Random Stories and Fragments

Discussion in 'Fall from Heaven Lore' started by KillerClowns, Jun 29, 2008.

  1. Diavolo Rosso

    Diavolo Rosso Lord Giggles

    Aug 2, 2010
    Thx to killerclowns, for great stories and the princess rule. And thx to U2 for inspiration and some of the words.

    Prosed Justice

    Spoiler :
    Almost time for the kill; he stayed underneath the stage in the shadows, waiting. Just above him a megalomaniac yelled his loudest, and enjoyed it with the greatest pleasure. The longer he went on the louder the crowd howled. At first it was just murmurs and growls. Now it rose into a clamorous howl. This man was creating a mob, and for no other purpose than his own money and power. The man’s silvered tongue was as dangerous as any sword. Calem’s masters knew this, and used it to the fullest. In the shadows, Calem waited. He knew the signal was coming any minute now, and filled the needle in his fake ring with his own recipe of fast acting poison. It was almost time to strike.

    “This tyrannical slime holds your lives in his greedy hands. He takes your money, and calls it ‘taxes.’ He takes your harvest, and calls it a ‘tithe’. He takes your children, and calls it ‘service.’ It doesn’t matter what this king may call it. For that is what he is. This Sabathiel rules you, and your only choice is obedience or punishment. He is taking everything that is yours in this life. But he has no right to what is yours! He has an obligation to protect us, not take from us. Yet, the past stands bare before us. Look what we have lost these last ten years! How long has it been since we have seen our land flow with the promised milk and honey? How long before they come for what’s left? How long before even that is not enough? How long before he comes for our very lives?”

    The mob reverberated with a blusterous roar. They cried for justice, they cried for their lost prosperity, but most of all they cried for vengeance. They begged for it, and they craved it. They wanted vengeance against a man who gave them everything, but was still not enough. By the end of this night they would cry for his blood. That’s where Calem came in. By the time this was over, those here would witness an assassination, and the orator’s death would solidify the reality of a tyrant persecuting his people. The revolution would spread beyond this simple village as gossip spread like wildfire among the neighboring populace of Vallus. That blithering maniac on the stage above paused, no doubt basking in the anger of the mob. For him there was no difference between anger and glory. For Calem only the kill gave him glory.

    “It is only right to want more, to want better. To hope for more and to hope for better is the core of life. It is our reason for living. Turn away from this tyrant, a mere man who claims to be an angel, who with his ‘divinity’ takes from you with impunity. Turn away from this pathetic being you have never even laid eyes on, and turn to a true king, the only king, the King of Hope.”

    Closing his eyes wouldn’t make it go away. Japheth watched as his father hooted and howled with the rest of the lunatics scattered about the crowd. He really didn’t want to come, but his father insisted that since Japheth came back things had changed, and he needed to see what the empire had become. His father and his friends blamed Sabathiel for all their problems. A war they had wanted, they now blamed on their leader, an angel who had rescued their ancestors from hell itself. Japheth opened his eyes, denial couldn’t help him now. The war Japheth had served in, his own hell, was simultaneously trumpeted as a wise decision and Sabathiel’s greatest failure. The wisdom was the popular will supporting those who could in the elder council declare it, and did. The failure was proceeding to wage it. A great deal was lost to defeat the dark elves. The war hawks claimed the victory was their doing, while the egregious loss of life and soldiers was the fault of Sabathiel. It was egotism in the extreme. It was politics.

    Japheth pushed his way forward, struggling to get past his father and men who had known him the whole of his life. The great number of people all about made progress difficult. Though, he had been a soldier in the war against the Svartalfar. This didn’t come close to the worst difficulties he had surmounted. From mistforms to drowned and sadistic cultists, Japheth had seen it all, survived it all, and with his fellow champions overcome all. Finally he made it to the stage and hoisted himself upon it. The speaker grew wary and backed away, fearing violence.

    Japheth took it as an opportunity to claim his people’s attention. “I’ve had enough of this!” They roared again, thinking he was supporting the Savant, who hadn’t yet let his guard down. Japheth continued, “I’ve had enough of hearing old men come up to me and talk of the glory of the revolution…and the glory of dying for the revolution!” Many jeered. “They don’t talk about the glory of killing for the revolution. What’s the glory in taking a man from his bed and running him through in front of his woman and children? Where’s the glory in that?” The crowd quieted some. Japheth could see his father, looking embarrassed by his son’s words.

    “Where’s the glory in taking hammers and pitchforks, and attacking a Remembrance Day parade of the olden guard? The medals taken out and polished up for the day; where’s the glory in that? To leave them dying, or crippled for life…or dead, under the rubble of the revolution that the rest of us don’t want. No more. No more!” Some in the crowd, like him, and others not like him began to take up the chant. “No more! No more!” It grew. Those who were silent saw they were not alone. Soon the chant drowned out the cries for vengeance.

    “Wipe your tears away. Wipe your blood shot eyes, and see what we have become. Don’t let petty men bully you into believing that good is evil and evil is good. The real battle has just begun! To claim victory, walk away. We’ll shun these warmongers. Show your parents, your brothers and your sisters that we have fought too hard and too long against an enemy of our own making. With our old foes gone we are creating our enemies from those amongst us! Shun this man who says he brings hope, yet whose words fill us with Aeron’s poison. Shun him, and live in peace. Take what we’ve so dearly won.” The chanting continued. Some who were chanting even began to leave, putting action to Japheth’s words.

    The silver tongued politician tried again to captivate the crowd’s attention with his fiery rhetoric. “How can you forget what it is to be Bannor! True patriots stand together, and fear nothing. Especially not war! True patriots will fight, and throw the shackles of a tyrant to the ground. We will persevere, we will prosper once again.” But others followed those already leaving, not wanting to be left behind by their friends and loved ones. The demagogue’s words fell on deaf ears. Soon the crowd was a shadow of itself, and then it became just some people walking about. Japheth’s father still stood there, giving his son a look of pure disappointment, then turned and left. The savant next to Japheth on the stage stood dumbfounded. He gathered himself, and promptly spit at Japheth’s feet. It would have taken nothing to break the man’s neck. By Bannor law such an insult to a decorated veteran was punishable by death, and the word of a veteran would always be taken over that of a foreigner. But Japheth had seen enough of death. He turned and walked home, whistling all the while, knowing that night he had helped save souls from the veiled lies of evil men.

    Calem followed the Savant in the shadows. He took a shortcut down the next alley getting ahead of his prey. He turned the switch on his ring and the needle popped out. The Savant rounded the corner and saw Calem. “Where’s my reward. I completed the mission, and success was not mandated for my pay.” Calem said, “Come here. I left it secured below this manhole. Your reward is down there.” The Savant came over and lifted the sewer grate. “I don’t see it.” He then felt a pin prick his neck, and turned to see Calem behind him. “What was that? You…you poisoned me!” “Yes, but it was only a paralytic. You should be starting to feel the numbing agents already. It works exceedingly fast. In a minute the numbing sensation will fade, and you’ll be able to feel everything. I’d imagine you’re trying to manage a look of horror on your face. Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you. The rats will.” The Savant tried to scream, but only gurgling noises came out. “Well we can’t have that. I don’t want somebody walking by and finding you before you’re decomposing.” Calem took a rag and shoved it down his throat. “You see, you didn’t fail. These Bannor love vengeance. They call it justice, but you and I both know the truth. They’re the same thing. Your gruesome death will cause an outrage, and those who welcomed your words will reignite your fallen torch.”

    Calem smiled at his prey, “Did you really think the Veil would let you fail? It seems your own hope got the best of you.” With that, he shoved him in the sewer. The savant fell several feet and heard a sickening crunch. He didn’t feel the pain of his left leg bent the wrong way. His head was floating in the sewage, and he coughed as some of his face submerged. Looks like he would drown first. Then he started feeling tiny bites on his other leg, and something was tugging on his ear…
  2. Elder Methyl

    Elder Methyl Warlord

    May 15, 2010
    Shoudn't we be posting in the Grand Unified Story thread instead?
  3. Diavolo Rosso

    Diavolo Rosso Lord Giggles

    Aug 2, 2010
  4. TC01

    TC01 Deity

    Jun 28, 2009
    Irregularly Online
    Well, there where is here: Grand Unified Story Thread.

    As for why, it was supposed to be the replacement for this thread, as KillerClowns explains in the opening post.
  5. Diavolo Rosso

    Diavolo Rosso Lord Giggles

    Aug 2, 2010
    thx. had taken quite a break from civ and got back into it, but didnt check many old threads. figure tho since it looks like both threads are dead, might as well leave things as they are to keep from being a double necro
  6. Feneris

    Feneris Chieftain

    Mar 4, 2011
    A Shack in the Woods
    It started out as just another normal morning in Jubilee's Temple of the Leaves, if such a thing really existed. The priests woke up, said their morning prayers, had breakfast, went to clean the teeth of the giant man-eating pants that surrounded the temple, and finally feed the crocodiles in the idiot pit, if some idiot had not already blundered in.

    This morning was a little different. The high priest was in the middle of flossing a particularly energetic seedling, when a nervous acolyte approached him.

    "Sir," he gulped. "I have a urgent message from Perpentach. He requests that we send him a gift in honor of his daughter's half-birthday. Specifically a type of vicious animal he could put in the arena."

    The high priest paused to digest the information ducking his head to the side as the seedling went for his face. "What happened to that man-eating tiger we gave him for his daughters last half-birthday?"

    The acolyte swallowed. "It lost last week to the tiger-eating man, sir."

    "Ahhh..." The high priest nodded to himself. "Did he mention dismemberment in this letter by chance."

    "Y-yes sir. By beavers, sir." If possible the acolyte looked even paler. "Are we going to die sir?"

    The high priest paused to think. "No, I don't think so. Not because of this at least. I know just the thing to give our most beloved ruler." He straightened up. "Come with me. I'll need your help with this."

    The high priest led the acolyte through the temple, down a flight of stairs, and through a passageway, finally stopping in front of a door labeled "Danger: Boring."

    Now, most Fellowship temples were made of wood, or if that wasn't practical, stone or rammed earth. This door was made of solid steel, and studded with nullstone bolts.

    The high priest muttered an incantation under his breath, then pushed the door open. The acolyte noted the two inch long spikes on the other side uneasily. A wooden box about the size of small barrel sat in the center of the room. The acolyte gaped at the sheer power of the seals that had been placed on it. Then he noticed the rest of the room.

    Incantations filled the room, walls, floor, and ceiling; calling on the power of at least seven different gods, two threatened gross mutilation, three promised genital rot, two treated to violate the Compact, and an elaborate seal on the ceiling that promised to call down the full wrath of Bhall on anyone stupid enough to open the box.

    "W-w-what's in there?" The acolyte whispered, staring at the box.

    "A terrible beast that was captured by a group of Grigori adventures outside of Eodd." The high priest answered. "It killed over half of them in seconds, and they had to subdue it with blessed explosives."

    "A-a-and why is it here?"

    "My predecessor thought it would be a good thing to have just in case the hit the king."

    "W-what do you need me for" The acolyte squeaked out.

    The high priest smiled. "Someone going to have to carry the crate."


    The arena at Jubilee was packed in the grand, and completely random, celebration. Perpentach was seated in his personal box seat, a goblet of wine in one hand. He raised an arm lazily and a gate at one end of the arena opened.

    A massively muscled freak lumbered out, it's warped face set in a sneer.

    Perpentach raised his other hand, and the gate at the other end of the arena opened.

    The nervous acolyte walked out into the arena, the crate held in his arms. He placed it on the ground, said a prayer to disable the wards, flipped open the lid, and bolted for the gate. He made it just in time to duck under the closing portcullis.

    The crowd waited in eager anticipation as a head poked out of the crate, and small white rabbit jumped out. The freak let out a childish laugh and stomped over, a foot raised the squash the rabbit flat.

    The rabbit looked up and promptly went for the throat.

    Up in the stands, the high priest leaned back in his seat, a smile on his face.

    Perpentach won't be asking for any more vicious animals for a looong time.

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