| Current mood: |  creative |
Storytime.
So I got bored with Halco. Here's something completely different, but interesting nonetheless. More interesting than last story.
Thalas sighed. The air around him was chilly, but even so, he could barely feel it. Things were strange in this world where he was, but he accepted it. Looking around, he took in his friends, sitting around a campfire in a picturesque manner against the cold tundra.
He had joined this party of adventurers a month ago, and now they had been wandering around, fighting all manner of creatures, using violence to rob them of their gold and gain fighting skills, and doing very little else. None of them had any manners, or any personality for that matter, but he still continued traveling with them.
He was a Mithar, or a traveler, one of the infamous species of world travelers who have the strange ability to transverse worlds and universes as easily as one crosses the street to get one’s mail. However, sometimes things go wrong and they find themselves stuck. Occasionally they take over and begin dynasties, and as the insiders know, the Mirokian dynasty was started by a bored Mithar, and other times they just go along with some sort of destiny that have been carved for them that will end with them being sent somewhere else. It’s a great way to spend an infinite life.
Thalas had been stuck in bad worlds before, but this was by far the worst. It was showing on him, worry lines creased his aged face, and dark circles marked his lack of sleep, as these people slept for about 10 seconds before carrying on. Not only that, they were very odd, only having personality at very select times, and for very short melodramatic periods.
Looking at the party as they stood around the campfire, he noted the leader: Tan, a swordsman with strange yellow hair that was very spiky. He had next to no personality, but he had an odd ability to do an amazing amount of damage to the enemies they encountered, but the only sign of the damage occurring would be a number that emerged from their bodies. Next to him was Fina, a sorceress with a lack of personality and which was replaced by her good body, who’s owner seemed to be Tan. Sitting next to them was Pondo, a healer, Tan’s best friend who was ridiculously good looking but had terrible luck with women… Not that the women here had any personality either. Sitting across from them was Fank, a large man with a large mace who also had no personality, but swore to make up for it.
And then there was Thalas. What was he doing here? He had tried to strike up conversation with the characters, and none of them really responded except for various times, where they replied with horribly scripted replies. Everybody else in this world had no personality either, and said the same things over and over again.
Why had the god(s) dumped him in such a horrible world?
Just as he was thinking this, a strange blue window opened with the words, “Save in slot 1, YES NO”
A white arrow hovered to YES, and then all went black.
With a strange tug, Thalas felt himself being thrown through the sheer fabric of reality to yet another universe, and as the shapes went by he prayed that this world might be a bit more sane than the last one. With a shudder felt around the universe, he landed somewhere.
It was a dark place, and it was night. As his eyes adjusted, he realized it was a town, level C class technology, cars, lights, that sort of thing… But why were all the street lights off? And why was everything a mess?
Suddenly, from one of the broken down houses he heard a scream, cut off with some swearing.
‘Doctor’ David Filis grew rather annoyed as his latest experiment woke up, and he had to use the hammer, again. He hated when that happened, because he wouldn’t be able to finish his experiment: fuse a frog liver with a human liver to create the ultimate liver. Shrugging, he shoved the body into his meat bag, wiping some of the pieces of broken skull in with his hand.
People had called him insane, usually the people who became his victims… But he didn’t take it personally. After that strange bomb fell, lots of people went insane, and frankly, it was fun. He remembered the day very clearly, it had started normally, he had been an accountant for a real estate firm, but then the bomb fell. Nothing physical happened, but the world just became… Darker. Paint faded, glass shattered, and things rotted much quicker. Clouds of fog surrounded the city, and ghosts and demons were said to walk the street.
Dozens of cults arose, full of fanatical red robed, black cloaked, or leather bondage wearing initiates, most of which were half-insane themselves. Psychotics roamed the streets, and churches were burned down as quickly as they formed. Butcher shops flourished with newly acquired meat. Murderer became a way of life, and he had taken up his hobby: medicine. He had always liked medicine, and had initially wanted to be a doctor before he had changed his degree into accounting. It was because of that damn Dr. Fisher, telling him that he wasn’t cut out to be a Doctor. Well, Dr. Fisher wasn’t cut out to be a patient, he died several seconds after the first incision. Of course, when the first incision is on the skull, and a pick ax is used, you don’t really hope they’ll survive.
And now, he was a doctor. His clinic was open to all who willed to have medical treatment, and many who didn’t, and in many ways he felt like he was doing charity work for most people. In any scenario, he had to clean up the mess before his next patient arrived. Wiping the table down with a bloody rag, he grabbed the mallet he used for anesthesia, and walked out his door.
Standing there was an old man wearing a robe and carrying a pretty big sword. Instinct told David “Murder”, but something stopped him.
That something was a very big sword, in his chest.
Thalas knew what this was, a destiny killing. Sometimes the great beyond liked to mess with Mithar, like last time, but this time he had sent him to do something, this something was to kill someone. He had done this before, and he knew how it was: You can only kill so many people before the god(s) begin to take a notice, and most of the time they are too busy having cocktail parties and debating each other’s existence to do things for themselves. That’s why they send memos, and these memos get translated into rips and turns in the workings of the universe, and Mithar got tossed around, and ended up doing most of the god(s) dirty work.
This had to be one such case. Wonderful. Well, he should get sent to another place soon, hopefully somewhere with a nice bath, a nice bed, and some women.
Waiting, he sighed, looking at the rather nice sword he had acquired in that bizarre world before. It was ridiculously huge, but it worked, although this was the first time it had ever been bloodied, and the first thing anything had died without numbers emerging from it’s chest and it fading into a red haze.
Suddenly, nothing happened. This was odd. Usually after he killed someone destined for doom, he was sent off again, but this time he wasn’t.
He waited for a bit, sighing. He sat down, and chewed on a blade of grass. He felt a demon try to get inside of him, but resisted. He noted the high levels of negative energy in the air, and shrugged. He grew bored. He wondered if he would ever see that old album of the Starfucker team he kept in his old apartment 300 years ago, before he got tossed across the universe. He felt another demon trying to get inside his head, and politely told it that he wasn’t interested in being possessed today, but thank you for the offer. The demon left, very confused. Then the demon returned, and insisted that he let it possess him. Please? Just for a few minutes?
As he was politely telling the demon that he had tried possession a while ago, and it really wasn’t his thing. But hey, there were other people in this town. The demon then began to complain about how it’s home situation wasn’t going well, and he hadn’t had a good possession in a long time. Thalas decided he had heard enough, and with a small mental effort, created the metaphysical equivalent of a chaingun. The demon left.
As he was doing this, another scream interrupted him, and he looked to see a distraught looking man running from a bunch of black robed cultists, all screaming odd chants and carrying all manner of weapons, from revolvers and large sticks, to a garden hose and a printer.
“Ahhh! Help me! HELP ME!” The man screamed. Thalas unsheathed his sword, just as the man came to him.
“Please! Help me! They’re after me!” He begged.
With a swing of the sword, the man fell to the ground. A few seconds later, so did his head.
Hopefully that was the one he had been sent here to kill… But if not, there were a lot of other people, and most of these black robed cultists seemed like they had seen a lot of bloodshed. In any scenario, his target had to be close, as Mithar, when sent to go kill someone, had destiny programmed to provide a close proximity to their intended target.
“The man! He is the demon lord! He has killed the heretic! All praise the demon lord!” One of the black robed men screamed. Some of the cultists bowed down. Others grew nervous, until another one stabbed the one who had spoken with a fork.
“You fools! He is not the demon lord! The demon lord is red and firey! Remember the visions!” He said, before getting smacked by the tennis racket of the man who he had just stabbed.
Thalas took this opportunity to slay them, as half of them were kneeling, making their heads very accessible. With a few swipes of his sword, the blood flew all over the place, making a rain of blood. The more he killed, the more his sword, his attire, and even his skin seemed to turn red.
Finally, the first cultist to talk was cowering on the ground, the fork still lodged in his back.
“You are the demon lord!” He stuttered.
“And you are my target.” Thalas said, and brought the sword down on him. With yet another spray of blood, he smiled. Destiny had given him somewhat of a minor challenge. Or rather an annoyance. Stupid destiny… But at least he had got the guy. Or the guys. And girls. Whatever.
As he was walking away from the bloodshed, he noted a slight bit of movement in the bushes near him. He took a closer look and found a tired looking man in a sleeping bag with a very, very bloody chainsaw and a creepy mask, and an arsenal of strange implements, ranging from a very bloody waffle iron to a bloody hubcap with lots of nails pounded through it.
Crap.
So he had killed all those people for nothing? What a waste… Feeling a bit of shock, he shook it off, and with it, a lot of blood.
“Uhh… Err… Yeah… Dude…You… You’re cool…” The man said, his voice not unlike that of a surfer on the beaches of Vega 4. It was the voice of a beach bum, but instead of riding the wave, he killed people in interesting ways. And apparently a lot of people, judging from the amount of blood on his ‘toys.’
Not knowing how to respond to the compliment, although somewhat surprised at the amount of compliments he had been getting today, from being declared to be the demon lord to being called cool, he shrugged, and even more blood dripped off him.
“Thanks, I guess… But I have to kill you now, you know that, don’t you? You’ve killed too many people, and someone upstairs got pissed.” Thalas said, flatly. He was realizing that he had just killed at least 50 people, and would have to take a very, very long shower to get the blood out.
“Oh… Really? Well, I guess that’s cool…” The man said, his hand moving towards what used to be a stapler nailed onto a stick, but was now looked more like a bloody mace.
Thalas made his move.
It was to collapse to the ground, grasping his chest. A… crossbow bolt…
Oh fuck.
Those were his last thoughts, as from the fog came a cloaked figure, reloading a crossbow. It was a woman in a nice little dress and a sweet smile. The masked man looked her up and down with hunger in his eyes before he lunged at her, stapler mace in hand, but he was stopped dead in his tracks as a bolt found itself lodged in his neck.
Tanya sighed as she looked at the body of Thalas. She had known him from college, and she knew how he was prone to go on tangents. Well, now he had gone on a tangent and killed too many people. Sighing, she got tugged to yet another universe, another reality.
“NEW CHARACTER OBTAINED: TANYA______ ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz””,.!-‘,” it said in a strange box hovering above her head. Shrugging, she went with it.
The universe is really quite a chaotic place. Things like this happen fairly often, although most of the time, we just go about our lives not really caring. That’s probably the best way to go in the end, if you want to stay sane...
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