back like a large ponytail. Green and black facial tattoos swirled around her forehead and cheeks, and looking down her arms and legs, they seemed to be continuations of the same patterns seen from above. She held a dagger in her right hand, with another sheathed sword situated on her hip. Her armor was made of a dark-brown leather with the continuing green and black motifs seen on her tattoos.

"Well, well, well...what do we have here, boys?" she asked in a cold yet calm voice. Her question seemed strangely playful--Dis felt the need for caution around her. She felt the need to play with her dagger as she talked. "Who are you, stranger, and what are you doing wandering around in the Badlands this time of night?"

Dis hesitated for a moment--what really could he tell them? He didn't know half of the answers of those question himself.

He swallowed and began to answer as best he could: "My name--I'm not quite sure what it is, nor what it used to be, provided that it was something else...!"

At the end of his remark, the leader quickly placed her dagger once again, point at the throat, at her captive's neck. "Before you say one more thing, ask yourself how much you value your life, you pathetic creature..."

" can call me Dis. I came from the east--I've been walking for about four hours or so, following some tremors and a light that flew up from the west--I have no idea what either could be, though...maybe some sort of magic? I don't know, considering I'm no practitioner..."

The leader raised an eyebrow. "Well, Dis..." she spat out his name as she withdrew her dagger from his throat and chuckled. "What is it that you're hoping to find out west, hm? Better yet, what do you hope to find here?"

"I wasn't expecting anything," he replied. "I woke up in a ruined building like this, with no idea how this happened, nor anything before it--the only thing I remember was the name...and that I need medical attention for the large wound in my leg...fortunately, it got me this far, didn't it?"

"Oh, you need medical attention, do you?" she jeered. The four guards behind her chuckled as she withdrew her sword. "I've got a better solution for intruders like you..." She ran at the prisoner, piercing the night with a siren-like wail and swinging her sword at him like a fiend straight from the bowels of hell.

Dis, seeing the fury in her eyes, had to act quickly. He gathered his strength and swung the two guards holding his arms forward towards his attacker. Startled, the guards armed with crossbows did not see the prisoner duck into the shadows and shot their comrades-at-arms square in the back. Both those guards fell without a fight. Panicked, the two guards left standing did not see the flashing of blades as Dis shot out of the darkness, slashing away with daggers and drawing copious amounts of blood. They fell as quickly as the first two.

Only the leader remained. Seeing her guards now fallen in battle only augmented her rage towards the former captive. She ran at the target, a bloodlust clouding all judgment and reason. Dis grabbed a dagger out of one of the many slots in his armor and threw it at her; she deflected it without breaking so much as a sweat. Unnerved, he quickly ran at her as well, pulling the imprinted dagger out of his main holster and readying it for the impact of the blades.

The clash of metal seemed to pierce the still night air. Dis' strength seemed to be equal to that of the leader. They struggled for what seemed to be an eternity, locked with blades and adrenaline. Eventually, one last push of strength and the leader was knocked to the ground. Dis quickly pounced on top of her, his knees locking her arms straight out and a dagger now pointed at her throat.

"Now...give me one reason why I should not kill you now..." the words oozed out of Dis' mouth...they seemed strangely familiar--and somewhat comforting. The leader's eyes were now wide with fear. Her breathing became more panicked and she began to whimper slightly with each new breath.

"Why? Because--"

"Because it would have been a waste of my time training her for so long only to see her killed by a vagabond."

Dis looked up to see an older woman, about fifty or so years of age. She wore the same tattoos that the "leader" had embedded into her own skin. "These apprentices don't come cheap, you know," she continued. Dis stared at this woman. There was no possibility of the older one being a threat, although she looked a bit more lithe and fit than most people her age.

"I've never seen someone take down four mercenaries and one of my apprentices that quickly before. Impressive," the older woman continued. "Let her go, and I promise that no more harm will come to you tonight." Dis slowly got off of the leader-now-named-apprentice and she quickly ran to her leader's side. "Although from the looks of things, you don't seem to be the one needing protection."

"Matron, I have failed you," interrupted the apprentice. "I should have killed him when I had the chance, and I didn't think him to be as trained as he was..."

"Think of it as another lesson, child--always be wary of those you may try to capture. You know your own strengths, but not those of your opponent."

Dis watched this strange turn of events: his would-be assassin was not the accomplished fighter he had anticipated--merely a student. "Pardon the interruption, Ms...?"

"Call me Kshatra, Matron of the Blade. This is my current apprentice, Kythra. She could learn a thing or two from you, Dis."

Dis was taken aback. "How did you...?"

"Know your name? I was awake the entire time. Kythra's shouting alerted me to the events that took place, and I overheard most of your her interrogation. I may be old, but I'm no fool," Kshatra replied. "Seeing as you killed the mercenaries guarding us for the night, we now have two extra tents. You are welcome to stay for the night, if you wish. Before you go to bed, let my apprentice bandage your leg. It looks like a serious wound. Providing you don't perform any more stunts like you did not too long ago, it should heal normally within a few days."

"...Thank you...Matron..." he weakly replied. She may be a bit older, but she was the definite authority around these parts. He made his way into one of the tents and laid on the bedroll. Soon, the fatigue from his walk set in and he drifted off to sleep...

CHAPTER FIVE? (Yours truly)

Jed entered the Sanskrit desert at a run. He had seen a devilish looking man as he left the city, and did not want to have anything to do with him. It was then that the thought of the man probably having something to do with the destruction of Garindius entered Jed’s thick skull.
‘Alas!’ he cried. ‘I have missed mine opportune moment for thou’rt revenging!’ the thought of his beloved wife filled his mind with melancholy, and his eyes with tears. Fairly soon he dehydrated himself and passed out. His limp body hit the sand with a dry “thud.”
Nighttime embraced the desert. Were Jed conscious he would have seen stars all around the horizon, piercing night’s black veil in every direction. Being that he wasn’t he continued to snore. It was then that the demonical figure made it’s way past him, trudging through the sand and visibly ignoring the form of Jed curled in a fetal position. It approached a camp that had set up while Jed was lying inert. In fact he had been so for several days now, and if any vultures were around they would have found him to be prime pickings.
The demon fellow came and went. Sounds of a fierce battle ensued in the tent area. A line of drool oozed down Jed’s chin. His eyes blinked open.
‘Ah, good as new!’ he said, and stretched his arms, satisfied with life. The clang of steel upon steel hit his eardrums, and he swerved to face where the battle seemed to be coming from. ‘Hmm, I don’t remember that being there.’ he commented upon the tents. He watched as a guard flew from the entrance of one of the tents with his throat ripped open, and landed not twenty feet from where Jed stood.
‘Neat!’ he said. ‘Maybe these fellows can give me directions to my revenge, and perhaps have some spare pocket change.’

A narrative flashback!

Jed had grown up in the desert city of Garindius as a very poor thief, so he spent most of his time begging. He knew a few tricks of the trade when it came to cutting purses, but none when it came time to hot-foot it. He would inevitably spend most of his days in prison, where at least the grub was palatable and the beds weren’t half bad. On one of his many jaunts into prison, a series of cloaked and hooded gentlemen in black robes came to visit him. They claimed to be from the government, and wanted to use him in an experiment. He declined, but didn’t seem to have any choice in the matter when the jailer strung him up and handed him off to the malevolent group. The next thing he knew he was in a subbasement in who knows where, tied to a chair, with all sorts of funny words being chanted over him and strange pink liquids being shot into him. Of course he doesn’t remember any of this, so try not to mention it. He’ll probably have some sort of revelation later on. When he was back on the street, dazed but not unhappy, he seemed to never stay hungry for very long, regardless of if he would go days without eating, and he would feel thirsty sometimes, but after a few days of going water-free his body seemed to take care of itself. Little did Jed know that he had been turned into a steam-punk-type cyborg and did not need either of these things to survive, though his weak human side felt the need for it, and would frequently think it had gotten sick or was starving to death. Which all goes to show that you still need a certain amount of brains to fulfill the old adage “mind over matter”.

Back to the good stuff!

Jed snuck over to the body and prodded it. It squirted blood from its jugular in reply.
‘Well, guess you won’t be needing this anymore. A-hee-hee!’ he reached into the mans pocket, wiggled his fingers around, reached into the mans other pocket, wiggled his fingers around some more, and then withdrew his hand.
‘S’funny.’ he said, disappointed. ‘What kind of man wanders around in the desert without any cash.?’
‘The kind that know where they are going there is nothing to buy.’ said a mysterious voice behind him.
‘Like where?’ Jed asked, then froze. He slowly turned around. There behind him was a mysterious cloaked figure which he vaguely recognized, but couldn’t put a face to - probably due to the hood.
‘Like hell.’ The man said ominously. ‘Booga booga booga!’ he threw his hands up.
‘Yeek!’ Jed’s feet treaded the sand, but the man caught him by his collar.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
‘Away from you!’
‘But I’m a friend,’ the man said smoothly. ‘I just want to help you.’
Jed’s feet stopped their motion. ‘Oh yeah?’
‘You see that camp you were just about to enter?’ he motioned a cloaked arm towards the tents.’
‘Guess who’s in it.’
Jed put a hand under his chin. ‘Campers?’
‘Yes,’ the man admitted, ‘but that’s not all.’
‘It’s not?’
‘Do horns and a tail sound familiar to you?’
‘Yeeee!’ Sand flew in the air, and the man struggled with his grip.
‘Wait! Don’t you want revenge for what he did?’
Jed stopped. ’Hmm.’ He gave it a long hard thought. ’Yeah, I guess I do.’
‘Right! I can help you?’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘But he is more difficult of a foe than ever you could imagine. You can’t take him on now.’ the man shook his finger. ’You’d probably die.’
‘No!’ Jed’s face blanched.
‘Come with me,’ the man said, ’and I can help you with everything you need to avenge your fallen city.’
‘And my wife!’ Jed piped up.
The man looked taken aback. ’You were married?’
‘I suppose there’s all types in this world…’ the man mused.
The two newly acquainted companions trudged through the sand, away from the tents, and in the direction of Aldihym.

UH... SIX! (Yaz? Yeah, Yaz!)

The sun was starting to shine over the horizon far to the east as Dis woke form his slumber. Groggy, he tried to stand up and found it much easier than the night before. He looked down and saw bandages covering his wound. It felt strangely comfortable with the tight wrappings around his leg--a feeling Dis was never accustomed to before.

Hearing strange mutterings and whisperings outside his tent, he walked out into the low desert sunlight to see the two women clad in green and black meditating in the shade of another tent. The elder, Kshatra, seeing his shadow out of the corner of her eye, raised herself silently from the ground and made her way over to the demonic assassin. She motioned for him to follow her a good distance form the campsite.

"Dis," began the leader, "I must ask you to do me--no, the world--a monumental favor. This is not only for the safety of the world, but also for you and your family."

Dis stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. He had a family? "I...I don't know what to make of this...I don't remember having a family..." What happened since he woke up in the ruined city?

"I know about you, Dis--about you and your family. I never expected this to be your fate, though."

"What happened to me, matron? What am I now?"

She quickly looked him over, shaking her head slightly before giving an exasperated sigh. "I do not know what has happened to you, Dis. However, I can tell you that your sister is in grave danger. Pull out your dagger. What is on the blade, Dis? Does it look familiar?"

Dis obeyed and stared at the etching in his dagger. A young man and a small girl on the blade, each brandishing a dagger, stared back at him. "That," continued the matron, "That is your sister. She is in danger, and you need to save her."

"How am I supposed to do that, exactly? I don't know where she is, or whether I actually have a sister. How do I know you're not lying to me? Your protegee did try to kill me last night, you know..."

"And I could have let her. However, I did not. Kythra is fully capable of killing you. However, I know the state of the world and what will happen if you do not do anything to change it. So, you still live. She has no idea how important you are to the preservation of the world, and neither do you know her importance. You will take her with you on your journey. Who knows, you may even teach her a thing or two about your trade."

Dis put his dagger back into his holster. This was unreal to him--a teacher! To the woman that tried to kill him, no less! "And what exactly will she offer me in return? I don't usually make a deal unless I get something useful out of it--at least, I don't think I should."

"As easily as she can kill you, Kythra can also keep you alive. She has basic training in first aid--the natural and magical kinds. She can keep you alive for longer than you could on your own. Your leg seems to be feeling better, as I recall. Be sure to thank her sometime on the road."

"Then what about you? What will you do, now that you've pulled a fast one and gotten rid of your latest apprentice?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe pick up another one and start the whole process over. However, it will be difficult to find a suitable apprentice, Dis...but please be on your way now. I am going to tell Kythra to pack her weapons and be ready to leave shortly."

Dis stood there in amazement as the matron walked toward the meditating youth in the shade. He had no idea how she was able to get him stuck with her old apprentice. He hastily ran back to his tent and began to pack his few possessions together. Suddenly, the flap behind him opened with a rush of air. Startled, Dis quickly pulled out a dagger and brandished it at his assailant. The startled young woman with the braided black hair gave a slight yelp in fear as she saw the steel flash through the air toward her throat.

"Dis, it's only me," Kythra exclaimed. "Come out of the tent, I'm ready to go whenever you are."

Gathering his composure, Dis quickly picked up the rest of his belongings and walked out of the tent. Kythra and Kshatra were both standing in the middle of the camp, clad in their green and black leather. It appeared as if they had finished saying goodbye and were ready to part for the final time.

Kythra made her way over to the demonic assassin and only looked over her shoulder once. Her matron was finished with training her; it was up to Dis to finish the job now. The two vagabonds then turned to the west and began to walk away from the sun. Dis never looked back; Kythra turned around once more after an hour's walk. She could not see the camp they came from. She was now alone with her would-be killer. Yet even he did not know what to make of her...

SEVENTH HEAVEN (The ladies all know his name)
Book IV: To Challenge The Sands Of Fate
Where our hero traipses across the desert and not a whole lot happens

“OOOhhhhhhhhh IIIIII-” the note floated in the desert air for over five seconds. Then like a burst of rays from the ever beating sun, it broke.
“Wish I could go to Aldihym, why I think I’d stay there all the time! It’s got-”
“Booze!” boomed a voice in a low tenor.
“Broads!” rejoined the first.
“And all the sods whose pockets are full of gold for the taking,” they chortled together.
“Breaking your fist on the other man’s nose,”
“And absolutely hung over for daysssss! Well, it’s a lovely old time in Aldihym,”
“You’ll get yours and I’ll get mine!”
“And we’ll all leave there with pockets full of gold, a girl in each arm, everybody give a hurrah!”
Jed and the cloaked man stomped across the desert, arms wrapped around each others shoulders.
Jed‘s face took on a look of strained concentration. “You know what, cloaky?”
“What?” replied the man in the dark robe. Jed’s nicknames for him seemed to change every hour.
“It’s a good thing you had that bottle of booze,” Jed slurred. “I mean, walking through the desshert would be so boring if I wasn’t completely shmashed.”
“Yes indeed friend,” the cloaked man didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was just the last of his rancid water they had drank. Whatever makes the journey easier, he thought.
“Yes sir!” Jed abruptly came to a halt, causing the other man to stumble. “But there’s nothing to make a trip better than good drink,” he held the bottle up, “good company,” he slapped the man hard on the back, who gave a “Hoof!” “And even better, a ssshhhttttt…” spit flew from his mouth in a torrent.
“Excuse me?”
He took a breath and tried again. “A Shtttt…….”
“A what?”
“A shtttttttooorrry.” he finished, and smacked his lips.
“Oh good, that should make the time go by quicker.” The cloaked man conceded.
“Right! So what’ve you got?” Jed looked at the man expectantly.
“Your Shtttt….”
“Oh, you want me to tell one. Hmm,” They began to walk again, and the cloaked man became silent in concentration. A long time ago, before he decided to become a cultist, he was actually a history buff, and had taught classes of bored and extremely obnoxious children. Now he felt like his past life was catching up with him. What was it that made him join this mysterious organization in the first place? Now that he thought about it, he recalled enjoying his life as a teacher. Sure he wished he could dip the kids in vats of boiling oil by the end of each day, but he felt as if he was imparting some great wisdom of the ages; some secret and special thing that he shared with anyone who listened.
“Well,” he spoke in a pleased tone, “being you’re a local I’m sure you’ve heard of the legendary Geriatric warrior, Gallant Gary. What you probably haven’t heard is his famous last exploit in the famed caverns of Mithra, hidden deep in the valley of Hjoorm (where it‘s rumored is the famed city of the half-lizards, don‘t you know) It was there that Gary-”
The cloaked man spun and saw Jed’s eyes were closed. He let out a grunt. “Well you’re the one who asked for a story.” He said sourly.
Jed collapsed to the ground. The cloaked figure paused for a moment, then kicked at him with his foot. Jed let out another snore then curled up and fell sleep.
“It wasn’t even alcohol!” the man shouted exhaustedly.
The robed man strode back and forth across the sand, muttering obscenities, as the sun made it’s ponderous journey into the sky.

Two figures in black robes strode across the desert towards another figure, sitting on a crumpled heap.
“Well?” came a woman’s voice from one of the robes, when they reached the figure.
“Well what,” it replied.
“Where is he?” the robed figure next to her asked coldly.
“What, do you think chairs just magically grow in the desert? What do you think I’m sitting on?” He stood up, and they could see the form of Jed underneath him, sleeping peacefully.
“What happened to him?” the woman asked.
“He think’s he’s drunk, and passed out,” the man replied bitterly.
“Can cyborgs get drunk?” the other man asked.
“Doesn’t matter because he’s not even really drunk.” The original figure sighed, and plopped down into the sand. The woman crouched over Jed.
“How long has he been like this?” she asked.
“Judging from the sun, I’d say a little over two hours.”
The robed woman nodded, turned Jed onto his back and began to tug at his pants. The first robed man jumped up. “Hey, hey! What are you doing! That’s indecent!”
“Even if he’s not human he still has his dignity,” the other man agreed. But after looking at Jed’s drooling mouth and rear sticking in the air, he whispered, “probably.”
“Shut up you dolts,” the woman tugged the pants down. Jed’s pasty exterior was exposed, and on one of the cheeks was a shining pane. The two men gaped at it.
“He can be solar powered.” she explained. “This will get him moving faster.”
“Oh!” They both said in surprise.
“Well, it’s still not a pleasant sight.” the first robed man turned away. “So did you two finish your mission?”
The woman cackled. “What do you think? Show him, Jarvis.”
The other robed man held out a small rod, about two feet in length. It was blood red in color.
The first man spun around and took it. “Ah! Many lives must have gone into this.”
“A whole Army‘s worth,” Jarvis smirked.
“Good… Now all we need to do is get this poor sap into Aldihym and we can start putting the plan in motion.” He gestured towards the distance. “Lucinda, Jarvis, you should go on ahead. He‘ll become needlessly bothersome if he see‘s the two of you mysteriously here.”
The two nodded. The woman held out her hand, and the man deposited the rod back into it. “Keep it safe,” he warned.
“We can always make others,” the woman said with delight. “We can use the whole of Aldihym if need be,”
“Only if all else fails,” the man chided. “Now be off with you.”
The two figures departed. The man watched them until they became specks in the distance.
He heard a rustling by his foot. Jed had sat up, and was rubbing at his eyes with his hands.
“What did I miss?” he asked sleepily.
“Not a whole lot,” the man smirked.
“Oh good. Lets get going.”
“After you, friend.”
They resumed their perambulations across the warm desert sand, ever walking in the direction of Aldihym.


And. well, that's it. Horrible ending, am I right? Feel free to rectify it by adding new chapters. Away, boys! May your pen flash with the swiftness of a thousand angels on Black Friday at HeavenMart!
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