Random Stories and Fragments

Ashes to Ashes. All things become dust.
These are the Truths, I know it. But yet, they give me no consolation. I know they are with the Goddess, but still I weep.
We had done nothing to them, we only just arrived. We had build out village in the curve of a river, where it protected are flank from animal, or savages, and allowed us easy access to the fish in the river. We had been celebrating the Mid-Summer festival, thanking the Goddess for her bounty of game and fish, and the crops were growing well.
Then they came from the west. Two armies, looking like demons, and howling like them too. We-something drips on my shoulder; I barely need to glance up to see it is the blood of my neighbor, dripping from her body, splayed across the eves of her house. I look back, cursing the butchers through my tears. Curing the two banners, one, a White Crown on pale blue field, and the other a Black Hawk, spreading it’s wings on a White plan. As I curse them, I raise my green fist to the sky, and bear my tusks, and scream.

As far as I am aware, no-one has ever attempted to do a study on the monthly OO (to use slang term for the Octopus Overlords religion) Charity Dinner. The priests have a free dinner every month, with all inhabitants of Kwythellar welcome, especially the poor. I will be attending this month’s dinner, and taking notes all the while. Hopefully this will get me the credit I need to pass Comparative Religion.

Arrived at the Temple of the Overlords at 6 hours past noon, half and hour before the start of the dinner proper. The temple is as it always is, with it’s broad pools full of Lilies, unusually disconcerting Carp and drunks. The pools are crossed by a slightly raised bridge, which leads up to the rough, green coral walls of the building. I was greeted at the door by an acolyte, and guided to a large room with a low table. We sit on pillows.

The starting courses are being served by the attendants, who wear colourful dresses and masks. I think they change masks when I’m not looking, or there are many attendants. I am drinking wine (I have heard what OO water can do), and having a seaweed salad.

The height cultist has said grace, and the main meal is being served. It is some sort of meat, fish and salad. Dancers and musicians have started performing, and they have lit incense. The dancers where masks, and long, layered dresses with so many tassels and ribbons that their motion seems to keep going long after they stop. I am feeling very strange.

The dancing is intoxicating. The motions, the rhythm. Laughter from the drunks down the table. I-I see things, terrible thing. Angels, demons, arms of gods, claws of devils, life, death life-songs song song of salvation choirs of the damned, anadandaand laughing maw infinite laughing opening opening SKULLS SKULLS LAUGHING SKULLS GTHPHGYR GTHPHGYR LIFEDEATHLIFEWORDSOFTHEHAG THEAPLHA AND THE OMEGA AH AH AHHHHHHHHHHHH

Little book, I ran, but know regret it. They knew me there, but here, their after me. They say I’m Mad, tried to take You, Little Book, away from me, give you to the Sisters of Sirona, say I’m mad I’m not mad, when the walls talk i only sometime answer, they they they want to get me, hehehehe, but i’ll get them, o yes little book, I’ll get them before they get me, I’ll get them before they get me I”LLGETTHEMBEFORETHEYGETMEGETMEGETMEGETM, I’ll get me before they get me, hhehehehe

[editor’s note: the journal ends hear. Mr. Randolph was found hung in a study after murdering seven students and staff. A blank piece of paper was pinned to his pant leg
[editor’s note two: the journal was handed over to the School of magic, and the student assigned to study it murdered seven people, then hung himself, also with a blank piece of paper pinned to his pant leg. The book is beside me, and I feel like it is watching me. Will have it locked up, won’t I, Little Book. Hehe.

The palace walls, as usual, were being redecorated. Perpentach had decided he wanted the banana custard removed and replaced with trout. A fairly easy request compared to his usual changes but he had demanded they come only from trade deals with the Malakim envoy. This was, as might be expected, proving troublesome. To further compound issues Perpentach had declared that court was to continue, however his concession to the builders was that the court would stand on their heads for the duration to give them more leg room. Three courtiers had already been removed due to the blood running to their heads. Perpentach himself was unfazed as usual, and was sitting there looking exceedingly bored. His face hadn’t even turned purple. A slight grinding sound was the first indication that anything was wrong but, due to the insanity that normally went on around here nobody moved. When the steel fist broke through the floor, the court was only slightly more shocked than usual; the jester who had been standing there himself was laughing his head off, still managing to stand on his head. However when the golems had subdued and killed the guards, people who are desperately trying to fight upside down tend to be easy targets, the court started to panic. Perpentach sat there looking bemused as if someone had told a joke he didn’t get, as a small dwarf climbed out of the now rather large hole in the floor. At a click of his finger one of the golems boldly picked the clown prince up and started to kick him between the golems as the dwarf started to laugh and cry at the same time.

A sharp clang of metal on rock woke Beeri Bawl from his dream and he leapt to his feet quickly. The subterranean chamber was low even for a Dwarf and he banged his head bringing him from his revelry. “Not today”, he grumbled,” But soon you fey hell spawn” he muttered as he stalked down the tunnel to supervise the dig......

The Wheel spins. Rattles to a stop: The Mercenary and the Fool

Jessica “Jess” Bacoit-Aketros strode through the crowds, while trying hard to avoid being in the crowds. This was easier than it sounded, as a tall, confident young women with a rifle slung cross her back tends to part even crowds of reveling Balseraph. She didn’t know what the celebration was about and neither did seem to the revelers. She saw banners saying “Pony Parade”, “Festivals of Shoes”, “The Celebration of Steve”, “Retro-Furturative Anniversary of the Coming Of The Great White Hankerchief”, and othe non-sense terms, some being hung up by argueing teams of men with ladders, most of which were spending more time ambushing and beating each other then hanging banners. As she watch 3 or four teams of bannermen attack each other, she noticed several ponies jump in and join the fray, while another stole a ladder. With a sight, Jess continued up the streat, steping wearly out of the way of a mage who was turning the air diffrent colours, and apeared to be desperatly trying to stay awake. He eminated an air that suggested this would be best for the universe.
Finally, Jess found the entrance to the “Quarder of teh Streat of nun-humanss”, marked in very badly spelled Balphs on a sign. As soon as she crossed under the arch that let throught the wall, the air changed. You could still hear the sounds from crowds, but Jubilee’s forcebly insane feeling atmoshpere was replaced by the quite chatting of a pair of elderly Dwarves, the soft tones of a Kappa flute in duet with a Lamia clarinet, and the sounds from the dwarven smithy acrost the street. The “Non-Human Quarter” was populated by mainly by dwarves, gnomes, the ubiquose kobolds that somehow followed dwarves around, a few lamie, a nest-flock of Corbus that gave the impression that Corbus trading cavarns had been leaving their less deserable (read: useful) kin behind for years, a few Kappa and a couple Syrii.
After a while of wandering the streets, Jess found what she was looking for: a small imports shop that specialized in tea1. As she pushed te door open, the oh-so familier bell tinkled, and a young half-elven women lokked up from the desk.
“Oh, sorry, not open right now-JESS!” the women said, her statement turing to a cry as she reconized Jess. I a flash, she was around the counter and huging her sister. “I’m-I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you at first, not throught all the grime..oh, father will want to know you here-”
“I-”
“I was so scared you were dead, what with the war-”
“Tess-”
“Imean, your in such a dangerous proffesion-”
“Hrpp-”
“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to crush you-”
“Are you crushing you older sister again?”, sais a deep voice standing in the door to the back of the shop.
“Father!”, both sister said, as Akthantos Aketros strode out 2. He was tall, about 2.5 meters, and nearly 2 meters across the sholders, his fur was lightly silvered, and his horns only a little dry and cracked. Behind him hunched a Corbus 3, his feathers grey, with a white patch on his chest and a slightly crocked beak.
Akthantos smiled.“Jess, it is good you came-there is something important I need you to do”
…..to be continued….


1 Tea and coffee, of couse, is not popular with most Balseraph: Why would you want a drink to make you more aware of the madness around you?
2 This might be a good time to explain how a Syrii (think Tauren) could be wathe to a half-elf and a pure blooded Balseraph: Adoption
3 Think crow person with hands.

The Wheel spins. Rattles to a stop: The Paladin and the Unseelie

Jess stormed angrily through the crowds that massed in the streets of Jubilee.
Damn Akthantos and what he want’s. How does he know what’s best? Hmm? She thought angrily to herself.
When she realized where she was, she turned down a side street, entering one of Jubilee’s main squares: Chronology’s Square. Chronology’s Square was, with Pickleddilly Circus the two main squares in Jubilee, connected by the Duckatational Way, an unusually named road, both for it not being a real world, and because not a single actual Duke existed in Balseraph lands. The Duckatational Way ran pass the Palace (the presumable reason for it’s name), and running parallel to the Way, on both sides, was the Street of Gods, the many streets that were laden with temples, church and secret meeting halls.
Jess turned onto the Main Street of Gods, which was accessed past the Mall, Jubilee’s answer to Hexam’s Bazaar of Mammon. The Mall was a sprawling complex of shops, markets, casino’s, brothels and a hundred other ways to gain, loose and desire money. Jess had rarely entered the Mall, hating how the very air smelled of Greed.
The Street of Gods was a slightly more dignified location, lined on both sides by temples to every god, archangel, notable demon and totally fictional entity. Jess turned down a side street, passed the Church of Steve the Saviour, a being that the church said would rally humanity after the Apocalypse. As she wandered down the Street, she heard the sound of running steps behind her.
“Jess! Jess!” Tessia yelled, chasing after Jess.
With a sigh, Jess let her sister catch up.
“Okay, okay, you have to forgive Father, you’ve been away so much, and, and-What?”
Jess suddenly gasped and doubled over, clutching her chest. At first, she thought it was a heart attack or something, but she realized that it was her amulet. When you’re a successful mercenary, especially one that has fought Amurites, you collect items to help you detect magic. Her pendant was one such item. The shock was the power of the magic it was detecting. Ignoring Tess’s pleading to tell her what was wrong, Jess loaded her rifle and stepped around the corner, and peered into the mouth of a nearby ally.
A woman had pinned a man to the wall, and was talking-no singing softly to him. At first, Jess thought she was a specialised prostitute, but Jess noticed the magic was coming from her, and the man’s completely charmed expression. She realised what the woman was.
“Eacth nier turack, Aes Sidhe” Jess said as she stepped out from around the corner. The Woman turned and smiled at her, the pursed her lips.
“Ai tiu alr sie, nier tier soin-AHHH!” She sang, her song turning into a scream as Jess shot her in the arm.
“JESS!” Tess screamed.
“Tial norich torbrian, Briech” Jess said to the woman.
The woman looked up at Jess, and where there had been a beautiful woman, she now gave the impression of a monster wearing the mask of a woman, once soft fingers were raised to reveal sharp claws. With a scream, she lunged at Jess, seeming to cover the distance to fast. Her scream ended when Jess’s bullet blew most of her head of.
“JJJESS!” Tess stuttered, whimpering slightly was she stumbled backwards. “What-What, was she some kind of demon, Jess?”
“No. Worse, an Elf.”
At that, Tess’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?” the half-elf women said.
“No, no, not like your mum, like a fairy-AHH!” Jess said, jumping back as the Elf’s claws latched into her ankle.
With a screech, the Elf, still missing half her head jumped up, and lunged towards Tess. The figure standing behind the Elf slashed it I half, the flesh smoking were the sward cut through. Tess stared. The figure was a young man, clad in a grey robe that seemed to have fog clinging to it. He had also not been standing there seconds before slaying the Elf, nor had he moved into that position.
Jess staggered upright, her scarf rapped around her ankle ad a bandage. “Greetings, Einherjar” she said.

…..to be continued….

Taxjordt the all Mighty stood near the entrance to the war tent, gazing out over the Rent Planes as far as the Ruptured Spine, waiting for the meeting to begin. A small imp emerged from the tent, hesitated, then addressed Taxjordt.
“My Lord, the representatives from the Burning Horde, the Blighted Legion and Ruptured Spine are here for the meeting, as are the Observers from the Sundered Legion and the Pink Pony Troop. The Observer from the Burning Legion couldn’t make it, something about the destruction of their leader at some place called Sunwell.”
“Very good, Rexprejdt” Taxjordt said a meant latter, then paused to think. “This Ruptured Spine, they aren’t the same as those volcanoes over there, correct?”
Rexprejdt sighed silently. His master was a complete moron, but Rexprejdt was only about a metre and a half tall at the tip of his horns, while Taxjordt was a bit over 4 metre tall, and had the average strength of 54.7 demons. Rexprejdt had calculated it once while Taxjordt decided that he couldn’t be bothered remember who Gigglshun the Conqueror was. That was nearly the death of them all. “No, Dread Lord, demon army”
“Of course. And Remind me, why are Observers from the Pink Legion and the Sundered Pony Troop here? To swear fealty, like the others?”
“Hmm, no Lord of Malice, Sundered Legion and the Pink Pony Troop are here to ensure that our new power is not threatening to them.”
“Why, one day I will be Lord of all of Camulos’s Vault, which we shall rename Taxjordt’s Vault and-”
“Um, Lord, Lord Gigglshun and Branduk are likely very busy, and the sooner the Burning Horde, the Blighted Legion and Ruptured Spine are officially absorbed, the sooner we can conquer the Sundered Burning Pony Legion” Gods, why are demons so unimaginative with names?
“Very well. Rexprejdt, announce me”
“Yes, Lord of Desolation.” Rexprejdt said as he led Taxjordt into the war tent. “Presenting-Lord Taxjordt the all Mighty, conqueror of The Festering Sores, the poison Waters, the Shattered Blades, the-”
“Yes yes, I have an appointment, could we skip all this?” Giggleshun asked.
“Very well,” Taxjordt said grudgingly, then pointed at Traxspor, Desrtuk and Quelnest. “You lot agree to swear fealty to me, and the fealty of your armies to me?” he rumbled.
“Yes” all three said.
“Exalant.” Taxjordt said, quite pleased. Gods, Rexprejdt thought, he managed to say a spelling error.
“Now-” Taxjordt began.
“You will swear fealty to me.” A voice said from near the door.
“WHATTT!” Taxjordt bellowed amide the sudden commotion.
Rexprejdt looked to the door, and saw a pair of women, with several demons standing around outside. Rexprejdt quietly used a spell that anyone who survived in Camulos’s Vault by making themselves useful to someone powerful, a detect power spell. What se saw from these dozen demons, if it were light, would have blinded an Aurealis. If it were translated into power, it would be enough to reduce a 17 km area (centered on this tent) into malted glass1. Along with the very powerful demons in it.
Rexprejdt examined the women (they seemed to be in charge), while an active (if futile) part of his mind, the former Human Survival Instinct, slid him slowly under the table. The women were about 160 cm and 190 cm. The shorter one was clad in a hood, robe and headscarf of purple, black and blue that covered all of her body but her hands and face. The taller wore robes and a breastplate the colour of slightly dried blood, with heir and eyes to match. As Rexprejdt examined the woman in red, a feeling of terror started to sep into him. When he realized who it was, he nearly fell over2.
The other demon were still demanding a explanation, with Taxjordt just repeating “WHAT!!??” over and over. Slowly, thought the other demons were falling silent (and inching under tables or the walls of the tent) as they realized who the Demon Lady was. Rexprejdt sent a silent telepathic spell Taxjordt, telling him who the woman was, even thought he didn’t notice. That rock head. At that moment, Giggleshun stood up, but instantly, a portal opened beside him. A high female voice came from it “OH, Giggles, I was just about to call you. So Orcs have been very mean to me, and I need you to teach them a lesson.” As Giggleshun, with an embarrassed look on his face, stepped through the portal.
“I,” the Demon Lady said “and Lady Elaise Durnel”
Complete silence meet this statement, as every demon in the room prepared and escape route, as they contemplated being so close to the Lady of Blood, the most powerful once-mortal demon in existence.
“Who?” asked Taxjordt.

…to be continued…




1. Yes, malted glass.
2. And would have, if he wasn’t sitting down.

Journal of Tarkar Merek
Age of Rebirth
Year unknown


I finally understand why I'm here. I can even remember how it all started. A stranger had entered my home village of Haystack and began preaching on a stack of hay. He spoke of peace and free of creativity. He promised a safe home and a warm bed. He promised us full coffers and overflowing food piles. He promised us power! Honor! Glory! He promised us a nation that would rival that of the Kuriotates. He promised a nation that would rival even that of the Bannor. We clung to his every word, every one of us believing every word he said.
So we had followed. We followed him for what seemed like years until we reached a peaceful field. He set up a tent and said "This is where our empire will begin. Here, this fertile plain of Brookden, will become the birthplace of a new nation. It will be the birthplace of a new power. This will be the birthplace of the Dural!" And we had cheered. We cheered for what seemed to be hours.
The next few months passed with us setting up tents and collecting food stores, while Dannmos spent time in his tent, planning the Dural empire. Several wondered what he was doing within, but none dared enter his tent. It was soon discovered he was creating sculptures! Sculptures! As if this is going to help us in our quest to build an empire! The village of Brookden was incensed. He fled, leaving behind his sculptures. The elders of the village admired their beauty and kept them in the village square. Other people soon began arriving to see these sculptures, to marvel in their beauty. Some even settled down to escape in a life of creativity. It was then that I realized that our village had doubled in size. As I watched the new arrivals begin carving new sculptures, Dannmos himself placed a hand on my shoulder. "See, my son?" he said "An empire can be built without warfare."

Most Mercurian soldiers are passionate warriors, with no fear of death, and a burning hatred of both the forces of hell and those who would deal with them. But though he fought under the banner of the Mercurians, Boris was not this sort of soldier. Wanting to disappear from the various unpleasant duties associated with being a low-rank grunt in any army, Boris had signed up for lookout duty. This was usually a risky job, but they were far enough from the action that it merely provided an escape. "Quite a pleasant view," he said, nodding at the woman who was sitting on duty. The Mercurians, like the Bannor and several other civilizations, saw nothing strange about arming women and putting them on the front lines; this was, after all, a war for survival.

"Nice view? I suppose if you like endless trees and the smell of monkeys, with a bit of distant sulfur for taste. Name's Nelrene, by the way. Yours?" They stood atop a cliff, with nothing but jungle behind them, and more jungle below, stretching all the way to the horizon, thick with smoke where the taint of Hell was beginning to take hold. "I'm Boris. And, well, I do see one thing that improves the view..." he said, again nodding in Nelrene's direction. She said "you ain't exactly an angel by any definition. Keep that up, and I'll give you your first taste of flight." She motioned towards the cliff's edge, just in case he didn't get the hint. Boris nodded. "Whatever. If you've got a guy, or you're just here to stab orcs and demons, fine. I say, we enjoy life. I hear angels can't, well, y'know... least, not the ones in Mercurian employ" "A pity," Nelrene said, "some of them look plenty nice. Actually, all of 'em do, before the fighting gets to 'em. Although those Valkyries seem to look wonderful, no matter what happens..." Boris said, "aye. But they scare me half to death. It's like talking to a Doviello, except the Valks use bigger words and only want to smash demons and there followers, not everything in sight."

Nelrene said, "they really aren't that bad, in my experience. They're better than the Spooks. Black cloaks and hoods... nearly attacked the first one I saw, thinking it a demon. All dark and mysterious, and they always seem sort of half-asleep." "I never really minded the Spooks, myself. Not exactly fun guys, but they're a lot calmer than the other high-rankers. A Spook will let you just slack off and just sigh and mutter about mortals wasting their short little lives. I wouldn't dare try that near a Seraph."

Nelrene rolled her eyes, and said, "yeah, the Seraphs. Something about the flaming sword seems to make 'em go madder than a Balseraph with scorpions stuffed down his pants. I hear the ones who work for Lugus are pretty pleasant, but the ones under the Mercurian flag? If they aren't fighting, they aren't happy. When a Valkyrie isn't fighting, you can actually hold a conversation with them. It'll usually be about military logistics, battle plans, tactics, or what happens to soldiers who waste time chatting when there's work to be done, but they sometimes let their guard down, so you could almost think you were talking to a mortal... albeit one without much in the way of humor. No worse than some living Confessors, I suppose. But Seraphs? When people are looking, they're the perfect image of military discipline, and seem to expect it of everyone else. Catch one when they think nobody's around, though, and they'll just sit there... burning things, with this odd little smile on their face..."

Boris said, "never seen that before. I don't think I'd want to be caught spying on a Seraph, though, so I'll keep it that way. But I think we can agree on one thing: the Repentant are terrifying." Nelrene said, "More pitiful, if you want my opinion. Can't quite shake off mortality. Stuck between life and death. Yeah, it's a bit unsettling. Well, a lot unsettling. But they're not as spooky as the Spooks, and at least you know there's something human in there." "Yeah," Boris said, "and it doesn't like what it's become. Why do you think I pull a disappearing act whenever a Herald shows up? Oh sure, they seem all fun and nice, way more talkative and friendly than any other winged types, but then they blow that horn, and... well, nobody ever comes back from that without a new pair of wings."

Nelrene said, "you didn't sign up to become an angel, eh? What brings you under the Mercurian banner, then?" "I like the thought of a horde of fanatics and a pack of heavily armed, battle-hungry angels between me and my brother. I'm Hippus, ya see, but I couldn't ride a horse to save my life. I'm good at three things: swords, archery, and making love." When Nelrene glared at him, he said, "sorry, just stating a fact. Take it as you will. Point is, I was always the black sheep of the family. So when me and my brother's betrothed spent a night together... well, let's just say nothing kills the moment quite like your brother coming in and sticking a sword to your throat, while you're stark naked and drunk on some abomination a fat Balseraph scholar sold you. Not sure how I escaped, but I ain't going back now. The worst part? The girl was the daughter of an important chieftain, but she could've been mistaken for her horse on a rainy day. Not worth it, by any stretch. Alright, ma'am. You don't seem so enthusiastic about this 'holy war' thing either. Your story?"

She sighed, and said, "Bannor. I'm a Confessor's daughter. Theoretically, I'm allowed to love and marry, but there are certain rules, spoken and unspoken, about who I'm supposed to date. Foreigners? Mostly off limits. Non-believers? Almost always off limits. Svartalfar? Thoroughly, totally, and completely off limits." "So you spent a night with a Svartalfar guy, and now your father wants your head?" Nelrene said, "basically. Point is, I got found, and the old man was none too happy. Not trusting the Order's system of justice, I made a run for it. When I joined the Mercurians, the old man either decided I was seeking repentance, or that he didn't want to start a squabble with them. Either way, problem solved, and I'm never going near Svartalfar women again." Boris said, "Wise words. I knew a guy who... wait, did you just say..."

Nelrene cut him off. "Anyways, becoming an angel can't be all bad, right? I mean, the wings, the eternal youth..." "if you don't go nutty as a Repentant first, or lose your humanity and turn into a killing machine..." "yeah, true. But some of the low-rank angels, they're still fun enough. Might seem a bit businesslike to you, but they're not much worse than the average Bannor. They'll joke, laugh, and enjoy life when a high-ranker isn't around to give 'em a lecture on 'holy duty.' And with those flying chariot guys? Who knows? They're always shooting around the skies on 'training exercises,' but I think they're enjoying it." Boris said, "I'll give you that. Promise me one of those in the next life, and I'll be first in line to stick a rusty knife up a Balor's ass." Nelrene breathed a sigh of relief, while Boris watched the sky, imagining flying through the air in one of the great chariots of the angels.