Died today. I suppose it was sorta inevitable, and it shouldnít really surprise me as much as it does, given how many clones Iíve had come and go before, but somehowÖsomehow I guess I just always assumed I was going to be the greatest Magtok who ever lived. It sounds silly, I know, but I just naturally assumed that I would be better than everyone else. I thought Iíd be that one very special clone, the first MagClone to live a normal human length of time, to make it through several decades instead of a handful of months or weeks. Death-defying stunts, dangerous schemes, ravenous AMENite maniacs with more guns and magic in their hands than brains in their heads, all of it wasnít meant to stop me. I thought destiny expected me to outwit and outlive them all.
Destiny clearly had other plans though, unfortunately. Well, destiny and a massive harpoon gun, of course. Libby said that incident means Iím technically qualified to spend my afterlife in Valhalla, should I decide that place would suit me best, since apparently I get a choice out here. I donít know where sheís getting this Ďtechnically qualifiedí garbage from, though. I was totally kicking ass and chewing bubblegum right up until the part where my torso had a five foot length of steel sticking out at both ends. I mean, Iím not the best marksman, and Iím not sure if I took anyone down with me, or got any wounds on anyone either, but five more minutes and one less harpoon gun and there wouldíve been a gods-damned throne of corpses for me to lounge around on. An entire throneís worth of them, I tell you! Stupid jerkface bastard with a giant harpoonÖ
Aaaaargh! What kind of sick bastard kills a guy with a weapon like that, anyway?! Gods, Iím just so upset right now. Why the hell didnít I fight harder?! Why didnít I just dodge that harpoon?! Where the hell am I going to go now?! Why donít I just have someone use resurrection spells so clones donít have to deal with this?! Libby is the only person I know out here, and even the creepy reaper goddess lady says I canít stick around for much longer. I have to make a decision soon, I have to pick out a place to spend the rest of forever, and I donít get a do-over if I screw up and pick the wrong set of pearly gates. Choosing might sound easy at first, just pick a place with clouds and angels and a bright, pretty name like Paradise or some junk like that, but then I went and actually put some thought into it, and gods, do I ever regret doing that.
If I pick a hell, pick out someplace terrible and soul-crushingly painful and unpleasant, does some angel come down from above and say that my humility is totally impressive and awesome and qualifies me to go to UberHeaven? Or do I just burn and look like an idiot for all eternity? Itís probably too late for me to do that, since at least part of my mind will be subconsciously expecting a reward for asking to be put in hell, and that feeling of entitlement would probably screw me over here. If I just ask for one of the heavens, of course, Iíll look greedy and selfish and then get cast down anyway! Also, no matter what afterlife I choose, even if I get a good one, pretty much everyone there will be smelly nobodies Iíve never met before. Everyone always perma-deadtimes or gets resurrected in the Nexus, nobody worth noticing ever really stays dead in any sort of meaningful way.
ÖOkay, I think Iíve got a plan. Iím going to stretch out my time here in Limbo as much as I can, prolong the inevitable by any means necessary. I donít know what the rules are here, exactly, but Iím pretty sure you can challenge Death to a game, and get your soul back or something. Itís definitely too late to ask for a resurrection, since my bodyís probably been thrown into the dead clone furnace by now, but maybe I can negotiate my way into sticking around here just a few days longer. Iíll gamble my soul for a few weeks to decide where Iím going, choose a game I have some sort of obvious advantage in, and then research as much as I can until I find an afterlife that doesnít suck forever. That way, even if Libby canít let her feelings for me get involved, and is obligated somehow by her death goddess duties to actually try to beat me, Iíll still win. And then IíllÖIíll do something, I guess. Gamble my soul again for even more time? I donít know what Iíll do yet, really, but Iím sure Iíll figure it out when the time comes.