"What is it?" We had resumed moving, the creature that was hunting us kept doing it hunting from a distance. Well I said us, but I'm pretty sure it was me it was after.
"I don't know, the man who sent me on this quest told me it was the sum total of my fears, which I don't know how it could only be something small since my fears take up this entire island." What can I say I don't let one thing scare me, I let all things scare me.
"You agree to things without knowing very much about them don't you?"
"So you're memory is coming back!" The assent up the mountain was getting harder, I could feel fatigue with each step, then again as I've said several times I am horrifically out of shape. Oshujon didn't seem worse for the journey, then again I'm sure despite his griping he was just happy to get out of his cage.
"No this is a brand new observation, let me guess in my previous life I made you do things you didn't agree with."
"Several things, but I went along with it because as you mentioned I'm very easy to convince."
"Well I think this journey is a fools errand, I'm stopping here, you can walk the rest of this mountain yourself." He dropped his pack on the ground and sat down.
"What about the thing that's hunting us?"
"Its probably hunting only you, I'll make sure to say hello to it as it passes me by, don't worry I'm sure the natives will collect me and put me back into my cell." I frowned, I had taken Oshujon on the journey hoping it would jog his memory/I didn't want to be alone. But now he was leaving me, and all I could do was nod, pick up his pack and continue. I had a quest to finish and a beast of something or other to slay. I tell you the more I thought about this quest, the more I thought I should probably have made a better attempt at figuring out what was pursuing me before continuing up the mountain. In a lot of ways it was an example of my whole life, doing one thing while ignoring certain doom coming from below!
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Taking Me To Task
"Why am I here?" We were climbing a mountain, we being me and Oshujon. The mountain was part of my task, I was told at the top the other part would be waiting for me, I was not so sure about that, but being that I was assigned to do this so I could go home I figured I'd take it on faith.
"Because I needed someone to talk to and the only person in the village who could speak our language was some kind of elder." Oshujon the newer (or the forgotten or whatever!) was a lot more of a complainer than his former incarnation.
"Well I don't see what this does for me."
"Gets you out of the cage you ungrateful little jerk." Sure I made him carry most of my supplies, but you know I did get him out of the damned cage, the least he could do was appreciate that fact! I tell you some people just don't appreciate you going out of your way to help them out if only briefly! We continued on quietly for a time. The mountain which I hadn't noticed was super tall, was very very tall, so tall in fact it took us several days to get to the peak. We made camp that night in a small grotto, couple of trees and a small indent in the rock was all we got for protection. I brought (and by I I mean Oshujon carried) some food and supplies for a fire. It wasn't much, but it was better to cook it than the natives cooking it (they under cooked everything). I tried my best with what I had, but it was basic fruits and meats, and we didn't have any cooking instruments outside of skewers. Conversation was fairly light during dinner, more griping from Oshujon, but that was what I had come to expect.
"So..." We were laying down, Oshujon lead off with so and let it hang there, one of those pregnant pauses you know is a lead up to something you don't want to answer.
"If you are going to complain about the meal again you are going hungry next time."
"No no, I was just wondering when you were going to admit to me we're being hunted."
"Oh that, how's never working for you?" Yeah we were being hunted, it wasn't the natives, it was actually what I had been tasked to deal with, but you know I wasn't really talking very much with Oshujon so its not like I was going to let him in on every aspect of our mission! He's a rude jerk! Unlike me, a cultured gentleman!
"Because I needed someone to talk to and the only person in the village who could speak our language was some kind of elder." Oshujon the newer (or the forgotten or whatever!) was a lot more of a complainer than his former incarnation.
"Well I don't see what this does for me."
"Gets you out of the cage you ungrateful little jerk." Sure I made him carry most of my supplies, but you know I did get him out of the damned cage, the least he could do was appreciate that fact! I tell you some people just don't appreciate you going out of your way to help them out if only briefly! We continued on quietly for a time. The mountain which I hadn't noticed was super tall, was very very tall, so tall in fact it took us several days to get to the peak. We made camp that night in a small grotto, couple of trees and a small indent in the rock was all we got for protection. I brought (and by I I mean Oshujon carried) some food and supplies for a fire. It wasn't much, but it was better to cook it than the natives cooking it (they under cooked everything). I tried my best with what I had, but it was basic fruits and meats, and we didn't have any cooking instruments outside of skewers. Conversation was fairly light during dinner, more griping from Oshujon, but that was what I had come to expect.
"So..." We were laying down, Oshujon lead off with so and let it hang there, one of those pregnant pauses you know is a lead up to something you don't want to answer.
"If you are going to complain about the meal again you are going hungry next time."
"No no, I was just wondering when you were going to admit to me we're being hunted."
"Oh that, how's never working for you?" Yeah we were being hunted, it wasn't the natives, it was actually what I had been tasked to deal with, but you know I wasn't really talking very much with Oshujon so its not like I was going to let him in on every aspect of our mission! He's a rude jerk! Unlike me, a cultured gentleman!
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Worst Conversationalist Ever
"I don't know why you are continuing to talk to them." Not Oshujon was not very helpful in my attempts to communicate with our captors. He wasn't even very helpful with anything really, but his comments about me attempting to speak with our captors were especially non helpful.
"Because I need to learn their language and they don't talk near us enough for me to grasp it from a far, so I have to call them over bother them, and then they'll let me in on the secrets." All they would do is clock some wood at me, make a squawk and walk off, but I was learning something! What I can't tell you, but I was learning something!
"I tried for a time to understand them, and they me, but it ultimately didn't go anywhere, to be honest until you arrived I thought I was some how crazy and they were the normal people."
"You are crazy, but they are not normal." I admit I was more hostile towards Not Oshujon than I probably needed to be, but considering what he had done I figured that was me being as fair as I needed to be towards him.
"Did I wrong you in someway sir? You seem outwardly hostile to me and I don't even know who you are."
"When you regain your memory you'll know."
"It's been months since I washed up here, I don't think its coming back." I admit I thought the same thing, but at the same time I kept up my dislike of Oshujon, because my former friend/enemy was a dick even if he didn't know why he was a dick. Look it was complicated, but makes sense! The natives kept being impossible to understand though, like seriously their language was madness! I was just about to give up when I was taken from my cell with Oshujon and brought to the wise man of the village, or who I assumed to be the wiseman, he was dressed differently than the rest and he had what appeared to be books on shelves.
"Sit." He spoke our language! It was great, and then I was mad because if one of them spoke the language I did why was I kept in a cell and had people squawk at me? I wasn't restrained, so there was that. I also did as I was told because I am if ever obedient to a point.
"Why am I being held?" It seemed the best question.
"Because you are not from here." An honest answer if not entirely anti explorer.
"And my companion?"
"You companion who arrived many cycles ago? Because we were told to hold him." Told to hold him implies someone running things that wasn't readily apparent.
"Told by who?"
"More like by what." He was playing with an object and when he turned around I could see it was a skull. It was kind of scary.
"I'm at a loss, why did you wait to speak to me."
"To see if you would attempt to escape or not, you have not, so I figured you are willing to cooperate, so we are speaking."
"Cooperate with what?"
"Oh Mr. Lorentino, I'll get to that in good time, but sit, enjoy the rest, you'll need it." I hate when people know more about me than I know about them. Even more so when they want me to do something! I swear one of these days I'm going to pull that I know more about you than you do of me trick and it will be the greatest thing ever!
"Because I need to learn their language and they don't talk near us enough for me to grasp it from a far, so I have to call them over bother them, and then they'll let me in on the secrets." All they would do is clock some wood at me, make a squawk and walk off, but I was learning something! What I can't tell you, but I was learning something!
"I tried for a time to understand them, and they me, but it ultimately didn't go anywhere, to be honest until you arrived I thought I was some how crazy and they were the normal people."
"You are crazy, but they are not normal." I admit I was more hostile towards Not Oshujon than I probably needed to be, but considering what he had done I figured that was me being as fair as I needed to be towards him.
"Did I wrong you in someway sir? You seem outwardly hostile to me and I don't even know who you are."
"When you regain your memory you'll know."
"It's been months since I washed up here, I don't think its coming back." I admit I thought the same thing, but at the same time I kept up my dislike of Oshujon, because my former friend/enemy was a dick even if he didn't know why he was a dick. Look it was complicated, but makes sense! The natives kept being impossible to understand though, like seriously their language was madness! I was just about to give up when I was taken from my cell with Oshujon and brought to the wise man of the village, or who I assumed to be the wiseman, he was dressed differently than the rest and he had what appeared to be books on shelves.
"Sit." He spoke our language! It was great, and then I was mad because if one of them spoke the language I did why was I kept in a cell and had people squawk at me? I wasn't restrained, so there was that. I also did as I was told because I am if ever obedient to a point.
"Why am I being held?" It seemed the best question.
"Because you are not from here." An honest answer if not entirely anti explorer.
"And my companion?"
"You companion who arrived many cycles ago? Because we were told to hold him." Told to hold him implies someone running things that wasn't readily apparent.
"Told by who?"
"More like by what." He was playing with an object and when he turned around I could see it was a skull. It was kind of scary.
"I'm at a loss, why did you wait to speak to me."
"To see if you would attempt to escape or not, you have not, so I figured you are willing to cooperate, so we are speaking."
"Cooperate with what?"
"Oh Mr. Lorentino, I'll get to that in good time, but sit, enjoy the rest, you'll need it." I hate when people know more about me than I know about them. Even more so when they want me to do something! I swear one of these days I'm going to pull that I know more about you than you do of me trick and it will be the greatest thing ever!
Monday, July 28, 2014
I Like To Think I'm Fairly Memorable
My cellmate was Oshujon. There I spoiled it right off the bat. Though he didn't know who I was, who he was, or what had happened to him. I guess being blown up knocked all the crazy right out of him, but didn't kill him (because he's a difficult being to kill, he's basically a god, perhaps the last of his kind, where as I'm basically a god and the opposite, I'm easy as all get out to kill, I just refuse to die). He had washed up about a year ago, and had been locked up ever since (which was at least encouraging for me on the survival stand point). He was decently fed, but completely lost as a person. Which seemed inline with everything I'd ever known about Oshujon up to and including his attempt to kill all the gods and take over the world. Needless to say he was a terrible conversation partner.
The prison was a simple wood construction, I could have easily burned down, but I know shit about ship building or how to navigate the ocean (clearly since I've been ship wrecked very often). I also didn't really know what could be, or couldn't be eaten on the island, so I had to observe and try and learn. Which lead to a lot of sitting in a cell talking to a jerk who didn't remember he was a jerk, but certainly remembered being an obstinate asshole and bothered me all day long.
It was not a pleasant time period as I recall it.
The prison was a simple wood construction, I could have easily burned down, but I know shit about ship building or how to navigate the ocean (clearly since I've been ship wrecked very often). I also didn't really know what could be, or couldn't be eaten on the island, so I had to observe and try and learn. Which lead to a lot of sitting in a cell talking to a jerk who didn't remember he was a jerk, but certainly remembered being an obstinate asshole and bothered me all day long.
It was not a pleasant time period as I recall it.
Friday, July 25, 2014
Ship Wrecked And Fancy Free
The more things change, the more they stay the same. Society advanced, technology got better, and I still hate boats and managed to find myself washed up on another deserted island in the middle of nowhere. The fail boat (see I called it that because it crashed, I am a master of jokes) had a problem in its mast, I won't go into what exactly was done because by the time the stupid thing crashed there wasn't much of the mast left to investigate, but needless to say it was intentional and Garrett was not such a nice person who only wanted to pay me off. He wanted to kill me off, or at the very least leave me stranded to die in some horrible abandoned island. Mission accomplished you asshole!
The island I wound up at was at least liveable, full of creatures, trees, caves, the whole bit. It was enough to make me wonder why people weren't living there until I ran into some native peoples. They didn't speak the usual language (of course not they weren't actually connected to anyone) and I didn't know the language they were using (mixture of squawks and I swear to the gods hitting wood instruments). They did have weapons though, lots of weapons, with pointy sharp ends. And since I didn't have any food or means of leaving the island I was captured pretty easily (combination of fruit and netting trap, which lead to so many question of what they were really hunting for).
Apparently they had evolved enough of a society to have a prison, because I was tossed into a cell with another person from another ship wreck (it was enough to wonder how many people got ship wrecked on that island, and what had happened to them). Shockingly the other ship wreck person was someone I knew, though he did not know me. And that's where I'll leave you wondering for my next entry!
The island I wound up at was at least liveable, full of creatures, trees, caves, the whole bit. It was enough to make me wonder why people weren't living there until I ran into some native peoples. They didn't speak the usual language (of course not they weren't actually connected to anyone) and I didn't know the language they were using (mixture of squawks and I swear to the gods hitting wood instruments). They did have weapons though, lots of weapons, with pointy sharp ends. And since I didn't have any food or means of leaving the island I was captured pretty easily (combination of fruit and netting trap, which lead to so many question of what they were really hunting for).
Apparently they had evolved enough of a society to have a prison, because I was tossed into a cell with another person from another ship wreck (it was enough to wonder how many people got ship wrecked on that island, and what had happened to them). Shockingly the other ship wreck person was someone I knew, though he did not know me. And that's where I'll leave you wondering for my next entry!
Thursday, July 24, 2014
My Reputation Preceded Me
"You know Trezlan I was content to just leave you be." Garrett had arrived with his entire crew in tow, they were armed, no need to bullshit me any longer. Garrett himself had a look on his face that was part disappointment, part anger. I wished there was someone else in my clinic, if only to act as a human shield (look I'm a terrible person I've admitted this!)
"Aside from making me play doctor to all these refugees, and laborer, and generally being a dick to me while you indulged sexual fantasies with women half your age." I'll admit his definition of leaving me be, and mine were at odds.
"Yes ignoring that you idiot." Garrett had dropped the enlightened attitude and was showing the rich prick he actually was. Yes I realize I have a lot of money as well, but I'm not a prick since I was not born to money, I stole it like a civilized person.
"This will not work out for you and your men, you have to know that, you know who I am, you know what I do, and you know this plan will not work because..."
"I'm giving you a cut, and asking you to leave." I admit I did not expect him to cut me into the action and then ship me off, because it was completely unexpected. I figured he'd threaten to kill me or attempt to, I'd kill him and then the world would keep on spinning. But because I'm a horrible asshole and the prospect of conflict made me feel all queasy I took his deal. Yes my great morals and desire for justice was wiped out with the prospect of monetary gain. Look I admitted last entry I was only mad it didn't make me any money, and here he solved that situation.
He even provided me a method of leaving, sure it was a shitty sailboat that had a not obvious flaw designed to break down a hundred miles out to sea. But hey I'm an idiot when presented with an easy solution to things and so I took it. I do realize looking back he totally screwed me. He never even gave me the cut of the action he promised.
"Aside from making me play doctor to all these refugees, and laborer, and generally being a dick to me while you indulged sexual fantasies with women half your age." I'll admit his definition of leaving me be, and mine were at odds.
"Yes ignoring that you idiot." Garrett had dropped the enlightened attitude and was showing the rich prick he actually was. Yes I realize I have a lot of money as well, but I'm not a prick since I was not born to money, I stole it like a civilized person.
"This will not work out for you and your men, you have to know that, you know who I am, you know what I do, and you know this plan will not work because..."
"I'm giving you a cut, and asking you to leave." I admit I did not expect him to cut me into the action and then ship me off, because it was completely unexpected. I figured he'd threaten to kill me or attempt to, I'd kill him and then the world would keep on spinning. But because I'm a horrible asshole and the prospect of conflict made me feel all queasy I took his deal. Yes my great morals and desire for justice was wiped out with the prospect of monetary gain. Look I admitted last entry I was only mad it didn't make me any money, and here he solved that situation.
He even provided me a method of leaving, sure it was a shitty sailboat that had a not obvious flaw designed to break down a hundred miles out to sea. But hey I'm an idiot when presented with an easy solution to things and so I took it. I do realize looking back he totally screwed me. He never even gave me the cut of the action he promised.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
The Business of Helping Others
Garrett was indisposed. That's what I had been told the eight times I'd tried to contact him. It was enough to make me think he was avoiding me. I also noticed no one was talking about time tables, or when we'd be back to port. No they just kept building things and recruiting more refugees to help. I dismissed the idea of the little urchin that Garrett was a bad man, but I was slowly warming to it as he ignored me, I mean I'm Trezlan freaking Lorentino, slayer of gods and men! Sure I was masquerading as a doctor and a tailor, but come on, that doesn't suddenly not make me ME!
So since I had time on my hands I decided to look into Garrett's operation more closely. On the sly of course, didn't want people questioning what a simple tailor and doctor was doing looking into things. What I found was partially shocking and partially exactly what I expected. Garrett was not there to save the refugees, no it appeared he was there to take over, arm them, and then attack the people that had made them refugees to begin with. It was a pretty sad plan at first glance to be honest. I mean these people weren't warriors, there was a good reason they were refugees in the first place. And thats exactly what Garrett apparently wanted, because after they failed to win their war Garrett planned on taking every woman he wanted, all of the treasure he could steal, and then leave, making the people double refugees and doomed to annihilation by either war, pestilence or whatever else.
You might wonder how I puzzled all of this together? Well someone had to die for this to happen, look I'm not a very good investigator, nor am I very sneaky, but I do have necromancy and lack of caring about people I kill. So there I killed someone, took his memories and then knew the whole plan. Do you feel better jerks picking on me? No? Good!
What I hated about all of this though, is it meant I had to of all things figure out a way to stop the idiot. I couldn't just let him do what he was doing! I mean it wouldn't make me any money!
So since I had time on my hands I decided to look into Garrett's operation more closely. On the sly of course, didn't want people questioning what a simple tailor and doctor was doing looking into things. What I found was partially shocking and partially exactly what I expected. Garrett was not there to save the refugees, no it appeared he was there to take over, arm them, and then attack the people that had made them refugees to begin with. It was a pretty sad plan at first glance to be honest. I mean these people weren't warriors, there was a good reason they were refugees in the first place. And thats exactly what Garrett apparently wanted, because after they failed to win their war Garrett planned on taking every woman he wanted, all of the treasure he could steal, and then leave, making the people double refugees and doomed to annihilation by either war, pestilence or whatever else.
You might wonder how I puzzled all of this together? Well someone had to die for this to happen, look I'm not a very good investigator, nor am I very sneaky, but I do have necromancy and lack of caring about people I kill. So there I killed someone, took his memories and then knew the whole plan. Do you feel better jerks picking on me? No? Good!
What I hated about all of this though, is it meant I had to of all things figure out a way to stop the idiot. I couldn't just let him do what he was doing! I mean it wouldn't make me any money!
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Children, Like Animals Only Dumber
"Scram." I had set up a makeshift clinic to help people. Well I didn't set it up, the leader of the camp set it up, and advertised I'd be helping people there. It wasn't enough to fake wanting to help others, I apparently did have to help others, it was obnoxious. There wasn't anyone in the clinic save for one young boy who had been following me around the entire time I'd been at the settlement. I couldn't even begin to guess why, I was rude to the little shit the entire time and like a long lost lover it seemed to encourage him!
"Why don't you like me?"
"I don't like anyone, you inflate your self worth into thinking its specific to you." It wasn't entirely true, there was a nice younger woman (well they are all younger to me, even the old ladies, but I digress) I had been fond of, but she apparently was in love Garrett, as was apparently every female we took. Let me tell you it made for some long lonely nights. Well lonelier than usual.
"You don't seem to hate Garrett."
"Then you clearly aren't paying attention little one, he's the one who brought me here, and is forcing me to care for you and urchins like you." Everyone had come out of the wood work to see the "doctor", I was beginning to see why the other one turned to cutting people up for profit, probably a nice release from all the sores, aches, and other ailments assholes have or claim to have. The majority of these people could have used better food and more physical labor, but no one liked that diagnosis, so I just mashed up a variety of none harmful roots and gave them those instead. Why non harmful you ask? SO THEY DON'T COME BACK! Amazingly it worked, even though what I had given them was completely useless, no actual medicinal purposes at all best I could tell, apparently when a healer tells you to drink something, and you do, magically it works. It's something I've used to make a buck a time or two.
"Garret is a bad man."
"Why would you say that?" It was the first I'd heard of it. The little kid got a look on his face though, and left, I was happy for a brief moment and then taken a back because, while I hadn't suspect Garrett before, I sure as all get out did now. That damned urchin causing me to look my alibi in the mouth! Err mess up the good work I was doing...
"Why don't you like me?"
"I don't like anyone, you inflate your self worth into thinking its specific to you." It wasn't entirely true, there was a nice younger woman (well they are all younger to me, even the old ladies, but I digress) I had been fond of, but she apparently was in love Garrett, as was apparently every female we took. Let me tell you it made for some long lonely nights. Well lonelier than usual.
"You don't seem to hate Garrett."
"Then you clearly aren't paying attention little one, he's the one who brought me here, and is forcing me to care for you and urchins like you." Everyone had come out of the wood work to see the "doctor", I was beginning to see why the other one turned to cutting people up for profit, probably a nice release from all the sores, aches, and other ailments assholes have or claim to have. The majority of these people could have used better food and more physical labor, but no one liked that diagnosis, so I just mashed up a variety of none harmful roots and gave them those instead. Why non harmful you ask? SO THEY DON'T COME BACK! Amazingly it worked, even though what I had given them was completely useless, no actual medicinal purposes at all best I could tell, apparently when a healer tells you to drink something, and you do, magically it works. It's something I've used to make a buck a time or two.
"Garret is a bad man."
"Why would you say that?" It was the first I'd heard of it. The little kid got a look on his face though, and left, I was happy for a brief moment and then taken a back because, while I hadn't suspect Garrett before, I sure as all get out did now. That damned urchin causing me to look my alibi in the mouth! Err mess up the good work I was doing...
Monday, July 21, 2014
Hard Work, Is Not Necessarily Good Work
Helping refugees sucks. I figured I'd stitch up some cuts, hand out some food, and then for the rest of the time just relax and enjoy the moment. That is not what freaking happened. From the very time the ship docked it was all back breaking labor. Either moving supplies off the ship, or moving things around in the ruins of the area, or helping to clear rubble. By the end of the first day my muscles hurt so much in places I didn't even think I had muscles in. And the food was terrible, like what we brought was just basic rations and what was there wasn't worth eating (even the live stock was infected with some kind of horrible something or other). So my muscles hurt, I didn't get good food, and I couldn't even get a good nights rest do all the whining and moaning from the poor and oppressed.
I hate helping others, its something I really need to remind myself of. Its kind of like a fruit you don't eat very often and you're like "Oh maybe I should try helping others today." And then you realize the poor and downtrodden and abused suck as a people and its better to avenge their deaths than prevent them! Yes I realize this means more dead people, but dying people are so annoying "Oh please save my life, oh please don't cut off my disease ridden leg, oh please save my child."
Bitch bitch bitch! Swear to gods these people don't understand the courtesy I am extending to them and thus think this is a normal thing for me to do for them! IT IS NOT YOU USELESS LITTLE INGRATES! I swear if they understood how close they came to being annihilated they'd treat me nicer for not COMPLETELY BURNING YOU DOWN TO THE GROUND AND BAGGING THE ASHES! So yes my first week working for the poor and beaten down went over about as well as you can expect for a self centered asshole who only helps himself. Honestly if I wasn't dodging murder ra HELPING THE CHILDREN, I would have never come here!
I hate helping others, its something I really need to remind myself of. Its kind of like a fruit you don't eat very often and you're like "Oh maybe I should try helping others today." And then you realize the poor and downtrodden and abused suck as a people and its better to avenge their deaths than prevent them! Yes I realize this means more dead people, but dying people are so annoying "Oh please save my life, oh please don't cut off my disease ridden leg, oh please save my child."
Bitch bitch bitch! Swear to gods these people don't understand the courtesy I am extending to them and thus think this is a normal thing for me to do for them! IT IS NOT YOU USELESS LITTLE INGRATES! I swear if they understood how close they came to being annihilated they'd treat me nicer for not COMPLETELY BURNING YOU DOWN TO THE GROUND AND BAGGING THE ASHES! So yes my first week working for the poor and beaten down went over about as well as you can expect for a self centered asshole who only helps himself. Honestly if I wasn't dodging murder ra HELPING THE CHILDREN, I would have never come here!
Friday, July 18, 2014
Dr. Lorentino Of the Made Up Lorentinos
"We left port so quickly I didn't even get a chance to ask you what you brought to the team." This was intentional on my part, to put simply I checked out all the ships leaving port as soon as possible and the refugee mission was the one leaving the soonest. Yes indeed, I just needed to help those refugees as fast as I could you see, not at all worried authorities would connect the dots or have a witness to my horrible acts. Nope!
"I'm a surgeon and tailor." Well I killed a surgeon, but I've always been a tailor, I didn't have to kill anyone for that skill as I recall.
"What an interesting combination." The man asking me was the leader of this little expedition, he was named Garrett and he was a large burly man with lots of scar. He had apparently survived himself as a refugee once upon a time and now does his best to help war orphans and the downtrodden, a real humanitarian. I suspected him immediately.
"Well I hadn't always lived a life of comfort and largess, as a young man I worked with my mother to make rich people clothes, it was hard work, but honest." If you wonder how I can lie so easily, well you've read the journal you know how I do.
"And you became a surgeon?"
"Later, my family came into some money and I felt with my skill with my hands healing the sick would be a noble way of paying back my fellow man." I almost believed this myself, if I didn't know the real reason the other surgeon had learned his craft was because he was horrible and liked cutting things open and seeing them alive. But I didn't do that! So I could make up something all the same.
"Well Doctor its good to have you along, I hope we don't need your services very often, though I think being able to sew will be useful in helping to repair canvas."
"My skills are your skills." He clapped me on the back and as soon as he was gone I vomited not out of any sentiment expressed or anything. No it was just the stupid sea sickness. I had held it in as long as I could, but I am but a man.
"I'm a surgeon and tailor." Well I killed a surgeon, but I've always been a tailor, I didn't have to kill anyone for that skill as I recall.
"What an interesting combination." The man asking me was the leader of this little expedition, he was named Garrett and he was a large burly man with lots of scar. He had apparently survived himself as a refugee once upon a time and now does his best to help war orphans and the downtrodden, a real humanitarian. I suspected him immediately.
"Well I hadn't always lived a life of comfort and largess, as a young man I worked with my mother to make rich people clothes, it was hard work, but honest." If you wonder how I can lie so easily, well you've read the journal you know how I do.
"And you became a surgeon?"
"Later, my family came into some money and I felt with my skill with my hands healing the sick would be a noble way of paying back my fellow man." I almost believed this myself, if I didn't know the real reason the other surgeon had learned his craft was because he was horrible and liked cutting things open and seeing them alive. But I didn't do that! So I could make up something all the same.
"Well Doctor its good to have you along, I hope we don't need your services very often, though I think being able to sew will be useful in helping to repair canvas."
"My skills are your skills." He clapped me on the back and as soon as he was gone I vomited not out of any sentiment expressed or anything. No it was just the stupid sea sickness. I had held it in as long as I could, but I am but a man.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Finding Purpose In Death
Most people after killing several people for crimes would feel at a measure of remorse. Not so for me! I didn't drink because I'm trying to cut back (I think I've used up my drinking allowance for the next several years, I mean my organs are refreshed thanks to the good doctor, but even I have limits for my depravity, at least mentally). I did enjoy a nice meal in a fancy restaurant and picked up a couple new suits (with all of my ill gotten gains). Sure I had the memories of a serial killer who cut up bums to put body parts into rich people, but I was living high on the hog with a new found lust for life! I also now possessed the knowledge of anatomy and surgery, skills I was sure would come in handy (the knowledge of course but not the actual practice, which is the trick to things like this, you know what to do, but you've never actually done it, though since I'm a tailor by trade its similar in fine hand work, lets just say I don't tell people I'm patching up "This is just like sewing a pair of pants).
I figured since I'd taken so much from society I should at least give something back, so when a ship was bound for refugee work in an area decimated by war (a lingering conflict of Oshujon's any large enough fight always leaves these embers burning somewhere). This was entirely based on willingness to help my fellow man, and not wanting to make sure that no one knew I had murdered several people recently. Not at all related! Also the fact that they were willing to take me on with no questions asked for an indeterminate period of time. All the better!
Of course this meant more time spent on a ship which even with modern ship engines etc I still vomit like its going out of style. Yes even though I figured I'd kicked this particular annoyance of anatomy I still do it. Because my life is one of misery.
I figured since I'd taken so much from society I should at least give something back, so when a ship was bound for refugee work in an area decimated by war (a lingering conflict of Oshujon's any large enough fight always leaves these embers burning somewhere). This was entirely based on willingness to help my fellow man, and not wanting to make sure that no one knew I had murdered several people recently. Not at all related! Also the fact that they were willing to take me on with no questions asked for an indeterminate period of time. All the better!
Of course this meant more time spent on a ship which even with modern ship engines etc I still vomit like its going out of style. Yes even though I figured I'd kicked this particular annoyance of anatomy I still do it. Because my life is one of misery.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
It's Been A Long Day Cut the Bullshit
"Forgive me sir I have come to ask a favor." I was dressed better, I had shaved, and bathed, so no longer did I look the bum I had been. I was even wearing a jaunty hat, because people wearing top hats always get doors opened for them. The man I was looking at was older, probably around the age of seventy, he had a gaunt appearance having recently survived a bad ailment and I knew all about that.
"I don't know you," He went to shut the door, but it was too late I had my foot in it and I had the strength of stolen youth, so I was able to force it open and toss him back into his own foyer. I shut the door behind me and took out my pistol.
"Say another word and you die right here right now." He nodded and I checked through the peep hole no one was following me.
"Take whatever you want you filthy beggar."
"Oh come now Mr. Sworns don't pretend I'm a simple thief, I'm more of a social justice type." I took my hat off and put it on the hat rack making sure to keep my pistol trained on the old man.
"Social justice? What does that mean?"
"It means I'm here to take what you stole you horrible wretch." He looked on with the fire of the righteous I'd seen it all morning as I had made my rounds, these people who had taken organs from bums felt it was their right, their privileged to keep existing while others died. Its a rhetoric I myself had made to justify necromancy from time to time, but I stuck to assholes who tried to kill me, these jerks just were killing random people on the street, sometimes multiple people after attempts to transfer the organs failed.
"Well go on then, I've heard the others are dying, if you're going to do it, do it." I appreciated the brevity, I shot him in the neck and waited for him to die as I had done with the others. He struggled, they all did, whatever calm they had come to actually killing them tended to make them terrified in the final moment, which was fine with me, they were horrible people and deserved worse than what I gave them.
All told I killed ten people that day, the police never contacted me, I was a shiftless bum who was last seen taking a beating and being hauled off, not a well dressed young man who was polite and didn't touch a drop of alcohol. That's the thing about killing in the modern world, everyone is so put off their guard because of society, they never think to believe the person who says please and thank you would murder them with a smile.
Thus my pity party came to an end, much like how it started, with less booze and more bang.
"I don't know you," He went to shut the door, but it was too late I had my foot in it and I had the strength of stolen youth, so I was able to force it open and toss him back into his own foyer. I shut the door behind me and took out my pistol.
"Say another word and you die right here right now." He nodded and I checked through the peep hole no one was following me.
"Take whatever you want you filthy beggar."
"Oh come now Mr. Sworns don't pretend I'm a simple thief, I'm more of a social justice type." I took my hat off and put it on the hat rack making sure to keep my pistol trained on the old man.
"Social justice? What does that mean?"
"It means I'm here to take what you stole you horrible wretch." He looked on with the fire of the righteous I'd seen it all morning as I had made my rounds, these people who had taken organs from bums felt it was their right, their privileged to keep existing while others died. Its a rhetoric I myself had made to justify necromancy from time to time, but I stuck to assholes who tried to kill me, these jerks just were killing random people on the street, sometimes multiple people after attempts to transfer the organs failed.
"Well go on then, I've heard the others are dying, if you're going to do it, do it." I appreciated the brevity, I shot him in the neck and waited for him to die as I had done with the others. He struggled, they all did, whatever calm they had come to actually killing them tended to make them terrified in the final moment, which was fine with me, they were horrible people and deserved worse than what I gave them.
All told I killed ten people that day, the police never contacted me, I was a shiftless bum who was last seen taking a beating and being hauled off, not a well dressed young man who was polite and didn't touch a drop of alcohol. That's the thing about killing in the modern world, everyone is so put off their guard because of society, they never think to believe the person who says please and thank you would murder them with a smile.
Thus my pity party came to an end, much like how it started, with less booze and more bang.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Help Me Doctor
"What are you?" I know magic had been withdrawn a bit from the world, but I didn't figure people would be so surprised by its use. I swear its like the longer I'm away from society, the more society forgets people like me exist at all.
"I was called a demon before, it caused a bit of a crisis of conscience in me. Until I remembered I didn't have one." I admit I'm a sucker for good theater. And since the doctor was about to live the rest of his life out dying painfully I might as well play up that aspect.
"You're a monster, I'm doing science here, you're just a brutal murderer." He spit at me and I didn't have much to say to that.
"Right science, carving up the homeless for some experiment while you muscle vendors on the street with your gang of hoodlums. Forgive me if I don't think they'll knock down your door to give you a humanitarian of the year award." He scowled at me.
"I'm helping people you ingrate! I take the organs from the weak to give to the strong, thus allowing the best parts of our society to survive!'
"Best parts meaning who you deem best, well I'm sure you'll appreciate what I'm about to do to you then." He looked on in horror as I worked a bit of necromancy and fixed myself up with the doctor. Because I wanted to know what he wasn't telling me I took his memories with his life (well that and I was pretty hurt, you can't be choosey when you need every last drop). The pain came back, bones mending themselves, wounds closing and healing hurts, but I knew it was temporary and that's always welcome (as opposed to all the other pain I receive in life). Feeling better in two ways (physically and mentally) I took stock of the situation, the doctor had been a very bad man, and I had a long list of new people to show the error of their ways. And by that I mean murder them.
Look I have a hammer and its murder.
"I was called a demon before, it caused a bit of a crisis of conscience in me. Until I remembered I didn't have one." I admit I'm a sucker for good theater. And since the doctor was about to live the rest of his life out dying painfully I might as well play up that aspect.
"You're a monster, I'm doing science here, you're just a brutal murderer." He spit at me and I didn't have much to say to that.
"Right science, carving up the homeless for some experiment while you muscle vendors on the street with your gang of hoodlums. Forgive me if I don't think they'll knock down your door to give you a humanitarian of the year award." He scowled at me.
"I'm helping people you ingrate! I take the organs from the weak to give to the strong, thus allowing the best parts of our society to survive!'
"Best parts meaning who you deem best, well I'm sure you'll appreciate what I'm about to do to you then." He looked on in horror as I worked a bit of necromancy and fixed myself up with the doctor. Because I wanted to know what he wasn't telling me I took his memories with his life (well that and I was pretty hurt, you can't be choosey when you need every last drop). The pain came back, bones mending themselves, wounds closing and healing hurts, but I knew it was temporary and that's always welcome (as opposed to all the other pain I receive in life). Feeling better in two ways (physically and mentally) I took stock of the situation, the doctor had been a very bad man, and I had a long list of new people to show the error of their ways. And by that I mean murder them.
Look I have a hammer and its murder.
Monday, July 14, 2014
What Was Once Broken Is Now Healed
Limping my way down a hallway towards possibly my doom made me think about all the bad choices in life I'd made up to this point. I mean there were several hundred, but I was mainly focused on the ones that had screwed me lately. Which meant I went through a whole new pity party in the space of about a minute. At the end of the hallway was a bed with shackles on it (thank you for the torture devices guys, but again your dungeon sucks!) The doctor was waiting for me next to a bunch of tools that looked especially bad.
"Come in, come in, lay down this shouldn't take too long." I didn't like the implication of any of those things, the people who brought me in stripped my shirt off kind of roughly, when they saw my not really healed injuries including the bullet wound from the cultists they kind of were taken a back. I guess they were lucky all my real scars weren't there thanks to all the necromancy (I often wonder how bad my body would look like if all the scars and injuries I ever received showed up, I'm guessing fairly horrifying).
"No thanks doctor I feel fine." He indicated for his men to clamp me down and they did so, roughly, which hurt and since the alcohol was long gone the pain was excruciating. At this point I was humoring these assholes, but at that point my sense of humor was gone.
"Don't worry sir, this will only hurt really badly for a short moment and then you'll pass out." This was not as comforting as he would have had me believe. My impending doom in front of me, pain rushing through my body and a general sense of suddenly caring about not getting cut open I flexed my magical power and was glad to see it had returned from its drunken slumber (its like an erection in that regard, and just like an erection prolonged use can cause later problems... not that I've ever had that issue... it was a friend, of a friend, look shut up). The doctor was dangerously close to cutting into my abdomen when I burned his hand, it was a small display mind you, but it got his attention right quick. He called out to the men in the room to kill me and I beat him to the punch (why didn't I kill the doctor? Well curiosity mostly, but I'll get to that). It was refreshing to burn people to death again (yes that makes me a pyscho) my immediate enemies now screaming hulks of burning flesh I burned the shackles off and yes that was also painful, but necessary. Off the table I landed with a thud and that also hurt (but I knew I wouldn't be hurting for long). The rest of the guards arrived including Jorn, his look of fear when he saw his burnt comrades told me all I needed to know. I heated my hand up and plunged it into his chest, his screams were girly and not at all manly like he wanted them to be, with my hand inside of him I burned him from the inside out. I admit I'm psychotic, the good doctor at this point started screaming, but I blocked the exit out of the room, he took another scalpel in his good hand and extended it out to me like some primative warding.
"Everyone who doesn't want to burn alive might want to leave right now." They scattered and I turned my attention to the doctor.
"Stay back you firey demon."
"That's fine I can kill you from over here, proximity isn't required doctor." I just stayed at the front of the room and he sat there cowering. And that's where I'll leave you, you can probably guess what happened to the doctor, but getting there is always the fun part. Yes I'm psycho.
"Come in, come in, lay down this shouldn't take too long." I didn't like the implication of any of those things, the people who brought me in stripped my shirt off kind of roughly, when they saw my not really healed injuries including the bullet wound from the cultists they kind of were taken a back. I guess they were lucky all my real scars weren't there thanks to all the necromancy (I often wonder how bad my body would look like if all the scars and injuries I ever received showed up, I'm guessing fairly horrifying).
"No thanks doctor I feel fine." He indicated for his men to clamp me down and they did so, roughly, which hurt and since the alcohol was long gone the pain was excruciating. At this point I was humoring these assholes, but at that point my sense of humor was gone.
"Don't worry sir, this will only hurt really badly for a short moment and then you'll pass out." This was not as comforting as he would have had me believe. My impending doom in front of me, pain rushing through my body and a general sense of suddenly caring about not getting cut open I flexed my magical power and was glad to see it had returned from its drunken slumber (its like an erection in that regard, and just like an erection prolonged use can cause later problems... not that I've ever had that issue... it was a friend, of a friend, look shut up). The doctor was dangerously close to cutting into my abdomen when I burned his hand, it was a small display mind you, but it got his attention right quick. He called out to the men in the room to kill me and I beat him to the punch (why didn't I kill the doctor? Well curiosity mostly, but I'll get to that). It was refreshing to burn people to death again (yes that makes me a pyscho) my immediate enemies now screaming hulks of burning flesh I burned the shackles off and yes that was also painful, but necessary. Off the table I landed with a thud and that also hurt (but I knew I wouldn't be hurting for long). The rest of the guards arrived including Jorn, his look of fear when he saw his burnt comrades told me all I needed to know. I heated my hand up and plunged it into his chest, his screams were girly and not at all manly like he wanted them to be, with my hand inside of him I burned him from the inside out. I admit I'm psychotic, the good doctor at this point started screaming, but I blocked the exit out of the room, he took another scalpel in his good hand and extended it out to me like some primative warding.
"Everyone who doesn't want to burn alive might want to leave right now." They scattered and I turned my attention to the doctor.
"Stay back you firey demon."
"That's fine I can kill you from over here, proximity isn't required doctor." I just stayed at the front of the room and he sat there cowering. And that's where I'll leave you, you can probably guess what happened to the doctor, but getting there is always the fun part. Yes I'm psycho.
Friday, July 11, 2014
Why Does Everyone Have a Dungeon?
I don't have a dungeon. I have a closet in my apartment I don't clean out, I have a kitchen I need to clean instead of write entries. But I do not, and will not ever have, a dungeon! Everyone else in the gods damned world does though! I thought with the modern aspect of society we'd move beyond dungeons. But no, apparently the dungeon builders guild didn't want to be cut out of their profits! I mean I once helped an old lady, she rewarded me with pie, and then tried to throw me into a dungeon. A FREAKING OLD LADY!
Anyway the dungeon I and the bums were tossed into felt more unfinished basement, than proper dungeon (no chains, no torture devices, just a dirt hole with a bunch of smelly bums in it). The rest of them were a lot better off physically than I was (because they hadn't taken a large beating like I had), thankfully my injuries afforded me room from the others and I was not taken when other bums were "selected" to participate in whatever they had kidnapped us all to do. One of my fellow bums had gotten tired of ignoring me and decided to ask what happened.
"I got the crap kicked out of me, that's what happened." Everytime I moved something hurt, this is usually a bad sign. I was sobering up, which was nice, and painful at the same time.
"What did you do?"
"Mouthed off, why what did you do to get brought here?"
"They were asking for volunteers, figured this couldn't be worse than the street, I guess I figured wrong." We hadn't seen the bums that had been taken, but I assumed as did the ones remaining, they were either dead or wishing they were dead.
"Who is the guy running this?"
"Some kind of doctor, he looked like a doctor, didn't you see him?"
"Nah I got hit pretty hard, only thing I saw was black and pain." The bum was about to say something else when one of the punks who had been involved in my beating shouted at us to stop talking and so seeing the sorry state I was in, he did probably out of fear (can't blame him I looked terrible). And so the parade of the damned continued, eventually it was just me in the dirt hole, I think it had been about a week since I'd been kidnapped, but it was dark down there and I didn't bring a watch. I tell you its one of the worst recovery's from a beating I'd ever had, because not only was the ground crap to sleep on, but since I'd been drinking pretty heavily for a while, not drinking was physically painful. I'm sure there was some horrible science to it, but needless to say when it came my time to get carted off I was in a pretty awful places. And not just because I was in a dungeon.
Anyway the dungeon I and the bums were tossed into felt more unfinished basement, than proper dungeon (no chains, no torture devices, just a dirt hole with a bunch of smelly bums in it). The rest of them were a lot better off physically than I was (because they hadn't taken a large beating like I had), thankfully my injuries afforded me room from the others and I was not taken when other bums were "selected" to participate in whatever they had kidnapped us all to do. One of my fellow bums had gotten tired of ignoring me and decided to ask what happened.
"I got the crap kicked out of me, that's what happened." Everytime I moved something hurt, this is usually a bad sign. I was sobering up, which was nice, and painful at the same time.
"What did you do?"
"Mouthed off, why what did you do to get brought here?"
"They were asking for volunteers, figured this couldn't be worse than the street, I guess I figured wrong." We hadn't seen the bums that had been taken, but I assumed as did the ones remaining, they were either dead or wishing they were dead.
"Who is the guy running this?"
"Some kind of doctor, he looked like a doctor, didn't you see him?"
"Nah I got hit pretty hard, only thing I saw was black and pain." The bum was about to say something else when one of the punks who had been involved in my beating shouted at us to stop talking and so seeing the sorry state I was in, he did probably out of fear (can't blame him I looked terrible). And so the parade of the damned continued, eventually it was just me in the dirt hole, I think it had been about a week since I'd been kidnapped, but it was dark down there and I didn't bring a watch. I tell you its one of the worst recovery's from a beating I'd ever had, because not only was the ground crap to sleep on, but since I'd been drinking pretty heavily for a while, not drinking was physically painful. I'm sure there was some horrible science to it, but needless to say when it came my time to get carted off I was in a pretty awful places. And not just because I was in a dungeon.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
You're Never As Strong As You are Weak
There were four of them, though I tell you as drunk as I was there might have only been two or only one of them (yes even sleeping it off I was still drunk from all the drinking). They were wearing the usual "I'm Tough" outfit, chains torn clothing bad haircuts. Its a cliche for a reason, no matter how out of sorts I get with the way the world is, punk morons all dress vaguely the same. They were hassling the bartender probably the usual "give us money or we'll smash your stuff." I almost wanted to watch since she'd brained me pretty good and I wanted to see the same thing happen to the morons. But she appeared cowed by them, gone was the firey bartender who smashed me in her place was a cowed woman.
"Leave you little shits before someone takes some toilet paper and wipes you out." I admit I took some time to come up with this one, even drunk I still love a good line.
"What's this then? A down on his luck bum comes to play the hero?" His voice was high and whiny, made me amazed the other three followed him.
"Leave him be Jorn, he's just some drunk who fancies himself a hero."
"Does he now? Well I fancy myself a beating." I tried to call up some fire to show these punks who the real dangerous one was, but much like before all I had was the alcohol in my blood and the fuzzness in my head. They beat me pretty badly, which even though there were four of them was kind of good planning. Because ordinarily when you're beating someone with a group of people you get in the way of each other and the victim doesn't get as much as they normally would on your one on two or one on one beating. But apparently this group plans this kind of thing out, because they messed me up so bad I was seeing quadruple and puking from the impact. I'd have felt bad for the vomit, but judging on my injuries the only thing I was feeling was pain.
"Enough Jorn," The new voice was the commanding sort, clearly the leader. Jorn struck me once more in my nose with a booted kick and it broke it, my eyes swelled shut and the blood gushed and ran into the puke.
"Stupid bum." They all spit on me, as if that was necessary after everything else (insult to injury as it were).
"Collect the bum Jorn, and Ms. Clancy I assume this tells you not to hire a protector next time?" Two of the punks hoisted me up and I felt all my injuries come into stark painful relief. I don't know why they were grabbing me, I had hoped it was just to dump me in the trash, but no I was carted out to a truck and dumped into it with other bums (well I assumed bums, perhaps they were people on a huge drinking binge like I was and ordinarily were honest up right citizens, but I kind of doubt that). We were all carted off to be cleaned up and rehabilitated as model members of society! Kidding, we were thrown into a hole and had our lives threatened. Because of course thats what happened.
"Leave you little shits before someone takes some toilet paper and wipes you out." I admit I took some time to come up with this one, even drunk I still love a good line.
"What's this then? A down on his luck bum comes to play the hero?" His voice was high and whiny, made me amazed the other three followed him.
"Leave him be Jorn, he's just some drunk who fancies himself a hero."
"Does he now? Well I fancy myself a beating." I tried to call up some fire to show these punks who the real dangerous one was, but much like before all I had was the alcohol in my blood and the fuzzness in my head. They beat me pretty badly, which even though there were four of them was kind of good planning. Because ordinarily when you're beating someone with a group of people you get in the way of each other and the victim doesn't get as much as they normally would on your one on two or one on one beating. But apparently this group plans this kind of thing out, because they messed me up so bad I was seeing quadruple and puking from the impact. I'd have felt bad for the vomit, but judging on my injuries the only thing I was feeling was pain.
"Enough Jorn," The new voice was the commanding sort, clearly the leader. Jorn struck me once more in my nose with a booted kick and it broke it, my eyes swelled shut and the blood gushed and ran into the puke.
"Stupid bum." They all spit on me, as if that was necessary after everything else (insult to injury as it were).
"Collect the bum Jorn, and Ms. Clancy I assume this tells you not to hire a protector next time?" Two of the punks hoisted me up and I felt all my injuries come into stark painful relief. I don't know why they were grabbing me, I had hoped it was just to dump me in the trash, but no I was carted out to a truck and dumped into it with other bums (well I assumed bums, perhaps they were people on a huge drinking binge like I was and ordinarily were honest up right citizens, but I kind of doubt that). We were all carted off to be cleaned up and rehabilitated as model members of society! Kidding, we were thrown into a hole and had our lives threatened. Because of course thats what happened.
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Like the World's Worst Drunken Uncle
Being down to my last few dollars worth of cash, I'd had to change my drinking locations from nice and reputeable to dirty and forgettable. Its one way you you know you have a problem, when the locations change but your drinking habit does not. Well that and the fact when you look in the mirror you look like a homeless person, you smell like garbage and the last time you remembered something longer than an hour ago feels years from where you are. But you know its also the location thing. Needless to say things were not all champagne and happiness for Trezlan Lorentino. The bar despite being a dive bar in a shitty part of town was actually fairly well maintained, the lady running it wasn't completely ugly though she did have a scar that ran down one side of her face and she was moderately overweight in the way that poor people seem to get. The rest of the bar was like her, not exactly pretty but at least maintained and didn't smell too badly even though I was sitting in it. I was of course the only customer there at eight in the morning.
"I think you've had enough." Her voice fit her body, lower register with that mom quality that older women tend to get.
"I'll tell you when I've had enough, I still have money in my wallet, you still have beer in your taps so keep pouring." She struck me pretty hard, the blow knocked me off the stool and sent what little belongings I had with me scattering (so some money and loose change). She came round the bar with a rolling pin and I gathered up some magic, no half wit bartender brains me and expects to get away with it. Well I should say I tried to gather magic, but I'd been drunk for so long I pissed myself and put my hands over my head to shield myself from the blow (not my best moment I admit).
"Get out of my damn bar you drunk before I throw you out like the trash you wandered in with."
"All right you evil wench I'm going, just let me collect my things." She hit me pretty hard with her rolling pin when I said the evil wench thing, which seems totally unreasonable! She was an evil wench! The blow made my eyes swim and since I was already pretty drunk I just gave up and passed out. When I awoke hours later she had carried through on her promise and I was in the trash. I'd have complained, but at least I wasn't arrested (probably because I looked like a bum, even the police don't arrest people who look like shit, its a waste of their time). Probably because I felt like the trash I was in, I made no effort to actually get out of it. I relished sitting there thrown away like so much garbage. It fit my mood at the time. I probably would have been content to sit there had I not seen what appeared to be a gang of hoodlums walking into the bar, because if there's one thing I can't stand, its people hurting people who hurt me. Wait that's not entirely accurate.
All the same I try to not let good people get hurt (that's better) and so stinking like garbage and half sober I stepped back in to be the worst hero ever. Per my usual.
"I think you've had enough." Her voice fit her body, lower register with that mom quality that older women tend to get.
"I'll tell you when I've had enough, I still have money in my wallet, you still have beer in your taps so keep pouring." She struck me pretty hard, the blow knocked me off the stool and sent what little belongings I had with me scattering (so some money and loose change). She came round the bar with a rolling pin and I gathered up some magic, no half wit bartender brains me and expects to get away with it. Well I should say I tried to gather magic, but I'd been drunk for so long I pissed myself and put my hands over my head to shield myself from the blow (not my best moment I admit).
"Get out of my damn bar you drunk before I throw you out like the trash you wandered in with."
"All right you evil wench I'm going, just let me collect my things." She hit me pretty hard with her rolling pin when I said the evil wench thing, which seems totally unreasonable! She was an evil wench! The blow made my eyes swim and since I was already pretty drunk I just gave up and passed out. When I awoke hours later she had carried through on her promise and I was in the trash. I'd have complained, but at least I wasn't arrested (probably because I looked like a bum, even the police don't arrest people who look like shit, its a waste of their time). Probably because I felt like the trash I was in, I made no effort to actually get out of it. I relished sitting there thrown away like so much garbage. It fit my mood at the time. I probably would have been content to sit there had I not seen what appeared to be a gang of hoodlums walking into the bar, because if there's one thing I can't stand, its people hurting people who hurt me. Wait that's not entirely accurate.
All the same I try to not let good people get hurt (that's better) and so stinking like garbage and half sober I stepped back in to be the worst hero ever. Per my usual.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Drowning My Problems In Lots of Pity
I believe I hide this well but I do not handle change at all. Like I think a big part for my huge drinkathon was just me adjusting to how much I hate the world. That's not like hyperbole I hate the world, I hate all the modern conveniences, I hate all the ways people don't seem to notice things are worse than they were before, and I also hate how people like me aren't really needed anymore. I'm a monster hunter when you drill down to it, I hunt the things that exist in the shadows (when I'm not being seduced by them or tricked by them or trying to use them and end up being used by them), now those things are subdued technology is taking over and with it society! My days of happily riding from one town to screw them err help them with one problem after failing the last town is over! I guess like a lot of old people I see crying about pasts they themselves don't fully remember, I'm just sad that things change and I haven't.
Which certainly explains how I drank myself out of all the money I'd recently acquired from the cult members I'd killed. Yeah a lot of bad decisions, bad bets, and bad beer went with all of those funds. You know what they say, easily murdered for your money, easily spent on the worlds biggest pity party! So needless to say I got pretty drunk for a long time. I believe I spent three months not entirely sober (I am thrifty even when I'm spending my money drinking). And that lead to my next story. Which I'll tell you in the next entry, because remembering all that drinking has me thinking I should go down to Val's and get wasted. Because I'm a terrible person who learns no lessons.
Which certainly explains how I drank myself out of all the money I'd recently acquired from the cult members I'd killed. Yeah a lot of bad decisions, bad bets, and bad beer went with all of those funds. You know what they say, easily murdered for your money, easily spent on the worlds biggest pity party! So needless to say I got pretty drunk for a long time. I believe I spent three months not entirely sober (I am thrifty even when I'm spending my money drinking). And that lead to my next story. Which I'll tell you in the next entry, because remembering all that drinking has me thinking I should go down to Val's and get wasted. Because I'm a terrible person who learns no lessons.
Monday, July 7, 2014
There Are Worse Things, Not Many, But There Are
"Well at least they didn't execute you, the last guy I sent up there got staked on the beach shot and left for the crabs to eat." Hanlon was really making me feel better about my trip up north, in that he wasn't doing that at all.
"I'm so glad you let me in on all the places I should avoid on penalty of death by gunshot."
"Oh they didn't kill him with the gunshots, the crabs literally finished him off."
"I'm so glad you tell me these things." In that I'm not glad he tells me these things. I was at the Hanlon factory, figuring that was the best place to run into Hanlon outside of some how calling him up out of the blue. He was there over seeing some kind of weapon shipment, it looked large, but I have no idea when or where he shipped anything and everything looks big to me (no dick jokes please!)
"Trezlan you never asked, and you need to understand things changed while you were away. If I have to go over every little place you should avoid I'm sure all that will be left is one hut on a mountain surrounded by man eating plants."
"Oh so now you've been reading my mind to know where I wish to be more than anything else?" He looked at me sour.
"I have actual work to do Lorentino, please see yourself out as you saw yourself in." He turned around and then walked off. Which was nice since he didn't just disappear from the catwalk, in a way Hanlon with his factory and his workers had become normal, though still creepy as he can apparently disappear and reappear at will (despite what he claims to the opposite). I did take his words to heart, so I went to the one place I knew I could catch up on all the things I missed. No not a library, I went on a tour of bars! Well it was more of a drink till I felt better strategy, but I learned so much while I was there!
"I'm so glad you let me in on all the places I should avoid on penalty of death by gunshot."
"Oh they didn't kill him with the gunshots, the crabs literally finished him off."
"I'm so glad you tell me these things." In that I'm not glad he tells me these things. I was at the Hanlon factory, figuring that was the best place to run into Hanlon outside of some how calling him up out of the blue. He was there over seeing some kind of weapon shipment, it looked large, but I have no idea when or where he shipped anything and everything looks big to me (no dick jokes please!)
"Trezlan you never asked, and you need to understand things changed while you were away. If I have to go over every little place you should avoid I'm sure all that will be left is one hut on a mountain surrounded by man eating plants."
"Oh so now you've been reading my mind to know where I wish to be more than anything else?" He looked at me sour.
"I have actual work to do Lorentino, please see yourself out as you saw yourself in." He turned around and then walked off. Which was nice since he didn't just disappear from the catwalk, in a way Hanlon with his factory and his workers had become normal, though still creepy as he can apparently disappear and reappear at will (despite what he claims to the opposite). I did take his words to heart, so I went to the one place I knew I could catch up on all the things I missed. No not a library, I went on a tour of bars! Well it was more of a drink till I felt better strategy, but I learned so much while I was there!
Friday, July 4, 2014
Its Customary For Customs
"Relax Mr. Lorentino." The man was average height and weight, he did have a fancy mustache and a nice uniform, the rest of his group who looked more goon than official were very much larger and more scary looking, the weapons helped.
"I'm trying to, but you know only so relaxed you can be when you are drinking this early." I tried to keep it less obvious that I was cradling my abdomen from the gunshot, which made for some awkward sitting while I was "relaxed", at least the bartender wasn't being obvious about his ease dropping.
"So you're wondering why we are here."
"A little bit."
"When someone such as yourself crosses into our territory from somewhere down south in the wake of a large scale war just fought down there, it tends to raise some flags, especially since Mr. Hanlon and his weaponry are also banned up here as you good and well know." I didn't, but I did know, which made the fact I had brought a Hanlon pistol with me seem more dangerous.
"I had no idea about the ban, I want to disclose I'm carrying a Hanlon pistol."
"We know, you checked it through customs."
"Ahh customs, lots of customary interactions I see." Have I mentioned I'm extremely awkward with modern conveniences? In my day customs meant one guy spitting on you when you arrived, it wasn't exactly standard, but it always seemed to freaking happen.
"So we thought we'd stop in and tell you and Mr. Hanlon his weaponry and his representatives are still outlawed from the country." It was a polite way of telling me to leave, and by polite I mean with armed guards.
"I see, so I should catch an early flight."
"I've even taken the care of checking with the board today for you, there's a flight leaving in an hour, here's your ticket, feel free to consider it a courtesy of this great nation." I smiled, accepted his ticket and accepted his ride to the airport. I tell you it was the nicest way I've ever been banished from a nation in a long time. Which of course made me insanely curious as to what Hanlon had done to get kicked out of a country he sold weapons to.
"I'm trying to, but you know only so relaxed you can be when you are drinking this early." I tried to keep it less obvious that I was cradling my abdomen from the gunshot, which made for some awkward sitting while I was "relaxed", at least the bartender wasn't being obvious about his ease dropping.
"So you're wondering why we are here."
"A little bit."
"When someone such as yourself crosses into our territory from somewhere down south in the wake of a large scale war just fought down there, it tends to raise some flags, especially since Mr. Hanlon and his weaponry are also banned up here as you good and well know." I didn't, but I did know, which made the fact I had brought a Hanlon pistol with me seem more dangerous.
"I had no idea about the ban, I want to disclose I'm carrying a Hanlon pistol."
"We know, you checked it through customs."
"Ahh customs, lots of customary interactions I see." Have I mentioned I'm extremely awkward with modern conveniences? In my day customs meant one guy spitting on you when you arrived, it wasn't exactly standard, but it always seemed to freaking happen.
"So we thought we'd stop in and tell you and Mr. Hanlon his weaponry and his representatives are still outlawed from the country." It was a polite way of telling me to leave, and by polite I mean with armed guards.
"I see, so I should catch an early flight."
"I've even taken the care of checking with the board today for you, there's a flight leaving in an hour, here's your ticket, feel free to consider it a courtesy of this great nation." I smiled, accepted his ticket and accepted his ride to the airport. I tell you it was the nicest way I've ever been banished from a nation in a long time. Which of course made me insanely curious as to what Hanlon had done to get kicked out of a country he sold weapons to.
Thursday, July 3, 2014
I Don't Have Bad Days At Work
"Bad Day?" I was drinking at a local establishment in town, it was morning so not a time most people drink, but I'm not most people gods damn it.
"Sort of, kind of a bad night just pour." I had slept in the car, it was a nice car don't get me wrong, but the nicest car is still not even a placement for the worst bed. The bar was the first one I came across, I'm sure I looked terrible, I mean I'd been shot (I switched shirts and used some dead man clothing to at least keep it from seeping out, but still getting shot takes a lot out of you), I also had expended magical effort, hadn't had a shower, and I'm just grouchy in the morning (it was a little bit past ten in the morning).
"Want to talk about it?" Bartenders like every other person in the service industry feel the need to discuss your problems with them. Ordinarily I'd be all over this, but after having committed mass murder, being wounded and possibly not in the country legally (there was some question at customs about missing paperwork, I didn't even know what customs was). I wasn't really up to the task of explaining myself.
"Not particularly, just know that most people have good days and bad days, I don't, I have bad days and worse days, today is a worse day." This was a bit of a cliche, I heard a guy who worked as a vet use it once, but I liked it so I choose to use it when I'm feeling pretty untalkative.
"Well if you feel the need its just you and me buddy." Until a bunch of people in uniforms came tromping on in.
"I going to take a shot in the dark and say they are here for me."
"Well either that or that young lady last night was underage by a far margin." The bartender left me to the troops and I turned around with my wrists out.
"All right boys lets not keep this day from getting worse." I've always taken the tack that its better to submit to arbitrary authority. It's why I recently served fifty freaking years in a tower. I'm an idiot.
"Put your wrists down Mr. Lorentino we're here for a drink and a chat."
"Oh goody my favorite thing, bartender get the gentleman and his fine friends a drink!" I probably wouldn't have been so generous had I not just stolen all of this money from dead people. See its like the old saying goes, found money is easily found to be missing. Look its not a good saying.
"Sort of, kind of a bad night just pour." I had slept in the car, it was a nice car don't get me wrong, but the nicest car is still not even a placement for the worst bed. The bar was the first one I came across, I'm sure I looked terrible, I mean I'd been shot (I switched shirts and used some dead man clothing to at least keep it from seeping out, but still getting shot takes a lot out of you), I also had expended magical effort, hadn't had a shower, and I'm just grouchy in the morning (it was a little bit past ten in the morning).
"Want to talk about it?" Bartenders like every other person in the service industry feel the need to discuss your problems with them. Ordinarily I'd be all over this, but after having committed mass murder, being wounded and possibly not in the country legally (there was some question at customs about missing paperwork, I didn't even know what customs was). I wasn't really up to the task of explaining myself.
"Not particularly, just know that most people have good days and bad days, I don't, I have bad days and worse days, today is a worse day." This was a bit of a cliche, I heard a guy who worked as a vet use it once, but I liked it so I choose to use it when I'm feeling pretty untalkative.
"Well if you feel the need its just you and me buddy." Until a bunch of people in uniforms came tromping on in.
"I going to take a shot in the dark and say they are here for me."
"Well either that or that young lady last night was underage by a far margin." The bartender left me to the troops and I turned around with my wrists out.
"All right boys lets not keep this day from getting worse." I've always taken the tack that its better to submit to arbitrary authority. It's why I recently served fifty freaking years in a tower. I'm an idiot.
"Put your wrists down Mr. Lorentino we're here for a drink and a chat."
"Oh goody my favorite thing, bartender get the gentleman and his fine friends a drink!" I probably wouldn't have been so generous had I not just stolen all of this money from dead people. See its like the old saying goes, found money is easily found to be missing. Look its not a good saying.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Economically Richer, Spiritually Poorer
Everyone was dead, well mostly. Winslow was still alive but dying (three bullets center mass life expectancy very poor). I told you I killed them all, figured I didn't need to go into the hows and whys, combination of bullets and fire magic. Aside from Winslow they all were pretty much unarmed, so not exactly a challenge, and even then Winslow without the benefit of being up close to slice my neck, was a pretty poor shot, he even killed one of his own men in the attempt, he did unfortunately put a round through my abdomen, though it felt like it passed through (sadly I've become used to being injured so I could tell, I will say this of bullets at least they don't stick in you like damned arrows would). Winslow as all people do when they are dying was trying to stop himself from dying/trying to kill me. Which was laughable, but understandable.
"You are a demon." His voice was wavering, he should have been saving his last bits of strength, but he wasn't.
"Yep, pretty much, hundreds of years old steal the life from others to extend my own, I'm the definition of a demon in the common belief system. Which is kind of sad now that I admit that. But there is one thing I'm better at than anyone else save one entity I don't entirely understand and that's killing to survive, before you were born Winslow I'd been killing people like you for hundreds of years, and there you sit a testament to my ability to murder. The years move on and I get better at this, I'm a better shot, I'm a better magic user, and I've found ways to kill with necromancy that would turn your hair white, so go on call me all the bad names as you lay dying because I'm exactly the monster you call me." He made one last effort to sit up to take a shot at me, and then collapsed the last of his life force expended his ragged breath came out as a grunt. So that was that, I came clean about what I have become and the person I came clean to was dying from my actions so he couldn't exactly tell anyone. It was cleansing. I felt lightened.
I was also richer, the cultists despite being a bunch of stupid cannibals who believed a made up story. Had quite a lot of money in their pockets. And I still had my luggage! About the only thing I lacked was my novel, but with my money and choice of transportation I was sure even that too could be replaced. And so I set off back from town a new man. I didn't bother to burn the barn down, I'm sure whoever owned it was in for quite a shock, but I'm just a passing drifter anyway, no connection to the events I involve myself in and therefore no real reason to ever be suspected. There are times I wonder if I have become a demon, or if someone will come looking for me that's on the right side of the law. I'm sure that's coming and I'll kill them to, because the one thing I believe in above all else, is me!
"You are a demon." His voice was wavering, he should have been saving his last bits of strength, but he wasn't.
"Yep, pretty much, hundreds of years old steal the life from others to extend my own, I'm the definition of a demon in the common belief system. Which is kind of sad now that I admit that. But there is one thing I'm better at than anyone else save one entity I don't entirely understand and that's killing to survive, before you were born Winslow I'd been killing people like you for hundreds of years, and there you sit a testament to my ability to murder. The years move on and I get better at this, I'm a better shot, I'm a better magic user, and I've found ways to kill with necromancy that would turn your hair white, so go on call me all the bad names as you lay dying because I'm exactly the monster you call me." He made one last effort to sit up to take a shot at me, and then collapsed the last of his life force expended his ragged breath came out as a grunt. So that was that, I came clean about what I have become and the person I came clean to was dying from my actions so he couldn't exactly tell anyone. It was cleansing. I felt lightened.
I was also richer, the cultists despite being a bunch of stupid cannibals who believed a made up story. Had quite a lot of money in their pockets. And I still had my luggage! About the only thing I lacked was my novel, but with my money and choice of transportation I was sure even that too could be replaced. And so I set off back from town a new man. I didn't bother to burn the barn down, I'm sure whoever owned it was in for quite a shock, but I'm just a passing drifter anyway, no connection to the events I involve myself in and therefore no real reason to ever be suspected. There are times I wonder if I have become a demon, or if someone will come looking for me that's on the right side of the law. I'm sure that's coming and I'll kill them to, because the one thing I believe in above all else, is me!
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Awkward Story Time
"No I have not arisen." I swear I'm either wiping cults out or becoming their leaders, I have no in between (sometimes I become their leader to wipe them out, which is a combo of both crazy circumstances). They were not listening to me, because they were idiots deluded by a ritual Valrya had invented years ago to amuse herself. Yes this is the kind of horrible that Valrya was, she literally convinced a group of people to eat themselves for her own amusement. There was of course the other aspect to it, that being thanks to her use of necromancy should she have gotten in trouble she could "die" and effectively resurrect herself so as to instantly have the cult worshiping her. Again when you live hundreds of years you can play the long game, even if its a long game of being an asshole.
"Liar you have arisen show us the path now!" The old woman who looked to have had more chunks taken out of her than most was the one calling the shots, the rest of them just looked to be stupidly following. Even Winslow.
"There is no path you idiots, you are all the victim of a malicious necromancer hundreds of years ago, she created your cult to get one side in a conflict wiped out for being a bunch of creepy canibals, that you survived this long would only amuse her more. I wasn't resurrected, the bullet was caught on a book in my pocket see?" I took the book out and they all looked on in shock and then looked at Winslow who had shot me, look its not exactly his fault not everyone keeps a thick book in their jacket pocket (although they should!)
"This man is a liar! Come to me my children let us kill this pretender and continue the feast." The old woman marched away from the people who had been munching on her and I shot her in the face. The bullet took the top part of her skull off and sprayed her brains on to the rest of the group ruining their suits (brains are hard as all get out to remove from clothing).
"Look you can believe me, or you can all die here, I really don't care too much either way, but please just believe me." They didn't choose to believe me. I tell you I either rule cults or wipe them out, there is no in between.
"Liar you have arisen show us the path now!" The old woman who looked to have had more chunks taken out of her than most was the one calling the shots, the rest of them just looked to be stupidly following. Even Winslow.
"There is no path you idiots, you are all the victim of a malicious necromancer hundreds of years ago, she created your cult to get one side in a conflict wiped out for being a bunch of creepy canibals, that you survived this long would only amuse her more. I wasn't resurrected, the bullet was caught on a book in my pocket see?" I took the book out and they all looked on in shock and then looked at Winslow who had shot me, look its not exactly his fault not everyone keeps a thick book in their jacket pocket (although they should!)
"This man is a liar! Come to me my children let us kill this pretender and continue the feast." The old woman marched away from the people who had been munching on her and I shot her in the face. The bullet took the top part of her skull off and sprayed her brains on to the rest of the group ruining their suits (brains are hard as all get out to remove from clothing).
"Look you can believe me, or you can all die here, I really don't care too much either way, but please just believe me." They didn't choose to believe me. I tell you I either rule cults or wipe them out, there is no in between.
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